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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 2 months

Text

BACK TO THE NIGHTMARES

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x Robin!fem!reader

Summary - Even though you go under the alias of Robin whilst fighting crime in Gotham. Your past catches up to you with a certain Doctor that always had a fascination for you.

Warnings - noncon!, violence, dead dove do not eat, rough sex, abuse physical and mentally, bondage.

Word count - 6.3k+

Notes - This was actually the first Cillian fanfic I wrote ages ago and idk highkey just posting it for the lolz.

The name Jonathan Crane was an open wound to you. No matter how much you would try to cover it, it would bleed back open without you noticing.

You were an orphan at the age of 16. Your family’s tragic death broke you completely, it led to a life of deviance and crime in Gotham City. Your father had you trained in martial arts from an early age, so it benefited your unlawful acts of theft and robbery. However, you would only steal from the greedy.

You first met Doctor Jonathan Crane when you were hardly an adult. You were arrested for robbing some rich asshole that scammed all of his workers. If only you weren’t so determined to beat the crap out of him you would have gotten away. Your lawyer told you to take the insanity plea, a major reduction of time locked away convinced you to agree with your lawyer. Worst mistake ever. You could tell he wasn’t right in the head as soon as you saw him, despite his charming face.

When he put on the mask, your worst nightmares came to life.

It felt like years, being under him as an experiment (even though it was only a couple of months). You fascinated him. He spent a lot of time with you at Arkham. He would tell you how you were his favorite little experiment and that he treated you so much nicer than the others. As if that was a compliment. It was dehumanizing, how he tortured you with your worst fears. To the point that he was your worst fear. You were able to fight back at him a couple of times, get a few good hits in. Despite the consequences, you didn’t regret it.

Thankfully, The Batman saved you. Bruce heard of your story and felt sympathy for you. You never knew how ballistic Jonathan went when he got the call that you had escaped. And how he swore one day you would be underneath him again.

Bruce wanted to help you, he felt your pain and struggles. It took you a while, but you agreed, under the hidden agenda that you would use your training to kill Jonathan. He trained you, physically and logically. Also helped you heal, enough to keep Jonathan out of your mind for most of the day. You eventually became Robin. Suit and all.

When you thought you were ready, you snuck out of the manor. Your mind set on killing Doctor Jonathan Crane. You waited outside by the outside alleyway of Arkham, ready to pounce as soon as you saw him. When he was descending the stairs, you bolted to him. You swiftly pushed him down to the ground and hell broke loose. Punch after punch, kick after kick. You wanted him to suffer, just as he made you suffer. Jonathan tried to defend himself but couldn’t. You straddled him, the street lamp illuminated Jonathan’s eyes wide with fear, you somehow felt guilt. But you pushed that feeling aside, ready to use the final blow.

But The Batman interfered. He pulled you off of him, a tight grip around your waist, and in a second, Jonathan was shrinking under you. The both of you landed on an exterior landing staircase and he reattached the batclaw to his belt. You shoved Bruce viciously and hissed.

Bruce shook his head to you, as if you were a child. “I’m disappointed in you” he scolded.

“Fuck off Bruce!” you growled.

“I did not train you to become an executioner” he continued. “You do not decide who lives and dies” Bruce stated, leaning on the railing.

“We both know I’m not the only person he tortured! It would be a mercy kill for the city of Gotham. You know he doesn’t deserve to live” you scoffed. You both had your points. You huffed and looked back down, he was gone. Bruce placed his hands on your shoulders, comforting you.

“His day will come, we just need to wait for the right moment. Trust me” he reassured.

And his day did come. Jonathan was arrested for numerous charges after his toxin exposure into the water system. You were free. Or so you thought. He disappeared after the League of Shadows incident. Bruce said he would never dare to return. You thought the same.

Over the years, you assisted Bruce on missions, both with an agreeing mindset of making Gotham better. Your name became popular in the public eye, Batman and Robin. The vigilante’s sidekick in Gotham crime. You became obsessed with bringing criminals to justice. Sometimes you’d stay up for hours, listening to police radios waiting for something worth your time. Honestly anything was worth your time. But Bruce told you that you have to draw a line.

Bruce was out of the country. Something had come up elsewhere, you asked to join but he gave a sly grin and said “someone has to protect Gotham”.

Here you were again, sitting on the rooftop, the moonlight shining on you. Your feet dangled as you watched the moon, a police radio sitting next to you as you waited. You couldn’t sleep much anyways, the nightmares still couldn’t go away. That’s when it caught your eye, the Bat-Signal in the sky. You stood up immediately. Bruce forbids you from going alone. But he wasn't here, he wasn’t even in the country. This was a gray area in your agreement. Oh well, it’s probably something stupid anyways.

You were quickly dressed and sped to the building. Adrenaline rushed through your blood. You were up there in no time. But by the time you were sneaking up to the rooftop, the light was turned off. You could hear Commissioner Gordon, yabbering about how some deviant must have snuck up to turn it on as a practical joke. You listened to him close the heavy door and sighed, climbing onto the rooftop regardless. Disappointment filled you as you sat on the ledge, overlooking Gotham.

“What’s got you down, little one?” that familiar, terrifying voice captured your attention. Chills ran down your spine and your chest tightened. You spun around up onto your feet to see him. Jonathan Crane. Your heart raced. He was wearing his mask, he stood tall with his hands behind his back. He loved to call you little one, even after all of this time.

“Scarecrow” you snarled, bracing for a fight. But you had to remind yourself what Bruce taught you. You also had to force your nerves to the side.

He said your name. “You know me better than that” he said enthusiastically. Your face dropped. He couldn’t know it was you. How could he know it was you! He laughed at your frozen state. “Even though you beat me bloody that night, eyes never change” he explained, you could sense the grin on his lips.

“So this was your plan? You want a repeat then?” you laughed, brushing off your nerves. Fists formed and jaw clenched as you waited for his move.

“Not exactly, The Batman isn’t here to save you this time. In Prague the news broadcast shows” he mentioned, mocking ‘The Batman’.

It was impossible not to laugh. Who did he think he was?

Your feelings got the better of you. The actions of neutral good left you, your judgment clouded by your locked away anger towards this man. He was to die at your hands at this very moment, he didn’t deserve to live. Pure evil doesn’t get to walk free.

“I’m going to enjoy this” you gritted your teeth.

With a flash, you charged towards him and tackled him to the ground. You straddled him, ready to knock his teeth out but noticed his arm raise towards you. With a swift movement, you grab his arm and rip the fear toxic from out of his sleeve. Fuck this guy, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You ripped off his mask and aimed the canister towards his face and released the gas.

You breathed in the substance instantly and it blurred your sight. He tricked you. You jumped off of him and coughed intensely. The effects from the substance got to work immediately. Jonathan looked terrifying, your heart raced, body shock and anxiety felt heavy on your chest. No, you still had to fight. You yelled in anger and fear as you threw a punch at him, heart pounding in your chest and mouth hanging open. But your reflexes slowed down so much. He dodged you, effortlessly. Another attempt failed, again and again. Jonathan shoved you to the floor and you fell onto your back. His shoe pressed into your chest, keeping you down.

“Stop, you’re wasting your energy” his voice sounded demonic. You still tried to fight him off. With a huff, Jonathan bent down and mounted you. You screamed at how close he was, there was no hallucination to his appearance. He looked exactly how you remembered and it haunted you. It was pointless trying to hide the fear he brings upon you in this state. His eyes were dark and expression was blank as his hands tugged onto your loose hair. “There, there, little one. You’re safe with me. You have nothing to fear” he cooed at you with a wicked grin as he pressed his crotch into you.

You were frozen underneath him, you tried to move but couldn’t. Was this a newly developed substance? Or was your body in shock because of him. Your body trembled and you just wanted to call out for Bruce. With all of your strength, you hand slipped to your belt, searching for the distress beacon. Your actions went noticed by Jonathan and he smacked your hand away. He laughed as he picked up the device and threw it to the side.

“What did I say again? The Batman isn’t here to save you this time” he mocked, his hands feeling up your body animalistically. He ordered you to sleep and for some reason you did. Falling from one nightmare to another.

You groaned, your head was aching, but your thoughts were softened with the feeling of fuzziness. The fear toxin had worn off. Your lips were cracked dry as your head rolled from side to side. Your eyes peaked open, you lightly hissed at the bright light piercing above you. Slowly, your eyes became fully wide. You took in a deep breath as you analyzed your unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was white. The walls, counter, floor, exam table and the medical bed you laid on. You harshly blinked as you looked down at your body. A loud, uneased breath echoed throughout the silent room as you stared at yourself. You were wearing a white patient gown and your wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed.

“You’re awake, finally” the dark voice traveled to your ears from behind. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing who it was immediately, Jonathan Crane. You took into note how his appearance has changed a bit. Just his hair cut shorter and he looked a bit older. If you saw him as a stranger on the street you would think him to be charming. He took slow steps towards you, raising the fear on your cold skin with him approaching you. His hand rested on your shoulder, almost as if to comfort you. “Now the fun can begin” the words slithered off of his tongue. You lied there frozen. Completely clueless of what was about to occur. He sat on the stool beside you and watched you like a hawk. “I had to strip you immediately you know, The Batman had a tracking device on your suit. He must really not trust you. You’ve always made dumb decisions, remember?” he chuckled, speaking casually to you.

Anger consumed you, you struggled against the restraints and then you froze from the realization of how easy your inner thighs rubbed together. You looked down at your body, and saw your hardened nipples from the cool room poke through the thin cotton. You could feel your body prepare itself to hyperventilate. “You’re going to-” you gasped as you couldn’t finish your sentence, tears flooding your eyes.

“No no no” Jonathan soothed, leaning closer to you. His fingers interlocked with yours. “You’re going to want me to fuck you, sweetheart” he flashed a smile. It looked pure at first glance, but the longer you stared, the quicker the evil painted over.

“Help!” you screamed over and over again. Jonathan couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. God you were still such a fucking whiny bitch.

Robin was gone, now you were just the broken girl that fell into his hands all of those years ago. It was shocking to see how easily broken you’ve gotten. All of this training and skills for what? You should stand strong, just take it, show no fear and pain. But you were just a girl.

“No point in screaming. We’re not at Arkham. We’re very far away from Gotham” he sighed, looking up to the ceiling briefly. He yanked a dry cloth from the exam table and stood up.

“Please Jonathan-” you yelped as he viciously gripped your chin and pulled your face closer to him.

“Doctor Crane to you” he spat. But he didn’t loosen his iron grip. Your eyes were wide as he stared at you with anger. How dare you. You were not equals. You tried to nod your head against his iron grip. Once he let go you took a large gasp.

He leaned over you and forcefully shoved the cloth into your mouth. You cried, your eyes pleading with him as if it would actually make a difference. He admired the sight below him. “Look at you my sweet, all bound up” he commented, his hand trailing across your collarbones. “You thought you were fucking better than me, smarter, stronger. You dumb fucking whore. Don’t worry, I’ll show you your place. Right under me, figuratively and literally” he explained, the back of his cold hand raised to your flustered cheek. “I’m going to fix you” he said quietly.

Your eyes didn’t follow him. You couldn’t dare to look at him. Jonathan sat back on the stool. He looked back up to you, noticing the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Oh don’t cry. You wanted to bring me down too. I just acted sharper than you. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, you only have yourself to blame” he elucidated.

He had a point. You were taught better. But you chose to react the way you did. Nevertheless, you didn’t deserve to be in this situation.

He’s waited so long for this moment. The patience this man has had for this moment. It was all worth it. Now he has the power to break you down mentally and physically. You muffled into the rag, trying to plead with him.

“I care about you” he randomly admitted. “Even after all this time” he mumbled slightly. It shocked you, this monster having feelings for someone other than himself? Impossible. “More importantly I care about how you feel about me” he added, leaning closer to your face. “So, I’m going to please you to show you just how much I care about you” he grinned, his hand tapping your cheek.

You knew exactly what that meant. You aggressively thrashed your body. This couldn’t be happening, you needed to get out of here, out of these restraints. Your muffled cries echoed throughout the room. The breakdown quickly unfolded when you realized it was pointless. Your eyes squinted shut, this had to be a dream, a nightmare. You needed to remain calm, what he said was true. Your judgment was clouded by your emotions. What would Bruce do? Fuck, as if he would ever end up in a situation like this.

You were too focused on your attempts to control your breathing to realize that your ankle restraints had been uncuffed. Jonathan pushed your ankles up, bringing your knees up closer to your chest. He reattached the restraints to a closer pole, keeping your knees at a 155 degree bend. Your gown rode up to your hips, exposing your bare pussy. That’s when you realized what he had done. Jonathan walked over to the counter, opened a draw and retrieved a pair of silver scissors. He looked back at you and gave you a wicked grin. Your head shook excessively, as if it would change anything.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I met you. I regret not fucking you in Arkham. I was just such a workaholic I didn’t want my urges to get in the way. I thought of it as unprofessional. But I’ve become open to exploring new methods” he said slowly as he approached you. You resisted, knowing it was pointless but it was natural reflexes regardless. He towered over you, briefly admiring you before cutting the gown straight down the middle. You cried out as the last inch was snipped apart. Jonathan grinned as his large hands traveled all over your heated body. “I jerked off to you after every session” he admitted proudly, playing with your plump tits. He pushed the cut gown to the sides of your body, you were completely exposed to him, mentally and physically. “I’m going to eat your cunt out now baby” he told you with a smirk. The low tone terrified you.

He stood directly in front of you, his body leaned over onto the end of the bed. He crawled up high enough for his upper body to easily lay on the bed. “God, you’re fucking dripping!” he exclaimed as he examined your wet region. “Is this all because of me, my sweetness?” he taunted. You refused to give him any pleasure by responding. But he was too focused on the sight of your sweet spot anyways.

Jonathan examined your cunt. His fingers stroked your folds. You whined, shaking your restricted body in an attempt to get him to back off. He harshly smacked your pussy and you cried into the cloth. “Stop resisting” he growled, his long fingers returning to their playful manner.

You didn’t like this, at all. However, from his touch you couldn’t help but to feel weakened. Your knees felt like jelly. The further his strokes went, the heavier your breathing got. You didn’t notice your hips flex forward to Jonathan, back arching. He grinned at your sexual response to his touch. You liked this, he knew you did. One finger slipped inside of you, causing you to groan painfully. Fuck, you were tight. Pristine tight. You cried as he finger curled inside of you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up to you, realization glowed in his eyes.

“Oh my” he breathed out as he analyzed your expression. He slid another finger inside of you to confirm his theory, you were a sobbing mess from this. “Oh my!” he exclaimed as he pulled his fingers out. He climbed on top of you and grabbed onto your jawline. “Did you forget to tell me something very important darling?” he questioned you, a wicked smirk on his cold lips. Your eyes swelled up, this was so humiliating. You kept your eyes low and he harshly tapped his fingers onto your cheek until you looked up to him. “Have you ever been touched? Fucked?” His dark eyes demanded an answer, his hands loosened enough for you to lower your jaw. He forgot about the cloth in your mouth from excitement.

You could always lie, but he knew when you were lying. You shook your head, still in his grip.

“Not even by yourself?”

Another shake of the head.

A dark laugh echoed through the room. “Fuck, do you know how arousing that sounds? Too busy fighting crime to get dicked down. No wonder you’re such a stuck up cunt hm?” he chuckled, caressing your heated cheeks.

Jonathan’s words were too overwhelming. So you just cried, face still in his grip. He comforted you by petting your cheeks and brushing your hair to the side. He couldn’t help but to feel irritated by this information as well. A sudden urge to make love to you rather than to fuck you. No, you’ll like the way he fucks you. There is no choice in the matter. When your cries became minimized he slid back down your exposed body.

“You’re going to taste so fucking devine” he commented, stroking your gushing region once more. “Your body will be so delicate to my touch. I can’t wait to explore all of these new experiences with you. If you are good and embrace my touch I’ll take it easy with you. If not, I’ll make you scream. Not in a good way” Jonathan explained as he gripped onto your outer thighs.

You whined at the first lick, eyes rolling back as your head dug back into the bed. Jonathan quietly moaned at your sweet taste. It was everything he dreamed of and more. His lips attacked your cunt as his tongue slipped inside of you. A scream of pleasure escaped your mouth. It was humiliating, enjoying pleasure from this evil man. You harshly bit onto the cloth to avoid another muffled moan satisfying his ears. It was amazing with how quickly your orgasm was building, it had only been a couple of minutes. Your legs began to tremble and fists formed. Jonathan’s nose pressed against your clit as he viciously ate you out as if he hadden eating all day.

He pulled his mouth away, but quickly replaced your tender cunt with the touch of his digits. Two fingers easily slipped inside of you. Muffled cries snuck out. But the deeper his fingers went inside of you, the harder it was to hide your moans.

“You’re so close to coming already. Making me feel a bit pompous honestly” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help yourself when his fingers reached your g-spot. It felt magnificent, your warm walls squeezing around fingers. He slid in four digits, causing an awful cry of pleasure mixed with pain. You were climaxing in the worst way. Jonathan’s expression looked crazed, like he was a wild animal teasing his prey. It was a surprise that he hadn’t creamed in his pants already. You rode out your very first orgasm on his filthy fingers. Your hips naturally rocked on his fingers back and forward as you became undone.

You felt like you were going to pass out. Nostrils flared as your body fell back into the bed, it was so fucking hard to breathe. It went unpassed as he untied all of your restraints. Your eyes squeezed shut from exhaustion and embarrassment. You rejected the thoughts of you enjoying the assault, enjoying Jonathan’s touch.

Your bloodshot eyes opened again when you felt Jonathan climb on top of you. His covered erection poked your thigh as he watched your manner. But his eyes locked onto your gagged mouth. He gently pulled the cloth out of your mouth. You gasped for air, chest raised.

“Hm, I’ve kissed your pussy before your mouth” he grinned. It was a foul joke. It made you physically gag which he didn’t like at all. He ordered you to kiss him.

You whimpered at the pain of your sore jaw. But he was gentle with you, his tongue slipped in and lower lip massaged yours. It felt nice, relaxing to feel his touch in this manner. He caressed your breasts as his lips nipped your neck. You let out a soft moan and pressed your body against his, arms wrapped around his upper back. It felt like bliss, the comforting touch to your sensitive body. Your bodies molded together, his breathing was by your ear as you felt your soul leave your body. It felt too good to be true. That’s when you realized it was. You were being physically and emotionally vulnerable with your assaulter. Your body tensed and he noticed immediately.

“What is it?” he questioned, sounding concerned to the slightest. He stared into your teary eyes, the back of his hand softly stroked your cheek. His free hand lowered to your stomach in an attempt to comfort you.

You regretted it immediately. The action went without a thought. You just saw an opportunity and didn’t think of what the consequences would be. The slap echoed throughout the room and it was followed by complete silence. It was a surprise that you even had the strength to land the hit. You laid frozen as his head remained in the position your hand forced it to. If anything, it was your opportunity to escape. But that slap had used all of your strength. Slowly his dark eyes turned to you, his thighs keeping you trapped underneath him. You stared back at him in fear, waiting for his fury. He backhanded you, again and again. A last gasp for breath left your lips as his hands wrapped around your throat. You struggled underneath him, your face quickly turning red in the process. His expression was emotionless as your fingers dug into his hands, forearms, anything to break the grip.

“Fucking ungrateful bitch” he growled. “You know, I was going to be nice and wait to fuck you until tomorrow. I thought it would have been a kind gesture to give you some recovery time since, being a pure virgin and all. But you’re just a bit of a fucking brat now aren’t you? Unfortunately I’ll just have to show you my rough side as well” he snarled to you.

It was a lie, he was going to fuck you today regardless. It was just amusing to fuck with your mind. Your vision became blurred and your hands fell to your sides. He let go of his grip and you gasped for air. His hands quickly gripped onto the sides of your head, his fingers tugged roughly at the roots of your hair.

“Apologize to me” he spat his demand.

“I’m sorry!” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I wasn’t thinking straight” you cried your explanation. The apology was genuine but that didn’t satisfy him.

“Show me you’re sorry” he ordered. You blinked as you processed his words. You tried to move your head closer to his but his fingers pulled your hair back. You winced as you figured you had to work harder to kiss him. Jonathan watched your frustrated and distressed look as you tried to press your lips against his.

“Please let me kiss you” you begged. He chuckled, and let go of your hair. You kissed him desperately, your tongue slid into his mouth. He didn’t like it at all. It felt way too forced by you. Jonathan pulled away and slapped you.

“You’re trying too hard baby. It’s rather embarrassing” he laughed. “Now, don’t make any rash decisions as I fuck you. Despite my pleasure, I think you’d prefer not to be drugged into a state of paralysis”.

Jonathan stood up on his knees, you being trapped underneath him. He towered over you as he began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes did not drift away from yours as he dropped the shirt to the ground. Skin as pale as ghost and had little body fat and muscle definition. It was confusing how easily he could overpower you, drugs you’d guess. “Is there any fantasies on how you want to be fucked little one?” Jonathan teased.

“No” you spat.

Jonathan hummed as he slid off the bed. Your lower region was still raw from your orgasm. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. He pushed down the clothing enough for him to pull his cock out. A cry left your sore lips. His size was much bigger than you’d imagined. Maybe it was just an illusion, his cock just looked bigger because of his small size. Stroking his cock Jonathan ordered you to turn to your side. You buried your head into the bed as you turned your body away from him.

He pulled your hips towards him, his cock rested by your entrance. You whimpered at the feeling of him against you. He caressed your ass a little bit as he lined his cock up. “This is going to hurt, a lot” he warned you with zero care. With one forceful thrust, he was completely inside of you. It wasn’t an illusion, he was as big as you thought. The inside walls of you cunt ached as it stretched around him. It was instinct for you to scream and it was diabolical for Jonathan to enjoy your sounds of agony.

You wanted to thrash out, attack him. But you knew the consequences, how easily he would be able to restrain you. And you didn’t wish to know what torture he would bring upon you. So instead you just laid there crying with him watching you, your fingers curled into the fabric. Jonathan’s grip on your hip tightened as he began to thrust viciously. He popped your cherry quickly, your blood coated his cock and he thought that it was a heavenly sight. He stared at the back of your head as his balls smacked against your core.

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you” he ordered, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared. You did as he said and turned your head back. His mouth fell open as you two stared at one another. “How does it feel? Losing your virginity in this state? I bet you feel like a dirty little whore. Good, because you like this, I can feel your cunt clench around me. You’re dripping darling” he pointed out, you were. The thrusts became easier because of how wet you were from this.

His finger drew blood for your hip as his thrusts continued at the same quick, rough pace. He analyzed your expression, noticing your eyes trying not to roll back and jaw lowering open. “Are you about to climax again darling?” he asked with a grin, he could feel it. You shook your head, not wanting to believe it yourself. A harsh smack landed on your bruised hip causing you to yelp. “Don’t lie baby” he warned in a low voice.

“Yes!” You cried out. Jonathan laughed at how easy it was to unfold you.

“Don’t let me hold you back. By all means, come!” he commanded, slapping your ass in the process.

Quickly after that, you followed through with his command. You cried out, eyes completely rolled back, mouth panting for air, chest tightened and body falling numb. Your head fell back as you rode out your orgasm on Jonathan’s cock, hips rocking in rhythm.

“The little virgin really must love my cock” he noted.

“Please- stop. I-” you were lost for words. Could he blame you? Two orgasms in a row when you’ve never even attempted it before? Jonathan chuckled darkly at your request.

“Darling, I’m not even close to finishing. You’re just going to have to hold it out. Maybe we should see if I can get a few more in?” He smirked and you shook your head.

You couldn’t do this, you’ve had enough. You twisted your body back in an attempt to push him out of you. He reacted quickly and climbed on top of you. His cock slipped out as he grabbed onto your chin. His eyes gave you a warning not to disobey him as he realigned his member. With an easy push, he was back inside of your sweet canal. He bit your neck roughly as he found the right angle to fuck you. You moaned, he felt so fucking good and you hated it.

Jonathan stared at your expression. Fear mixed with pleasure. It was the ultimate combination. He kissed you passionately, his tongue sliding down to your throat. You tried to fight him off with your own tongue but it was no use. You didn’t notice your arms snaking around his back to hold him close to you, as if he’d leave at any moment.

“You like this” he taunted. You ignored his words and just focused on him fucking you, feeling yet another orgasm building up inside of you. But then he stopped fucking you all together. His cock slipped out of you and you frowned at him. You almost asked as to why he had stopped. Has he finished? “If you want me to continue fucking you, you’ll ask me nicely” he explained, a sly look on his face.

You laughed weakly, he wasn’t serious? Why would you want him to continue? But then he rubbed your clit and you knew why you wanted him to continue. Humiliation was such a turn on. You cried, your chaotic thoughts were too much to unpack. Why would you even dare to ask him to continue? But you were already so close again and the discomfort in your core was becoming unbearable as he rubbed you just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over.

“Don’t feel guilty about your pleasures Y/N. Your body betrays your mind, it’s so fascinating isn’t it? The relationship between the mind and body. There’s no point in fighting it. Just embrace it, embrace my touch”

His words felt like bliss. He was so smooth tongued. It was true, you did enjoy this, well your body did at least. What was the point in fighting? You had already lost to him.

“Please” you whimpered, keeping your head low.

“No” his reply was blank.

“Please!” you sobbed, head shooting up to look at him. Your eyes screamed desperation and irritation.

“Please what? Please Doctor Crane fuck me? I’m such a pathetic greedy little slut that wants to come again?” His words were a slap to the face. It was as mortifying as you thought.

“Yes that yes!” your response was quick. “Please- I want, I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you inside of me” you said overwhelmed. You were whimpering a lot, your hips rocking on his thumb.

Jonathan watched you rub yourself on him and bit his lip. “Oh, you really are a fucking slut. But you’re my slut. You’re mine. But I think you know that already. You’ve always known. Don’t you?” He grinned. You hummed and nodded your head. You shrieked when he pinched your clit. “Use your words girl!” he growled.

“Yes! I-I’m yours!” you answered. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your mouth trembled.

“Oh you make me want to come so hard. I want you to hold it out. Can you do that for me baby? Wait for me so we can come together” he grinned as he lined his cock at your entrances, brushing against your wet folds. You nodded your head in agreement. Whatever, whatever he wanted.

The force of his thrusts was like a jackhammer. For a man his size, he sure had stamina. Your foreheads pressed together, fingers interlocked and your legs weakly wrapped around his waist. It terrified you because you came before him. You just couldn’t help yourself. But he didn’t stop so you rode out your high as best as you could. You knew he was about to come undone. Both of your hips locked forward at the same time. Jonathan groaned loudly as you clenched against his shooting cock. His eyes squeezed shut as he held you tight and head flung back. His thrusts came to a sudden stop, his cock completely inside of you, his load spurting deep inside of you. With a few more softer thrusts, Jonathan pulled his soaked cock out of you.

He let out a satisfied sigh. “I told you it wouldn’t be considered rape” he reminded you expressionless, not even breathless unlike yourself.

You broke down, unable to control your emotions. You were a sobbing mess. Surely he’s drugged you with something else, right? But the gut feeling inside of you told you otherwise. Too many conflicting thoughts were fighting with each other. After watching you for a quick moment, he got off of you and fixed himself up, redressing himself and combing back his damp hair from all of the sweat as you laid there helpless. There was the opportunity that you tried to make a run for it, but the success rate was at minimum at this point.

The Doctor went over the sink and ran a cloth under warm water. Ringing out the water, he walked back over to you and began to clean you up, completely ignoring your state of distress. Aftercare was the least of your expectations. He left your cunt till last. His fingers pressed up against the folds of your entrance. A mixture of your fluids oozed out.

“What a sight” he murmured to himself.

You whined and hissed as he cleaned your raw, swollen, abused cunt. When he was done, he chucked the cloth into the sink and climbed back onto the bed next to you. You silenced yourself, expecting him to make another attack on you. He watched over you quietly and you weren’t sure what to do. It was like he was a crazed monkey waiting to snap.

“You’re still such a good girl for me” he cooed as he planted soft kisses all over your heated skin. The memories of your history filled his mind. There was a passionate kiss shared between you two, the type that doesn’t show desire but shows romantic intimacy. You kissed him back gently, it felt nice and you hated it. Jonathan pulled away and wiped your tears. “You still know your place. Mhm, you took my cock so well baby. I’m so proud of you little one” he praised as he groped your tits. “God, who knows, I might just fall in love with you” he laughed softly, kissing you once more.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut #jonathan crane dark #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #the dark knight trilogy

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shapard · 4 months

Text

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Grab the Ice cream

Angst

NDA

Chapter 4 < Chapter 5 > Chapter 6

Lucifer carried you in bridal style into your room. He held you very gently, not wanting to injure even more than you already were.

Charlie wanted to talk to him, to comfort her father after the battle.

But looking at him she decided against it.

He was so concentrated on protecting you, so she'd be in the way.

Lucifers eyes were all on you, not caring about his surroundings.

His wings shielding any potential danger nearby.

This will not happen again.

…

You woke up with a pounding headache.

You winced when you opened your eyes, the pounding pain only doubled because of the sharp light.

A hand held yours tight but also so soft and gentle. With care.

The comforting feeling that creeps slowly in your chest making the headache slowly creep away.

And you already feel at home, even after what you’ve done Lucifer held you close.

You slipped your hand out of his.

Wanting to cry at the loss from that comfort you wanted to hold on longer.

But that would be unfair, unfair to him.

after what you’ve done. You couldn't look him in the eyes.

You betrayed him, hiding the truth from him because you didn’t want this to be just the bond.

Because you were insecure. Insecure because of Lilith, his ex-wife. Charlie spoke with you about her parents being divorced for a couple of years.

And you were afraid you couldn't be what Lilith was to him.

You were being selfish.

You didn’t even give him a chance to decide.

You want to hide yourself from the consequences.

Not wanting to face Lucifer with this guilt that bubbled up in you.

Lucifer stirred after your hand left his, his eyes softly opened.

Fluttering his eyelashes at you and it felt surreal.

You were awake.

And he gets a déjà vu like feeling.

It was how you two first met. Where you were hiding behind his blanket from him. It was so cute.

“Y/n?” You took a deep breath you hummed and still didn’t look him in the eyes.

You're too ashamed.

His heart squeezed, a shadow like pain making it hard for him to swallow.

A pain that you hate him, the pain of the betrayal. The betrayal he could understand in some kind of way.

He doesn’t know it better.

“How are you feeling?”

He tried to act normal, but it still hurts. And you could easily see through him.

He felt betrayed.

He felt hurt that he had to hear it from his older twin Michael with the soulmate bond.

Lucifer knows that Michael will use it against him.

Michael was the one who hates him the most.

The one who gave the others the Idea sending him to hell.

The one that destroyed his joy in life.

And when he found happiness, Michael was the one who’ll find a way to destroy this joy from his life.

Everytime, Again and Again and Again. A never ending circle.

Lucifer tried so many times to escape the suffer Michael gave him.

But it was always a failure attempt.

And now he tried to hurt you.

Was it his fault why you almost died?

Will he come back to get rid of you?

Did you hide it because you’re ashamed of him?

Did he take it too far?

Should he let you go? Is it that what you want?

Lucifer never felt this low in his life.

He can't take this anymore.

His eyesight started to blurry, and tears fell on your white sheets.

Ache.

This time you felt it, harder than ever.

He was hurting.

Not physical but mentally.

He always was.

He Tried to play it off with a small and jokes. Always working 24/7 to not think about the void that eats him from inside out.

He started to lose himself in this void.

The void he thought he deserved.

That’s what Michael always said to him, taunted him every night and day.

“I’m sorry.”

Your throat hurts from the still damaged vocal cord. it was hard to speak but Lucifer needs that apology.

The biggest of them all.

Your voice was hoarse, and you chugged down the water which he laid next to you.

Looking at the water reflection of you and him.

You looked horrible.

But Lucifer looked way worse. His hair was a mess and his eye bags were almost pure black. A whole contrast to his skin color.

Your words didn’t seem to be heard by him.

Finally, after a while you looked at him, smiling softly at him.

You touched his hand making him snap out of his thoughts. “You should sleep. I’m sorry-“ Your voice cracked at the end; but still you were not the victim here.

Lucifer was hurting and you felt it deep in your heart. The burning feeling in your heart felt like acid.

The burning consumed your chest which made it even harder to breathe.

The guilt of it is tearing you apart.

You hid something so precious to him.

He treated you like a princess, giving you clothes, a space to live, healed you. And the only thing that you did was lying through your gritted teeth.

And he’s still here in this very room, taking care of you and never leaving your side while you were out.

Protecting you.

Ache.

His frown only deepened when you told him to leave so he stood up and left, not even glancing at you.

...

Lucifer closed the door behind him.

He whines and then the sobbing followed. His act slowly falling apart.

The walls he set up and thought he could break through only thickened.

Did you really not want him?

After all that happened, he can understand somehow.

He brought you into danger, by just being his soulmate. Just because of his existence you were suffering.

That’s the reason why Lilith left him. That's why his twin hates him so much.

That’s how he got expelled from heaven. And that’s how he’ll lose his own mate.

As he reached his room, he didn’t spare a glance at his rubber duck collection.

It was all useless anyway.

He lets himself fall on his bed. A squelch left the rubber duck he had forgotten he made for you.

He took the duck and hugged it as close as he can to his chest. Imagining it would be you.

The tears he held back started to show. Lucifer sobbed and cried for the rest of the day.

It’s all because of him.

…

You on the other hand were sobbing too.

He felt horrible because of you.

You hoped that the sleep will help him a bit.

And after that you two can maybe talk this out.

Little did you know that this was so wrong.

…Time Skip…

Time flew past, and you hadn’t seen Lucifer anywhere.

At first it was days, then weeks and now Months.

The aftereffects of being apart from your soulmate were harsh.

You were way skinnier than before, and you couldn’t walk for a long period of time. Eating is hard and you were always so sleepy.

You missed your Luci so much; it has gotten so bad that if you see an apple you start to cry.

You missed his unfunny jokes and his little rubber ducks that were laying everywhere in your room.

Your friends in the hotel were worried about you.

You looked so weak, so weak that they’re scared that, if they touch you, you’ll fall into dust.

So you were bed ridden for the whole days.

Sitting in your Bed you were reading a book hoping it will help with the growing pain and void you felt.

The mark started to lose its opacity, making it seem like a faded scar.

It hurts,

has he already forgotten about you?

Maybe you should pay him a visit?

But did he even wants to see you?

Does he miss you like you miss him?

Someone knocked on your door very faint and softly.

You stood up walking as fast as you can to the door. Your pace was very slow.

You opened the door revealing a worried Charlie. You never saw her like that before.

"Is everything alright?” Even your voice sounded weak.

Charlie sighed and fiddled with the bottom of her shirt.

“It’s about my dad…” your eyes twitched, “Wait! Before you say anything let me talk first, please.” With a deep sigh you stepped to the side inviting her in.

“I know you both are on hard rocks but please, please talk to him. I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even after mom left. He doesn’t leave his bed anymore; he covers himself with his wings. And his wings lost so many feathers.” She sat down on the couch in the small Livingroom you had.

“He doesn’t talk to me, but he’ll talk to you. So please Y/n. I don’t want to see my own father like this, he doesn’t deserve this nor you.”

Charlie smiled but you could see right through her.

It was taking a huge tool on her.

She wanted to cry.

Vaggie stood beside her and stroked Charlies back in a comforting way.

You looked down at the almost gone mark.

Ache.

“I’ll go.” With a little happy dance Charlie grabbed your hand and walked with you to Lucifers front door.

Finally you stood in front of his door. You raised your hand into a fist, but you were Hesitant.

“Everything will be alright.”

You nod at Charlie's comforting words. That’s what you needed.

You knocked softly on his door, No respond.

You tried to open the door and it’s unlocked making you stumble forward.

You balanced yourself out and looked around the room.

It’s very dark in here.

You continued to look and saw him laying on his bed.

His wings covered himself in a comforting way.

You could see through the empty spaces where his feathers should be. But almost all feathers were gone, he was physically hurting. Because of the bond you two shared.

And because you hurt him.

Stepping forward you called out his name.

Lucifer only hugged himself tighter.

“Stop! She hates me! she’ll never come. Stop playing with me! Please stop.” He held his head tight and his screaming are mentally hurting you.

It sounded so sad, broken and in panic.

He was having a panic attack.

His breathing was uneven, and he shacked so bad.

His first started to thrash against any near surface.

In these last days he started to hallucinate from you. How you allure him into the depth of suicide.

He realized quickly that it wasn't you. This person was so cold and had no soul.

The void he was avoiding was starting to get to him.

Rushing to his side you tumbled a couple of times. “It’s me Luci.” You tried to talk calm with him, not wanting to scare him even more.

He looked up at you, his eyes all red and puffy.

The eyebags under his eye only worsened than the last time and no shining into those beautiful scarlet eyes.

His slit snake eyes lost their emotions, it wasn't the beautiful scarlet you fell in love with. These were dull and without any life.

He shakes his head, thinking it was one of his illusion. He started to punch his head, he wants you not the Illusion of you.

He doesn't want to die

Not when it will hurt you. Because when he dies you'll die too. And he couldn't die in peace with the thought of you suffering

You grabbed his hand, stopping him from damaging himself even more.

“I’m here.” You whispered and took him into your arms.

"It's really me."

And then he broke, crying like a child that lost his favorite toy. Grabbing you so tight that you thought you can’t breathe anymore.

But you didn’t care.

The pain on your wrist slowly subsided, you didn’t even realize it was hurting in the first place.

His face was pressed in the crook of your neck, you giggle a bit as you felt his breath brushing the scar from the fight.

“I missed you.” Lucifer muttered between his sobs.

“I missed you too.” You let out a cry, fighting the tears that are threatening to come out.

“And I’m so sorry that I hid it from you. I was just so scared and a fool. Please don’t leave me ever again.”

“You don’t hate me?” He raised his head to take a look at your face. “I could never.” You said as you began to stroke his hair softly.

You two looked at each other in the eyes deeply.

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer said, “For what-“ His lips crashed on yours, you yelped at the sudden kiss but shortly give in.

The kiss was very passionate and slow.

Your lips moved in rhythm, his lips were so soft, and you melted right into them.

It felt peaceful, you felt whole and the void in your heart started to get filled with butterflies and joy.

You belonged with him. To him and he belongs to you.

You break the kiss looking down at Lucifer who was looking at you like he just saw the light of his life.

“I Love you Y/n.”

_____

Michael felt devastated.

He lost to his little brat twin brother, the one he hates the most.

it was giving him a hard time in heaven.

He threw things around him destroying the beautiful, expensive furniture.

He threw a vase at his older brother, but his older brother Azrael the death Arch angel, caught it luckily midair.

“You should calm down, geez.” Azrael put a vase back on its place.

Michaels blue eyes were glowing as he looked at Azrael, he was mad.

Azrael raised his hands in surrender, not wanting to deal with his childish Tantrums.

Michael growled and pointed at a lower-class Angel. “You!”

The Angel stood straight up, “yes sir!” Michaels wings were rustling at the anger that was building up in him once again.

“Bring Lilith to me.”

A/n: Poor baby

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym

#shapard #y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

okok hear me out. eddie x reader literally despise each other, for no particular reason. reader just thinks he’s gross and weird. eddie thinks reader is stuck up and prissy. BUT one day reader walks into the dnd room on accident. eddies the only one in there, setting up for the new campaign ofc. and they just get into a really heated argument that ends up w reader bent over the dnd table w eddie pounding into her from behind.… PLS IM BEGGING I LIVE FOR A GOOD HATE FUCK

author’s note: this is all over the place i’m sorry lol, i can’t write hate fucks for the life of me but i tried.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) mean!eddie, mean!reader, slight perv!eddie, just a lot of harsh shit talking between eddie/reader, degrading language/shaming, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, again just straight smut and not the sweet kind, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 3.4k

Eddie Munson was the bane of your existence, that’s one thing you knew for sure. Some of it was intentional, some of it not—but he got under your skin in the worst way. It wasn’t his obnoxious volume or ridiculous acts of show, throwing himself around in a way that was meant for amusement, drawing a few laughs from his friends and even a couple strangers—but most of it wasn’t received well and definitely not by you.

The thing was, you didn’t hate him for the same reason everyone else did. He dressed differently, sure, listened to the kind of music that has you covering your eyes from the harsh percussion and scratchy, screaming voices—but that’s because it woke you in the middle of the night, your own trailer rattling from the vibrations. The smell and smoke of his weed wafting into your open bedroom window, white cloud bellowing into the humid air of your room, it was a nightly occurrence.

There was also the misfortune of having to listen to his escapades, whether daily or nightly, and having to suffer through the sounds of whoever Eddie decided to hook up with on that particular day—the walls of your trailer were entirely too thin and did nothing to muffle the sounds shrieking from your neighbors home. But, at least he had enough respect to do it while Wayne was away—because while Eddie was the most annoying part of your daily life, Wayne was one of the better ones.

He greeted you kindly, always asked how you were—meanwhile Eddie would lazily stomp along to their trash bin, shirtless and a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear, staring you directly in the eye before spitting on the pavement. Wayne always reprimanded him for it, complained about how disrespectful it was, but Eddie knew it got under your skin. It’s exactly why he did it.

He snickered at your starch ironed skirts, pleats along the front and always the softest shade of pinks and blues and purples, fitting an even softer sweater over your starkly white button ups—and if he wasn’t commenting on it as you were leaving your trailer, cigarette shoved between his lips as he leaned against his van, it was in the hallways as he approached behind you swiftly, your body smacking into him amongst the hoard of people swarming the halls.

“Might want to watch where you walk, sweetheart .” He whispers, voice low and in your ear, “Get too close to the trash and you might get dirty, right?”

You shove him away haphazardly, nose scrunching up in annoyance. You couldn’t remember speaking more than five words to him at any given time, regardless of how often you saw him. It was physically painful to be in his presence, mentally exhausting, and you shoved a forceful middle finger his way as he laughed at the gesture, throwing them back as a double.

And it felt like fate was forcing you two together despite your obvious distaste for one another; running into each other during bathroom breaks from class like they were planned, both of you sharing an awkward look in return, eyes lingering on one another.

It had to be the disgust you felt, there was no reason your eyes should stay stuck that long.

Or how he always ended up behind you in line at lunch even though he rarely ate—sometimes a couple of measly snacks, a pack of almonds or a small water bottle, mostly too enveloped in his own conversation to remember that he needed to eat until it was already too late, bell signaling you back to class.

You didn’t know that because you watched him at lunch, that was the case at all. Definitely not.

But the truth was, you weren’t much different from Eddie. In fact, if you thought about, Eddie was a lot better off than you. He had a group of friends, a community he felt safe participating in, and no shame in the way he carried himself.

But you, you were terrified—never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in your outfit, and how dare your grades dropped lower than a B. You were jealous of Eddie, but that wasn’t something you could easily admit to his face. You envied his ability to be so careless, but in that same breath, you absolutely hated him.

You’ve also involved yourself in too many school clubs at this point, overwhelming your schedule and spending most of your days frazzled trying to keep up—so by the end of the day when you’re running back to the classroom to grab your things before heading home, it’s not a surprise that you don’t realize the flooring as you skid to a stop—the room was low lit, some song you don’t recognize set for quiet ambience and you freeze, eyes connecting with the only person in the room.

“Can’t stay away, can you?” Eddie teases, head turned up slightly, vivacious grin plastered on his face.

“My mistake,” You interrupt him, turning on your heels swiftly to flee the space, a small chuckle escaping Eddie’s chest, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” He remarks, plucking the small figurines from the table and shoving them away in a box, carefully piling the other items inside, “but if you wanted to see me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

And as much as you want to keep quiet, act like he doesn’t bother you—you can’t. It’s the one last bridge he hasn’t burned, until now. The teasing has only ever gone so far, mostly harmless, but his voice is edged with a dangerous intent—not so much toward you, but it lingers.

“Excuse you?” You ask tensely, turning back around, face pinched up in anger. “See you? Why would anyone want to spend more than five minutes around you?”

“You tell me,” He shrugs, finally managing to clear the table amongst your hatred filled gaze, resting his rear against the edge, arms crossed heavily over his chest, “you’re the one still standing there.”

“I tolerate you, at the very least.” You spit at him, finger held up scrutinizingly as you took a few slow steps toward him, “your horrible manners, the decency and respect you lack for others—if it weren’t for having known Wayne I could blame it on your family for raising you that way, but no. It’s all you.”

“Careful, princess,” He replies teasingly, “words hurt.”

The nickname always drove you mad, fist clenching in frustration.

“Good.” You say forcefully, know only a few inches from him—he smelt like cheap tobacco and old leather, nostrils flaring in disgust. “Maybe you’ll think twice before watching me change from your bedroom window—“

Eddie’s eyes widen, face paling at your admission.

“Yeah,” You reply knowingly, nodding your head as a taunt, “I know all about your little secrets, Eddie.”

But instead of giving in, Eddie doubles down and fights back just as hard.

“At least I don’t have a stick shoved up my ass,” He replies, “I guess mommy doesn’t know you’re blowing guys behind your trailer late at night—does she?”

And frankly, it’s none of his business. But then again, the same thing could be applied to you. There was too much shared anger, shuffling back and forth between hate and jealousy—you weren’t sure if you actually hated Eddie, or just the idea of him.

At face value, Eddie was attractive, likable, and had the calmest demeanor you’ve ever seen—but the moment his mouth opened, it was ruined.

“It’s no different from you fucking girls with your window wide open—half the neighborhood could hear it.”

“Oh, so you listen?” Eddie asks, disregarding the obvious problem. “Naughty.” He remarks softly, smirk settling into a dark grin.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, dropping your finger down at your side. “It’s kinda hard not to, you know?”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly.

“And what about you?” You ask, “Doesn’t that make you a creep when you’re watching me?”

“I go out for a smoke around midnight every night,” Eddie reminds you, “It’s not my problem if you’re there—I’m not changing my routine for you.”

“So, you’re okay with peeping?” You ask redundantly, but Eddie has a response anyways.

“You’re the one sucking cock in public,” Eddie reminds, “are you forgetting that’s technically illegal?”

You shrink back slightly, lips turning down in a frown as you glare at him. “No one’s out there—at least no one but—“

“You like it, don’t you?” Eddie asks, lids shifting down, eyes lingering with darkness. “You could go anywhere—a car, in the woods—but you like the idea of being watched, being caught, don’t you?”

Your silence is telling—but you didn’t have to explain yourself to him.

Eddie hums in response, nodding.

“I think you’re doing it so I’ll watch,” Eddie tells you, like he’s suddenly got you all figured out—and so what if he did, “at least I can admit I do it for fun, knowing half of those guys won’t last more than a few minutes.”

“You’re disgusting.” You reply quietly, watching as he rises slowly, stalking toward you. “And a fucking dick.”

“Oh, sweetheart—don’t go soft on me now.” Eddie chides, “Tell me how you really feel.”

There’s a beat of silence, eyes never leaving each other's gaze. Eddie speaks first.

“And don’t act like I don’t know you like listening to me,” Eddie admits, “Why do you think I get so loud?”

“Because you’re obnoxious,” You start, “and rude, and—“

“Three nights ago, Friday, you remember?” Eddie asks curiously, stalling your attack.

“Yeah?” You reply wearily, wondering where he was taking this. “I saw that girl you let inside—you fucked her, do you want a ribbon?”

“What girl?” Eddie asked before it dawns on him, “Oh shit—Chrissy, yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for him to finish.

“She left five minutes after she got there—in, out. It was a quick deal.” Eddie tells you, before leaning toward you menacingly, face only a few inches away, “But sweetheart, that noise? It was all me.”

The heat rises to your face in an instant, the guilt in your expression obvious.

His tongue peeks out slightly, running along the top row of teeth, “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Your gaze is fierce, refusing to give in to his game.

Eddie takes another step closer, raising his arm—for a brief moment you expect him to touch you, bracing to grip his wrist and shove him away, but it lingers, finger pointing toward the open door as he talks to you petulantly, instructing you through his next few moves.

“Now—I’m going to close that door,” Eddie explains, “do you want to leave?”

You hesitate for a brief second, before shaking your head slightly. If Eddie wasn’t watching you so intently he probably would’ve missed it.

“And, with your blessing of course, I’m going to bend you over that table and fuck you how I know you want me to,” Eddie says haughtily, tipping your chin up briefly, touch disappearing as quickly as you felt it, “then maybe you won’t have a reason to hate me so much.”

“I’m going to hate you regardless.” You answer weakly, confirming his suspicions. You couldn’t say no. You wanted this.

“Somehow I think I’ll survive.” Eddie smirks, vanishing behind you quickly, leaving you stuck at a standstill, heart pounding in your chest. “Last chance to back out, just say the word—“

“Lock it.” You tell him firmly.

Eddie snorts softly, flipping the lock closed.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate in his movements, shoving you harshly over the edge of the table, lifting your skirt up lazily, slipping the soft white cotton of your underwear down your legs without a word, the light jingling of his belt behind you as he stripped himself of it, working himself out of his jeans enough that his cock springs free, bouncing upright into the cool air.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Eddie harps, fisting his hand into the end of your hair and tugging, eyes connecting with your own—it was an awkward angle and Eddie was slightly upside down from where you were peering back, hip held tight in his grip. “I thought I’d at least have to get my dick inside you first.”

You shove away his wandering hands, fingers drifting over your entrance and pressing against your clit, thick juices coating his fingers briefly.

“I didn’t say you get to touch me like that.” You tell him sternly, “If you’re so desperate to fuck me, then do it. Stop wasting my time.”

“Your time?” Eddie repeats, “Princess, I’ll make this last an eternity with that mouth.”

“You don’t scare me, Eddie Munson.” You say to prove a point, holding in a ragged gasp as he presses inside slowly, a dull sting as he stretches you open, inch by tantalizing inch.

Eddie wraps a gentle hand around your throat, squeezing the tiniest amount of pressure. He’s testing your limits, already well aware of what you like—he may not be the brightest, but he’s not that dim. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Then?” A sudden thrust of his hips has you tumbling forward, hands forced out in front of you to keep from slipping. Eddie pulls you back up swiftly, back flat against his chest as he speaks, leaving you fully under his control, hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric of his shirt on either side of him.

“I’m just giving you what you want,” Eddie explains, “and letting you walk home full of me—“ He turns your head slightly, forcing you to look at him, bottom lip puffy and parted as he drags his finger along it, “you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me get this far.”

No response has Eddie tugging at your face, pulling you even straight, hand pressed firmly around your neck—mostly just to keep you in place.

“Answer me.” He warns, “Tell me how badly you want me to fill you so fuckin’ full, sweetheart.”

You moan embarrassingly loud as he pulls his hips back before shoving them against your backside harshly, skin slapping against skin, his own mouth parting on a silent groan as he stared down at you.

“If it will shut you up, yeah.” You tell him, earning a deep chuckle before you soften your eyes, peering up at him sweetly, sickeningly, “Come inside me.”

Eddie releases you with no warning, forcing you back down against the hardwood, resuming your previous position as you used the leverage to push back against him, creating a pace that was almost unbearable, feeling the soft string as he slapped his hands against your skin—your ass, your thighs, any exposed skin he could get his hands on, painting you with temporary marks for his eyes only—he’d make them more permanent if you let him, but that was far from possible.

Your blood still boiled in his presence, even with his cock buried inside of you.

You groan in frustration, agitated with the position, the lack of technique—but given you two were at each other like animals, it wasn’t entirely his fault—regardless, you weren’t going to leave without some satisfaction or at the very least, an orgasm.

“Stop, stop,” You urge him and Eddie doesn’t question it, letting you go immediately, “it’s not—“

“What—it’s not what?” Eddie asks with minor frustration, watching as you turned to him, scooting your ass up toward the edge of the table.

“As much as I hate looking at you, this might be the easiest way for me to cum,” You admit and Eddie smiles softly, the urge to retort a sly remark creeping up on him, “—what, why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shakes his head, refusing to answer before he pulls your hips flush, slipping back inside of you with ease as he crowds you space, lips brushing your own but never daring to reach out and kiss, you let out a sudden huff of air, reaching for his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Tell me how much you hate me.” Eddie eggs you on, grinning evilly, hands balled into fists as he pressed them against the tabletop, fucking you achingly slow.

“So much,” You assure him, not missing a beat, “you’re gross, rude,” Eddie moves his hips sharply, forcing a wrecked moan from your lips, “fuck—you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Uh huh.” He agrees, eyebrow furrowing as his stone faced expression falters slightly, “Is that all?”

“No manners,” You tell him, “and no respect for anyone.”

“Oh, you want respect?” Eddie gloated, “You want me to respect you?”

“Never said that.” You reply bluntly, his shirt in a vice grip as you yanked at the material, pulling him impossibly deeper.

He ignores you, “Now, why should I respect a whore like you?”

“I’m not a whore.” You pout slightly, “Oh, fuck—that’s—“

You slump slightly, but Eddie catches you, face tight in his grip, one hand pressed into the dip in your back.

“Say it like you mean it.” Eddie challenges.

“I’m not—“ Eddie tugs your face up, cheeks squeezed between his fingers, “not—not a whore. Or a slut. Or whatever the fuck you want to call me.”

Eddie nods, not believing a word you tell him.

“I forgot—you’re that stuck up little princess who lives next door to me. Perfect life, perfect family—if they only knew the shit you got up to.” Eddie says menacingly, “Letting the neighborhood trash fuck you raw, come inside you—god forbid I knock you up, right?”

And the idea is terrifying, but you know it’s all talk. You had nothing to worry about, birth control be damned—but it leaves a pit in your stomach that lingers. Eddie was self aware, he knew people hated him, knew you hated him—but that didn’t change his unnatural attraction toward you, nor yours for him.

“Eddie—Shut. Up.” You emphasize, pulling him tight against you, cunt clenching around him as he hits a dangerous spot inside you, sweet but alarming.

“Well, maybe you’ll think twice about walking in here again.” He replies snidely, his faltering slightly as he lessened his grip on your face, touch stalling at the side of your neck as gave in, letting the sounds of your bodies fill the silence, hearing every soft little moan he punches out of you with his movements, becoming addicted and yearning for more. His hands move without any real direction, landing sloppily over your clit as he circled it lazily, head hung back and eyes closed.

“Fuck—Fuck you.” You sigh, whimpering quietly as his movements over your clit increased, mouth falling open wide.

The slap is a surprise, soft but enough to startle you, eyes staring up at him in shock. And you hated yourself for enjoying it so much, but the knowing smile on his face is too good to be true, and your mouth is moving without filtering through your brain.

“Harder.” You counter, eyes darkening as you challenge him.

He slaps you once more, forceful, noise crackling through the air. You huff a soft laugh, causing him to laugh in response—and truthfully, you both forget how this even started in the first place. It was all just an outlet for your own shared anger and it turned into a giant mess.

“Girls don’t—they don’t usually—“ Eddie doesn’t admit it outright, breath quickening as he attempts to speak through his unskilled thrusts, groaning loudly, “—they don’t like that.”

“Now Eddie,” You tell him, voice delicate, “I’m not most girls.”

But, he already knew that. You were nothing like the girls he was used to. You were everything he wanted but couldn’t have. You were a disease, a disgrace—in his eyes, and it made him want you that much more.

The climax hits you heavy, a gasp ripping from your chest as he tips you over that peak, following suit with one hard thrust, coming deep inside you until he can’t handle the stimulation any longer, pulling out with a weak groan.

The air is thick and tense, but Eddie helps you up carefully, slipping your underwear back into your palm. You stare at the fabric, balling it up in your hands briefly before making a sudden decision, reaching for his own hand and shoving them back at him, his pants still hanging unbuttoned around his waist.

“Keep them.” You shrug, smoothing out your skirt.

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, but pockets them nonetheless.

“This is never happening again, just so we’re clear.” You clarify. Eddie chuckles, not so sure. He can see the way your eyes linger on him, not fully believing yourself as you speak.

“I’m offended that you think I care that much, sweetheart.” Eddie replies back just as meanly, also lying to himself.

“Close your goddamn window from now on.”

“Not a chance.” Eddie smirks.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing #1kfic

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heyhoeudoin · 7 months

Note

do u have general kink hcs for aged up!karma akabane? :’> he’d be such a kinky bastard and i’m such a brat so i’m just over here like 👀

A FUN DISCOVERY

“Karma's Kinks...”

pairing: aged up!karma akabane x reader

words: 0.9k

genre/s: mature, MINORS DNI!

warning/s: swearing, kinks, sex, mentions of dick, no pronouns (unless i slipped)

synopsis: karma's kinks... plus you

masterlist

a/n: answering this before any of the other asks in my inbox right now is unfair (because i just got this the other day), but when i read karma akabane and kinks; something awoken in me. hope you're happy with this because i don't delve with anything sexual and this my first attempt (we ignore the deku's and shoto's headcanon; i wrote that sht when i was a dumbass).

karma akabane is one sadistic hot bastard and so i'm very sure that's a big part in his sexual desires. i also think this guy has a good amount of common kinks, but also has these specific wants during sex.

kinks i'm sure that he'd have:

bare backing (having anal or vaginal sex without a condom)

cum marking (letting a man's semen visibly dry on your skin or keeping a man's semen inside of you via plugs)

the feeling of him raw inside of you just makes it better for him. would he cum inside though? no because he'd rather see his cum sprayed all over you; on your face, on your stomach, on your back, on your ass... anywhere on you. just the image of it makes him all hard again.

begging kink (begging and pleading to have sex, for release/orgasm, to perform an act, etc.)

controlling orgasm (different from orgasm denial/delay because in this your partner gives you all the reasons to cum, but when you are close, they ask you to hold it which can get quite exciting if properly executed and done)

orgasm denial/delay aka edging (type of play where someone's orgasm is denied entirely, limited/ruined or delayed)

are you guys seeing my vision yet?

he loves it when you beg him to cum already. he loves to tease you and making you suffer relentlessly especially when it comes to you finally getting that sweet sweet release. when you tell him that you're about to finish, he suddenly stops all together and waits for a few seconds as you whine loudly to him.

karma loves hearing that whine come out of your mouth and that moan you make after he takes his entire dick out and pounds it back into your hole.

sadism (the kink for providing pain)

an obvious kink of his, but there's layers to it.

bitting (the act of bitting or nipping the skink whether it is to break skin or leave marks) or leaving marks in general

choking

degrader (like to degrade and humiliate their partner either by acting upon them in a degrading way or by forcing them to do things they consider degrading)

face slapping

rigger (likes to restrain their partners, either by physical item [cuffs, ropes, etc.] or instruction [known as mental bondage]. restraint can be full-body, or involve a single body part. bondage may include furnitures and devices)

spanking

he loves leaving marks on you, any kind of marking whether it'd be bites or a shit ton of hickeys. choking you while degrading you is one of his favorite things to do. also slapping your face, especially when you're giving him a blow job. your face turning red from the multiple slaps he'd given you. it makes it look like you're flustered. he also loves spanking your ass since every time he does, you'd make a moan.

but here's some next level sadism (in my opinion):

electric play (playing with electricity and tame shocks well above the lethal level)

wax play (playing with molten hot wax)

he definitely tried other types of plays, but these two are the ones he likes the most. he likes using electricity on your nipples because he loves to watch you bite your lip in pain and let out an airy moan once you get used to the pleasurable pain (he likes watching your nipples slowly perk up as well).

some times when he pounds you from behind, he'd hold a candle above your back and let the wax fall and land there. every time you fell a hot wax drip on your back, you'd arch your back further down and let out a cry of pain that then turns into pleasure.

loud moaning

being dominant

brat tamer

he likes being in control and touching you and making you scream which is why i think he wouldn't like voyeurism because he'd rather do you himself than watch.

public sex

here me out...

he loves to tease you right?

the biggest tease is him fucking you in public. works especially well if you work in the same building/company as him. the thrill of being in a public place where anyone could catch him pounding himself into you. you trying your best to scold him by saying "karma, we're in public!" but ultimately gets shut up by his mouth and/or dick.

that type of excitement; he just can't get enough of it.

and then a kink that i'm not sure he'd have, but it'd be pretty fitting if he did:

crying ("i love to see you cry")

i think that once you start crying either from begging or from something else, he'd fuck you like there's no tomorrow.

crying would be his ultimate turn on (and i'd be fucking terrified).

the first time you cried is when karma tried hot wax on you for the first time (only because you weren't a masochist yet) (yet because karma made you into a masochist).

he watched the wax melt off of the candle and drop onto your exposed back. you cried in pain as your reflexes took over and you flipped yourself onto your back. you stared at karma with tears threatening to fall out of your eyes.

"what the fuck was that?" you asked with a shaky breath as a tear rolled down your cheek.

karma blinked owlishly. then, in a quick second, he hooked his arms under your legs and slammed your back against the wall. his hands flat against the wall, pushing you against it as much as he can. he slammed his dick back inside you and pounded in devilish speed (you cried a bit more, which just fueled him a lot).

let's just say it lasted until the next morning.

masterlist

a/n: i'm very shocked with how this turned out. i actually quite like what i wrote here.

#reader #s/o #s/o headcanons #x reader #s/o tag #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma #karma akabane #karma x reader #karma akabane x reader #karma akabane smut #assclass #headcanons #hcs #reader insert #karma akabane headcanons #karma akabane hcs #akabane karma

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stardustizuku · 4 months

Text

I’ve recently been thinking on why there’s people who interpret Kuro in such a drastically different way.

And something I notice is that you can easily tell how someone experiences the series, based on what they think of the GWA.

The way you interpret the Green Witch Arc is indicative of of how you have been interpreting the story so far, and how you’ll interpret it going forward

Generally, there’s two interpretations:

1.- The Reaction Ciel had to the mustard gas, are his true feelings coming afloat

2.- The Reaction Ciel had to the mustard gas, isn’t how he feels.

The first interpretation (and I’m really not trying to be mean about it this time) comes from a very, uhm, shall I call it Teenage-Like? mindset of how pain and trauma works.

I call it Teenage-Like, because I’ve seen it in mostly literature aimed at teenagers, be it fanfics or YA. It comes from an inability for teenagers to actually voice how they feel towards their parents. A helpless feeling of being ignored.

I don’t wanna point fingers but this is the basis of a lot of Self Harm tendencies (physical, emotional, psychological, or others like EDs or digital self harm) come from. A need for people to notice you are in pain. But because you feel like you cannot voice it yourself (or don’t deserve it, it can vary) you start to lash out. Put yourself in higher risks, to have someone find out there is something wrong with you.

So the moment the main character finally breaks down, or has a moment of weakness, it’s interpreted as someone finally being truthful.

This is how Ciel’s reaction is interpreted by the first half.

The mustard gas is simply a trigger of pain, that causes all of Ciel to unravel. He’s in pain right now, cause he’s always in pain. He’s avoidant to Sebastian, cause he’s always been scared of him. He doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust adults. Finny is the only one who actually cares.

This makes the fact that Sebastian ,essentially, slapped him to get him to react, come off as cruel.

The boy is finally being honest, and you just tell him he’s being childish? Horrible.

Obviously, that’s not my interpretation.

Okay so, what happens once you’re not a teenager? Once you don’t have an adult figure to take care of you? What happens once you start avoiding telling your parents the pain you’re in, not because you think they won’t care, but because they’ll care too much and get worried and you don’t want them to get worried?

You start to realize pain is not the end of the world.

While, when being a teenager, getting sick meant someone gets to take care of you and maybe notice you aren’t okay, as an adult getting sick potentially means - not going to work. Which means your won’t have money to buy food, which means you’ll probably go hungry.

So getting sick becomes less of a way to get away from the responsibilities you have, and more of a burden.

That’s why you’ll see, in media aimed at adults,mental breakdown less depicted as an opportunity to be honest, and more of a sickness that needs to be healed.

You can have a more honest and truthful conversation, while you are sound of mind. There’s no power dynamic between friends, like it would with adult figures and children. So this song and dance, isn’t necessary.

You don’t have to be sick to be understood. And your friends will rather try to help you, than understand you when you’re suffering. That’s the nature of adult relationships.

This is more or less the framing that comes from Ciel’s breakdown (in the second interpretation).

The Mustard Gas isn’t showing Ciel’s true nature - it’s showing Ciel at his most vulnerable. This means, not in his sound mind.

Saying things he normally wouldn’t, hurting people he normally would hold close, and clinging to people he generally would never try to get close to.

Simply put, it isn’t just “a bit of pain to make him unravel” but a “Ciel is getting psychologically tortured by a weapon used for chemical warfare”.

He’s past being honest. He’s having such a severe reaction, that he cannot function. He’s being tortured and broken, to the point he is no longer himself.

He isn’t being “truthful” he’s scared.

And fear can make you do things that, in your sound mind, you would never do.

The point is that, Ciel isn’t saying what he truly feels or being “honest”. It’s him scared out of his mind, saying everything and anything to make the fear stop.

And the biggest proof is how he treats Sebastian.

The fact that Ciel asks Sebastian to “go away” or “not come near” is perhaps the most glaring reason as to how badly this Gas messed with him.

I’ve said this before but to Ciel, Sebastian is a lifeline. He’s the only tool he has for his revenge. The thing that, even after he lost r!Ciel, he was willing to sacrifice it all to achieve.

And at this point in time, Sebastian is also the only emotional anchor Ciel has.

As far back as the second episode, Ciel has asked Sebastian to stay. Even when he’s having flashbacks, even when he’s having an episode. In fact, Sebastian leaving him is a great source of anxiety - since as seen in BoC in the Asthma Scene, without him Ciel feels powerless enough to die.

He feels more protected with him, because he KNOWS Sebastian will protect him and that Sebastian will follow his orders.

Again going with the analogy of a dog - He feels more comfortable having the chained beast by his bed, simply bcs others are trying to hurt him and the beast won’t eat him right now.

So him asking Sebastian to go away, is throwing away his biggest safety net for a surrogate for r!Ciel, just means he’s reverting to the mentality he had during the cult.

If Sebastian is constantly telling him “it’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore, you’re outside the cage, you can do what you WANT”

Ciel clinging to Finny is him going “no, im staying in the cage bcs at least the cage is familiar”

And no matter what the first camp tells you, staying in the cage, trapped inside your pain ISNT the healthy option.

(We could argue Ciel’s need for revenge rather than healing is also unhealthy, but no one in the second camp would even call Ciel anything other than a villain in someone else’s story)

So, Sebastian slapping him and going “no, that’s not what you want”, isn’t as cruel as it would be in the first interpretation. Because as we see, he’s right. That’s not what Ciel wants. And it’s proved by the next scene where Sebastian talks to Ciel about what he truly wants.

Rather than Sebastian telling Ciel to “get over it”, it’s closest to a “snap out of it, something’s wrong”

This is further proved by the fact that, Sebastian first instinct isn’t to scare him. He does back away, he does try to wait and gently coax him. But Ciel literally cannot reason with him.

That small but significant difference in interpretation has wildly different outcomes in how you perceive both, the characters and the story.

If you pick the first, you’re reading Sebastian as an enemy. Someone who does not respect Ciel. You see his attempt to eat Ciel’s soul as a breach of trust, and proof that he doesn’t care for him.

But if you pick the second option, you see Sebastian as an ally. Someone who’s running out of time and ways to save Ciel. His actions, while crass, ultimately help Ciel. What he was trying to do, was help.

Yana, very clearly, wanted the second interpretation. However, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you it’s the only interpretation. People are free to pick and chose how they read the text, irrelevant of how little of the actual text they’re reading.

But I will say, picking the first is symbolic of a less mature way of thinking. Common on those who like to infantilize trauma and trauma responses. It’s the easy, safe and comforting way of reading the text. As I said, it’s common in those who want their pain to be acknowledged.

That reading of Kuro is one that speak to me, that you’re not really ready to confront pain. And someone with that mentality, is not someone who’s reading of the text I find particularly interesting. Sure, you can share it, I’ll never stop you, but know you’re speaking to me in an entirely different language. You’re interpreting the text so differently, that I don’t think it’s even the same text anymore.

Again, you’re essentially writing analysis on fanfiction. And I’m not all too interested in dissecting your own trauma sloppily painted over British Aesthetic.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #this is a bit less refined than both the Twitter thread i wrote and other essays #but I had to share my thoughts on this

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 11 months

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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lighteez · 4 months

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Comforting Sanji

Hello, hello! This one shot is based after the straw hats saved sanji. (it was ep 796 i believe where sanji's sis cuffed his hands) It'll be based on him finally getting his shackles away and it left a terrible scar on his wrists, so once the crew left whole cake island, you got worried over sanji and decided to take care of him after finding out about his past. You comfort him, cook for him, and tend to his wounds while cursing his entire family and the big mom family. (im on ep810 and i just saw the sanji x luffy fight, i was crying an ocean omg, i cant… it broke me seeing luffy and sanji cry) (p.s. IT HAS SPOILERS!! AND READER IS FEMALE!!!)

“SANJI!” You screamed when you saw the crew members return back with Sanji. When he saw you, he looked at you differently, his smile was still warm, but his eyes screamed a different story. He was hurt, he was in pain.

You gripped the railing of the ship angrily, jumping out of the ship and ran towards him and the crew. Hugging them all, you told them that you took care of the ship well and made sure nothing happened to the Thousand Sunny.

Luffy laughed and nodded, “Thanks for ya help, now let's go back and have a feast! This time with our cook’s dishes!” He screamed like always, running back to the ship with Chopper. They were both happy to get their crew mate and friend back on board, the most exciting part? Sanji's delicious food! You on the other hand felt worried that he might be mentally tired, so being the caring person that you are towards your crew members, you tapped Sanji on his shoulder.

He turned his attention towards you and stopped walking, a curious expression on his face. “What is it? Is something wrong?” He smiled brightly. Taking in a deep breath, you relaxed yourself and spoke up.

“I’m glad you’re back, Sanji. Are you feeling okay now?” You asked, looking into his eyes to make sure he wasn’t lying to you. Seeing him take a deep breath as well, he relaxed his shoulders, or at least tried to relax. He simply nodded, faking another smile. “I know you’re lying to me… You’re mentally exhausted, am I right?” I asked, looking over to the ship as I saw the crew happily waving at us to hurry back so we can leave this weird island.

Sanji’s smile fell and he looked down at the ground with no facial expression playing on his face. All those horrible memories of the vinsmoke family came back to him, and he knew it was going to take more time to forget them again. “We really can’t lie to ya, huh? You see right through us.” He whispered, taking out his packet of cigarettes only to see that he was done with them. A thought came to mind, that he must’ve chain smoked a lot while being trapped with them.

“Sanji… I’m sorry all this happened to you. Let’s go back on the ship, I apologize I wasn’t much help.” I frowned, looking at the floor as well. This entire crew are always in their own world, having fun with another, but when their past or traumas come back, they are actually exhausted and worn out. You hadn’t noticed that these wonderful people suffered so much before they all met. It somehow felt like it should be your job to help these people who took you in when you had nowhere to go.

“It wasn’t your fault, and you always help us.” He smiled and ruffled your hair. You sighed in defeat, even though they say these things, you still feel useless, so you try your best to help around in the ship. Sometimes you would even train with Zoro and try to learn some fighting techniques. “Come on, let’s get out of here now. I don’t like Whole Cake Island.” He physically shivered and walked towards the ship with you following him.

Once on the ship, you all finally set sail to meet up with the other crew members who stayed on Zou Island. The crew was back to being cheerful, loud, funny and completely normal as if nothing ever happened these last couple of days. You ended up hearing all the news from Carrot about Sanji being a Vinsmoke, almost marrying that daughter from Big Mom, and his past. The more she talked about what happened, you became worried and angry. Nami chimed in on the conversation and said that Luffy and Sanji had a big fight.

Looking over to Sanji and Luffy, they seemed perfectly fine dancing and laughing with the others, as if nothing ever happened between them. Letting out a small smile towards Nami you told her to stop bringing up the past, it would only stay in her mind if she keeps remembering and repeating everything that happened. Nami agreed and just began to drink all the booze to lighten up. Carrot followed Luffy and ate all that she could.

Hours went by in a flash and you excused yourself to freshen up. The only ones still up was Brook and Pedro playing songs while Carrot danced with Chopper. Luffy and Nami were knocked out asleep, and of course Luffy was still eating Sanji’s dishes while sleeping. Everything felt good, and right in its place, however; Sanji was stuck in the Kitchen, cooking and cooking away. You already knew that sometimes he cooks whenever his mind is full of thoughts, and considering all that went down, you were sure he was recalling back old memories.

Instead of going to the bathroom, you headed towards the stairs and walked to the kitchen. Peeping into the window you saw him there cooking multiple different dishes and keeping himself occupied. “Sanji, do you need help? Please rest up, I’ll take care of the cooking.” You came inside and walked up to him, but he didn’t seem to hear you at all as he had a painful expression on his face. Immediately, you turned the stove off and grabbed his hands, pulling him to sit down on the stool.

“Sanji, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You put the back of your hand on his forehead, but he wasn’t running a fever. Sanji snapped out of it and his expression melted. Looking up at you, he had those same eyes from when you saw him coming back to the ship.

“I’m fine, I was just thinking about things like always. Don’t worry, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath, but you knew he was broken. As you looked down at his wrists you saw scars of some handcuffs and you let out a loud gasp quickly grabbing his hands to scan the injury.

“How can I not worry?! Your wrists are hurt! Let me go get Cho-” Before you could turn around to get Chopper, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“Don’t… I’m fine, really. These will go away at some point.” He said, referring to the scars.

“Sanji, these will leave a horrible scar. Please, at least let me treat them.” Sanji looked up at you and locked his gaze on you before agreeing with you. “Okay, I’ll go get the first aid kit. Wait here and don’t you dare move a finger.” You warned him before jogging towards the infirmary room to get the first aid kit. Chopper taught you the basics of tending a wound so you knew how to handle this situation.

Once you gathered the things, you headed back into the kitchen. Sanji was staring at his wrists that were resting on his lap. He looked tired and worn out, how could you comfort him? What can make him feel better and forget all those horrible memories? You want to help him forget and comfort him. Sanji seems so fragile right now, and you wanted to care for him right now, even if it’s just for a night.

“I’m back, put your wrist on the counter there.” You laid the first aid kit on the counter nearby his extended wrist. Taking out things one by one, you suddenly blurted out, “The Vinsmokes are all assholes. They don’t deserve you at all. May they all get a slow painful death and regret everything!” Anger was building up inside of you as you could only imagine all the shit he has been through since he was a child.

Surprisingly, Sanji let out a laugh which surprised you. After cleaning his wound he was just looking at you with a smile again, “Thanks for this. I’ll be fine, I swear.” He whispered, but that didn’t calm your anger down one bit as you started wrapping the bandages around his left wrist first.

“I know you’ll be fine, Sanji, but I can’t help it. If I was there with you, I would’ve killed them with my bare hands, they don’t deserve to live at all. Fuck them all and I will pray for their down fall everyday.” Your words flew out of your mouth, saying the most horrendous things about the Vinsmokes. If only he could read your mind, he would hear all the ways you would be torturing them right this moment. Sometimes, horrible people who don’t redeem themselves at all deserve the worst kind of death.

His right hand grabbed your wrist and gave it a squeeze, “Hey, a lady shouldn't stress her pretty mind out over the past.” He chuckled, as you looked at him, softening your gaze when you guys met each other's gazes. “And you’re kind of squeezing my wrist there.” A small wince came out his lip as you gasped and stopped gripping his injured wrist.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize I was hurting you!” Without thinking you grabbed his left hand with caution rubbing his arm gently. “You’re okay, right?” You looked at him with gentleness as he stared at you, clearly surprised that you’re being so careful with him. It was the first time he’s seen you this caring towards him, as if he would break with a gentle touch.

He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, “Yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry.” He looked back at the stove where the food he was cooking probably got cold now. “I should get back to cooking, I’m sure they’re all waiting for my food now.” He chuckled, getting up from the stool, but you pushed him back down to sit down.

“You’re not going to cook with injured wrists, and plus you need to rest, everyone has to rest.” You sighed, frustrated at him because he didn’t want to rest up and listen to you. “Once I’m done bandaging your right wrist, I’m going to get everyone to sleep. I’ll stay awake to make sure there’s nothing over the horizon, and tomorrow morning I’ll cook breakfast, okay?” You went over your list to him as you grabbed his other hand and cleaned his wound, applying ointment as Sanji said nothing.

The silence dragged on between you two as you cleaned up his wound. You broke the silence first to say this, “Nami told me what happened with Luffy and you. I didn’t expect that to happen honestly.” A small groan escaped his lips as you took your hands away from his wrist, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you again?” You asked him as he shakes his head in response.

“No, you didn’t. I just-” He stopped mid sentence and sighed deeply, “I feel so horrible for doing that to Luffy. I know he forgives me for what I’ve done, but- I should’ve been stronger. Instead I hurt my captain after he took me in as part of his crew. I’m such a horrible fucking-” You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, being worried about him. You didn’t want him to finish that sentence at all.

“Don’t say that, Sanji. You’re not a bad crew mate. I know that you had your reasons, okay? We all know that you would never intentionally hurt Luffy.” You finished talking before removing your hand away from his mouth as he looked at you again, but this time he showed you a sad face. He really does regret what he did.

“I-I know, but Nami slapped me. She actually thought I would turn my back to them. I feel so bad, I want to take back everything I did and said. I just feel so-” His voice choked up, looking away from you as he bit his lip. Sanji was crying. “So guilty and weak.” His last words hit you like a train, you haven’t seen him cry before and your heart swelled with pain. You don’t like seeing him so hurt or cry.

Again, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. A tear rolled down your eye, crying with him. The pain and guilt he must be going through right now made you want to protect him and the rest of the crew from any kind of harm. You stroked his messy hair, calming him down as he clinged to your shirt like a little kid who had gotten a small paper cut. “There, there… Don’t cry, Sanji dear. I’m here. You’re not a horrible person, okay?” You whispered as your chin rested on top of his head as he hugged you tighter, crying into your shirt.

“I’m sorry for causing everyone harm. I was- I was trapped with that old man and those so-called brothers. They threatened me so many times by saying they will kill people who are important to me and blow my hands away. I felt horrible that I said those words to Luffy and Nami. I didn’t mean them at all, I swear. I almost made a mistake by marrying someone for political reasons and not because I truly loved them.” He cried out loudly, his tears running down his face and staining your shirt.

Your heart broke into millions of pieces as you held him tighter, probably squeezing the air out of him. You planted kisses on top of his head, reassuring him that he will be safe now, and nothing bad will happen to him ever again. Tears fell down your eyes as well, feeling sympathy towards him as you tried your best to understand how he felt right now in the moment. “It’s okay, Sanji. You had very good reasons, that only proves that you were thinking about us before thinking of yourself. You’re a great guy, I’m sure you’ll find the love of your life out there, so please forget about that. You’re safe now, with us, with your friends.”

In the process of comforting him, your anger rose inside of you, wishing hell upon everyone who harmed Sanji and your crew. Your breathing picked up as you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head up to make him look at you, your thumbs clearing his tears. “Sanji, dear. I’ll make sure to protect you and the crew. I will do anything in my power to kill all those assholes who made you all feel pain. I swear on my life.” His eyes widened as he tried to not cry again.

“Don’t swear on your life. Everything passed now, we’re all okay now. I’ll be okay.” He leaned into your touch on his cheeks as he held you closer to him. “After a few naps, I will forget all that happened to us. It won’t haunt us again.” Sanji whispered, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your hands on his cheeks, they were warm and tender. You sighed, your gaze falling softly as you saw him enjoying your comfort.

“Okay, but still. I won’t let this go. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you all safe.” You whispered softly, a small smile creeping up your lips as you stared at him warmly. “Let’s get your wrist wrapped up and you can go to sleep, okay? I’ll clean up the mess and get everyone to sleep in their rooms.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, his eyes were glistening and red from crying so much. You wouldn’t trade this moment between you two for nothing, you knew right there and then that it’ll be your official job to make sure they’re all mentally and physically okay.

Sanji gulped and looked away from you, “You’re being too kind to me. I should be a man here and help you out.” He chuckled softly as you followed his lead.

“No, just for right now… Just for tonight, let me take care of you, is that fine?” You asked him as he looked back at you, his stare sent your heart racing. He looked at you so gratefully and tenderly as your heart melted with warmth.

He didn’t respond at all, he just kept staring at your eyes with a smile. The warmth from his gaze sent your stomach doing flips, you liked this side of him. “Sanij… I should really bandage your wrist now.” Clearing your throat, you went back to his wrist, placing it on the counter as you grabbed the bandages and began wrapping his wrists gently.

Once you were done, you put the things back into the first aid box, closing it when suddenly Sanji pulled you into a back hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry, but please let me hug you… You’re an angel, y’know that, right?” He whispered against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. A small blush crept up your cheeks as he held you so close.

“I’m not an angel, Sanji. I don’t mind your hugs.” You whispered back, looking down at the counter as he breathed gently against your neck. The atmosphere around you two seemed warm and sweet, you wanted to hug him, but you knew yourself, you would start pampering him and treating him like a lover would.

The biggest secret you ever kept from the crew is that you started falling in love with Sanji, you didn’t know when, but all you remember is that Sanji showed you his real self. Not his weird perverted self, but the most intimate parts of his life. His eyes shine whenever he talks about the all blue, or whenever you help him out in the kitchen, he gets so excited to teach you new recipes. His interests are rather adorable and you find yourself wanting to learn more about him over time.

“Sanji… Go rest up. You need it.” A small whisper left your lips as he groaned in protest.

“I’m sorry… I can’t help myself after you comforted me this way.” He whispered as well. “I remembered something, the girl I was going to marry… she sympathized with me like this, but she wasn’t like you. You’re assertive and more- demanding. I just- I apologize if I’m comparing you two” Sanji let out a small grunt, probably regretting what he said.

Something in you felt angry again and almost snapped at him, “Don’t… Just- Stay like this, don’t think about anything or that girl who caused you harm as well. She’s Big Mom’s daughter, I will hate her too for life.” The last sentence left your lips as you shut your mouth and slapped a hand over your lips, realizing what you just said.

You heard Sanji laugh against your neck, squeezing you softly. “Alright, I get it.” He responded, “You’re gonna fight her too, huh? Two beautiful women fighting over me? That sounds nice.” You became angry again and twisted your body to look straight at him, grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards you.

“Don’t talk about that bitch, I hate her. Understand?” His face was shocked when you did that suddenly. “I’m just protecting my crew mate from harm.” A low grumble left your mouth as he stared at you with wide eyes.

Sanji visibly gulped nervously as he nodded, biting his lip as you pulled him closer to you, “Sanji… I really do care about you and want to keep you safe from here on out. Can I do that?” You asked him, your gaze traveling down to look at his lips as he started blushing. Your head was wrapped around him, but you didn’t want to tell him that you had feelings for him at all.

“S-Sure… I don’t- I don’t mind.” He mumbled, his hands went back to your waist, holding you closer again. The air around you both became stronger and thicker with anticipation. Silence came over you again as your gazes kept wandering around in each other's faces. Your grip tightened around his tie, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. “We… We should clean up.” He said softly, licking his lips.

You didn’t respond at all, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. All these thoughts that ran through your mind made you wonder what would happen if you really did kiss him right here and then. Would he return the kiss back to you or not? Will he regret it? Does he only think of you as a friend and crew mate only? Is it too soon? You hadn’t moved from the spot at all and neither had him.

The urge to kiss him was too strong, the urge in general to just confess your feelings to him was unbearable in this moment. “Sanji, go rest up… Uhm- I’ll go now.” You told him, letting him go easily and grabbed the first aid kit, going back to the infirmary to put it away, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into him again.

“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not, but… May I kiss you? If you let me of course.” He was holding you so close to him, his breath fanning near your face as you tried your best to resist kissing him without saying anything. He’s too good to be true. A simple nod came out of you as he sighed, “I need to hear your words, not just a nod. Please.” He begged you, gripping your waist with one hand as the right one came up to caress your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair as he looked at you with- adoration?

“Yes, please… Just kiss me, Sanji.” Without warning, you leaned in to kiss his lips, wanting to feel his lips on yours now. The second you pressed a kiss to his lips, he held you so close, grabbing the first aid kit and throwing it to the counter, bringing you closer to his body as he kissed you passionately. In that moment, nothing else mattered besides your lips on his, kissing him desperately and filling the kiss with so much love and adoration.

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kitthepurplepotato · 2 months

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Side note: I’m not back from my hiatus I’m just posting this because I magically managed to finish this chapter before going berserk! Yay!

Chapter 20 - Can I show you how much I love you? (18+)

Summary: You just wanted to eat breakfast. So how did you end up in the shower with your freakishly handsome boyfriend, kissing each other senseless?! And the bed?! When did you get there? What’s going on?! WHAT IS THIS SHENANIGAN?!

Warnings: Swear words, 18+!!! Contains a sex scene. (It’s mostly smut, so please, if you are not okay with that or you are under 18, skip this chapter or well… you know... 😂 Thank you!)

Also, this chapter is 7K so get some water and something to snack on!

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Rise and shine, you drunkard.” You giggle to yourself as you look at your fluffy, absolutely adorable boyfriend who’s already frowning from the light coming in through the window.

“Hey, you wanted me to have fun, which I certainly did.” Izuku retorts sassily. You can’t help but gawk at him which only makes the green head laugh. “I’ll be fine after I take my pills. I’m not in more pain than usual, I swear.”

“Still, drinking this much in your condition…” You mutter, probably ruining the mood completely but fuck, you are so worried. It’s terrible to see such a hard working man so down, physically and mentally. You want him to be healthy and happy again, you want him to smile freely and sleep peacefully like he used to. You want to shield him from any harm, make sure nothing prolongs his current suffering but at the same time, you understand that’s he’s not a fragile human being who needs to be pampered the entire time, however, you still can’t help but want to do that.

“Sweets, I asked.” Izuku sighs. “The doctor said it’s fine. I’m fine. You are fine. Everything is fine.” He slowly strokes your cheeks until you finally relax. It takes a little bit of time, but eventually, you get there. “What do you want to do today, love?” Izuku smiles at you and it’s quite pathetic how your heart rate rises every time he’s sweet to you, even to this day. You’ve been together for long enough to get used to these touches but somehow, you just… can’t.

“Well, Katsuki, Ei, Shouto, Mirio and Tamaki went ‘monster hunting’ early in the morning. By that, I think they meant they are going to climb the big mountain. Denki is still KO so Hitoshi brought him back to their own cabin when Katsuki and the gang left for their adventures. Kyouka and Momo went down to the high street for a shopping spree. Rody went down with them to spend some time with his family. So once we clean up the bedding from the floor and… maybe we can just… chill today? In our own cabin? Try the onsen? Maybe?” Your cheeks are so flushed you are surprised Izuku haven’t commented on it yet.

“Hmm…” his cheeky hands find their way to your tummy under your shirt, slowly stroking your naked skin with a smug smirk on his face. What happened to shy Izuku?! Where is he?! Who’s this man?! “Sounds like a plan to me, Sweets.”

“If you keep doing that, we will never make it to our cabin.” You murmur into his ears with a shit-eating grin on your face. Izuku is out of the bed before you can say anything else, stuttering nonsense under his nose as he moves the so called “bedding” - a bunch of decorative pillows and massive blankets scattered on the floor - back to where they belong and he’s out of the door without a single word. You can’t help but giggle the whole way home.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” You snicker under your nose and Izuku gives you the sassiest side eye you’ve ever seen. It’s absolutely hilarious. “What?!” Oh no. You can’t stop giggling like an idiot. You really don’t need another tummy ache after yesterday’s shenanigans!

“I’m going to the onsen. Right now.” Izuku declares.

“No, not before breakfast.” You retort, standing with your hand on your hips like an angry mother.

“Oh yeah?” He comes closer, his smile bigger and bigger as you flush from his closeness. “Watch me.”

Ladies and gentleman, what happens now must be a fever dream… because Pro Hero Deku AKA Midoriya Izuku AKA Izu-Izu takes off his fucking shirt in the most attractive way possible and slowly sheds every single clothing off while you yell like a virgin with your eyes covered by your own hands.

“What the fuck, Izuku! Stop! Keep the boxers… oh my god, STOP THE VIOLENCE!” You laugh, cheekily peeking out between your fingers. “You also need to shower before going in! IZUKU LISTEN TO ME, YOU MENACE!”

“Only if you shower with me.” Izuku WINKS at you and you swear your soul just left your body for a second.

“Only if you eat breakfast.” You retort and by the surprised look on Izuku’s face, he didn’t think you’ll even consider saying yes to that question.

“You will… shower with me?” Izuku’s confidence is gone just like that, in a matter of milliseconds and you kinda feel the urge to just push him into the bathroom to prove how serious you were but you are way too hungry to even think properly right now so…

“After we had breakfast. I’m starving, Izu-Izu.”

“But… for real?”

“Well, we’ve been together for long enough to share a shower, haven’t we?” You answer with a massive blush on your face.

“I’ll re-heat the food Katsuki left for us.” Is all the answer you get before he trots away into the kitchen.

The mood… is heavy. There is just something in the air you can’t really describe, this weird tension, but not the bad kind… you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to know that today… something big will happen. It might just be the shower, seeing each other completely naked for the first time, but maybe it won’t stop there, maybe…

All the blood from your face goes somewhere else.

Calm down. Jesus Christ, woman, just calm down.

You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t even realize the that the food is already heated up and ready to eat on the small table in the kitchen. The lovely scent of Katsuki’s food makes your tummy grumble; it might be weird to eat lunch for breakfast, but you literally can’t even be bothered to comment on it; in your household, it’s quite normal to eat whatever you guys want, whenever you want it, thanks to Izuku’s inhuman shift patterns. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, afternoon snack; food is food. That’s your household’s motto.

“The food is served, my princess!” Izuku’s adorable face appears in front of you; he bows low and makes that arm movement the butlers do in those dramas in the TV. The whole scene would be quite funny if he wouldn’t be wearing one single underwear and nothing else.

Let’s just say it’s hard to laugh when you are too focused on… well… the curves. The shapes. The godly body. Those massive fucking legs which could crush your head like a watermelon without even flinching…

“The food is indeed served.” You mutter under your nose, loudly by accident and Izuku starts to laugh, tears prickling his eyes as he holds his tummy, probably trying not to throw up once again.

“Oh… my… god… Sweets… I didn’t see that coming.”

“Me neither!” You yell as you pass by your stupidly attractive boyfriend, completely avoiding eye contact because there is no way you can look at him right now with how embarrassed you are. “Put on a fucking shirt!”

Izuku laughs some more but obliges at the end.

Thank fuck.

~•🥦•~

“If you changed your mind, that’s okay.” Izuku caresses your face as you two stand in the bathroom, still clothed. You are quite sure your face is the color of Eijirou’s hair right now. Your limbs are shaking like a leaf and you feel so much anxiety you could cry. It’s stupid, really; it’s not like it’s your first time to be naked in front of somebody, yet it really does feel like it is; Izuku is not like the others, he’ll actually look at you, look at your curves and the tiny little flaws and he’ll remember everything until the day he dies, cherish them like they are something special, because that’s who Midoriya Izuku is; the most caring, most loving partner the world has ever seen.

“I want this.” You declare confidently. “Yes.” You nod to yourself with a tiny pout on your face.

“Yes.” Izuku parrots, making the same, tiny pout then he gives you a smile that makes your insides melt right away. “You are so cute, Sweets. I love you so much.”

“Shut up and get naked!” You yell with a red face. He’s too much. This is too much. He’s too perfect. You can’t even take his teasing seriously with how much love you see in his eyes as he does it.

“Hey, you are not the only one freaking out here!” Izuku yelps awkwardly. “Turn around… please?”

His wavering voice make you look up to his face; he’s flushed and trembly as he slowly takes his shirt off, the movement full of hesitation. You really feel the urge to mention how only an hour ago, he wasn’t this shy about stripping in front of you, but you keep your thoughts to yourself.

“You can also change your mind, you know.” You finally turn around to give him some privacy.

“I’ve been waiting for this ages. There is no way in hell I’ll back out of this just because of my stupid anxiety.” Izuku grumbles, more to himself than to you. “You’ve seen me naked before. You’ve seen my scars. You know all my secrets. I have no reason for me to feel so ashamed of myself. It’s all in my head… I know I’m not ugly. That’s a lie, fuck… I know… I know you think I’m… okay. I know you won’t mind… me looking like this. Most and foremost, I know you love me for who I am and not for how I look like…” he mumbles and mumbles, not realizing you managed to get out of your clothes by the time he managed to get to his underwear. Your eyes are filled with tears from his words, you want to slap him in the face for hating himself like that and kiss him senseless out of pride for finally realizing it’s all in his head.

With that said…

“Izuku, look at me.” You appear behind your boyfriend, probably standing way too close for it to be appropriate, but you don’t care right now.

Izuku bumps right into you when he turns around; a tiny yelp leaves his mouth as your breasts bounce on his chest. “If I ever hear you calling yourself ugly I’ll pull out every single one of your leg hairs with a tweezer, one buy one, in the most painful way possible. Now turn around, finish what you are doing and see you in the shower.”

“That’s weirdly… evil.” Izuku snickers but by the look of it, you plan worked because he looks much less anxious now. You quickly go inside the shower cubicle to hide, not giving the man too much time to check you out… yet.

You can hear some rustling from outside then Izuku takes a few deep breaths and steps inside the now foggy shower and… you forget how to breathe.

Izuku looks gorgeous on a normal day, but this… is downright sinful. Izuku is stocky but not in the wrong way; you knew that already but with his underwear now gone, you can see how perfect the proportion is. He’s perfect. His shoulders are massive, but he has a nice curve to his body and there is a tiny trail of green hair leading towards his perfectly trimmed intimate area, also pine green just like his hair… then… that’s… a monster between his legs. Yup. You slowly look up and to the side to calm yourself down because that sight went straight into your core and this shower doesn’t feel that innocent anymore.

“Sweets, I… I’ll have problems down there if you keep looking this pretty, just giving you a heads up.” Izuku whines with a high pitched voice. By the time you wake up from your daze he already turned his back to you (you try your best not to stare at that gorgeous fucking ass, because hell, that thing looks like it was carved by a horny but extremely talented sculptor), probably ashamed of himself for feeling this way. You can’t help but speak up.

“If I would… have the same thing between my legs, I would have the same problem.” You admit sheepishly.

“Why are we so awkward about the stupidest things?” Izuku giggles. You want to pinch him. (His ass. You want to pinch his ass. That’s what you want to do you cheeky sod.)

“I don’t mind. I think it’s really… us, that we act this way. I wouldn’t have this any other way.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Say that again and I’ll forcefully kiss you.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“IZUKU!“ you yell into the small space as you hide your face in your palms like that helps anything. Your forehead ends up on Izuku’s back and he yelps helplessly; you don’t need to see his face to know he’s red all over because even the back of his neck is the color of a lobster.

“Okay, I’m done with this awkwardness.” Izuku takes a deep breath and the next moment, your back hits the wall. You can’t help, but whimper. “Sweets, you are the most perfect human being I’ve ever seen and I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages, so I’m sorry for… uhm… being a little bit too excited right now but I really want to wash your back if you… uhm…” Izuku stops in the middle of the sentence as he’s incapable to continue thanks to your mouth being on his.

You can’t help it. Just… can’t. Your body moved on its own.

Izuku is irresistible. His gorgeous muscles, the veins on his arms, the softness of his wet skin, topped up with his kind words and pretty freckles is just too much after all this time; you wanted to touch him for so long, you wanted to feel him for months which honestly, feels like decades at this point… it feels like the love is about to burst out of your chest but there are no words strong enough to satiate your soul, to make it clear enough for the other the understand the depth of your feelings and your body is not listening to you anymore; the desire has festered into something unstoppable, it clouded your mind completely until there were no thoughts there just Izuku himself, freckled cheeks and pine green hair, the broccoli…

Wait.

“If this is your way to make this less awkward… it works.” Izuku kisses you back with a newly found vehemence, scorching hot yet so careful, but you don’t kiss back anymore… you push the man away like he just burned you, because… “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot!”

“What?”

“How did I forget about it?” You whimper, completely ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I was so astonished by your… uhm… that I forgot to check it out! I’m the worst!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, is the water too hot?” Izuku blinks at you, completely lost.

“The broccoli! I forgot about your broccoli! I can’t believe this!”

Izuku… bursts out laughing. He’s folded in half, his forehead basically cushioned by your boobs, shaking like a leaf from guffawing too hard.

“You pushed me away in the middle of a heavy, naked make-out session because you wanted to see my tattoo?” He looks into your eyes with an incredulous, but fond gaze.

“It’s important to me!” You mutter under your nose and Izuku doesn’t even answer you anymore; he just moves away and pushes his hip out, showing off his tiny, adorable broccoli tattoo sitting on his hipbone. You can’t stop your fingers from reaching out, caressing the colored skin with nothing but wonder in your eyes. “It’s so cute.”

Your boyfriend looks so much leaner than he usually does - you realize as you caress his strong hipbone, your fingers cheekily running over the dip by his waist.

Damn, you’ll never ever get over his thighs. Every time you look at them you remember his photoshoot with Mirko, the one that made Izuku a fashion icon, a genderless beauty because hell, Izuku is as manly as they get but… that man in Mirko’s costume kinda made you question your own sexuality.

Maybe you are just Izuku-sexual. He could be a man, a woman, someone between the two, hell, a fucking midget and you would still be attracted to him.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N.” Izuku sighs, right next to your ears. The fire burns even stronger inside you. The feeling only gets worse when his hand travels from your waist to the side of your breast, his thumb cheekily caressing the plump, soft skin. You make the mistake of looking down out of pure embarrassment just to be face to face with the proof of how much Izuku likes what he sees.

You can’t see it, but you can feel him staring at you; you look up and you are met with two heavily lidded eyes taking in the sight from the top of your head down to your feet, over and over. There is a new shine to them now, hot and scorching and you completely melt under that loving gaze; he takes that as a permission to take it further and starts peppering kisses all over your wet neck. You can’t help but move your hand into his soft, dripping curls; you clench your hand around the strands and Izuku makes a sinful sound which goes right into your center and the next few minutes are kinda a blur; things fall from the small shelving system inside the cubicle, someone slips, someone bites, someone moans, there is a constant pressure by your belly, something hard, but also soft to the touch, there are hands on your chest, on your back, on your thighs, everywhere, really.

Your whole body is on fire and so is his; the water is way too cold, but even that can not ruin the moment you two are having.

There are no thoughts in your head, just him. Izuku Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. Calloused fingers and the feeling of scars under your hands, hard muscle and soft skin, bouncy curls, the scent of Izuku’s shower gel, which somehow decided to appear out of nowhere (he probably took it off the shelf while you were too busy kissing him senseless and actually decided to be useful and clean you up while touching you all over), there is so much going on yet your mind is completely empty.

This is what Izuku does to you on a daily basis. He comes close and you forget who you are.

The scent of Izuku’s shower gel only sends thrill down your spine; the knowledge that for the next few hours you’ll smell like him, taste like him just ignites your body once again, the flames even stronger than before, you can’t help but touch him, first just his arms, then the tattoo on his side, the back of his neck, his collarbone, then the soft hair right on top of his member. You didn’t touch him properly but a wanton moan leaves Izuku’s mouth right as your fingers start to caress the hair down there then suddenly, Izuku gently slaps your hand away from that area.

You don’t have time to freak out about “going too far”; the next moment your back hits the wall once again, your legs somehow make their way around the man’s extremely attractive waist then he slowly moves you lower and lower until you feel something soft but sturdy right between your folds, just like the last time you two enjoyed each other’s company in the hot tub.

“Tell me to stop.” Izuku whimpers right into your ears then ends his sentence by biting down on your ear. His whole body shakes from the restraint, his palms are aggressively gripping your side and the back of your neck; Izuku is doing his fucking best to not move his hips forward, to not let him feel the pleasure of the friction because once it’s done, there is no way back for him; there is a limit to his restraint, there is a limit to how much of this can Izuku take without losing his goddamn mind…

You tear Izuku’s walls down with one single movement, with just a tiny little friction and you both moan in tandem as the pleasure creates goosebumps on your skin, but maybe, it’s just the cold water coming from the shower head; it doesn’t matter though because your answer is loud and clear and that’s all it takes for Izuku to turn off the shower with one hand and manhandle you into a towel-burrito before he takes you to the bedroom like a princess, his teeth clattering from the cold.

You should feel shy and embarrassed. You should be freaking out when Izuku drops you down on the bed and towers over you with your boobs halfway out of your towel.

You don’t feel any of that. Neither is he.

It just feels… normal. Exciting.

“Finally…” Izuku giggles with excitement sparkling in his gorgeous eyes. He pulls the cover on top of you both and takes a few deep breaths to stop the shaking of his body; he waits a few minutes in silence, just staring at your chest and face, remembering it all while your bodies get warmer under the cover and the goosebumps are finally gone. You trace the old scars on his chest and his tummy, you give them all the love you possibly can without saying a single word. The silence isn’t awkward… this silence is… precious. It’s like there’s no need for words, no need for verbal communication because everything is written all over your faces, it’s in every single caress, every single kiss, every single sigh that leaves your mouths as you touch each other in new places. Your hand can’t get away from that perfectly trimmed bush on top of Izuku’s member so you find yourself there once again, just caressing the prickly skin, enjoying the way it feels under your fingertips.

The mood is calmer now, more mature but still full of those flames from before; it’s a weird, conflicting combination but it somehow works for you two. “Sweet pea.” Izuku whimpers while his free hand fondles your boob. You can’t help but moan into the air between you two as his thumps finds your bud and starts fiddling with it. “Can I show you how much I love you?” All you can do is nod weakly, your eyes full of tears. No one ever treated you like this, like you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped, like every caress is a gift, like your body is something worth cherishing and you feel so loved already you kinda want to tell him to not even bother anymore, but you don’t have the heart to do that after looking into his half-lidded, excited eyes.

“Please.” You smile at your boyfriend happily. He bumps your foreheads together for a few seconds and smiles right back; this moment is special, it feels like there is a red string connecting you two together, the one that’s indestructible and infinite; the strings of faith are almost visible now as Izuku leans down to connect your chests, but maybe you are just too delirious and too aroused to be able to distinguish delusion from reality.

Izuku seals the deal with the hottest kiss known to mankind and you are halfway to your orgasm already and he haven’t even touched you yet.

“Plus Ultra!” Izuku gives you one last smile before he dives under the covers, right between your legs and you scream his name as you come in less than 3 minutes. Three. Fucking. Minutes.

He just… went in and… oh my god. Midoriya Izuku, goddamn Pro Hero Deku just… he’s… really talented with his tongue. Let’s just leave it at that.

You need 5 to 7 days to get over the fact that you just received the best oral you’ve ever had and it was from your favorite pro Hero who you are ridiculously in love with.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done.” You can feel Izuku’s smile on the inside of your thighs as he starts peppering kisses all over the area. It’s so loving and so careful, so slow yet so passionate… you can’t help but feel the arousal wake up inside you once again. “I really love your legs. I always wanted to kiss them. They are so soft and your thighs are so… ahh, I wanna sleep on them. They are better than the best memory foam pillow on the market. You also taste really nice. I think I’m becoming addicted.” Izuku goes back to the “treasure” and leaves tiny kisses all over your folds, teasing the most sensitive parts with his tongue to steal another taste. You can’t help but whimper; it’s extremely sensitive now but the touch is light enough to be pleasurable even in this state.

“I also love your tummy. Having a six pack is great, but I really enjoy soft and cute things.” Izuku adds with an obsessed tone which makes you blush like a virgin. “You are the softest and cutest of them all. I love you.” Izuku leaves a trail of kisses all over your tummy until he reaches your chest; he pops your bud into his mouth and does something with his tongue that makes you see stars; it almost feels like swirling water, soft and languid. It’s extremely hard to describe the feeling without comparing Izuku’s tongue to a tentacle, which, let’s be honest, would make this fanfiction so much dirtier than it really is.

“I’m not even going to try and give these two a justice with my words.” Is all Izuku says before he takes your other bud into his mouth to give it some love. If you think this can’t get more hot, you are wrong; Izuku starts to nibble your chest gently, sucking on the soft skin without leaving a mark, his eyes downright manic as he makes sure there isn’t a single millimeter left unloved.

Needless to say, you guys will need to change the sheets after this because well… you are soaking wet. Again.

You try your best to hide this information from your boyfriend for now because while Izuku is a man on a mission, you also have your own plans and knowing how much Izuku enjoys giving, he wouldn’t let you do anything today until your “situation” is “sorted.”

“Izu-Izu.” You rake your fingers through Izuku’s hair, clenching your fist on the top of his head just to hear him moan once again. And again. And again. Hell, Izuku has the most sinful moan, high pitched and weirdly feminine; he always tries to stop himself in the middle of the sound and the way his voice falters and breaks, then goes so high in the last one second… just makes your “situation” even worse. “Let me love you too, goddamnit!” You whine and moan at the same time. Izuku stops with his shenanigans for one second and that’s all you need to finally manage to roll him over and end up in his lap. You are not going to lie, it took all of your strength to be able to do that and you are panting a little bit but it was all worth it for the sight; he is blushing like crazy and he looks so lost now that he’s not in charge. You don’t even try to stop yourself from kissing him senseless, it’s physically impossible to do so.

“I feel like I’m going to explode.” You admit between two kisses. “Fucking hell, Izuku, are you even human? Is this another quirk of yours? Are you a lust demon? How can you do stuff like that with this adorable, innocent face? How?” You complain, while Izuku giggles. “Don’t fucking giggle, I’m serious!”

“I think I have a thing for being manhandled. I’m also about to explode.” He admits sheepishly with his hand wondering down to your bottom cheekily. You take a deep breath and move down to his belly, not letting him touch your private parts because it’s your turn now to love him endlessly and you want to do it without any distractions.

“Good. Suffer with me.” You retort cheekily and Izuku giggles once more. “You have so many freckles on your chest and tummy, I love it so much. I love your freckles, have I ever told you that?” You mumble as you kiss Izuku’s hard abs. His hands wander into your hair the same way yours did and you can kinda understand why is Izuku so hot and bothered when you do that to him.

“No, you didn’t.” Izuku chokes on air.

“Well, now you know.” You answer simply. “You have the body of a god, but I like your face the most. And your hair. And how some of your scars are softer to touch than your normal skin. I love the texture. Like this one.” Your hand moves up to Izuku’s pecks, caressing the massive scar on the side of his left breast. “You are so handsome but nothing is as pretty as your soul. Izuku, you look perfect from the outside but compared to you as a person, it’s fucking nothing. If I would have a quirk I would want to be able to go inside your soul… just so I can kiss it senseless.” You make no sense. You are aware of it. No need to comment on it. How the fuck are you supposed to stay coherent in this situation?! It doesn’t feel real. It’s too fucking good to be real.

A tiny sob cuts through the tension and you emerge from the covers to look into your boyfriend’s eyes. Of course, he’s crying. “You are such a crybaby.” You smile down at him with nothing but fondness. “My little crybaby. I love you so much.” You leave a tiny kiss on his mouth.

“No one… ever… made me feel like this.” Izuku admits between two sobs. “Like I’m the best thing in the whole world. No one ever managed to actually make me believe them, but you… you make it sound like it’s possible that I’m not… a failure. I feel so loved I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Enjoy it. You deserve it. You are the best thing, at least for me.” You leave tiny kisses on your boyfriend’s neck to divert his attention.

“And you are the best thing, for me.” He retorts with a sigh. “I want to build a shrine to you and pray for your well-being every day. I want to do this every day… I want to eat and drink YOU, I want to become YOU… I want us to become one and stay like that forever, because I’m the best thing only because you are next to me. Fuck, that doesn’t make any sense and it sounded so much cooler in my head…” Izuku mutters shyly, looking at the wall due to his embarrassment.

“Let’s become one, then. We can’t stay like that forever, but… I want… uhm…” you mumble with a red face as you move one of your hands under the covers to caress his painfully hard member with one finger. Izuku almost chokes on his saliva just from this one touch. It fills you with pride.

You absolutely enjoy the way Izuku is writhing under you, his face contorted by the pleasure while your hand moves on his member up and down, slow but steady. He doesn’t let you enjoy the game for too long; one second you are in charge then the next your back hits the soft bed once again and Izuku’s finger finds his way to his folds, slowly easing the first finger inside, followed by the second almost immediately.

“Sweets… you really like me this much?” Izuku moves his fingers around your folds to feel the wetness around the area. You can’t help but look away shyly, completely embarrassed from being so excited. Your plan failed. Goddamnit.

“Sorry…”

“What? No! Don’t be!” Izuku freaks out for a split second. “I’m just… really happy. I loose my confidence in bed really quickly but you make it so easy for me. Your whole body speaks to me, it tells me it’s okay, that this is good for you and I’m so thankful.” Izuku slowly eases the third finger in; a quiet whimper leaves your mouth as he starts scissoring inside to make this as easy for you as possible. “I’ll make sure to thank you by being the best partner now and forever. Sweets… Y/N… can I…”

“Fucks sake, Izu, yes. You can do whatever you want. I’m yours and you are mine. That’s all I need to know.”

“Okay.” Izuku nods, clearly spiraling a little bit. “Yeah, uhm, I’m gonna get the… stuff. Just stay here.”

“Damn, I was about to run out for some coffee.” You add jokingly, but Izuku is on a mission and he can’t understand sarcasm…

“I’ll get you some coffee from the kitchen, then!”

You start laughing like a maniac.

“Oh my god, I was joking, you silly. Hurry up!”

“Oh… I’m an idiot.” Izuku takes the box of condoms out of his backpack. You will make sure to ask him later about the fact that he had some with him… Cheeky little fuck.

You also try your best to not stare at that perfect butt. Damn, you are eating well today!

He has a few stretch marks on his back, but it’s only visible when you look really closely; which you do because you can’t help yourself, even though you literally just said that you won’t.

“Yeah, but you are my idiot. Now get back here and love me.” You continue to stare at that perfect peach, but Izuku turns around and you look away swiftly because the front is just as delicious as the back and you honestly don’t think you can take more of this right now. It’s quite comical how the color of his broccoli tattoo is the same as his hair down there; its a little bit sad how you’ll never be able to boast on your “Deku lovers” group chat about it. They would probably laugh in your face anyway, thinking you are a liar because there is no way the perfect pro hero Deku has a silly little broccoli tattoo.

“Okay.” Izuku grins with a flushed face and barges back into the bed, right into your arms.

He starts peppering kisses all over your neck, giggling happily like a schoolboy, then moves back to your face to leave another scorching hot kiss on your mouth while his hand slowly wonders down to your intimate areas to make sure you are ready for the “good stuff.”

It takes all your self-restraint to not come from the sight on top of you; Izuku’s hair is disheveled and he looks so fucking out of it that you would think he’s being touched himself, but your hands are in his hair and you feel no friction anywhere on your body which means he just… enjoys pleasing you so much it makes him look like he’s five seconds from coming. His fingers stop moving and he slowly retracts them, leaving you empty and sad for a split of a second but then he puts the condom package into his mouth and tears it open while keeping eye contact with you the whole time and you swear you see stars. Izuku is just too much. Too hot and too dirty but also so innocent and loving, it just doesn’t make sense, really… but…

“Are you ready, Sweets? Tell me if it hurts, okay? Promise me.” He looks at you worriedly and your heart just melts inside your chest and becomes nothing but a big lump of goo.

“I promise… OH MY GOD.” You almost yell as you feel the first few centimeters inside you. Izuku bites his lips once and takes a few deep breath, not moving, just waiting for you to get used to the sting, to the almost foreign sensation because damn, the man isn’t small and it has been ages you’ve been in this situation with anyone. “I’m fine, I’m fine, keep going, Izu.” You try to reassure him as best as you can. It starts to feel really good down there even though he’s not even halfway in.

He slowly moves further and the sting is back but it’s not as bad as it was before; it really quickly turns into an intoxicatingly amazing sensation that makes your whole body tremble and Izuku drops his face on your chest, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

“Relax or I’ll really embarrass myself. Please. You feel too good. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He mutters into your breasts and if you wouldn’t be so aroused you would have laughed in his face for being so cute, but…

“You can move. Please. Move.” You stutter as a sudden wave of pleasure hits you just right. Izuku doesn’t say anything just moves back to his original position and slides out a bit and then back again and you are so happy everyone is out and about because you are quite sure the whole neighborhood just heard you moan. “Izu…”

“I think I’m going to cry again, but it’s happy tears.” Izuku admits sheepishly while he starts a slow but steady pace. His moans are quiet and his voice breaks quite frequently but there is something about it that makes you tremble in pleasure; probably the fact that you are the reason he sounds like that, deep but also squeaky, you are the reason his face is flushed from all the bliss… you feel so lucky to be able to experience this, to feel all this love, to be the reason for Izuku’s happy tears; you are so thankful for taking that big leap of faith by moving in with a stranger all those months ago.

“I love… love you. Izu. Izuku.” You stutter as Izuku’s pace picks up and you are absolutely incapable to think from this point; you both moan each other’s name in tandem as you chase your orgasms, Izuku clearly tries his best to keep his focus on you, to listen to where and how it feels the best and slowly but surely that pleasant feeling starts to build up with every thrust Izuku delivers to the right spot; Izuku’s arms start to tremble and it makes you stop for a second; this shaking doesn’t seem to be from the pleasure and Izuku looks a little bit stressed as you look into his eyes so you put your hand on his chest, silently asking for him to stop.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Izuku starts to apologize but you are not having any of that.

“Lay down.” You command kindly. Izuku looks utterly confused for a second but he does it anyway. You don’t give him a single warning before you sit in his lap with your hands perched on his naked, beautifully sculpted chest and slowly ease yourself back down on his length. Izuku’s face contorts in utter pleasure, now that his arms are not hurting anymore and you pat yourself on the back inside your little mind palace for realizing something is wrong even while your mind was clouded by all the new sensations. “Good boy.” You caress Izuku’s muscly chest. Izuku moans loudly and moves his hip upwards, finding that special point once again, even in this new position.

Izuku looks ethereal from this point of view; his hair is splayed out on the white pillow, no curly strand the same as the other, his face is flushed and his eyes are sparkling like a rare gemstone, gaze full of love and lust and by that look on his face, he doesn’t mind this position either; every single movement makes his face scrunch up, his moans becoming hiccups and silent pleas to keep doing what you are doing, just like that, and it barely takes 10 more minutes for you two to feel the coil inside your tummy snap, Izuku doing the same a few more thrusts later.

You’ve never come this hard before. Your body shakes violently and you barely keep yourself up right while Izuku moves his hips up and down really slowly to prolong this amazing feeling, tears prickle your eyes from the pleasure, and once the feeling is gone you collapse on Izuku’s chest; you didn’t realize how much you strained your legs by doing this until you came down from your high, but when it it hit, you couldn’t help but whimper, this time, from the pain.

There are some other parts of your body that feel a tiny bit funny right after you two separate with a whimper, but honestly, you’ve seen that coming.

“I’ve never done this this way.” Izuku admits shyly.

“Never?” You look up at your boyfriend as you slowly move to his side; you need to lay down properly for a second. Everything is spinning.

“No. It was always… me doing everything. I want to do this again. And again. And again.”

“I’ll need to hit the gym then.” You giggle to yourself and seeing your boyfriend’s confused face, he doesn’t really understand the problem. “Izuku, this position… needs a lot of leg muscles. I don’t have any. I’m quite sure I pulled at least one muscle in both of my legs.”

“I’m more than happy to help you with that!” Izuku sits up excitedly. You give him a side eye. “Not like that, you silly! Actual training! And that, too, of course, but only if you want to do it again. I’m okay with anything until it’s you.”

You want to put this man on a plate and eat him. How can he be so sweet?!

“I love you, you weirdo.” You giggle into his hair then you leave a tiny kiss on his neck as a silent thank you.

“I love you too, Sweets. Let’s have a few minutes of rest then let’s go to the onsen.”

“Oh my god, the onsen sounds magical right now.” You sigh, utterly pleased. “Izu?”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m the happiest fucking freak in the whole wide world, Sweets.” He smiles. “Are you happy?”

“I think I’m high on happiness.” You pant, exhausted.

“Good. Me too.”

… to be continued!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I can’t believe this finally happened! Honestly, I’m not a big fan of writing these kind of things but even I was excited about this to finally happen because the tension was absolutely ridiculous! 😂 Not gonna lie, I have many other ideas about what this version of Izuku likes but I probably won’t be able to use them as they would be too dirty for this otherwise innocent story. 😂 I love these two so much, they are so perfect for each other!

- I hope you guys are okay. Sorry for not responding to your lovely comments, I read them all and I send you all hugs! I hope I will see you soon but to be honest with you, I don’t think it will be sooner than 4 weeks, maybe more if shit goes south in my life.

- There will be changes to my uploads when I come back, I’ll leave a note for you guys once we get to it. I might need you to answer some questions too, because I have no idea what to do 😂

- Random personal ramble: so funny story about my recent life; I went home to my home country to see my mom and I told her about how much I want an airfryer but I don’t really have space for it nor money to spare. I didn’t know she actually owns one so I got really excited when I saw it! A day after I came back to England there was an Amazon order on my doorstep that I didn’t order. Guys, my mom went on Amazon and bought me an airfryer. I’ve been making cakes and baked apples every day since. Get an air fryer if you can. It’s amazing. Thank you for listening. 😂

Here’s a quick, delish recipe for you: get some apples, cut them in half, get rid of the stem, put a bunch of Nutella in it then sprinkle cinnamon on top (or pour half of the bottle on it like I do. Lol). Bake it for 40 mins on 160C. You are welcome. (You can also use dark chocolate instead of Nutella if you wanna make it healthier. You can also hide a walnut inside. Omnomnom.

- I’ll shut up now. Tell me your thoughts!

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #pro hero deku x you #pro hero deku x reader #deku x fem!reader #deku x y/n #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #izuku x y/n

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buckybarnesb-tch · 11 months

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Hi, can I make a request about Yandere Bucky when he is your therapist and after you tell all your shit he falls in love with you (I would like to have a little jealousy from him for the boys you are with)

Love your work <3

Yandere Therapist!Bucky

This was a very interesting one to write. I’m really starting to love writing AU’s of both Bucky and Klaus

Bucky knew very quickly that he was in love with you.

You sought out a therapist when you started having panic attacks more frequently and you met with 3 before walking into James Barnes office. He was polite, gentle and understanding in a way you had never experienced from any man in your life up to that point and that’s why you decided to come back again, and again, eventually deciding to meet with him once a week.

He was a very kind man. You talked about things with him that you had never told anyone before and he understood that, you appreciated how he would ask a question and change the subject to something lighter when you became overwhelmed, making a note to circle back to it later, never wanting you to become too upset but also pushing you just enough to begin making progress with your mental health.

You looked forward to your time with James, who had insisted on your third visit that you just call him Bucky. He made you so comfortable that you felt like you were talking to a friend and when you expressed that he told you that’s exactly what he wanted, for you to feel comfortable and safe in his office to discuss the painful experiences in your life, of which there were many.

Bucky however, by the end of your first session, he had fallen head over heels in love with you. He ensured you would be coming back to see him, it didn’t feel like work to talk to you, and he wanted to know everything there was to know about you. He could admit to himself he had become a bit obsessed…completely obsessed.

After your third session he made sure he had no other clients that evening and he hopped into his car, following you home to find out where it was you lived with the man you called your boyfriend.

Bucky hated Max.

Max was a physically and emotionally abusive asshole that you couldn’t find your way out from under. He had manipulated you into complete dependency on him and Bucky didn’t just hate him, he was Jealous. He wanted you to look at him like that, as the man to provide for you, as the man to take care of you, as the man for you to love with your whole heart.

He hated every man you had ever spoken with him about. When you and Bucky had started getting into talking about your sex life his jealousy got infinitely worse. He loved how honest you were with him, trusting him with your experiences and fantasies, even trusting him with your painful and scary experiences which he hated that you had been forced to live through. He decided he would make sure that you would never suffer again.

James Barnes was going to be your lover, your boyfriend, your Daddy. He was going to be your everything and you would love every minute of it.

‘I know that it’s scary for you Doll, but this relationship as you’ve described it to me isn’t healthy. You’ve told me about his abuse and his explosive rage, you’re not safe in his house, it’s not a home for you. Men are supposed to be gentle and caring with their women, that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun in the bedroom however you want but a man should never put their hand on you in anger.’ James explained, placing his notebook down and standing up. ‘May I?’ He asked and you nodded, moving over so that he could sit beside you on the couch. ‘I want you to let me hold you, you need to experience what kind touches from a man are like. I think if you feel them, then you’ll understand a bit better how important they are. If that’s okay, of course. I would never do anything you were uncomfortable with.’

‘I…yeah, it’s okay, um…how do…?’ He smiled at your awkward feelings, holding his arms out.

‘Come here Doll, let me hold you.’ Y/n moved closer to his side, leaning into his chest and sighing as his arms wrapped around her.

‘Now what?’

‘Just enjoy it. Hold on.’ Bucky lifted her up and moved to lay himself back against the couch so she was laying on his chest and he held her firmly, pressing his lips to her forehead. ‘There you go beautiful girl, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.’ His fingers brushed through her soft hair as he fought with his cock in his mind to not get excited no matter how desperate he was to have you ride him like this. It was only about 30 seconds of cuddling before he felt her sobbing into his chest and he immediately held her tighter, rubbing her back and kissing her head. ‘I know. It’s okay Darlin, this is how it’s supposed to feel. You’re supposed to feel safe with your man.’

‘I’ve never felt safe like this…wish I had met you somewhere else.’ She teased and he chuckled along but he knew it didn’t matter where or when they had met, because Y/n was going to be his now.

Bucky kept that up as he began seeing her twice a week, every session went like that from then on. He would spend 30 minutes talking to her before moving to sit beside her and hold her to his chest once again and she never once complained, often being quite unhappy when the hour was up and it was time to go home. He loved that.

A session later he began kissing her head, then her cheek and the week after that he pressed their lips together quickly before ending that session and she was red as a tomato. He loved how sweet and innocent she was even after all of the pain she’s suffered. In their next session he found her burying her face into his neck, nuzzling as close as she could and he tested the waters a bit brushing his hand slowly from her lower back to her butt, caressing her ass gently but she never made any indication she was upset by it. He moved himself a bit and made it seem natural before bending his leg up between hers so his thigh was pressed right against her pussy. She whimpered in his ear as she fidgeted and he enjoyed her reactions quite a bit, trying to suppress his cock as it responded to her hot breath against his neck. He didn’t move again, just allowing her to be comfortable with him touching her like this no matter how difficult it was.

It was that next session that he broke her.

He had maneuvered her into the same position as 3 days ago, face in his neck, straddling his thigh before he pressed his leg more firmly into her, hearing her loud moan though she tried to muffle it. ‘Oh god! I’m sorry, I-‘

‘No, no sorries. Just relax pretty girl.’ He moved the same way once again and her hips rutted down against him as her fingers tightened into his shirt. ‘There you go. Feels good, doesn’t it?’ Y/n nodded into his neck as her body continued moving, grinding down on his leg until she was riding it like a desperate whore and Bucky was living for it. He was in heaven as his girl moved herself on him in ways he only imagined before. ‘That’s it, keep going. Use me Doll, make that pretty pussy feel good, you deserve to feel so good.’ One of his hands held her ass while the other trailed up the back of her shirt to touch her soft skin for the first time. ‘He doesn’t do this for you, does he? Does he make your cunt drip all over him?’ She shook her head frantically, so high on her pleasure he didn’t think anything could shake her out of it right now. ‘Dumbass doesn’t deserve such a pretty pussy, or such a wonderful girl. A good man would never treat you like that.’ He said it in such a way that he knew she would equate that good man to him, she was already half in love with him before, he hoped to push her over the edge today by literally pushing her over the edge. ‘Such a good girl.’ The moan that came out of her mouth was possibly the most desperate and needy sound he had ever heard, coupled with the sound of a sob and he quickly began moving his leg to help her finish faster. ‘It’s okay, just let it out, you cry if you need to precious. You’re a good girl, no matter what that idiot says. You’re so fucking good! No such thing as too needy with a good Daddy, I’m here. You’re safe baby, just…let go. Let go for Daddy.’

‘Oh God!’ She screamed, crying out in completion and desperation as she held tighter to his body. He held her to him and brushed through her hair gently as she came down from her intense orgasm and she was cuddled so close he believed she wanted to become one with his body. It was at that moment that the timer went off, letting him know that their hour was up and he slammed his hand against it to shut it up. ‘Shit!’

‘Don’t worry Y/n, it’s okay. I don’t have another client, just relax for a few minutes and-‘ she pushed herself off of him and quickly jumped up.

‘Im sorry, I should have done that! Oh God! I just assaulted you! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’ She was frantic, moving to grab her bag as Bucky jumped up after her. ‘Don’t try and tell me it’s okay, that wasn’t okay! I’m a horrible person! You should never want to see me again-‘

‘And yet, I do. Relax Y/n, don’t you think if I didn’t want you to, I would have pushed you off? I’m plenty strong enough-‘

‘You felt sorry for me! Because of course you do! I’m so desperate for some affection that I just jumped my therapist, it’s fucking pathetic! I’m so-‘

‘If you say “sorry” one more time I’m going to take you ever my knee.’ He warned and she just whined, moving for the door. ‘Y/n!’ He caught her arm as she moved out the door and she wouldn’t look at him. ‘Please tell me you’re coming back? You’re scheduled for Tuesday and Friday, just please? Please come back?’ She hesitantly nodded before rushing out the door and leaving him to kick himself for pushing you too hard. He needs to get her back.

Tuesday came and went, she didn’t show up for the appointment and Bucky was worried. He drove passed her apartment and didn’t see any lights on, waiting there for a few hours but not once was there any movement. He called your cell and left a message for you, continuing to look for you after work Wednesday and Thursday just needing to see that you were alright.

When Friday came he was preparing to finish early that day since he assumed you weren’t coming until he heard the soft knock on his door, opening it to see you standing there with your hair covering your face which was odd, it was usually upon a ponytail or at least pinned away from your eyes. ‘Hey. I was getting worried about you, you didn’t call me back, I thought you were gonna skip out on me again.’ He moved and led her to the couch after shutting the door and sitting beside her. ‘Y/n? What’s wrong?’ Bucky moved to tuck her hair behind her ear and saw the purple color on her eye prompting him to tilt her head up. She had bruises around both of her eyes, her jaw was bruised and it looked a lot like finger shaped bruises, along with a split lip in 2 places. ‘Did he do this?’

Y/n nodded. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I…I tried to break up with him on Monday and this happened. I fell down the stairs and ended up in the ER, I stayed with my friend after that. My voice was messed up cause of the bruises on my throat, I didn’t want you to be subjected to that over the phone.’ She teased but his face let her know that he didn’t find it funny before he pulled her into his arms firmly.

‘Don’t you joke about this, this isn’t amusing to me. He could have killed you, I-I could have lost you!’ Bucky knew if there was ever a time to get to her it was now, she was already in love with him, this was the perfect moment to give her that final push. He pulled her onto his lap gently, not knowing where she was bruised and not willing to cause her harm before turning her head and pressing his lips to hers gently, not wanting to harm her split lip. She gasped against him but relaxed none the less into his body and into the kiss. ‘Please tell me you’re done with him? You can come and stay with me, I’ll take care of you! I can’t live without you anymore Princess, I just can’t!’

‘You’re my therapist, I can’t move in with you. That’s all kinds of illegal, you could get in so much trouble-‘

‘I stopped being your therapist the first time we cuddled in your session. I care about you so much Y/n, I can’t spend another minute without you in my arms. Please?’ His hand trailed up her back under her shirt as he kissed her neck over the bruises which he knew she loved.

‘Daddy…’ she whimpered, needy and desperate before Bucky couldn’t hold it in anymore. He spun them around so he pinned her to the couch, wrapping her legs around his waist, Y/n’s hands buried in his hair while his hips ground down against hers, letting her feel his hard cock pressed against her for the first time.

‘That’s right Princess, I’m your Daddy now, and you’re fucking mine!’ He couldn’t control the growl in his voice as he felt her sweet pussy pressed against him through their clothes, desperate to feel her warmth wrapped around him.

‘Oh God, I-‘ He cut her off with his hand around her throat.

‘Mine! You’re done with that fucking idiot, Daddies gonna take care of you now. Starting with taking you home and fucking this little cunt I’ve been desperate for since you sat on this couch your first day! Are you gonna be Daddies good girl?’ She nodded quickly, holding tightly to him, clearly needy for him now. Bucky knew that he wanted more than anything to fuck her in his office, however he also knew that once he felt her he would never pull his cock out of her again, he would be fucking her all night. He needed to get her home so that he could have his way with her and he knew she would do anything he asked of her right now. ‘Good.’ He yanked her up to her feet before bending down and hoisting her over his shoulder causing her to squeal before he slapped his metal hand painfully against her ass. ‘Let’s get you in the car. Daddy needs to feel your hot mouth around my cock.’

Her responding moan was all he needed. Y/n was his now and no one would take her from him, even if he needed to kill that punk asshole to ensure it.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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formulapai · 6 months

Text

LIVING WITH ENDO (AND OSCAR)

an Oscar Piastri fluff/angst scenario

scenario: what it’s like living with endometriosis, with your boyfriend’s support. (might do a second part.)

warning: mention of surgeries, blood, vomit, eating disorders, depression, bruises.

pai’s words: THIS IS BASED ON MY EXPERIENCE!! as much as endo is the same for anyone suffering with it, the impact it has on the body and mind, the pain, the treatments, and a lot of it is purely personal !! as someone who has been living with it for more than ten years and has tried everything the French Healthcare has to offer, even going into alternative medicine and such, this is my experience that I’m writing and it can be a little different than some people.

to anyone having questions about it, having doubts or just curious, my dms and requests are always open, I’ll be honored to make this illness a little more known. :)

to anyone fighting against it everyday, I’m so sorry. you’re not alone, i 100% stand with you as a fellow endowarrior (this term is always making me wheeze but I love it!!). we’ll get through this eventually !

THE NIGHT

You’re laying awake on your shared bed, not even able to move an inch because of the sharp flash of pain coming and going, not letting you take a real breathe as the movement of your diaphragm creates waves after waves of pain. Despite your pain medication, it’s a common occurrence and you’ve yet to find a solution to it, just waiting for it to pass, tear-stained face staring at the ceiling in a silent prayer that you’ll be soon free of it all.

You feel Oscar move next to you, his calm breathing picking up as he slowly wakes up, first grumbling about the early hours but then noticing your state. He doesn’t know what you need, doesn’t dare to place his hand in your lower belly to try and massage the pain away. It’s an “all or nothing” situation as his body warmth and his soft touch can either calm you and your body down or create another episode of agony, and not even you can predict it. He knows you’re aware he’s up, your face completely still as to not stress your body even more, and he press closer to you, close enough to comfort you as much as he can, far away enough to not touch you.

He can see your diaphragm broaden its movement slowly, your breathing finally beginning to get deeper as you feel the episode fade away lazily, not at all in a hurry to leave you alone. Even from under your sleep shirt, he sees your muscles flexing and relaxing as waves of pain appear, your body reacting naturally despite your tries to stop it, the flexing of your abdominal muscles making it worse. It’s a normal response, really, just like your arm will flinch automatically when you hurt it, a mean to get away from whatever hurt you. But when the only thing hurting you is your own body, it doesn’t work.

It takes a few more minutes until you take your boyfriend’s hand, guiding it to your lower belly and letting it stay here, feeling it starting to massage your body as soon as it touches it. It’s not miraculous, the pain still present, but it helps both mentally and physically as your shoulders relax ever so slightly. You always complain about him being way too warm on a regular basis, but how happy you are for his warmth right now. With your lover pressed to you, his soft praises in your ears and your body finally letting you rest, you fall into a deep slumber, thanking whoever has put Oscar in your life.

THE DAY

It started great, you woke up early and in pretty much no pain, motivated enough to make breakfast as the Australian sleeps soundly in the bed. You should’ve seen it coming when waves of nausea were starting to make themselves known the more you cooked, preparing your favorite French food, some Pain Perdu. It’s really not in Oscar’s food plan and his trainer will hate you for it, but you certainly don’t care.

It doesn’t come as a surprise when you finally throw up, your whole body spasming as it tries to get whatever was the problem out of it. It’s mostly bile as you haven’t had the chance to eat yet, the liquid burning your throat as it comes up, sweat marring your forehead at the sheer effort of standing despite your muscles begging for a rest. It hasn’t happened in a few days and you were enjoying it, able to eat and drink whatever you wanted without being overly stressed about how your body would react. Guess the fun is now over.

The doctor told you that it’s quite normal to have GI issues when you have endometriosis, even when it’s not commonly talked about. But, like every other symptoms, no real remedy exists apart from antiemetic medicine but you’ve found out quite early that it doesn’t really make it better so you’ve decided to not take it anymore, opting to just wait and deal with it. Oscar didn’t know about all this when you two started talking, barely knowing endometriosis and just thinking it was bad period pain. It always comes as a shock when he sees how much deeper it runs, how hard it makes your daily life.

This nausea thing made you develop an eating disorder, or so your therapist is saying. As you’re scared of vomiting, you try to escape food as much as possible, waiting for your body to feel better so you can eat in large quantities to make up for the lack of food. Your boyfriend knows it, your friends too, truly everyone sees how you avoid food like it’s the plague, but no one can say anything against it, knowing the reason behind it and having no solution. It’s hard, it’s painful, for both you and them, as you’d rather not do this to yourself, but it’s the only way you can live a somewhat normal life regarding this issue.

As you feel better, mere minutes later, you wash yourself before continuing breakfast, knowing well it’s now only for Oscar and not for you. You settle for hot hibiscus tea, crossing out coffee for today as it fuels the inflammation caused by your illness, something you really don’t need at the moment. Your collection of tea is impressive, your close ones all searching which tea is good and which tea is bad for you, gifting it every occasion they get, hibiscus and Nettle being your favorite ones as you feel their effects on your body.

THE STAINS

Ever since your surgeries and thanks to your special birth control, you’re not supposed to have periods anymore. Sadly, it still happens like your doctors told you it could, just not as regularly and serious as before. Your hemorrhagic periods, lasting without ever being stopped as your cycle was pretty much nonexistent, is replaced by a blood flow still heavy but not as much, making itself known only a few days a month. It still comes with all the complications of it, the searing pain making you pass out, the muscle aches, the nausea and diarrhea. You can’t complain, you’ve lived way worse.

Of course, it decided to happen today out of all day, as you’re standing in the McLaren garage, watching your boyfriend overtake another one of his colleague and securing P3. It’s probably the stress of it all, strong emotions tend to trigger episodes and you curse them as you feel the change in both your body and mind, your periods always hitting you bad mentally. You quickly excuse yourself to Oscar’s driver’s room, abandoning the race watching right in the middle of it, knowing that he’ll understand but still feeling bummed out. Apart from the obvious toll on your body, the grasp it has on your mental state is insane, leaving you battling with depression, something you’ve learned is one of the most common outcome with endo.

You take your time changing clothes, cleaning yourself in the toilets and putting a pad you’ve thankfully put in you bag before going, knowing you’ll have to change it in less than an hour with how heavy your flow can be. You slowly make your way to the massage table, laying on it as you pray it’s only going to be blood and not everything usually accompanying it, especially not the pain. It’s a vicious circle, you know it well, as you’re scared of the pain so you become tense, so tense that it creates pain, the condition feeding off of your stress and the movement of your muscles, most importantly your abdominal ones. So you try to distract yourself, you go on social medias, you read online, you watch videos. You busy yourself until you realize you really need to change your pad, scurrying towards Oscar’s bag and hoping he has some as he usually does when you two go out, always so thoughtful.

People are cheering outside, the race probably ending in a positive way and your heart swell at the sheer joy emanating from the garage. Still, you don’t seem to find anything in the bag, your hands shaking as small sniffles echo in the room, feeling absolutely stupid for not predicting your period. You can’t even hear the door opening behind you, feet stilling for a few seconds before they make their way to you, arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“- Hey, what’s wrong darling?

- I’m dumb, that’s what’s wrong.

- What happened ?

- I’m having my period and I didn’t even bring anything and now I’m going to bleed out everywhere and ruin my clothes.”

Oscar presses a kiss to your head and gets up, walking towards a drawer and taking out some pads, bringing them to you. You stare at him, as you accept them, still sniffling as you let yourself fall into his arms, thanking him quietly. You don’t know where you’ll be without him, probably bleeding out everywhere like you just said.

“- You’re not dumb, it happens to forget things. And you have me, right ? You know I always bring way too much of these with us.

- I know, thank you. Really, thank you Oscar.

- It’s alright, dearest. Go get changed, I have to get back there but I’ll be quick, I promise. We’ll go back to the hotel after that.”

You nod, pressing sweet kisses to his neck where you face is buried before letting him go, thanking him once again.

THE SURGERY

After yet another scan, you’re finally allowed the surgery, a long and draining battle you’ve won. Endometriosis is still not taken seriously by most of the doctors you’ve met, mostly overlooked as pain every person with an uterus has to live with and nothing more, so it’s a relief when you meet a specialist willing to help you. It’s a simple surgery, called laparoscopy, leaving only a few incision scares on your abdomen and promising an almost pain-free life, or well, years. It’s rare that only one surgery is enough to annihilate the problem in its all, it happens, thankfully, but it’s still quite uncommon or so the surgeon said. It’s pretty logical, as the tissues will appear again eventually, growing back where they’re not supposed to, creating new inflammation nests.

It’s stressful, as every surgery is, but you like to think of it as a good stress, completely opposite to the fear Oscar is feeling as the hours tick by, getting you closer to the surgery. Theoretically, he knows it’s a safe surgery, a small one, one the surgeon has done many times. Still, the love of his life is going to be put under anesthesia and under a scalpel and he can’t help but feel terrified by it. It’s not going to be lengthy, less than two hours, which is not that long for this kind of surgery, but he already knows he’s going to bite his fingernails off while waiting.

He’s updating your close friends and family members as the door opens, your bed being rolled inside the room as you slowly wake up, still loopy and giggly because of the anesthesia. The two nurses tell him that the surgeon will come later to check and talk with them, assuring Oscar that the surgery went very well before leaving the couple alone. You’re still quietly giggling to yourself, lifting your arms in front of your face and making random shapes with your hands, almost snatching the IV a few times so he interrupts you, sitting next to you and making sure your hands stay away from the crook of your elbow. You look at him with a wide, toothy smile and start to play with his hair, tugging at it as you try to give him some horns, the hair not sticking up no matter how much you try.

You spend the next hour drifting in and out of sleep, the anesthesia wearing off and pain slowly creeping in. The doctor makes his way in the room, giving you the ok to go home as long as you’re not alone, prescribing pain medication and planning a meeting with him a month from now. The two of you listen to his advices, Oscar noting everything he needs to buy such as ice packs, and you’re soon discharged, your boyfriend leading your wheelchair towards his car. He takes it back to the nurse when you’re settled in your car seat, thanking her for lending it even when it’s the official protocol. What can he say, he’s too polite.

The healing process is tiring but worth it, your belly adorned with scars and bruises slowly fading away, swollen and tender. You’re thankful for the break as Oscar is able to stay with you through it all, his family and yours visiting you and allowing you to have a pleasant distraction. Your close friends come too, deciding that a gossip session in the middle of the living room as you eat pasta is the only remedy you need, to Oscar’s despair. He likes them, he truly does, he doesn’t like to be chased from his own living room though. He snickers as he leaves the couch, leaving you with a lingering kiss before he goes in another room, logging in his computer. In the end, the healing process is fine, you were glad for anyone helping you through it, you were even more thankful for your boyfriend. And if you have to get a second, a third, even a fourth surgery, you’ll be ok as long as you have him.

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff

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