#refuse to see his efforts to open up? close up to him? treat him like garbage and abandon him? you're in for a FUN time

[ccaptain]

let me assign you a love language

a knife called grief.

   you have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? you can run but not without them. you want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. you want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. you want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. because you know you’d do that for them.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, extreme pet play, dehumanization, psychological/physical abuse, and unbalanced power dynamics.

commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.

Sometimes, you really do think Suguru thinks of you as a pet.

It shouldn’t be as difficult to believe as it is. Of course you’d be less than human to him, less than equal to the god-like status he has among his followers. But, Suguru knows he’s not a god, and while you might not be the only person he claims to be superior to, you are the only one he keeps locked in a steel-barred dog crate padded only by thread-bare blankets and distant memories of what it felt like to sleep in a real bed. You’re special – albeit, not the kind of special you’d like to be. You can disregard most of his grandiose speeches about ‘complete non-sorcerer elimination’ and ‘killing off those worthless monkeys’ as the self-indulgent rambling of a deranged cult leader, but he doesn’t seem to be phoning it in when it comes to you.

He doesn’t talk to you. Communication occurs solely through blunt orders (come, sit, bark, etc.) or sweetened, syrupy baby-talk, cooed as his fingers card through your hair and pet down the length of your spine. You’re expected (something learned purely through trail and error, reward and punishment) to follow him around happily, to sit at his feet and clamber into his lap whenever his eyes find yours and he taps his thigh, that expectant smile already tugging at the corner of his lips. Depending on the day, you’re either coddled and adored like a beloved pet, allowed to walk on two legs rather than four and fed treats out of his open palm, or treated like a stray who’d wandered in off the street and refuses to leave. You do prefer the former to the latter, but it doesn’t really make that much of a difference, not if you’re being honest with yourself. Either way, you always seem to end up on your knees between his legs as he sits above you, a fist curled around your collar as he tells you to lick, puppy, lick.

Speaking of – you’re not allowed to wear clothes. You used to hate it, to steal his shirts and hide in closets, to do anything you could to salvage what little pride you had left, but it’s hard not to get used to something forced onto you so constantly. The only thing Suguru’s ever given you to wear is a simple, black, leather collar – studded with silver spikes and drawn tight enough to bite into your throat when he pulls on it, which he does often. You’re thankful he doesn’t make you wear those cutesy animal ear headbands or, god forbid, a tail, but not as thankful as you should be. As unbearable as it’d be, having him dress you up like a cat or a dog or some wide eyed, sexed-up rabbit would take the edge off. Like this, it’s harder to believe he thinks of you as an animal, as something cute and small and vulnerable that he can love and care for. It’s harder to deny that he knows you’re human – he just doesn’t see why that would ever mean you couldn’t also be his pet.

You think, when you’ve exhausted all other silver linings, that it’s (partially, at least) his excuse to keep you. You know what he does to people who aren’t like him, you’ve seen what he’s like at his worst, and you know that, if you weren’t his pet, you’d just be another non-sorcerer, another nuisance the world would be better off without. If you’re a pet, you can’t be a person, and if you’re not a person, it means he’s not going against his warped ideals when he pulls you close to his chest, when he ghosts his lips over the top of your head, when he fucks you so softly and so gently, you can almost believe he cares whether or not you enjoy it. Pets are supposed to be loved, and so he’s not doing anything wrong by loving you.

You know what would happen to you if you weren’t his pet, too, if he couldn’t make excuses for himself. You’ve seen how wide his smile can be when he comes home with blood on his clothes, how little effort it takes for him to hook his hands under your arms and carry you to his bed, already muttering about how perfect he’s going to make the world for his pretty, precious pet. You’re not allowed to leave his cramped apartment, but he talks about putting you on display for his acolytes as he ruts into you with an almost animalistic brutality, about showing all of those filthy, degenerative insects what a well-trained mutt looks like. You know that you should do more to fight back, that your humanity should be worth more to you than a few half-hearted escape attempts and the occasional pained whine, but you’ve seen see what he can do, heard about the dismembered bodies he leaves to rot in a ditch behind his temple, and—

And, no matter how much you hate him for it, no matter how much you hate yourself for it, it’s true.

When it comes down to it, you’d rather be his pet than be nothing at all.

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~3,300 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, angst, enemies to lovers, hyunjin's a meanie, reader has anxiety, minho struggles with his feelings, cringy nickname use, yelling, swearing Summary -> The rest of the group members are over the silly rivalry between you and Minho. They decide to take matters into their own hands. However, their little game takes a turn for the worse when one of the members betrays your trust. Some may call it destiny…the way it leads you straight into the arms of the one you would never expect. Author's Note -> This is my first time posting on here, so hopefully this isn't too rough. Also, I swear I don’t hate Hyunjin. I love him to death. It was just necessary for the plot… anywaysss hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

“I swear to God if you guys don’t open this door right now!” You yell as you pound on the hotel room down the hall from yours. There hasn’t been a reply, but you know that Hyunjin and Felix are in there. The two of them are always locked in their hotel rooms the night before your shows. They try to get as much sleep as possible for the next day.

‘They are definitely laughing their asses off right now,’ you think to yourself. It was just a stupid prank to them. Something to get you and Minho to finally get along again, but they just don’t get it. You had tried for so long to make it work, but Minho was just too stubborn. For heaven’s sake, you guys used to be the best of friends. One day he just started being cruel. Ignoring your texts, saying snarky things under his breath, scoffing every time you accidentally messed a move up. It escalated to the point where you no longer talk anymore. Truly, it is not your fault and they don’t seem to get it. He refuses to say anything about what happened, completely disregarding the fact that you were ever close enough to share your deepest secrets.

You turn around to leave, realizing the two boys were probably never going to open the door. You hear the lock click and spin back to see the annoyingly beautiful face of Felix. Although he wasn’t outright laughing at you, he was putting little effort in trying to hide his smile.

“Hey, what are you so upset for? I didn’t notice anything wrong on the bus earlier?” Felix asks. You just stare back dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck would you ever put me in a room with him?” you spit pushing past Felix into his room, “Don’t you dare look at me like that, you know how he treats me.”

Hyunjin just looks at you from his spot on a queen bed closest to the window. He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually put up a fight against the sleeping arrangements.

"How is that our fault?" Hyunjin questions. He seems like he may be genuinely asking, but you know him better than that. You have always been closer to him than the other members, especially after all the things that went down with Minho. Hyunjin was always the one to comfort you. The first to step up when your anxiety got to be too much. So, it was obvious that the members did have something to do with it, and it wasn't just an unfortunate fluke.

"I saw the way you guys all ran to claim your rooms while I was still collecting my suitcase. Don't act stupid. I know you know what's going on," you say back in hopes to get him to at least explain what their plan was. Maybe you could reason with them and get one of the boys to switch. Heck, you'd even be willing to sleep on the couch in Hyunjin and Felix's room, but it's starting to seem like they don't even want you in their room in the first place.

You hear Felix close the door behind you, but it's all blocked out as you watch Hyunjin roll his eyes at you. While this may seem like a typical Hyunjin action, it just didn't feel right. He tries to be more gentle with you than the other boys. After confiding many of your secrets and insecurities in him, he knows to control his face around you. Yet, it's beginning to look like he's forgotten all about that tonight.

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one..." he mumbles under his breath. With every sentence exchanged, the tension in the room grows thicker. You almost feel bad putting the other poor boy in the room through this. You can practically feel him stiffen with every word spoken.

"Hyunjin-" Felix starts but is cut off by a sharp look from the man himself. You know it's starting to go too far if Felix is getting upset, but Hyunjin doesn't seem to care.

"Why are you so angry right now?" you ask him, praying the question doesn't fire him up more. Maybe he's just having a really bad day, or maybe he just wants to be alone and can't deal with your problems.

"I'm not angry," he starts, "you're just making a big deal out of absolutely nothing." By the end of it he begins to raise his voice, another thing he knows you aren't a fan of. You take a step back, a little confused at his ignorance. He's been with you through all the fights, why doesn't he understand how big of a deal this is to you?

As you're still trying to make sense of his previous statement, his voice quiets down, and he looks back down at his phone as he whispers, "Just like you always do."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you ask, scared for the response. He glances up sharply, making true eye contact for the first time tonight.

"You're always crying over stupid shit, and I really can't handle it anymore,” he states angrily, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. He finally breaks eye contact, and the tension explodes, painting the whole room red.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like a knife to your heart, or perhaps more accurately a stab in the back. You know exactly what he means by that. It's like he was aiming for your most sensitive spots. With your anxiety, you tend to panic over things that don't usually matter much in other people's minds. Every time you have an anxiety attack or are just freaking out about something, you usually try to hide it. You worry that your friends won't take you seriously or will make fun of you over something they consider 'not a big deal'. You've confided in Hyunjin over this topic before. He's helping you get over that and come to them when you need help. So why is he now turning on you? Was it all an act before?

You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you hold them back. He cannot see you cry.

"Fuck you," you say, attempting to put venom behind it, but all that comes out is your shaky voice.

"Y/n, wait," Felix says sympathetically as you go to leave the room. Normally, you would stop and let Felix comfort you, but suddenly everything is feeling just a little too heavy and you can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. You stride out of the room, keeping your shoulders straight without even glancing back. You just need to stay strong until you make it into the hallway. You slam the door behind you despite typically being the one to argue when the other members to it. Your eyes are blurring too fast at this point to even recognize the fact that you probably should've shut it a bit quieter. It is a hotel and noise complaints are a thing, but, honestly, that is the least of your worries at the moment. You just keep replaying back the fight in your head trying to figure out what you did wrong. It had to be something, right?

You start down the hallway, cursing when you realize your room is at the other end of the hall. You hope the other boys can't hear your sobs, especially the two you just departed from. As much as you want to be comforted, it feels like you're past the point of no return and just want to be alone. You try to stifle your cries a bit with your hand, but it doesn't do much. You're heads getting a little too light, you're breathing getting harder to control. Your hands are shaking, and it seems like the crying is just starting. Some may call you sensitive, but when the tears start you simply begin to spiral. There's very little that can calm you down at that point. Hyunjin usually has to take you somewhere and help you take deep breaths especially before your concerts. But he's the one who started this mess. So, what are you supposed to do now?

You finally make it to your hotel room, barely being able to read the numbers, and you start to dig around in your pockets. You start to panic as you struggle to find your key card, but eventually you grasp the small rectangular piece of plastic and open the door.

Once inside, you shut the door, a bit calmer this time, and fall back against it. The only thing on your mind being the fact that you are finally in your own room, alone. You put your hands over your face, trying to quiet some of your senses. In the haste to get out of the situation, you completely failed to remember the problem that had started it all.

Minho is sitting in one of the beds; he had plenty of time to choose considering you just dropped your suitcase off and stormed off upon realizing the two of you would be rooming together. He's all cozy in his sweat pants and t-shirt, obviously thankful for your abrupt disappearance. He looks up, shocked to see you re-entering the room. He plans to make a jab of some sort, but immediately pauses upon seeing your state. It seems like you haven't even noticed that he's in there yet. He's never really seen you like this before, or at least not since he started pushing you away. Putting that aside, he accepts defeat realizing that you need someone. You need him.

Your eyes are covered as you cry quietly into your hands, pushing your head back into the wood behind you. You flinch slightly upon feeling strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from the hard door. However, you soon relax into the arms, enjoying the feeling of safety flood your system. The man is warm and gentle as he presses you against him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

"Follow my breathing," he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps from your head to your toes. You try to listen to him, but all of your senses are so overwhelmed that you can't seem to focus on anything. Feeling like a fool, you begin to cry harder, immediately sending you back to the fight with Hyunjin.

"Honey," he starts, "you just have to take a deep breath. I don't want you to pass out on me." Hearing the quiet voice in your ear helps bring your mind back to the present. Trying to focus on the instructions, you begin to notice the chest rising and falling slowly against yours. You can even feel the man's calm heart beat against your racing one.

Following the normally simple order, you try to take a deeper inhale resulting in a few hiccups and more tears. One of the arms around your shoulder falls and his hand begins to rub your back gently. As you focus on the sensation, your breathing starts to even out, just as Minho had hoped.

Once you are in a slightly better state, he moves you over to the bed. Setting you down on the edge, he kneels in front of you and softly pulls your hands away from your face. You instinctively bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep from facing the man in front of you.

Minho reaches his hand out, bringing your face back up towards his. You slowly open your eyes at the gentle touch. He's looking right back at you, a soft expression covering his face. He hasn't looked at you like that in years. He practically lights up when your eyes meet his.

A smile grows on his face, as he quietly says, "There you go, kitten." Your face flushes at the nickname, and you hear Minho giggle softly at your blushing cheeks. He used to call you that all the time. A fan had once greeted the two of you at a fan meet saying how you both had the same energy as cats. So from that day on, he had called you that nickname constantly, earning well-deserved teasing from the other boys. Yet, it had all stopped out of nowhere.

'He doesn't care about you anymore,' you remind yourself. You pull away from him roughly and stand up from the bed. You take a few steps away from him, the comfort you had felt being ripped away in seconds. This was too confusing. He can't ignore you for years and suddenly act normal. That isn't how this works.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask him, just wanting some sort of explanation. He slowly stands up, his soft look from before transforming into a look of pure regret.

"What are you talking about? You're upset and I care about you," he calmly explains, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. But you can see it in his eyes; the nerves, the regret, and the sadness painting itself across his irises.

"You hate me,” you say, leaving no room for discussion. You were sick of being left in the dark and being turned on. You just want to know, what happened?

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asks as his body language changes. He reaches a hand up, pulling a little too roughly against his hair as he looks down at the ground.

"I mean-" you start to say but are cut off by a small sniffle coming from across you.

The culprit looks up at you again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Minho never cries. It's just one of those things. So he wipes them away and says the last words you would ever imagine him speaking to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers genuinely, "I never meant to make you feel that way, but I guess that's what it's come to, hasn't it?"

You stand stiffly, staring at him. You had never seen the man look so defeated. You are even more confused about where the two of you stand than you have ever been.

"But I don't get it, you're just so mean. I don't know how you couldn't hate me."

"I could never hate you,” he states staring at you. His eyes are so deep that you can see exactly what he's feeling, and you realize, this is it. He's an open book. This may be the one time you get to see under the surface of Lee Minho since those days of friendship all those years ago.

"Then why did you push me away?" you ask, taking advantage of his state.

"I was just so scared. I thought you would hate me if you found out..." he trails off. You simply wait for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. He just looks back at you in hopes that you understand what he's trying to say. A silence builds, and Minho takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I love you and I was just too scared in case it would ruin the group," he says, finally letting the truth escape after years of secrets. The shock of the statement leaves you speechless, simply staring at your old best friend.

After a few seconds of building tension, you can’t help but start to giggle, leading to near hysterics with more tears springing to your eyes. You had thought you had cried all of them out, but it looks like you were wrong. There's no way that's the reason. If only he had been honest with his feelings, then you would've never been in this situation in the first place.

He looks surprised at your laughing, and his whole body seems to deflate.

'Hopefully he doesn't think I'm laughing at him', you think. There's no way they had messed up communication that bad to let it get to this point.

"You should have said that, Minho. I was so in love with you," you state gently, trying not to bewilder the poor man. He looks up, and there's pure excitement on his face. It's beautiful to see compared to his earlier expressions, and you're reminded of all those little reasons you love him. All those reasons that have been buried down due to his obliviousness.

"Really?" he says, taking a step closer to you. Your cheeks heat up upon realizing that you really did just reveal one of your darkest secrets.

He takes another step closer, his face now only inches from yours. You feel his arms wrap sweetly around your waist. You glance down at his lips; they're slightly chapped, but honestly, it's just all part of what makes Minho, Minho. Your eyes go back up to meet his, and you can see the tension and nerves drawn upon his face. You quickly close the distance, making the decision you should have made all those years ago.

Minho doesn't pull away, instead immediately melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to delicately cup your cheek. This may be one of the softest moments you have ever witnessed from Minho, and man do you want more.

You don't kiss for long, it's short and sweet, but it means so much more. Within it is everything you had wished you could've said to each other since the beginning.

You both pull back, a laugh leaving both of your mouths as you take in how outrageous the situation is. He pulls you close again, his head falling on your shoulder.

"I promise, I will never ever treat you like that again. You mean so much to me," he whispers. You bring a hand up to pet the back of his hair, pulling back just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The two of you eventually pull away as your eyelids begin to droop. You realize how late it has gotten, neither of you noticing with all the drama that has unfolded. You quickly change into your pajamas and get ready to go to sleep.

You end up in the same bed with your head lying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair. Despite how sleepy you both feel, you know there is so much more to talk about and neither of you will be able to fall asleep.

Minho breaks the silence, asking you the dreaded question, "So, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Hyunjin and I fought. He said some very hurtful things." I reply sadly, the memories of the fight resurfacing.

"You two are so close, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how upset he gets when we’re on tour for so long. He gets aggravated having to be around us all the time, but it was still messed up for him to be so mean to you."

You laugh at his response, "Yeah, like you can talk."

"Hey!" he says dramatically. You both giggle, and despite the tough topic, the tension seems to melt away. It always used to be that way with Minho. It's as if the two of you were made for each other. Everything just felt so much better and easier around him. Suddenly, everything in life was a lot sweeter.

"But seriously, don't worry about it too much, kitten. Felix will take care of it, and Hyunjinnie will be running back to you by the morning."

Part 2 out now!

[kpopnstarwars]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

[beenbaanbuun]

mothers w/ mingi

words - kind of short

genres - fluff

warnings - shaving, bad relationships with family, bad relationships with food, body issues, inherited insecurity, mingi is a precarious baby

——————————————————————————

“do you think your ball trimmer will shave legs?” you turn and look at mingi who’s lay innocently on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. that is until your words sink in and his gaze shoots up to where you stand with the small contraption in hand.

“i guess so,” he shrugs as he turns his phone off and puts it straight down. you ignore the way his eyes furrow as you turn it on and inspect the blades close up. you don’t know how close the shave would be, but you guess in desperate times, that doesn’t really matter. at this point, any shave will do.

you switch it off again and nod to yourself, placing it on the dresser before going through your drawers to grab your other things ready for a shower. you pick up a plain blue pair of cotton panties that despite not being sexy at all, you’re sure mingi will find an excuse to rip off of you post shower. then you grab your comfiest sports bra that again has one too many holes to be considered sexy. finally you grab one of mingi’s shirts - an oversized one that seems to have taken permanent residence in your pyjama drawer - and begin to head to the bathroom with your boyfriend’s ball trimmer in hand too.

“hang on a second, baby,” he calls out after you, scrambling off the bed and rushing towards you until you’re close enough for him to swaddle in his grasp. arms wrap around your shoulders, pinning you to his chest, “what do you think you’re doing?”

you lean back against him, enjoying the impromptu hug more than you’d care to admit.

“shaving my legs,” you close your eyes as you inhale the familiar peppery smell of his cologne; it’s warm and invades your senses, just like him, “i lost my razor so i need to use this.”

“why are you shaving your legs?” he asks, not quite satisfied with your reply. probably because you’d stopped bothering with that sort of thing pretty soon into the relationship. it’s a lot of effort, and your hair seems to be the last thing on mingi’s mind when he saw your legs. mostly he just thinks about what’s between them and how he’s going to get to it. he hardly even pays notice to the prickly hairs that run up and down your skin.

“we’re going on holiday with my mother,” you grumble in reply, “i have to be prepared.”

ah yes; the monster-in-law…

she’s a lovely lady for the most part, inviting mingi into the family with open arms despite the fact that she obviously wasn’t expecting him when you said you were bringing a boyfriend home. its clear she doesn’t approve of the way he dresses, or the nail varnish that coats his fingertips, but that doesn’t stop her from treating him like her own son. he gets the biggest portions of her home cooked meals and the first pick of desert. she calls him handsome when she sees him wearing something she likes, and compliments his uniqueness whenever he’s wearing something that’s a little more outlandish for her old-fashioned taste. she thinks he’s brave when he colours his hair in an outlandish fashion, and gorgeous when he wears it black. all in all, she’s a pretty lovely woman once you get past the hard shell of her traditional values.

and, of course, if you ignore the way she treats you.

to be honest, mingi is impressed at how resilient you turned out after living with that woman for 18 years. constantly having your self esteem torn down can’t be good for someone’s mental health, and yet you made it out the other side with a relatively normal relationship with your body. you have a healthy relationship with food, if you don’t count the days when mingi has to coax you to eat just a little more, and the days where he’d find you scrutinising yourself in front of a mirror are, for the most part, long gone! sometimes you tell him it’s because of him you feel so comfortable in your body; he refuses to take any of the credit for your own inability to be broken.

in fact, it’s only moments like this that he begins to see cracks in those walls you’ve built up. moments when you know you’ll have to see your mum soon. it’s like alarm bells go off in your mind reminding you that you haven’t quite met her standards yet. eat less because ‘you’ve gained a bit weight recently; you ought to keep an eye on that’. shave your legs because ‘as a woman you shouldn’t have hair on your legs; it’s just not natural’. buy expensive skincare products because ‘acne? at your age? you really should take better care of yourself’. it’s these moments that mingi can see the damage done. that he really has to take care of you.

“you shouldn’t listen to your mum,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and gives you an extra tight squeeze with his gangly arms, “they’re your legs, not hers; you only ever have to do what you want to with your body.”

“i know,” you say, leaning your back into his sturdy chest. he’s so warm and cosy, so reliable and strong. the small smile that rises to your face as he holds you close is involuntary. you guess you’re just so in love that you can help it, “she’s just so hard to be around when i’m not absolutely perfect.”

“well then i don’t see the issue here,” he lets you go for just a few seconds, spinning you around until you’re facing him. once more he encloses you in his grasp, a loose grip around your waist just to keep you close, “you’re already perfect, baby.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle. he laughs too. in that moment nothing matters to you but him.

“it’s not cheesy if it’s the truth,” he bends down and presses a firm kiss to your lips, “perfect, perfect, perfect baby.”

[dream0fschism]

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

[fandomrose]

Alhaitham - Stress comfort.

Hello. I love this man and I need to sit in his lap while he reads so here this is.

Just fluff, a little suggestive at the end but you can read it as a massage session instead as it's not explicit in what he's implying.

But yea not much to say.

Please enjoy 💙

You return home from another exhausting day. They seem never-ending at the moment. You plod into the house you share with your boyfriend and roommate to find said boyfriend lounging on the sofa reading. He hears your approach, having known you were due to return and removed his soundproof headphones. He puts the book face down on the arm of the chair and beckoning you to join him.

"Your back, come sit." He said simply patting the sofa next to him. You flop down intending to cuddle but he immediately stands and heads to the kitchen. 

"Stay." Is all he says. If it were anyone else you would have berated them for a lack of manners and for being treated like a dog but you knew your lover and you knew that was just how he spoke. With the least effort necessary. (Unless he's waxing poetic in a language you've never heard about your body and attitude after a passionate encounter. But that's for him to know.)

You sigh and sink into the large sofa and wait like he said, too tired to get up. You look around and note the book isn't one he'd typically read. It was a fantasy novel... one from your childhood that you mentioned brought you comfort to read. It wasn't the best written or the most original story but you loved it and now he was reading it. It touched your heart and you couldn't help but feel the stress alleviate to make room for love from your boyfriend.

As you were silently swooning about Alhaitham he returns with a cup of something herbal smelling and a plate of food. 

"Here, a tea specially blended for your relaxation and palette and dinner. You've been working far too hard lately and since work has been easy on me since being willfully demoted back to scribe. It's the least I can do."

You chuckle and smile up at him taking the tea while he sits down with the plate in one hand, wrapping his free arm around you and stroking your shoulder with his thumb.

Casual intimacy was difficult for you both at first. With you desiring it but not knowing how to go about it and Alhaitham thinking he'd hate it. But the two of you figured it out and now he loves touching you and being close, during hot days it's not unusual that he will refuse to cuddle but he'll stretch out a foot to put on your leg, always touching you in some way. 

You were swooning again but trying not to make it obvious and inflate his ego more. But when you chance a look at his face he had a small smirk and a cocky look in his eyes. He could read you like an overly complicated 347 page philosophical thesis on silent languages.

"Thank you Alhaitham, this means a lot already."

"Hm you don't need to say it, I can see how grateful you are. You're an open book to me. I'm just glad it's helping, even if I knew it would." 

"Ttsh, arrogant ass" you say with nothing but love in your voice. In response he chuckles and squeezes you with his arm.

"Now, now, is that any way to treat your extremely generous and caring lover?" 

You sip your tea dramatically, "you know I mean it with love darling."

"Hmm, yes of course you are head over heels for me. You love this arrogant ass. How could you not." You sigh, meaning to sound faux annoyed but it just sounded blissful instead. He was only this dramatic and faux arrogant with those he truly cared for.

"Indeed how could I not-" In a smooth move you take his hand from your shoulder and press a kiss to the back of it before placing it back on your shoulder. You hear him chuckle in a way that makes your heart flutter. He kisses the top of your head before picking up his book again.

"Come on eat, you'll need the energy."

You could feel your face heat at the implications and you can just imagine his smug face. So you decide to play innocent.

"Why? The day is almost over."

He chuckles again and squeezed your shoulder. "Because someone looks like they could use some stress relief. If someone wants of course. If not we can skip straight to the bath."

You chuckle and sigh. "'Stress relief' hmm? That does sound nice."

"Then stress relief it is my كنز. Then the bath, you'll need it. Now eat L'amour de ma vie." 

"Alright alright love" you quickly eat, ready for what sounds like the best evening in a while. Moments like this remind you that no matter what happens during the day, your loving boyfriend will be there for you.

[worriedvision]

I love your tighnari fanfic angst!!! how about Cyno & Tighnari x reader ( not polly) finding reader getting injured after argument?? it can be fully angst or angst > fluff!!

Gender neutral reader, decided not to kill off the reader so that'll be nice lol, tagged as angst.

-

Cyno:

"You really need to stop fretting over a silly little cut on my leg." Cyno shakes his head, you refusing to leave the wound unattended.

"Honey, you don't know if the instrument had poison on it!" You huff, inspecting the wound closer as you begin to apply the powder you produced to detect such a substance.

"See, the wound isn't a threat." Cyno huffs.

"You need to look after yourself more." You retaliate, disinfecting the wound before reaching to apply the bandage. Cyno stands up, walking away as you try to call out to make him stop. "Cyno, I wasn't done!"

"No, _, you are done." Cyno states. "I cannot afford to waste my time here, I'm sorry. You know how my work is."

"And a few more seconds was just that important to you, huh?" You tell out, Cyno ignoring you as he closed the door on you.

--

You had been talking to doctors all day the next day. The argument was fresh in your mind, but you couldn't help but think of him. Was he safe? Did his wound get exposed?

Oh, no matter. You had to focus on the medical mumbo jumbo these doctors were trying to impress you with. See, you weren't open to just giving the powder to any doctor, and you knew the ones who approached you were purely wanting to figure out the exact formula, selling it at a horribly high price.

Walking back home, you felt like someone was watching you. Deciding to take a longer route, through the Avidya Forest, you wanted someone to see you in the case someone hurt you. Feeling someone plunge a scalpel into your back, your eyes widen as you seem to lose the ability to hear. Was it adrenaline? Fear? You didn't know. You see Tighnari rushing over with a forest ranger, pointing at the culprit as the forest ranger wrestled them to the ground as he performs care on you. You trust him, and you hold out the powder to him. Furrowing his brows, he grabs it as you pass out.

--

You wake up to Tighnari taking notes, Cyno sitting by your bed and clearly nodding off to sleep. Groaning out, you slowly start to get familiar with your surroundings.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Tighnari cheers, nudging Cyno awake. Cyno looks over, seeing you awake, and he sighs out of relief. "Your powder was certainly interesting to use. After using the powder, and treating you for a possible poisoning, Cyno demonstrated the reaction that takes place when there isn't poison."

"Yeah, I had doctors trying to buy the lot. I could tell they didn't plan on using it for direct treatment." You shake your head.

"Well, the criminal who assaulted you was apprehended." Tighnari states.

After a couple seconds of silence, you get an idea.

"Say, would you like to have a delivery of the powder?" You ask. Tighnari nods, tail wagging.

"Tighnari, can I have a word alone with _?" Cyno asks. Tighnari nods, grabbing his clipboard and continuing his writing after leaving the room.

"I do appreciate the effort you put into taking care of me." Cyno states. "You're only being cautious about the possibility of poison. Seeing you get poisoned with a small wound like the one on my leg made me realise you had a point."

"...Do you have work today?" You ask. "I wouldn't want you to skive off work because you wanted to say sorry to me." You bitterly spit out.

"No. After hearing what happened last night, I made sure today would be off. I want to spend time with you, to show you I love you"

--

Tighnari:

"So you didn't get the materials?" Tighnari raises a brow, completely unimpressed.

"Nari, the deserts had bad sandstorms. I couldn't get the materials!" You protest, Tighnari groaning out of frustration.

"I need these materials for medicine. Do you not realise I am out?" Tighnari tuts, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Fine, if it's that vital I'll just go out in the middle of the current sandstorm that's been predicted to last for a few days." You huff, walking out.

"Stop your excuses, I need this medication for several people!" He screeches, you not daring to turn back. "Don't come back empty handed."

--

Unfortunately, you couldn't get far. The sandstorm grew worse and worse as you ventured further, hoping to get the fruits required. Dehydration, heat exhaustion and the pain of the sandstorm was enough to knock you out.

You got carried by Dehya to Aaru Village, where Candace allowed you to stay while you recovered. The recovery was not speedy, and she was not allowing you to leave as the sandstorm hadn't finished up. Upon asking you why you were there, you explain the situation.

"We have a supply, I would be more than happy to aid you. If it means you don't venture out into the sandstorm again, that is." She explains, you nodding.

"Oh, and your boyfriend got these flowers delivered for you. He must have done something silly, he's written you a letter. Of course, I don't know the contents, but I know these flowers usually are gifted as an apology." She giggles, handing you said letter.

'_,

I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you explained the situation regarding the Sandstorms in the desert. Upon reflection, I should have controlled my temper with you. I heard through Cyno that you had been found in the middle of a particularly bad sandstorm, and I know this was because I pushed you to get the desert specialties.

When you return to your home, I can assure you I won't make this mistake again. You don't need to fear the idea of coming back with nothing - if I had to choose between you and some materials that could be obtained easily, the answer is obvious.

I hope you like the flowers. Usually, I'm not one for gifting bouquets, however I know you can find a creative way of appreciating them in their beauty.

I look forward to showering you with love when I next see you,

Tighnari'

[loveforsatoru]

Our Blue Spring- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Chapter 5: Once More To See You)

He makes his way back to his apartment, shoving past people on the busy streets. It's times like these where he wishes Tokyo wasn't such a populated city. He's not drunk by any means despite losing count of how many beer bottles and shots he went through, but the anxiety and emptying feeling of it all are what's making his mind hazy.

He makes a series of wrong turns, ending up on streets he's never been on, bumping into almost everyone he sees. It feels like he's going insane. Maybe he is. He doesn't remember the last time it's been this bad. He's never been the type to drink his problems away, but even so, it didn't help.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally gets to his apartment. He drags his body up the stairs, all 6'3 of him wanting to collapse on the floor and just go to sleep. Not because he's tired, but because he doesn't want to go through this night any longer.

He digs his pocket for his keys and fumbles with the door knob, pushing the door open with his foot before slamming it shut. He tosses his keys and wallet onto the table and heads to the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. He stands over the sink and splashes himself with cold water, the droplets sliding from his cheek down his jaw before hitting the counter.

He looks at himself in the mirror and hardly recognizes who he is anymore. His eye bags are dark, a red hue replaces the white sclera of his eye, his lips are pale and his hair is all disheveled. It's all evidence of the sleepless nights, hours spent crying, inability to eat properly, and stress.

He thinks nobody has caught on, but many have, including coworkers, friends, and Megumi. Megumi was the last person he wanted to find out about the state he's in. He spent a lot of time with you and Satoru before you left. You treated him like your own, so ultimately he was hurt by your sudden disappearance as well. Satoru didn't want to make it worse on him by showing how much he's been struggling, but it's gotten to the point where his efforts to keep himself together and composed were starting to slip.

He takes a quick shower, washing off the dirt and disgust from his body. The fact that he was in a bar with another woman less than 2 hours ago makes him cringe. He ruffles his hair with a towel before gently opening the door to his bedroom, almost as if you were sleeping peacefully in there and he was afraid to wake you up. His bedroom. It's like it hasn't fully registered in his mind yet. This isn't your shared bedroom anymore. You're not there to stay up until three in the morning, waiting for him to get back from missions. You’re not there for him to hold in his arms, tangling your legs together, trying to be as physically close as you can because your souls were already intertwined. Yet your aroma still lingers in the room, making it feel like you’re there with him.

He gets under the covers and rolls onto his side, staring at the opposite end of the bed, where you used to sleep. It's remained untouched ever since you left. He refuses to sleep on your side, it feels wrong. You didn't leave much of your stuff behind besides the locket he never takes off and some mundane things in the drawer of your night stand like hair ties, earrings, and a scrapbook. He wonders if you purposefully left them there for him or if you just forgot when you were packing your things. Regardless of that, he's never moved them out of their place.

He turns to lay on his back and looks up at the ceiling. It was beginning to pour rain outside, the drops of water hitting the window. It was the only sound that filled the empty and silent apartment aside from his own breathing. Maybe he'll stay home from tomorrow.

Night quickly turns into day and Satoru's woken up by the annoyingly loud sound of his phone ringing, probably the higher ups calling to ask why he hasn't shown up yet, but he doesn't care enough to answer. He rolls out of bed, yawning as he makes his way to the bathroom as he washes his face and brushes his teeth, nothing special. It's the same thing every morning.

He turns to lay on his back and stares up at the ceiling. It was beginning to pour rain outside, the drops of water hitting the window. It was the only sound that filled the empty and silent apartment aside from his own breathing. Maybe he'll stay home from work tomorrow.

Night quickly turns into day and Satoru's woken up by the annoyingly loud sound of his phone ringing, probably the higher ups calling to ask why he hasn't shown up yet, but he doesn't care enough to answer. He rolls out of bed, yawning as he makes his way to the bathroom to he wash his face and brush his teeth, nothing special. It's the same thing every morning.

He goes into the kitchen and searches for something to eat, but it's basically empty. How long has it been since he went to the supermarket? Weeks? Months even? He sighs out in annoyance before grabbing his keys and wallet, heading out of his apartment.

He’s once again met with the cold winter air of Tokyo, making him shiver and stuff his hands inside his jacket pockets. He wanders around, looking for the closest grocery store. It feels weird having this much time on his hands. He’s usually working and doesn’t tend to go out much. It’s not even 10 in the morning.

As he’s walking, he sees a cafe from the corner of his eye, one he knows far too well. He stands in front of the small building in disbelief. He thought this place went out of business and shut down years ago, but he was wrong. Everything looks the same. He used to bring you here every Sunday. You would sit and talk for hours upon hours, enjoying each other's company and the time spent together. The manager of the place started giving you guys free drinks in thanks for keeping them in business.

He wastes no time hurrying inside, examining it. He spots the booth by the window you both sat in every time you came here, but it’s already being occupied by another couple. He takes a seat in the back corner of the cafe and begins scanning the menu. It's all the same, even the usuals you guys would order all those years back. He feels a sense of nostalgia overtake him.

"Hello!" The voice nearly startled him, but he looks up and sees a small old woman.

"I remember you! How've you been?" She continues, sitting down in the seat across from him. She's wearing an apron, so he assumes she works here.

"You do?" He replies, confusion laced in his tone.

"Yes, yes, you used to come here all the time with that beautiful young girl. I've run this cafe for the last 25 years. I remember all my customers, but you two were here so often it's impossible to forget your faces even after all this time." She smiles sweetly at him, feeling content that her used to be #1 customer was finally back.

It finally clicked and a smile grew on his face at the realization.

"I remember now! I thought this place shut down a while ago?"

"No, no. We were closed for a couple weeks because my husband fell ill, but he's recovering, so we reopened. Business has been a little slow though. Nobody appreciates family owned restaurants anymore."

This reminds him of a conversation he had with you a couple years into your relationship. It was something you talked about often, opening a restaurant with him. He said he would build one for you. You laughed along, assuming he wasn't being serious, but deep down, he was. He would do anything for you and if you wanted a family owned restaurant with three little kids of your own running around in the back, he'd give you that and anything else you could possibly ask for.

Noticing the way he was quiet with a pained look plastered on, the old woman decided to clear her throat and speak up again, hoping to ease the sadness and whatever's going on in his head.

"I figure you're looking for your girlfriend. She walked out of here not too long before you came in. Are you waiting for her?"

Her words struck his eardrums and he shot his head up, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"She's your girlfriend, no? The one you used to come by with?"

"We broke up years ago, she moved away. I haven't seen or spoken to her since. Maybe you have the wrong person."

"I don't think so. Her name is y/n, right?"

He nodded at her words, feeling his heart about to burst out of his chest. Is there a possibility that you're really back in town?

"It's definitely her. She did mention she was going to be here for a couple days, go to a Christmas Eve party tonight, and spend some time with friends before going back home. I assumed she was speaking for the both of you though."

A Christmas Eve party? He quickly pulls out his phone and checks the date. It's December 24th. How could he forget? He's been so caught up in his own shit that he didn't even realize it was almost Christmas, much less the fact that Utahime sent out invitations to her Christmas Eve party weeks ago.

"I have to go find her! Do you know where she went?"

He almost sprung out of his seat, ready to do whatever it takes to see you again even if it meant he'd have to walk barefoot across Japan.

"I'm not sure. She mentioned something about meeting with a company a couple hours away. She just stopped by for something to eat and we had a quick chat. She didn't specify what she does for work, but she seems very successful."

"Did she mention anything about me or our relationship? Does she even want to see me?" He mumbled that last question more to himself, but it didn't fall to deaf ears.

"I tried asking about you, but didn't want to push the subject. Let me ask you something."

He nodded at her, nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

"Do you love her?"

"Of course I do. I love her more than anything in the world. I haven't been the same since she left."

"If you truly love her then you'll go to that party tonight and fight for her back even if it takes getting on a plane and moving to the other side of the globe."

She's right. He's going to do everything he can. He won't let you slip through his fingers again.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Assuming you'd be willing to: How does Butch react/act when realizing he might be crushing on the Male!Lone Wanderer? Either while they're both still in the vault or after the Lone Wanderer returns from the Wastes

Butch's Reaction to Crushing on a M!Lone

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » Butch is mean ➼ Genre » Romantic

It pisses him off when he first starts to notice how he feels for you. I imagine he represses his romantic feelings for men like crazy and realizing that he’s slowly developing a crush on you, of all people, makes him want to punch a hole in the wall.

He’ll be even crueler to you now; spitting on you, jumping you in the Vault hallways, and threatening to carve his initials into your skin with his pocket knife. He hopes that it’ll force his desires away. Maybe if you hate him enough he’ll finally just let it go, but, to his dismay, it never happens.

It becomes obvious very quickly that something deeper within him is causing him to be like this. The other Tunnel Snakes will also start noticing how much he seems to like picking on you compared to anyone else in the Vault.

The day you leave is the day he shatters. Of course, you’re the one who has to leave. He’ll pretend to be happy about finally being rid of you, but deep down he’s worried you won’t make it. You’re smaller than him, weaker than him, and never had been one to fight back... how would you ever survive on the surface?

He can’t help the way his eyes light up when he spots you entering the Muddy Rudder. He doesn’t even bother hiding the smile that slowly tugs at his lips as he waves you over to the bar, praying you won't cringe at the sight of him and leave.

He’ll act as if you guys had been friends for years. He’ll toss his arm loosely around your shoulders and order you a drink, asking about your time in the wasteland. However, his friendly demeanor will shift once he sees how awkward you act around him.

He doesn’t bring up how he used to treat you - he doesn’t know if he can - but he’ll, at the very least, try to make an effort toward earning your trust.

He follows you whether you want him to or not. He may still be a tad naive about what exists in the wasteland, but he’s not naive enough to recognize the dangers. The last thing he wants is for you to die, especially if it happens before he can confess to you.

He’s gentler toward you now. Those few months after you’d set off to find your dad had killed him, and he wants to make an active effort to show how much he’s missed you and how much he wants to be around you.

He’ll slowly start to do things that boyfriends traditionally do. He’ll offer to carry some of your heavier items, open doors for you, and even pay for meals when you both find a settlement to eat out at.

He also becomes extremely protective over you. You can see the hatred and jealousy boiling in his eyes whenever he spots someone touching you or standing too close. It eats at him even more knowing he can’t say anything because you two aren’t officially together.

Some of his old habits still linger. Occasionally, he’ll grab your face to make you look at him or, stick his foot out and trip you while you walk. It’s just in his nature.

Although, he does try to make it up by offering to clean up your hair for you. Free of charge. Either because he’s noticed it’s been growing out or it’s gotten dirty during the days you’ve spent traveling. Besides, he likes being able to take care of you like this.

It kills him that he can’t seem to find it within himself to just tell you about how he’s feeling, or even just apologize for how he treated you while you both were in the Vault.

It’ll become more and more obvious that he’s interested in you, but he refuses to be the one to say it. You’ll have to make the first move in the relationship because his pride won’t let him be in love with another man. Especially, if there’s a chance he may be rejected.

[ithebookhoarder]

Relationship A - Z: (Alfie Solomons x F!Reader)

A/N: I randomly ended up catching a friend rewatching an episode of Peaky Blinders recently, and may have fallen back in love with this man again. So, it felt only right to finish this, after it sitting in my pile of unfinished drafts for months XD...

Yet again, for anyone who wants to know, I’m using Dameronlogy’s list here for this prompt. You can find it on their blog, or here. Thanks for all your love and support recently. It means a lot.

Masterlist:

A - actions. what sort of things do they do to show they love their s.o? 

Alfie listens which makes you feel special and valued to no end - something he demonstrates over and over again in many different ways. 

For example, if you say something is your favourite then he is sure to order it and leave it on your desk, whether it’s flowers, perfume, or books by a certain author. 

You even catch him one night, reading your favourite book, and can’t believe it when he starts asking you about it at breakfast the next morning, clearly having absorbed every word with great interest. 

And conversely, if you say you don’t like something… well, then it is all but eliminated from your life. Mushrooms? He’ll never let them touch your plate again. A certain cologne makes your headache? NO one at the factory can wear it. You’re allergic to something? Then Alfie will add it to a never ending list of enemies that need vanquishing and god help it if someone dares try to bring it close to you. 

He also shows it by asking about things you’ve mentioned, remembering all your friends and family names, as well as all the drama too (something you know he thoroughly enjoys catching up on, as yes, whether Mindy’s second husband is cheating on her is more interesting than answering Tommy’s letters.) 

B - beginnings. how did the relationship begin? how has it changed? 

However you met, you can guarantee that it took a while for you both to get to a point where you realised how you felt about one another. Alfie would definitely try to woo you though, even from the start. Tipping his hat when he passes you, sending gifts with handwritten notes, and taking you on lavish dates that clearly took time and effort to plan - he is a gentleman in many ways and refuses to treat you as anything less than a lady, even if you continually insist it isn’t necessary. 

C - comfortable. how comfy are they with each other? peeing with the door open close, or would they rather keep the mystery? 

He’d try to keep a line drawn between his work and your home life, but I feel he’d surrender pretty quickly once you start wearing it down. He has walls that he’s built pretty high and it takes him a while to figure out that it’s ok to let someone in every now and then - especially you.  

Soon enough, he’s sharing everything with you, from the sales figures, to other confidential business information. He keeps nothing back and neither do you. It’s a partnership and that makes you both incredibly happy. 

D - dates. do they consider dates to be important? what kind do they prefer? 

Dates are incredibly important to Alfie. They’re his chance to escape the darkness that follows him in his day to day life and to savour your company. They’re also a chance to strengthen your relationship which is the most important thing in his world. 

As for the types of dates, well, Alfie enjoys mixing things up, alternating between quiet evenings at home with you and nights hitting the town. 

E - engagement. how would they propose? who would even pop the question? 

Alfie would propose to you for sure. In fact, he’s probably been planning on asking you since the moment you first agreed to let him take you to dinner. He can see it all in in his head, and has his mother’s ring on standby for the day he finally musters up the courage to ask.  

F - fundamental. for them, what is the most fundamental part of a relationship? 

Loyalty - which I know sounds ironic given Alfie’s history, but it’s different when it comes to your personal lives. You’re not like his business, so there are no muddy waters for you to have to navigate through when it comes to right and wrong. You’re a team and that’s that, first, last, and always. 

You have each other’s back and love each other for who you are, and that’s why Alfie loves you so much. As long as you trust one another then you can handle anything, whether it be business at the bakery, or even hosting a dinner for the local community in your home. 

G - gratitude. how do they show their appreciation for you?

By spoiling you rotten. This could be via services for you, such as foot rubs, making you fall apart over and over in bed, or baking for you. Or, this could also be via material gifts, such as glittering jewels he’s procured from ‘work’ or fine dresses that you know cost far too much for any one person to own. But that’s Alfie. He loves to gift you fine things and watch as you put them on, looking every bit as regal and expensive as a queen - which is just how Alfie sees you anyway. 

H - home. a random domestic headcanon. 

This man can actually bake, which is fitting given his business front. Still, despite his true business ventures, Alfie can actually bake pretty well and loves to find an excuse to break out his mother’s recipes in the kitchen for you. Most days off start with you waking to the smell of something sweet wafting up the stairs, and the sound of your husband whistling as he works. 

He also has a pair of fluffy slippers that he would keep hidden with his life, if it came to it, rather than let anyone other than you know about them. He really doesn’t look so threatening with them on, which isn’t exactly the look he’s going for.  

I - infinite. do they believe their love is endless, or is there something that could break it? 

Alfie is a realist. Let’s be honest. He’s seen too much of humanity and the world not to be. Just because he expects the worst out of everyone in the world, doesn’t mean he isn’t determined to make your relationship work anyway. If he wants something he goes for it and his happy ever after is one of those things. 

It takes a lot of patience and self-work to not always fly off the handle or let the little things blow up into massive issues. You’d have your bumps along the way, especially in the early days, but you’d both find your feet together. In fact, soon your marriage is the gold standard amongst your friends. 

The secret? It’s learning not to see love as something that is either there or not. It’s something you earn, you build, you tend to. You don’t give up on it, no matter what the world throws at you. 

J - jokes. who's the funny one? 

Alfie is funny and often makes you laugh, but I think you’d get your fair share of laughter out of him too. He’s a goofy one when you finally crack through that shell of his, but he can take banter as well as giving it. In fact, the first time he properly laughed whilst at work he made the entire factory floor grind to a halt in surprise. You’d have heard a pin drop everyone looked so scared and confused.

K - kiss. how do they kiss? favourite type?

Alfie may seem like a massive extrovert, and he can be in the right circumstances. But when it comes to you? I feel like this man is private and protective af. He doesn’t like making a massive spectacle of you or your attentions. So, it’s the little kisses that are his favourite. The ones you subtly press to his cheek or hand whenever you’re near him. When you’re sat in his office or in the car together. When you’re lying side by side in bed and fighting the urge to close your eyes and doze off in his arms. They’re a constant reminder of the love you have for him. 

L - longing. who's the clingy one? how are they with long distance? 

Interestingly, I feel Alfie would be the clingy one, even though he is the one most often away from home, travelling for work. He calls you when he can, though, and makes sure to spend a day with you when he returns. 

He also has men watching you to ‘keep you safe’, even if he knows it drives you mad. Still, you put up with it because it makes him happy, making sure to offer each poor sod a cup of tea for their efforts, and charming them each into compliance. 

M - marriage. do they wanna get married? 

Alfie would love to marry you, let’s be honest. The chance to have a fancy wedding with the local community, and everyone witnessing how lucky he is to call you his? He’d be in his element - and the luckiest bastard alive. To call you Mrs Solomons is something he fantasises about nightly, and the ring box sitting in his desk drawer suggests it won’t be long before he asks you either. He would prefer a traditional Jewish ceremony, but wouldn’t insist if you said otherwise. After all, he just wants you to be happy. 

N - nicknames. what ones do they like? 

Sweetheart, Darlin’, Love… he has a lot of nicknames for you, each one depending on his mood. You can often tell a lot about how he’s feeling by the nickname he chooses to greet you with. Like, if he calls you by your actual name, then he’s feeling serious about something. It can be good or bad but he doesn’t use it lightly… just as he keeps ‘Oytser’ and a few other Yiddish terms for special occasions, usually when you’re alone. 

O - over the top. are they ever ott? or are they more low-key? 

This is Alfie. He’s OTT to the extreme. This wouldn’t change when it comes to you. His personality is as big as his empire and you wouldn’t change it for the world. It keeps things interesting, for a start, and you fell in love with him for him, just as he did you. That doesn’t mean, however, that you don’t sometimes wish things were simpler and quieter - especially once Tommy Shelby comes into your lives. That man only eggs Alfie on and makes him all the worse. 

P - picture. what's their favourite picture of them and their s.o? 

It would be something simple yet intimate to be honest, like a wedding photo, or one of the pair of you taken at a company soiree. He loves it because you’re dressed to the nines, wrapped in each other’s arms, and grinning like a pair of love sick soppy bastards. 

Q - quintessential. what is one they would refuse to compromise in their relationship? what's a deal-breaker for them? 

As I said before. Loyalty is everything to him. Plain and simple. 

R - rage. who is the most likely to start an argument? 

… come on. Alfie. For sure. He probably wouldn’t mean to, unlike when he’s with people to do with the business. Oh no, this man would do his very best not to upset you, given that you’re the one person in all the world that means everything to him. However, he’s still him. He still has a temper and a short fuse that all too often blows up whether it’s about not being able to find his cane, or about the fact he may or may not have pissed off an Italian gangster and needs you to flee to some safehouse for a week. 

He’ll take whatever rage you give back to him and can grovel with the best of them. Expect many bouquets, kisses, and angry sex, followed by make up sex is all I can say. 

S - sickness. who gets sick most often? what are they like when they’re sick? 

Given what we’ve seen in the show, I think Alfie would get ill most often. This can be due to his inability to take a day off or get a decent night’s rest in him, but it can also be due to more serious factors like his war wounds. Still, you’re a great nurse and aren’t afraid of ‘Big bad Solomons’, even if he does his best to get out of taking medicines or staying in bed. 

You can be a spitfire when you need to be and when it comes to caring for your husband, then you turn into the most fearsome Solomons in the West End. Scarier men than him have blanched and run away after being screamed at, by you, for refusing to let your husband out of meetings. Even Tommy himself once actually apologised after a dressing down from you, and sent a bottle of whiskey by way of apology. 

T - tattoo. would they ever get matching tattoos with their s.o, or a tattoo for them? 

Alfie would definitely get one for you. He has a lot anyway, but one dedicated to you would be important to him, so that he carries you with him. He’d also probably get it done over his heart, so it is all the more special as he claims it’s a visual reminder of the mark you’ve left on him. 

You make sure to call him a softy, but kiss him anyway once he tells you. 

U - understanding. how understanding are they? or are they a little difficult? 

All things considered, I think Alfie would actually be rather understanding about most things. It isn’t like his world is black and white, and he knows the world can be a complicated and unfair place. Sure, he’s stubborn but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try to at least see things from a different perspective before deciding he was right in the first place. 

If anything, you’d be the one who is less understanding. By that, I mean, you have patience - the patience of a god damn saint, according to most of your friends - but God help you if Alfie makes a promise and then breaks it. You’ll put up with almost anything but if he makes a promise then he knows he has to keep it, else face your wrath later. 

V - vases. do they buy flowers?

Alfie would buy you flowers all the time. True, he’d normally bark at Ollie to order them for him, especially if it’s for an occasion or if he’s in trouble… he knows exactly what kind of flowers are your favourites and isn’t afraid to send you fields worth if it would make you smile. After all, in a city as grey and metropolitan as London, you savour any bud of greenery or coloured petals. It’s why you’ve come home to the kitchen filled with Sunflowers once or twice, after mentioning that you’d had a bad day… only the best for you, Alfie always says - to brighten your day, just as you brighten his life by being in it. 

W - wandering. do they wanna travel? or immediately settle down? 

He may be known as ‘the wandering Jew’ but Alfie would want to settle down, to be honest. You, him, Cyril and whatever kids you two have in a cottage by the sea in Margate… that’s the dream. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy taking you to places though, spoiling you with trips abroad every now and then, like Paris on your honey moon, and Italy for an anniversary. 

X - ex. how many exes do they have? any horror stories? 

As king of Camden he would more than likely have a few, but none he’d deem significant enough to tell you about. He’s always been more of a casual fling, kind of guy, until you came along and tipped his world upside down. The only person you’d ever have to worry about rivalling you for his affection has a tail and answers to the name Cyril… and to be fair, you’re pretty in love with him too.  

But if you had exes? Well, it depends on how it ended as to whether or not he has some of his men have quiet words with them in the middle of the night… 

Y - you. favourite thing about their partner? 

Alfie calls you his salvation, and you think he honestly believes that. You accept him for who he is and aren’t afraid of him, which is a minor miracle in itself. You’re patient and kind and all this things Alfie claims he isn’t, which is why he loves you so much - you are the light in his life and he hopes even just being around you is enough to make him a slither less of a sinner. 

That, and your irritating, unwavering optimism… oh, it annoys him to no end how you always smile and find silver linings wherever you look. You also seem to know just about everyone, often whistling and waving as you make your way through the factory like a god damn Disney princess. Hell, even the Shelbys seem to like you which really gets on his wick… but why wouldn’t they? You’re amazing, so he can understand even if he doesn’t like it. 

Z - zeal. how excitable are they? who's the calm one?

It’s Alfie. Come on - this one is self explanatory, even if I like to think you’d balance each other out. He brings out your extroverted side and you help temper his when he gets a bit much (even if you secretly love how excitable he gets). 

[delusionalwings]

Hello how's your day going?

If I may, may I request yandere Lucifer and Simeon(separately) reacting to a reader who is absolutely afraid of being touched? (Whether it's from punishment or hurting themselves, reader has wounds on their back that they can't reach and take care of on their own)

hiiii i am having a good day! how are you doing, buddy?

― synopsis -> his darling hates being touched

― characters -> lucifer, simeon

― gender neutral reader

― headcanons

― warnings -> yandere content, mentions of rough handling, scaring you, manipulation, blaming you

LUCIFER

Lucifer noticed the way you kept your skin covered, the way you flinched when someone got too close. During the period when he couldn't call himself your master, he actually liked seeing you so out of reach of others. Why should anybody touch what was rightfully his?

Now that he had you as his plaything, he was amused by your fear, the way you would cower and move away from him, making your chains rattle. The feeling of cold metal made your insides itch and he knew it well, enjoyed it to his heart's content.

You often hurt yourself in the process so that your skin was complete with wounds but you dared not let him see those. You couldn't bear his touch... The idea was beyond repulsive as would have been the smile on his lips if he had his way with you.

Honestly, it suited him for the most part. Why should he be bothered with your health? You were supposed to perish sooner or later and by your attitude, it would be sooner than anticipated.

Sometimes, when you screamed too loud for his liking or he was in an especially foul mood, he would cup your cheeks roughly and make you look at him. You would be gagged and he would look at you till he had his fill. How he enjoyed being in control! Other times, he would bluff touching you and be satisfied seeing you wither and hurt yourself while moving out of the way.

If you can't learn your lesson and stop being so affected by these, Lucifer won't teach it to you. If you have decided to suffer, he will find glee in watching you struggle. Expect no more from a busy demon like him.

SIMEON

Simeon longed to touch you but when he noticed your hesitation, he decided to stay away initially. It must be His will that you should need more time to adjust to him and the angel understood and decided to obey the divine law.

However every rule came with a limit. How far could he go to abide by it? In the end, your warmth was what he needed and he decided to snatch it by force.

Shouldn't he get something for his protection?

It was true that an angel acted selflessly but then again angels didn't go and fall in love. Now that he was here and in love with you, he couldn't help but caress your cheeks and hold you hand whenever he wanted. As the sound of your refusals increased, his patience waned.

Had he not given you enough time already?

[Name], could you not see how he loved you? If you had ended up with a human or worse, a demon, they would have overlooked your comfort. But he cared about you and wanted what was best for you. Why not try closing the distance between the two of you? Put in some effort and you would see that he meant no harm. That was best for you! Let him touch you...

Oh... So you were still wary of him? Disobedience deserved punishment, he was sorry to say. Had he not given you many opportunities to open up to him willingly? It was your destiny to be with him so that must come to be!

He would lie down with you, hold you close so that you could get familiar with his touch. Your lips would be sealed with magic so that you didn't rip your vocal chords. A few whippings and scares were nothing if he could meet his objective. Now look at what you made him do! Your skin was littered with cuts and wounds. No, stay still. He will treat you. Dare move and there may be fresh marks.

[latenightsimping]

Kink the 1st - Shibari

Summary: After a bad day, all you want is some downtime with your boyfriend. And downtime includes some rope and a whole lotta fun.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 4,693

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, bdsm, shibari (using rope), oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos), aftercare, lots of fluff, sex with a lil humour sprinkled in as a treat, just quite sweet really? porn with plot, softdom!Eddie, sub!reader, reader has a vagina, use of petnames (sweetheart, angel etc.)

AN: Massive shoutout to @mantorokk-writes, @steve-harringtons-slut & @charlie-heatons-whxre for giving me a boot up the arse to get Kinktober kicked off! Hoping to do at least once a week? I got ideas for the next one, but if there’s anything you wanna see please lemme know! Hope you enjoy!!

You’d both had a hell of a day.

Everything that could go wrong, had gone utterly wrong. Murphy’s law, and all that. Work had been a drag; usually, you could have sworn the diner was cursed or haunted, considering how temperamental the old machinery in there could be. Today? Today, you were sure gremlins had snuck in during the night shift and were determined to fuck with you any way possible. The coffee machine went bust, the dishwasher refused to turn on, and to top it all off, your boss was in one of his shitty moods.

You’d finished up your day shift in a mood that caused your whole features to harden, practically scowling the whole way on your walk home. Usually, you didn’t mind the twenty minutes it took to get to your little run down home, but it was just that little bit too cold to be pleasant, and you’d forgotten your jacket on your rush out the door. Yet another straw to the camel’s back, and you could feel yourself beginning to break.

Though the dark cloud looming over your head didn’t shift fully, it lightened a few shades as soon as you stepped through your front door. The place was pretty run down; when you had first moved in, you could tell the previous owner was still firmly stuck in the 60’s. Wallpaper peeled off the walls, stained jaundice from cigarette smoke, and the kitchen was in desperate need of a renovation, “A fixer upper,” Eddie had told you, when you’d first seen it with him. At first, it all felt like too much. Sure, it was the only thing you two could sensibly afford, but it was hard to see the bigger picture. Luckily, Eddie could see that picture clearly. You kind of missed that honeymoon phase now, when you’d first moved in and spent your free weekends decorating. Painting the walls side by side as the radio played, only getting into a paint fight once. Alright, two times, but you couldn’t leave Eddie that smug that he was the victor. He was quite the handyman, as it turned out. Wayne had come to help, lugging heavy toolboxes, and the Munson men had got to work fixing loose fittings and squeaky hinges. You’d supplied the beer and lunch, watching the two men from a distance as you painted old photo frames that you’d thrifted.

Your home wasn’t perfect. A lot of the furniture didn’t match – a few pieces plucked from various dumpsters around town, the rest second-hand – some doors still had to be jiggled just right to open and close, and your oven seemed to have an attitude problem. But it was yours and Eddie’s. Various photos of moments of your relationship together dotted surfaces and walls, his beloved posters hung neatly in different rooms. His amps and guitars in the living room, your battered old record player and collection of vinyls beside them. Home wasn’t bricks and mortar. It was a feeling. It was feeling safe, and secure, and remembering that the stain on your couch was thanks to Dustin spilling Pepsi when he jumped out of his skin during a Halloween movie night. It was a feeling that soon, Eddie would be home, and you could ease each other’s minds without having to put much effort in.

You heard the roar of his van while you were making dinner, music blasting and no doubt pissing off the neighbours even further. By the time you took the plates out of the cabinet, you heard the front door unlock, Eddie’s voice calling out he was home. You could tell instantly that he had just as much of a shit day as you had by voice alone. The usually melodic timbre now sombre and flat, sounding bone tired. As he came into the kitchen, though he graced you with a smile, it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did. It made your heart slightly ache as you frowned at him. “Bad day?”

He hummed in agreement, hands coming up to scrub his face as he leaned against the counter. “Phil’s been riding my ass all day,” he murmured through his palms, arms dropping as he winced. “Shit, sorry baby. Didn’t mean to come in and just start complainin’.”

“No, tell me about it,” you said as you shook your head, busying yourself with serving up as Eddie moved to set the table. No matter what mood you were both in, it was a routine heavily engrained by now. Whoever cooked, the other would set the table and clean up after. Pretty much muscle memory, at this point.

“First of all, Tina called in to let us know that her kid had broken his arm falling out of a damn tree, so I was left to fend for myself. Then the shipment for that Dirty Dancing album still didn’t show yet again, and I had to deal with hormonal teenagers complaining no fuckin’ end about something I have no control over, y’know? It’s like they expect me to magically pull CD’s out of my ass or something.”

You nodded along as he complained about his day, pottering around the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and finally sitting yourself down at the dinner table. As Eddie talked between mouthfuls of food, you could see him starting to ever so slowly unwind. Having someone to vent to always helped him, and no doubt he was hangry from not being able to grab more than a couple of bites at work. He loved working at the record store, for the most part. He knew about music probably better than anything else, and it was usually slow and steady work when new releases that swept Hawkins like wildfire were readily available. But it seemed like for the both of you, today was just one of those days.

“But enough about me,” he sighed after a few moments of silence, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. “What about you? You look tired.”

“Feel tired,” you chuckled, shrugging as you leaned back in your chair. “Just the diner gremlins acting up again. You know, the usual.”

“Ah,” he nodded, clicking his teeth with his tongue. “Should really cast banishment in that place.”

The serious tone of his voice, mixed with that whisper of a smirk, never failed to make you smile. “Yeah, should really get on that,” you nodded with a mock look of sincerity. “Hard to find any warlocks around town, though.”

You both smiled, tensions easing as you fell into that comfortable bliss that you could both create with one another. The rest of the meal was spent with small talk; everything and nothing, including Eddie asking you if you’d still love him if he was a worm for some reason. To which you replied honestly. Of course. Only the finest soil and decaying leaves for worm Eddie. That seemed to cheer him up.

At first, you wondered if he wanted to just cuddle for the night, considering how you both had a long day. But it seemed that the good meal had given you both energy, and all it had took for you to agree with his slightly raised eyebrow as he suggested going to the bedroom for a bit of playtime was that certain look in his darkened eye as he gestured his head towards the stairs. It was something you both enjoyed often, especially when both of your minds were racing. A way to turn your brains off, for one to relinquish control and the other to reclaim it. Working in tandem to a headspace where nothing but each other’s bodies existed, soft inhales and exhales between locked lips and soft sounds of ecstasy. And by the look on Eddie’s face, he needed it just as badly as you did.

…

“Turn around a little for me, angel.”

It had felt like hours since you started, but you knew it was realistically not too long ago. The sun had settled behind the horizon just before you sat down on the bed, the bedroom now softly illuminated by the lamps on the bedside table. Eddie had taken his time undressing you, pressing kisses to your skin after each layer was dropped to the floor, beginning to sink you into that place in your mind where everything became slightly fuzzy and dreamlike. He had chosen the hemp rope from the selection that you had both acquired that lived in the bottom drawer of your dresser, and you slowly closed your eyes as you relaxed into the feeling of the soft strands whispering across your skin as he worked.

From the endless conversations that you’d had with Eddie about using rope, you knew it had just as much of an effect on him as it did for you. But it came from another angle. Where you were happy to give up the control for the however hours it took, revelling in the sensation of being restrained and cared for, he found it intensely helpful to have a single thing to work on. He wasn’t thinking about work, or bills, or the trash that needed to be taken out. He was thinking of the intricate folding and gentle tugging of the rope to create works of beauty that made you look so ethereal, so beautiful, nothing else but the here and now. It soothed his mind that was constantly racing about a hundred different things at once, and it was nice to have a repetitive, comforting task. And you have to admit, he was getting really good at it. He would spend hours pouring over books that he got from God knows where, always wanting to try new positions or knots. And you were more than happy to indulge.

Tonight, he had chosen his favourite ties. A pentagram harness that decorated your chest and cupped your breasts, using the extra length to secure your arms in a box tie. Both hands cupping your elbows as comfortably as they could, with enough rope to let them rely on the strands to hold them up. He was getting started on your legs, and judging by the way he wanted you kneeling and the two lengths of red rope in his hands, you had an idea with what he wanted.

Shifting yourself as much as you could with his helpful grip on you, you turned to face the foot of the bed, halfway down the length of it to give you enough space. His warm hands lingered on your skin, smoothing over it as you softly sighed at the sensation.

“Still with me?” he whispered, taking great effort not to be too loud in case it startled you. He knew that you were more fragile in this state, always attentive to when your shoulders slightly sagged and your lips parted. You nodded slightly, and you heard him huff in slight amusement as he gently squeezed your knee. “Need to hear you, baby.”

“Still here,” you murmured, taking a second to take a deep breath before you opened your eyes. Your gaze drifted to him, and you could melt under the look he was giving you. It wasn’t the hard, steely glare that he sometimes had when you played rough, the one that sent shock waves to your core. The look still held control, but God, he was looking at you like you were the finest masterpiece that he’d ever laid eyes on. It made you feel like a priceless piece of artwork in the best way possible; like you were made to be looked upon and revered, worshipped even. But you wanted him to continue, and to finally sink into that place where nothing existed outside of those four walls. “I’m green, Eds.”

He smiled at your use of the traffic light system that you used – green for continue, orange for slow down and red to stop completely – and pressed one final kiss to your temple before he resumed his work. As you suspected, it was a frog tie. Your thigh secured to your calves, making it impossible to move your legs and keeping you kneeling. You opened your eyes just enough to watch his face as he secured the final ties, and you couldn’t help but smile as you noticed the way the tip of his tongue was peeking from his lips, eyes narrowed as deft fingers pulled and knotted the strands. He must have caught you staring out of his periphery, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he tucked away the loose ends and leaned back to take you in. “Well, aren’t you lookin’ all pretty? Gimme a lil wiggle, gorgeous.”

You did as he asked, being careful not to topple over as you struggled against the restraints. Just like you knew would happen, the ropes didn’t yield, sparks shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy when you realised that you were truly helpless. You could feel how wet you’d become during his work, most likely already forming a damp spot on the sheets. You knew he liked to watch you squirm, and you could tell it was having an effect on him. He was still fully clothed for now; you knew it was for a reason. A non-verbal show of who had the power, and it fuelled your headspace like logs to a fire. But you wanted him to touch you so bad, to finally give that part of you attention that was now grabbing all your attention, and you let out a small whine as you bit your lip, giving him your most sultry look to try and entice him.

Eddie could read you like a book. He knew exactly what you were trying to do, yet he was seemingly playing the clueless card as he tilted his head. “Something the matter, baby?” he asked, a brow raised as he smirked.

“Please,” you mewled, knees separating even further to expose just how soaked you were. “Please Eds, need you to touch me.”

“But I have been,” he countered, face slowly morphing into one of knowing as he tutted once. “That’s it, isn’t it baby? Need me to take care of you? Need me to touch that pretty little pussy of yours?”

You nodded frenetically, letting out another small noise of need as you desperately tried to gain some friction on your clit, trying to rut against the bed and failing to gain any contact thanks to the position you were in. “Please, I wan’ it,” you whimpered, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.

You watched as he reached behind you, laying down two pillows behind your back and pressing a large palm to your chest, fingers curling under the pentagram of your tie as his other hand rested on the back of your head. Gently laying you down with a show of control that had you reeling, you settled on your back, thankful that the pillows left a gap for your arms to slot into, making the position a lot more comfortable. Your knees came up closer to your chest, falling to the sides and exposing you even more than your previous position. Eddie towered over you, sitting on his haunches as his eyes followed every curve and dip of your body, a look of hunger evident in his eyes as his palms skated over the insides of your thighs. So close to where you wanted him, but not enough. Not nearly enough. “You know the rules, baby. You gotta ask me real nicely,” he murmured, a small smirk on his face as he relished in the power.

“Pleeeease.” Your voice sounded so small, elongating every character or the word as your back arched. “Please Sir, please make me feel good. Need it so badly, wan’ you to make me come so much.”

You knew the honorific would wreck him, and judging by the low groan he let out, you were going to have what you wanted. “How can I resist when you say it all pretty like that?” he said, voice gruff and low in the way that it did whenever he wanted you. You watched as he shifted down the bed, laying on his front as he peppered your innermost thighs with kisses. “Gonna keep those legs open for me like a good girl, sweetheart?”

You nodded vigorously. You’d agree to anything, do anything, sell your soul to the fucking Devil if it finally meant having his mouth on you. And fuck, you almost came when he licked a languid stripe from your entrance to your clit, latching onto the sensitive bud as his tongue swirled around it. Your eyes screwing shut as your head tipped back, the sensations of his moans vibrating against your cunt as he continued his ministrations sending you barrelling towards your climax that much quicker. All you could hear were the sinful sounds of wetness and messy kisses to your slit, Eddie’s mumbles against your skin of “you taste so fucking good,” and “so wet f’ me,” making your legs shake as you rutted against his mouth, desperate for your release. You felt his finger enter you, one at first, hilted to the last knuckle before a second joined it, curling until it hit that spot that made you see stars behind your eyes, that coil deep in your gut tightening and tightening until it reached a near unbearable tension.

“Gonna- Fuck Eds, please, gonna…” You could barely think, barely speak under his skilled tongue and hands, but you wanted his permission. Knowing that with it, you could come undone even harder, until the tiny remains of thoughts finally slipped out of your grasp. All you wanted to feel was the bliss, and to know that he was the one causing it.

“Come for me baby, I got you,” he urged, fingers pumping into you eyen faster, words garbled as he didn’t let up from his task of swirling the tip of his tongue against your bud in dizzyingly fast movements. “Let go.”

It was his words, a final jab to your sweet spot inside you, and a soft suck to your clit that finally snapped the last remaining threads of your tether to reality. Your jaw fell slack into a silent scream, back arched and head thrown back as you tightened around his fingers, hips bucking as you rode out your orgasm. The restraints fuelling it, elongating it, as you writhed underneath them and found no escape. The pure hedonistic ecstasy causing your walls to pulse, even after Eddie removed his fingers from you.

Crowding over you after you managed to catch your breath and wrench your eyes open, Eddie kissed you with fervour, all teeth and tongue as he settled his weight onto his forearms on either side of your head. You could taste yourself on him, a pleasant tang that you grew to love whenever he kissed you after going down on you, the shame long gone about it. “You doing okay?” he murmured between kisses, lips trailing down your chin and across the length of your jaw.

“Green,” you managed to whisper, suddenly needy for him again, now he was finally on top of you. You craved him; you craved the fullness of his cock deep inside you, knowing it’d send you toppling over the edge again. During the moments of your comedown he must have got undressed, since you could feel his bare chest against yours, causing the rope to rub against your skin deliciously with his every movement. “More, please. Need you more, Eds. Fuck me.”

He huffed out a small laugh, now tracing his canines over the soft flesh of your neck, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. “Planning on it, pretty girl. Just gotta check you first, ‘kay?”

You were confused for a second, until he pulled away enough to turn you to your side. You felt his fingers gently pinch the tip of your own, checking for good blood flow. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt it, adoring how even in this moment, he would forgo his own pleasure just in case there was a hint of you being uncomfortable. “Feels fine,” you nodded reassuringly, words ever so slightly slurred. “Can go on for a bit longer.”

You were starting to come back to yourself, though everything was still hazy. Like your mind was replaced with cotton wool, like a fogged up mirror after a hot shower. Placing you back down gently, he smiled as he kissed you again, feeling the expression against your own lips. One of his hands reached between your bodies, and you felt the tip of his cock rub against your slit, eliciting a high pitched keen from you that he gleefully swallowed down as his tongue explored your mouth.

Eddie could be patient, when he wanted to be. And right now? Now, he was pacing you, stretching you out so slowly you thought you would combust. You swore you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs as his lips never left your own. You could hear his soft grunts and whines as a hand comes up to stroke your hair away from your face, his hips setting a slow pace when he finally bottomed out into you.

The fact that this was lovemaking so tender, so stark against your restrained body clad in rope, that made it all the more intense. It’s not like he didn’t have the tendency to be rough with you on other occasions, and as much as you loved it, you were thankful that he chose tonight to worship your body. The bad day you had was so far away, when all you could feel was him, the way he rutted into you so carefully, as if you were made of fine china. The hand that tucked away the errant hairs came down to explore you, brush against your pebbled nipples, one after the other, trailing down your stomach and to where of you both met. Circling around your sensitive clit and made your cries even louder. You knew you weren’t gonna last long.

“M’close,” you managed to puff out, wriggling as much as your prone position afforded you to fuck back against him, the urge to come again starting to balloon inside you, until it was all you wanted.

“Me too,” he replied through gritted teeth, pace beginning to get irregular and more frantic as his hand settled on your hip for leverage. “Come with me baby, ‘kay? Can feel you getting so tight, shit.”

All that could be heard were your mixed sounds of pleasure; his grunts and low moans, your high keens and mewls as you tightened around him, walls pulsing and milking him for all that you could. You felt him twitch inside you, the tightening of his jaw the indicator that he was finally there. He spilled into you for what felt like hours, hips still rutting into you as if to push his cum as deep into you as you possibly could, and you loved the sensation of it. He finally slumped after the last few groans, resting his forehead on yours as he panted hard to catch his breath. You were doing the same, and you loved how you seemed to be breathing in tandem. His exhale to your inhale, and vice versa. Sharing air in a way that felt so intimate, making your head spin as you started to finally come down.

You both lay there what felt like an age, until the ache of your joints finally started to seep in, reality hitting you that you’d been in the same position for a while. Eddie must have picked up on your squirming, pressing one last kiss to your temple before slowly pulling out of you. You gently whined at the loss, and he smiled at it, giving you an apologetic look as he kneeled in between your legs and started to untie them. “You back to Earth yet, space cadet?” he asked you, the little quip making you giggle.

“Getting there,” you nodded, slightly hissing as he ever so gently started to ease your left leg straight, discomfort shooting through your muscles as he did so.

“I know baby,” he murmured, soothing you as he gently massaged your thighs and calves to get the blood flow back to them. “Sorry, should’a thought to let your legs go before I fucked you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smiled, looking down at him as he worked on the other leg. “Was really fuckin’ hot being fucked like that.”

“God, it really was,” he wistfully sighed, taking a second to marvel at the indents that the rope left on your skin. Tracing his calloused fingertips over them, the motion making you bite your bottom lip and let out a soft moan at how good it felt. “Take it you wouldn’t mind doing this tie combination again?”

“Would I mind,” you scoffed, a playfulness coming back to you as you nudged his waist with your ankle. “If you make me come like that again, you can do it whenever you want.”

“Noted,” he smirked, tossing you a wink as he reached forward to carefully take hold of your shoulders. “Gonna help you sit up, if that’s okay?”

You nodded, allowing him to guide you until you were sitting as he settled you on his chest. You perched your head onto his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne and a smell that could only be described as Eddie as you nuzzled into his neck. “Y’ smell good,” you mumbled into the skin.

You felt his laugh rumble though his chest against yours more than you heard it. “I probably smell like nothing but sweat at this point, sweetheart,” he answered, carefully letting your arms fall to your sides as he took care in massaging them like he had done your legs. “Been at work all day and just came so hard I think I saw God for a minute. Need a shower after all that.”

“Noooo,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck now they were finally free, hating the idea of him leaving your embrace. “Shower later. Cuddles first.”

Though it surely made his task more difficult, he didn’t make you separate from him as he uncoiled the rest of the harness around your chest, shushing you gently as he carefully pulled the beginning knot from around your middle. “M’ not goin’ anywhere yet, sweetheart. Cuddles first, promise.”

That appeased you enough, letting your eyes close as you felt yourself be gently moved until you were laying down, your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat begin to slow to a normal pace. He only shifted you one more time, so he could pull the blankets up over you, making sure you were tucked in and warm enough as he kissed the crown of your head. “Did so well f’ me, angel. Such a good girl.”

Your only answer was a small hum of acknowledgement, sleep starting to pull at your mind as you began to drift away. You were so cosy, and so warm and felt so loved. You could barely remember what had led you here, to this moment. All you knew was that before, you were having a bad day. Now, you were finally so relaxed that you couldn’t find it within yourself to move.

“You fallin’ asleep on me baby?” Eddie whispered, sounding amused as he stroked soothing patterns up and down your spine, the motion aiding you in drifting off.

You vaguely remember nodding, before you finally dozed off. And you could remember him saying something about a shower, but you were too blissed out to worry about that. Knowing Eddie, he’d probably wake you up in a while to clean you up and get you changed into fresh pyjamas. But right now, all you wanted was him. To feel him so close to you, and to feel protected and cherished in his arms.

And you felt exactly that.

[ronearoundblindly]

Being in the hospital im thinking what would it be like if Ari's girl ended up in the hospital nothing life threatening but something that needed to be treated in the hospital. I'm betting he'd be a nervous wreck and wouldn't let anyone see it he'd maybe go into the bathroom and freak but I'm guessing he'd try and stay strong but crack a bit infront of her or maybe stay overnight if they let (it depends on the wards)

ok, full disclosure, I did absolutely no research for this because I'd like you to have reading materials, so it's in no way scientific 🤷🏻‍♀️

The Chair Beside Your Bed, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

No warnings except minor angst to fluff. (Sry, the gif barely works here but I'm...not changing it. 👀) WC 975

Ari can barely keep his eyes open. You're already asleep, but he just can't bring himself to join.

The IV in your hand looks uncomfortable when you tense involuntarily. He watches the tendons pull and roll beneath your skin and swallows hard.

He should have seen the signs, and the doctors say you'll be right as rain once the antibiotics are done. He still can't leave. He still can't eat. He still refuses to sleep.

Ari's mind can refuse all it wants. Eventually, his eyelids are too heavy, his neck slumps over the thin pillow behind it, and he's lost to a dreamless land in the chair beside your hospital bed.

"Ow," you hiss, releasing the two-by-four in your grasp.

"You get your hand, honey? I got those gloves for you."

You wave him off. "No, no. Stepped too close to the pile and scraped my leg. No big deal. That's almost all the wood from the truck."

"Great," Ari chirps, straightening after marking the outline of your She-Shed in the backyard. "I'll go get another load before dark. We can plot out the frame and whatnot tomorrow."

As you wipe the back of your hand over your head, Ari doesn't see any blood on your legs and immediately forgets.

"So we'll need equal amounts of wood on all sides," you ask.

He shrugs and pulls off his own thick work gloves. "More or less, yeah." Ari won't let you use any of the tools, but he will let you speak like it's a joint effort. Because it is. Everything he does is meant for you now.

While he's out at the store again, you divvy up the stacks of planks around the edges, far enough away for space to work but close enough for convenience. He's grateful, but Ari doesn't realize this means hours where you did not clean the cut on your leg.

A week later and you're running a slight fever. Ari only notices you aren't walking properly when you get off the couch.

His worst fear at that point is that stupid desk chair you're always complaining about. Your back is constantly aching. He wishes the company would replace all the chairs soon but especially, specifically yours.

You work too hard. You're worn out.

He knows you've had a bandaid on one calf, but it's on the outside leg where you sleep in the bed. He forgets a lot until his leg brushes against it while you two snuggle, and you hiss in pain.

Ari insists on taking a look, switching on the bedside lamp. He can tell something is wrong before even removing the bandage because it's red beyond the adhesive. The middle is warm to the touch, which he can barely do before you gripe at him.

You promise to go to the urgent care first thing in the morning, and Ari drives you himself. You're so sure that they'll just slap some pills in your hand and send you on your way that you shoo him off to work.

He gets a voicemail two hours later.

"Hey, uh, don't be mad, but they've transferred me to the hospital. I have to be hooked up to this drip thing for a few days and--"

Ari's in his truck before his supervisor can even wish you well.

If he'd thought about it at all, he would have gone by the house to get you and him a change of clothes, but no such luck. He refuses to leave the hospital grounds and only leaves the building when he absolutely can't stand his cigarette cravings anymore. Otherwise, he is right beside you.

You sleep a surprising amount, wiped out by the intensity of your treatment albeit fairly standard.

It's a long three days.

Ari decided after the first afternoon there that his chair needed to be on the other side of your bed. That way he could hold your hand that wasn't pierced with a needle, and he can safely rest his head on your side.

When you're awake, your fingers card through his hair. When you're awake, you tell him he looks like shit and needs to sleep, too.

"I promise I will later."

"You're lying," you complain weakly.

"Yeah, kid, I'm lying."

This exchange happens three separate times: the first you forget, the second you laugh at, and the third you start playing dirty.

You tell him you'd like to listen to one of your audiobooks, and since neither of you has headphones, you play it on speaker with the phone on your chest.

Ari is successfully out cold within minutes and wakes refreshed and a little pissed.

He lied and told the nurses you are his wife in order to be allowed to stay overnight, so them calling him by your last name during the discharge routine is awkward, to say the least.

Ari has fun explaining that one on the drive home.

With a few more days of ingestible antibiotics left, you're entirely on the mend and use every single ounce of your energy to argue Ari out of the house and off to work. He only feels less guilty when he comes back to find you asleep again, and after one more full day of bed rest, you are able to return to work as well.

From those days on, however, you are forbidden from helping with any repairs or building Ari does. José and Dimitri are rangled to assist when necessary, but it's a hard line in the sand that Ari will not shift on. He also takes it upon himself to be the First Aid King of the Castle and is in charge of all bandaging and cleaning of any wounds, no matter how small.

You only allow this complete farse (enacted over every papercut now) because he looks so cute when he fusses.

[Main Masterlist]

[siremasterlawrence]

Gotham City By Hypnosis

Bruce Wayne’s Wayne Tech company is off to a sizzling ending to the day when the ole building alarm alert system came on blaring loudly.

Bruce loses his mind getting up as the doors seal closed completely with the window and the steel shuddering all the way down locks them in place.

Bruce panics when his officer walks slide to the side of the room as Superman and good toe shoes Captain America waltz into the room.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We are here to offer assistance if you want.”

“Why lie? We are here to arrest you menace of Gotham.”

“Hilarious! My city is well protected.”

“You mean preyed on”

“Clark look out”

“Kryptonite huh?”

“Does not work on me anymore?”

“What kind of magic is this “

“A wonderful treat”

“You have transformed “

“He is found his proper palace”

“Kneeling at my feet”

“Who are you?”

“Your future Master”

“I bow to no one “

“Are you aiding me or him?”

“Foolish Bruce”

“Boys reach over and collect him”

“Yank them to the side”

“Perfection! Bring him to me “

“Yes Sir”

“Yes Master “

“I shall never submit”

“I am cupping your face for sheer understanding “

“I own you, you see this device on your fore head and sleep”

“Yes Masted! Command me”

Clark and Steve lift up Bruce placing him on the desk laying him straight spreading his body turning him to the side for me to see him on fully on display.

The man placed his finger on to the altering mind control chip pressing on the center of it as the emblem on it glows extravagantly shining throughout the entire building.

Bruce falling in to a deep slumber standing on each side of him, three gleefully with a hell of a joy as a certain blue and black tight leather costumed man.

Lands on to the window sill he cracks it a bit open slipping in to catch us unknowingly but a foot hits him on pressure points and he is tumbling.

Face forward on the floor both men put a foot on him pinning him down for me to walk to him and placing the chip on his head as he going under.

A Hypnotic mind link activated linking those two together soon they both feel like the floor is breaking from under him as the two hit rock bottom.

They shift Bruce to the side leaving him next to Dick the man smooths his hands off of his face then cupping it in to a sweet long and sexy kiss.

Both guys are sitting in a chair suddenly you know they are totally strapping them both down and leaving them mindless and a absolute husk.

Clark and Steve move even closer inching to my sides they wrap over my waist kissing my neck slowly and hugging me leaving my scent on them.

“Sorry Dick”

“You will see Master is ideal “

“He is God”

“Yyyyeeesssss”

“He is everything “

“God you are both hard”

“And smiling “

“Scary”

“Yes sexy”

“Call him Master”

“Master Lawyer “

“Master! Master! Are you there?”

“Yes my pet “

“Take my hands”

“Wrap me in your arms”

“Bruce”

“Dick”

“I am your God”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Strip me with your eyes”

“Love my glorious body it I s all we crave

“The name is Red Hood”

“Soooo”

“Bruce and Dick”

“Yes Master”

“Wake up “

“Kick his ass”

“Yes Sire”

“I do it all”

“We love you “

“Get over here Brat”

“You need a spanking “

“A proper reprogramming “

“Master needs to save you “

“Help to rehabilitate you”

“Such a lost soul”

“I am back bitches”

“Enough Jason Todd”

“Insolent young man”

“Let me go”

“Fuck you !”

“SHUT UP!”

“Punch him”

“Grab his neck”

“Kiss me”

“I categorically refuse “

“Oh yeah! Stop being so turned on”

“I am not hard”

“Look at your pants”

“Smack him again”

“Without any effort the device lites him up on his forehead and transcends him in to total enslavement.”

The end

[redriotinggg]

Mikans at Midnight

inspired by this post by @pinkcrittertomb <3

also posted on my ao3

Sanji exhales loudly as he collapses against the kitchen counter. He’s finally done deep cleaning the kitchen. For the millionth time since he began his task, he curses out Luffy, who somehow managed to get into the last dredges of syrup that Usopp brought back from his village and made a mess of both himself and the kitchen. Sanji and Usopp had swiftly doled out a proper punishment for the greedy captain that would likely do nothing to prevent such an event from happening again.  

After hours of cleaning and meal prep, Sanji is positively exhausted and would love nothing more than to pass out in his bunk for a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and make breakfast for the crew. However, he’ll have to wait for a bit longer because his work is still not finished. 

Nami is on watch tonight and he has to bring her a snack to tide her over and he refuses to make her wait any longer than she has to. Sanji allows himself to rest for the length of time it takes for him to finish a cigarette before he gets back to work.

He hums to himself as he whips up some of her favourite snacks: a parfait with the mikans from her beloved tree, a batch of shortbread cookies with a vanilla glaze, a bowl of assorted fruit, and a pot of Earl Grey tea.

He smiles, thinking of Nami as he leaves the kitchen and heads to the crow’s nest. Sanji admires everyone on their minuscule crew (even that damned moss-brained swordsman, though he’d never admit it aloud), but Nami truly is something special. Not only is she beautiful beyond compare, but she is unbelievably intelligent, kind, headstrong, and resilient. He is honoured to be on the same crew as someone as amazing as she. 

Sanji gets nervous and giddy around her as he does around most women, and he enjoys having her attention. But he’s been working hard on not making her uncomfortable after she told him that she dislikes his flirtatious advances. He would hate to make any woman feel unnerved by him, especially not one whom he considers a friend. He wants Nami to not only think of him as a crewmate and chef but as a friend and someone she can rely on. But Sanji knows that he has to earn that trust. And he will do so one snack at a time.

The smile falls off his face as he climbs the rigging to the nest and hears the sound of someone crying. He is quick to close the distance before he opens up the hatch and makes his way inside.

“Nami-swan, are you alright?”

“Oh, Sanji. I didn’t hear you coming.” The navigator is quick to turn away from him and wipe her eyes. “Thanks for the snack, you can just leave it there.”

When she turns back and sees Sanji sitting across from her and making no effort to leave, Nami resorts to anger. “I thought I told you to fuck off!”

Sanji takes her outburst in stride. “Forgive me, Nami-swan. I don’t mean to overstep, but I couldn’t possibly live with myself if I left you here alone knowing how upset you are. I’ll leave if you really want me to, but maybe I can lend an ear? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Nami studies Sanji as she ponders his offer. The sight of her wet eyes and blotchy face breaks his heart.

“It’s just…” Nami begins tentatively. She glances at Sanji before looking away again, staring up at the stars. She tightens the blanket around her shoulders. “Cocoyashi is finally free. I’m free now. My years of having to work for Arlong are over. But that didn’t fix everything.” Tears begin to fall down her face once again. 

“Belle-mere is still dead. Nojiko spent most of her life hating me, and now I’m here at sea and we can’t even work on becoming sisters again. I lost most of my childhood to those assholes who treated me however the fuck they wanted. No matter what I do now, I’ll never get that time back. All the things I did to survive… I can’t take them back.” She inhales shakily.  “I’ve spent my whole life hating pirates and now I am one. Who am I now? I barely even recognize myself.”

Sanji pours some tea into the mug he brought and gently presses it into her hands, catching her eye as he speaks.

“I think that’s the best part of getting older,” he says quietly. “We live and learn and decide who we want to be. Take the things that serve you and leave the rest. You said it yourself: you’re free now. Free to choose who it is you want to be. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for you to find that out. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And it’ll be a long, happy life if I have anything to say about it,” Sanji vows. “I never would’ve seen myself becoming a pirate, either, but being on this crew? Well, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

They sit in silence for a little while before a harsh sob wracks Nami’s figure. “I miss her,” she weeps. “I miss my mom. Why did she have to die?”

Sanji opens up his arms and Nami falls onto him, sobbing into his chest. He takes the mug from her grip and holds her close, whispering assurances into her hair.

“I’m sorry all that happened to you. I wish I could take all that pain for myself,” he says.

“Regardless of what you may have done, I’m sure your mother and sister are proud of you. I’m sure they’re glad that you’re alive and doing what you want with your life. The pain may never go away, but it’s a reminder of the love between you all. You and Nojiko will always be sisters no matter how far apart you are.”

Nami squeezes him tightly as she continues to cry. 

“Thank you, Sanji,” she says when her tears have subsided. She pulls herself out of the embrace, accepts the handkerchief the chef passes to her and dabs her eyes. “I’m glad you were here.”

“Of course, Nami. I won’t have all the answers, but I’ll always be willing to listen and do what I can.” Sanji pushes the tray of food closer to Nami. “Here, have something to eat.”

He removes the lid from the tray, looking at Nami in alarm when she lets out another quiet sob.

“Damn it, Sanji, are you trying to make me die from dehydration?” she snaps, though it lacks its usual heat. “Bringing me the food that reminds me of my mom when I’m missing her. You bastard.”

“Shit! I’m sorry, Nami-swan, let me go get something else for you!”

Nami stops him with a hand on his arm. “No, no. This is perfect. Thank you.”

Sanji lights up a cigarette and is quiet company while Nami eats her snacks. She finishes her parfait, half of the cookies, a cup of tea, and some of the fruit before she puts the lid back on the tray. Sanji opens his mouth to speak up but she beats him to it.

“I still have a couple of hours of watch left. I’ll eat the rest before my shift’s done, I promise.”

“Do you want me to take over for you?” Sanji offers.

“No way, you’re exhausted. You need some sleep. And I’m not in the mood to deal with a hungry Luffy first thing in the morning. I’ll be okay.”

When Sanji doesn’t immediately get up to leave, Nami sighs heavily and leans her head on his shoulder. “Ugh, I hate crying! Now my sinuses hurt.”

Sanji blinks past his surprise and wraps his arm around her shoulders as he tries to force down the blush radiating from his cheeks. “Y-yeah. I don’t know how that Long-nose does it so often.”

Nami chuckles. “Maybe the length of his nose helps somehow?”

Sanji hums thoughtfully. “Maybe. Either way, he’s a freak of nature,” he states, the both of them laughing quietly at the sniper's expense.

“Thank you for being here for me, Sanji,” Nami says when they’ve calmed. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Nami,” Sanji promises. “If you ever need someone to talk to or something to eat, I’m here.”

“What if I need this?” Nami plucks the cigarette from Sanji’s lips and takes a drag before placing it back in his mouth. She cackles at the sight of his cherry-red face.

“I-I-I don’t think I can allow that, Nami-swan! You shouldn’t poison yourself with these things!” He tosses the cigarette overboard for good measure, even though he needs about ten more, right now.

“And neither should you,” Nami says stubbornly. She sits up and stretches, turning to Sanji with a contented smile. “I’m okay now, so get out of here and get some sleep! I won't forgive you if my breakfast isn't top-notch like usual.”

“Are you sure?” Sanji shrinks under the glare she sends his way. “Alright, alright, I’m gone. Have a good night, Nami-swan.”

Sanji is halfway down the rigging when Nami leans over the edge of the nest to call down to him. “Oh, and Sanji?”

“Yes, dear?”

The serene smile Nami sends his way almost sends Sanji tumbling down the rigging. “Belle-mere’s mikans taste best when you’ve made something with them.”

With that, Nami hides back in the nest, the sound of a pencil on paper disturbing the silence of the night.

Below, Sanji’s hands hold the rigging in a bruising grip while a goofy smile spreads on his face alongside a heated blush. He holds onto this feeling and memorizes it, storing it deep in his heart. He vows that he will do everything in his power to keep that smile on his navigator’s face.