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peachesofteal · 4 months

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The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel.

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive.

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.”

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.”

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.

Sleep.

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened?

And why do you hurt so fucking bad?

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly��sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember?

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate?

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no.

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye.

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip.

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.

Still…

Didn’t Johnny kiss you?

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed.

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?” You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

“Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

#peaches writes #dub con #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #Ghoap #soap x reader

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livwritesstuff · 1 month

Text

you know that feeling where you’re having a god-awful day and all you really want is a hug but you’re at work so, like, that’s not gonna happen, and you basically just have to stew in all those shitty feelings and wait out the clock? yeah, me too, that’s kind of where this came from.

Eddie had a tough day.

It had started early that morning when the girls missed their school bus – not a huge deal, honestly, he was already gonna be leaving early to go get his car looked at.

But then he got shitty news from the mechanic, and then a meeting with his agent didn’t go the way he’d wanted at all, and then Hazel ended up being a total pain in the ass after he picked her up from kindergarten, and during her relentless haranguing, she knocked one of Eddie’s favorite mugs off the counter. It shattered, obviously, and she cried about it so he’d had to deal with both of those things at once, and it was just a day.

None of it was anything he couldn’t handle – the problem was the compounding nature of it and the way he basically just had to stew in it all until the next obstacle came along and made shit even worse.

All Eddie really wanted was Steve, and how Steve being around made dealing with this stuff so much easier, even if every other circumstance was the same.

He has to share Steve, though, and today he’s sharing him with Steve’s work until four o’clock.

It’s fine.

He can wait until four.

The older two girls got off their bus at half-past three, and, seriously, someone must have put something in the water this morning because they are in rare goddamn form today. If Hazel alone was bad, all three of them together were…well, thrice that. It’s like the universe said I see your bad day and I raise you three elementary schoolers hitting their peak annoyance thresholds simultaneously.

And it’s not like Eddie can even fucking fold, either.

It’s cold and kind of windy outside, which is Eddie’s least favorite weather and he’d thought maybe the girls would want to go right inside, but no. Of course they want to dig out the chalk that got stashed away in the garage last fall, and while Eddie is stuck shivering outside breaking up dumb arguments about who’s allowed to use which colors (he figured the answer was an obvious everyone, but apparently that’s incorrect), Steve leaves a message saying he tacked on an emergency session onto the end of his day and now he’s not out until five.

Eddie doesn’t hear it until he’s back inside, obviously, but when he does it’s like someone ran a whole fucking dagger through his chest.

He’s halfway through making dinner when Steve gets home (he’d actually be done making dinner if the pot of water hadn’t boiled off while he’d dealt with yet another stupid argument), and he drops everything to meet him at the door.

It’s like Steve can tell in an instant the kind of day Eddie had.

“What happened?” he asks as he toes off his shoes.

Eddie shakes his head, “Everything…nothing…I don’t even know. Just…one of those days.”

Steve nods his understanding, and as soon as he’s got his coat hung up he’s pulling Eddie into a hug.

It ends up being kind of a bone-crushing one — that’s on Eddie, though. He’d just fucking needed it. He knows he’d needed it when Steve’s arms tighten around his shoulders and he feels that much better.

“You okay?” Steve asks without letting him go, the breath of his words hitting warm against Eddie’s neck.

“Just tired,” he answers.

Steve pulls away.

“You can take a break, Ed,” he says, and there’s something in his eyes – not concern, exactly, but more like awareness, “I’ll be up in a bit.”

Eddie just nods and heads for the stairs. As he goes, he faintly hears Steve asking, “What the hell did you guys do to Dad today?”, followed by the girls’ defensive protests.

In their room, Eddie makes it through one full rerun of Star Trek and then the first few minutes of a second before Steve joins him.

He notices that it’s quiet downstairs for the first time that evening, and he tries not to take it too personally. He’s always been comfortable in the knowledge that Steve might be better at the whole parenting thing than him (psych degrees and all that), but, shit, if he’s that much better…

“What’d you do, strangle them?” Eddie asks as Steve swaps his jeans out for a pair of faded plaid pajama pants.

“No, I told them that if I hear a single peep in the next hour I’m beheading all their stuffed animals.”

Eddie blinks.

Okay, maybe better isn’t exactly the right word.

“So they’re on verbal lockdown, basically,” Steve finishes.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, “You’re kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you were always gonna rub off on me one of these days — don’t.”

And Eddie couldn’t help the way he threw his head back and laughed.

#idk steve is just eddie's person #he gets him -- all the way down to his ear for a dirty joke #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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fooltomery · 2 years

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star trek generations is good and is the finale tng deserved (especially over all good things jesus christ). they should have just left the series there. this is proven with first contact because that movie is fucking boring and the writers do not care about the consequences of the actions in generations.

#i lost interest within the first 25 minutes <3 #i dont care about the borg tbh like its a cool concept for a species but ive never really cared abt sci-fi war #first contact has PROBLEMS regardless #like data can just turn off his emotion chip. you showed him struggling with it so much in the first movie #and made it a tool for his character development and yet you give it an off switch #doesnt that defeat the entire point of the chip itself #AND they made a big deal about the chip being fused into his circuitry in the first film -___-#why can he turn it off now that makes no sense.#it was funny to see troi drunk tho #ok but generations is fucking INSANE like dont even get me started #seeing picard actively grieve on screen #SEEING DATA HAVING THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE. 😐#like yeah its not a perfect movie. geordi gets shafted like hell and also tortured on screen like what the fuck else is new :/#anyways i am so drunk i love star trek i hate star trek I HATE RICK BERMAN.#cj chatters

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acowardinmordor · 7 months

Text

You Left Me, You Miss Me - Five

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Continuing immediately from part Four. And I hear your screaming, and enjoy it, but I am pretty sure that I'm not going the direction you expect me to.

------

“Huh?”

“I asked them to,” Eddie repeated, quieter.

It didn’t make more sense the second time. His kids were stubborn. They were obnoxious, and someone asking them to do, or not do something had never once changed anything. Steve spent the last few years asking them not to leave crumbs in his car, and to call before coming over, and to please, just once, let him choose the movie on a movie night. Plus the part where everyone asked them not to put themselves in danger when monsters crawled out of the ground.

Threats didn’t work on them, law enforcement didn’t work on them, like hell was something as delicate as asking going to do a damn thing.

“Yeah, no, I heard you, but I don’t get it. So you, what? You sat them down and asked them to ice me out? And they said ‘sure why not!’ Man, even if you asked them to, they’re still the ones that did it. Shit, you’ve never liked me. There’s no way that you didn’t tell the boys to stop hanging out with me last year during your game meetings before everything happened.” Eddie shrank further into the seat, so Steve added, “So, it’s not your fault, but I guess I forgive you if that makes you feel better.”

Eddie gnawed on the inside of his cheek, wincing at what felt like every other word.

“Shit, Steve, it’s -- Shit,” he cursed as he sloshed some of his coffee over the brim. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was curled in on himself. “I didn’t sit them down and tell them to stop talking to you. That -- no way that would work. You’re right. They wouldn’t just -- Like I said, they’re crazy about you. It’s more, it’s all of the, I told them about how ever since -- shit. Look, it doesn’t matter why or how I did it, just trust me, I’m the reason. It’s my fault, and I fucked up, and I didn’t mean it to make -- but you left, and it’s killing them, and so you gotta forgive them, at least talk to them, cause its not their fault.”

“Yeah,” Steve stalled, “still don’t get why you think this is on you, dude.”

“At the beginning it -- shit, no. Doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, Munson, don’t make this about that. Okay. I asked them not to invite you if I was around, cause I wasn’t -- I didn’t want to see you, and then I made sure they were always around me because -- because I wanted them to. And then I, you know, kept poking at them about it when they’d bring it up, reminding them that you don’t like D&D and that you wouldn’t want to watch the new Star Trek movie, and when they said anything I just kept telling them that -- Shit, just believe me. I’m the one that made them do this, it’s my fault, it’s not them.”

Okay, so Eddie was pushier since Spring Break than he was before it. Or the kids listened to him more. Or they were trying to take care of him. So Eddie was the prompt for them cutting him out of everything. Fine.

Still didn’t make it the guy’s fault.

Steve got close with Robin after she found out about the Upside Down. But he didn’t get close to Jonathan. Dustin became, for a while at least, his brother. Steve would die for Mike, but they didn’t hang out if it wasn’t a group thing. All of them were tied together, and any one of them could make a call, and everyone would come to help, but that didn’t make them all automatically into friends.

God, Eddie looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown in a booth in a diner.

“Look, it’s,” Steve spun his coffee cup, “you’re real close with the guys in your club right? The ones in your band?”

Eddie went tense, then nodded awkwardly.

“You’re close because of that stuff, though. Not just cause you had some classes together or were next to each other on a bus. You got pushed together for some random reason, but that happened with a lot of people. But you had shared interests, right? You like that game, and you got bullied at school and you like the same loud screaming music. So you got to know each other, and you had a bunch in common, and so you guys are friends. You’re close, so even though you graduated, and you don’t have class and lunch together anymore, you’re still friends.

“Christ, Steve, no,” he protested.

Steve ignored that and kept going.

“I never had that with the kids, or any of them. Shit. Never had that with Nance either, but I didn’t know it back then.” His inner Robin glared, and he stayed on topic. “It wasn’t as simple as sharing some classes, there were monsters and all that, but that’s what kept me and them around each other. No more monsters now, so.”

His stomach twisted, like it always did if he got too close to thinking about this.

He only barely managed to talk about this with Robin, because when it was Robin he was honest, and when he was honest, really honest, he ended the night quiet and hurting and picking apart the past year trying to find what he could have done differently. Shoving all of that back into the dark of his mind, he conjured up a casual shrug and a smile.

“I get that they’re probably freaking out right now, but they’ll get over it. Give it another month or two and it’ll be fine. Start one of your campaign -- your big story things and distract them if they’re bugging you about it.”

He wiped up the coffee Eddie spilled on instinct, and shoved the napkin in his now empty cup.

Time to get home and get a nap before he went to the stockroom that night. He wouldn’t see Robin until he picked her up for work, but they were scheduled alone, so he could talk all of this through then. Trying to pretend this day didn’t happen would last all of eight seconds of contact with his best friend. Maybe she could make sense of how he was feeling.

“Wait, stop, you can’t leave yet.”

“Munson, I’ve been here since before dawn, I wanna leave.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you have to talk to them. They miss you.”

“They didn’t six weeks ago, did they? Or for the holidays? Or for the months before that, huh?” Steve finally snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. Answer’s still no.”

He bussed their cups and the creamer to the pass through and grabbed his coat and gloves. Steam rose off Hopper’s truck where he had the engine running to keep warm. They exchanged a single nod before Steve turned towards the road to walk home.

“Steve!”

It wasn’t a shock to hear, but Steve had hoped that Eddie wouldn’t follow.

“Okay, I get that you’re not going to just forgive them, and that you don’t want to talk to them, but--”

“No. I don’t. And I know you think this is your fault, and I’m telling you it’s not, and I told you, I’m not mad at you about this. We weren’t friends. I’m not mad at you for not wanting me around or whatever. That’s fine. And? They’ll get over it, and everyone can just move on with their lives with the people they actually like.”

Steve’s stupid voice betrayed him, cracking, and he cut off the rest of what he might have said. Anger was the fastest way to shut down weakness, and it was easy for him to sink into it.

Eddie had his hands in his hair, clutching at it near his temples, looking borderline hysterical.

“Would you at least listen if they talked?”

“They don’t have my phone number, and if you tell them where I live, I’ll send Mrs Buckley after you. And Hopper.”

“You could call them.”

“No.”

It wasn’t about who placed the call. If he heard them, if they said a fraction of what he wanted to hear, he’d cave, immediately and entirely, and then both the real life Robin, and the mini Robin in his brain would give him hell.

“Steve come on, something, anything. Letters? If they write letters?”

“I’m not giving them my address, and Hopper already asked about mailing stuff through him instead. No.”

It was cold and he was tired. Just about the only person in the party that he didn’t care had abandoned him was trying to pull Steve back into the vat of slow simmering pain he was still climbing out of.

“Look, Eddie --”

“I’ll drive them. The letters. You don’t even have to answer, or read them. Let me tell them that I can bring you letters, and I’ll drive them up here. If you do want to answer I’ll wait and then drive whatever it is back. As many times as you want.”

“Come on, man.”

“I won’t even -- I don’t have to know where you live, or your number, anything. I can come here. To the diner. Won’t even come inside, just drop them off and wait. You won’t have to talk to me, or see me. Just, come on. Even if you never forgive them, or answer them, let them have this. Even if you don’t read what they say, let them think they got to apologize.”

The wind shifted, and Steve tucked his chin into his coat to wait it out.

Eddie was shivering two steps away, gloveless hands shoved under his arms, hair tangling into more of a mess than usual.

“That’s a stupid idea, Munson,” he said when the gust stopped, “If they know that you know where I am, and you don’t tell them, they’re going to hate you. They’d drive you insane trying to get you to tell them, and they’d be horrible the whole time. They already ditched me for you, so, don’t make them hate you too.”

“They already hate me.” The response was immediate and defeated.

“Dude, they don’t.”

“They do. They figured it out a few weeks ago. That I was the reason. Just cause you don’t get it doesn’t mean they don’t. This is my fault. They already hate me. They won’t even talk to me long enough to yell. They act like I don’t exist.”

“Christ, Munson, is that why you’re up here, freezing your ass off in a parking lot and bitching at me? So you can get them to like you by getting me to talk to them?”

Eddie flinched. Didn’t say anything for a minute as he shivered with wide eyes. Then, without any of the dramatics the guy was known for, “Please, Steve. Even if you throw them out right after. Let them write to you, and let me tell them the truth when I say you got them. I think they can survive if they don’t hear back. They’ll blame me, but that’s fine, they should. The silence is what’s killing them. They need to say how -- they need to believe that you heard how sorry they are.”

It was so fucking cold it was making Steve’s eyes water. That was the only reason for it. The cold front that came in overnight.

“I’m not gonna promise to read them,” he caved.

The tension collapsed out of Eddie, and he slumped forward, hiding his face in his hands.

“I work here in the mornings Monday through Wednesday every week. You should drop them off then. M’not saying I’ll read them, or write anything back, but if they want to write, fine.”

Eddie nodded over and over, hiding behind his hands, and whisper-mumbling something that Steve couldn’t catch. He was shaking again. The kind of full body wracking that meant the cold was sinking deep.

“Christ, go get in Hop’s truck before your fingers freeze off or something.”

Without waiting for a response, or checking that he listened, Steve turned and kept walking. Another gust of wind tore through him, loud enough that he wouldn’t have heard another call of his name. It was a good thing that John messed up the big combo that morning, and Steve had eaten it during the lull after breakfast. He wasn’t going to manage anything else until tomorrow at the earliest.

That was assuming Robin didn’t kill him on the spot for his stupid, stupid decision.

Ten steps down the road, and he already regretted it. Even if he didn’t read anything, even if they never sent anything, the choice would sit like a rock in his gut; a new ache, a new bruise, and Steve was dumb enough that he’d keep poking at it.

---

I'm sad that this is two chapters without Robin. That's some kind of a crime. Can guarantee that Robin has Strong Opinions about this when she talks to Steve that night.

I don't do tag lists or regular updates, and I have no shame about that.

>>>>>Part Six

#You Left Me - You Miss Me #steddie eventually #steddie ficlet #but hey look they talked!#my writing

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violet-fluff · 15 days

Text

Levi x Jealous!Reader AU

Lover Girl

Thanks for the request ❤️

Jealousy is the ugliest trait.

You don’t get jealous.

You’ll never be ugly like that.

But man is it hard not to be when you see a pretty girl flirting with the guy you like.

“Y/N! You love this place so much you visit on your day off?” Hanji places a cup of coffee on a customer’s table with a smile, and then walks over to your table. “And you brought Little Rascal for a pupachino?”

Hanji kneels down and rubs your dog’s stomach. The little weiner dog happily flops over to get some pets.

You glance inside the coffee shop to peek at the new girl so nonchalantly flirting with Levi. “Hmm…yeah I just came for some coffee and sunshine.”

Sitting on the other chair, Hanji smirks and rests her chin on her palm. “Watching over your boooooyfriiiieeennnd?”

You scoff as a bright red blush crosses your cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend! And I’m not watching over anyone!”

“And the sky isn’t blue.” Hanji snorts. “It’s fine girly-kins! The new girl is only here for training!”

The front door jingles as it swings open. “What’s going on out here?”

You glare at Hanji as she smirks. “Just asking our dear friend why she’s hanging around work on her day off?”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Yeah, why are you here? You don’t trust this place to run without you?”

You were about to reply when the new girl, Anne, popped up from behind Levi. “Don’t worry! Levi does great! I’m getting the best training around!” She says with a wide grin. “Right, Levi?”

With a nod, Levi crosses his arms. “Yeah, we’re doing perfectly fine here. Now were you going to order something or just sit around?”

Hanji pursed her lips at the tension filling the air, and she can practically feel the anger radiating from you.

Giving an annoyed sigh, you scoot your chair back to stand. “Not if you’re going to make it. You may be the best at making tea, but you tend to burn the coffee.”

Flipping your sunglasses back over your eyes, you grab Little Rascal’s leash and start walking away.

Anne walks forward. “Wait! I want to pet your cute dog!” As she leans over to pet him, Little Rascal growls, causing her to retract her hand in fear.

“Sorry, he’s shy.” You smile and walk off.

The trio watches as trek your way back downtown.

“What the hell is up her ass?” Levi asks Hanji.

Hanji can only shrug her shoulders and lie. “Not sure. Why don’t you ask her.”

You’re telling Little Rascal good job for having your back when your phone pings.

Levi Shorty: Get your ass back here.

You: Why????

Levi Shorty: Any reason why you’re cranky today?

You: nope

Levi Shorty: Is it something I said?

You: no. its really nothing. just go back to training anne <3

Levi Shorty: What’s with the heart?

You decide to end the conversation when you make it to the dog park, but start hearing pings of Levi’s annoyance when you don’t answer him.

Levi Shorty: Hello?

Levi Shorty: So it was me.

Levi Shorty: You really shouldn’t be walking around town by yourself.

Levi Shorty: The little hot dog can only protect you so much.

Levi Shorty: I will call you if you don’t answer.

“Then go ahead, I’ll just ignore you.” You talk to yourself as you watch Little Rascal run around in the dog park.

Your phone rings and you send it to voicemail.

It rings again.

And again.

You answer on the fifth call. “What?!”

Levi: Hey watch your attitude, brat, I’m just making sure you’re ok.

“Yes! Yes I’m ok! I’m just busy watching my dog at the dog park. I can’t just keep my eyes off him, ya know.” You half yell.

Levi: Y/N what’s with you? You’ve been acting weird the past two weeks.

You roll your eyes and squeeze your phone. “I’ve been fine. Just…just go back to lover girl.”

Levi: Who?

“LOVER GIRL. The girl YOU ARE TRAINING.” You emphasize through clenched teeth.

Levi: I have no idea what you mean by that.

“Of course you don’t. Ok, I have to go now.” You hang up the phone before Levi can respond.

Tears fill your eyes as you watch Little Rascal run up to you. “Buddy, I’m acting like a fool aren’t I?” Little Rascal whines as he licks your hand. “Don’t cry, because I’ll cry more. Ugh…I probably ruined any chances I had. All because of some stupid jealousy.”

After taking some time to pull yourself together, you’re just about to head home when someone grabs your arm.

You flip around ready to defend yourself when Levi is staring back at you. “Levi?”

“You’re jealous.” He interrupts you before you deny it. “Hanji told me. Why the hell are you jealous? I was just doing my job.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Guys really are clueless sometimes. Why would I be jealous of you doing your job?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you feel like I was giving her better training?”

You hold back a scream and curl your fingers into a fist. “NO LEVI! I was jealous because I’ve been watching her flirt with you for the past couple weeks, and I don’t like it because I have a thing for you. JESUS!”

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He can only stare back at you as he goes over the options in his head. “Well…she’s not you…”

“Is that good or bad?”

He smiles softly. “Bad. Did you want to go get lunch? We can take the little hot dog.”

You inwardly squeal as you realize Levi is taking you out for a little date. “Sure.”

Levi smiles and picks up Little Rascal. “His little legs will only slow us down.”

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman request

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just-a-creep-babe · 1 year

Text

A Demon’s Ache — Part 4

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you so so very much luv, your support has been absolutely incredible ❤️❤️

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Jack avoids you for the next week or so

Hell, he avoids basically everyone

He stays locked up in his room, going back and forth between wishing you hadn’t slept with Jeff and trying to convince himself that you’re your own person, and you can do whatever you want

Or whoever you want, for that matter

Still, he can’t help the burning pit of rage in his stomach every time his thoughts wander to the scarred-faced killer

Of all the fucking people

Unfortunately, staying in his room gets old fast

But he still refuses to step out

Because the last few times he’s left his room, something bad has happened

And logically, he knows he can’t stay inside forever

And he knows that running into you is inevitable

But knowing it isn’t enough to stop him from stalling—he’ll delay having to see you for as long as possible

Part of him is also worried about running into Jeff

He doesn’t know what he’ll do to him the next time he sees that asshole

Killing another resident is strictly prohibited, but he doesn’t know if he’ll have the willpower to stop himself from caving his head in when he sees his dumb fucking face

The mental image brings a smile to the demon’s lips

It would be so easy

It would be so satisfying

With a sigh, Jack makes his way to the window and pulls the curtains open

It looks like a nice day out

The sun is still rising in the blue sky, the green leaves are swaying in the breeze, the birds are chirping

…

He shuts the blinds close, plunging himself back into the darkness once more

It’s better this way, he thinks

He’s about to crack open one of his dusty medical books to bury himself in some studies when he gets a text

Hoodie: Hey, you busy? What’re you up to?

Nm, he types back, and though he’s grateful for the unexpected distraction, he almost wishes he could just be left alone for a few more days

He needs more time to stew in his misery

A reply comes a few minutes later

Hoodie: Ight, you down to train? Masky’s out of commission, I need a partner

The demon sighs

He looks around his room

He’s not necessarily messy per se, but he’s also most certainly not the tidiest

Books, clothes, and a few medical supplies are strewn across the room

He could spend the day cleaning

Or he could spend it reading, or learning a new skill, or picking up some kind of hobby or something

He runs his fingers through his hair

Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows what he should do

I’ll be there in 10, he finally answers

Jack purposefully takes the longer route through the mansion—just so that he can be sure he won’t encounter you

It’s petty, he knows it is, but at this point, he almost doesn’t care

He’s too frustrated and miserable to bother acting civilized

Hoodie’s already waiting for him when he reaches the training field

Located a short trek into the forest, the proxies have their own private cabin next to a broad open clearing

And said clearing, of which, is often used as an outdoor sparring ground

It’s almost always more fun training out here rather than inside

Something about a cramped, sweaty basement just isn’t Jack’s favorite

The proxy’s leaning against the short rotting wooden fence lining one side of the clearing, his arms folded over his chest, when Jack approaches

He gives a nod to the demon as he notices him

“Hey,” Jack says, and when he remembers what Hoodie said about his partner, he asks, “is Masky alright?”

Hoodie shrugs nonchalantly

“Yeah, it’s just a minor injury—no big deal”

He pushes off the fence, adding, “he’ll be fine, it’s just not the best to train with”

Jack nods

He follows the human into the clearing, and the two ready themselves on opposite sides

“You didn’t need me to take a look at it?”

He gets into his fighting stance as he speaks, and Hoodie does the same

“Nah, that newbie checked it out,” the proxy rolls his neck out, and it makes a satisfying crack, before then stretching his shoulder as well, “Besides, you were MIA”

The two face one another

A gust of wind rustles through the trees around them

They share a mutual nod to indicate they’re both set, and then the tension grows palpable as the combat session begins

Jack’s one of the strongest and fastest residents at the mansion

If not the strongest and fastest

He usually gives his sparring partner a chance by letting them make the first move

But it’s like all of the jealousy, anger and frustration that’s been building up until this point suddenly snaps inside of him

And in a flash, he charges at the human in front of him

Hoodie tries to dodge, but Jack’s inhumanly fast, and he easily lands his blow to the proxy’s stomach

The human grunts, doubling over, but he’s fast and smart enough to know that he should move before Jack strikes again

He sidesteps him, but he’s slower and clumsier after that first hit, and Jack almost feels bad for him

Maybe he should pull his punches a little more

He can’t let his anger overtake him; he’s the one who has to patch him up afterward if he hits too hard

“The newbie—you mean that guy with the gas mask? What does he call himself again? Y’s Virus or something?”

He tries to distract himself, tries to make some kind of small talk to give the proxy a chance

Hoodie huffs out a laugh

“X-Virus,” he corrects, and seeing that Jack’s giving him a moment to recover, he tries to shake the pain off before resuming his stance

The two circle one another, staying parallel with a fair amount of distance between them

“The kid knows medicine?” Jack asks, matching Hoodie’s movements

“Seems like it. He’s gotta have some kind of use for the boss to keep him. Being a cocky brat with a baseball bat isn’t enough to cut it”

He sidesteps Jack, tries to fake him out, then aims for a kick at his legs

The demon easily jumps back, then uses his momentum to mimic Hoodie’s maneuver

It gets the proxy down, giving Jack the perfect opportunity to get him in a headlock

Hoodie grunts, hands flying up to try to pry Jack off of him

“And what about you?” he asks, his voice audibly strained as he struggles in his hold, “where’ve you been this past week?”

“Busy,” he answers, and then to avoid getting pressed for an answer, he tightens his hold around his throat

Hoodie struggles for longer than Jack expects

But eventually, left with no other choice, he gives in, tapping out, and Jack finally releases him

The proxy gasps, coughing, trying to get a rush of air into his lungs, as Jack stands and offers him a hand

“I hit a nerve?” Hoodie asks, rubbing his throat before taking the help getting up

Jack eyes him for a moment

“What’re you playing at?” he finally asks

Though he wouldn’t consider himself on bad terms with the proxy, he knows fully well that the proxy often has ulterior motives

He can’t—or at least, he shouldn’t—always trust him so easily

Sensing this, Hoodie puts his hands up defensively

“Hey man, I’m not playing at anything,” he claims, “you haven’t been around, and (y/n)’s coincidentally gotten all gloomy recently”

Jack’s ears perk up at the mention of your name

“What do you mean?”

It seems it’s Hoodie’s turn to eye him suspiciously now

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’ Did something happen between the two of you?”

When Jack hesitates to answer, Hoodie continues

“Look man, it’s no secret that you’ve got a thing for her. But if you somehow hurt her—”

“I didn’t”

When Jack quickly interrupts him, Hoodie raises a brow at him

Jack sighs

“Listen, there’s nothing going on between us. She’s...” he swallows down the memory of what you said to him in the garden, then forces himself to finish his sentence, “she’s not interested in me”

Hoodie seems to study him for a moment, almost as if trying to judge whether or not he’s lying

“...And what makes you say that?”

“Because she...” Jack stops himself in his tracks, shaking his head, “I-I just know, alright? She’s not into me”

Jack watches as Hoodie pauses to think for a moment

“Well, I clearly don’t know what happened between the two of you,” and before Jack can intercept again, Hoodie adds, “and clearly, something did happen”

“But, whatever,” he continues, “it’s none of my business. All I can say is that, if I were you, I’d try to talk to her. Something’s been bothering her, and something’s obviously bothering you too, and the best you can do is just try to sort things out with her”

It’s now Jack’s turn to get quiet

Had he been too harsh with you the last time he saw you?

Were you worried about him because you hadn’t seen him since?

Seeing him hesitate so much, Hoodie asks if he’ll try talking to you

"...Yeah, alright, I will. I’ll try talking to her,” Jack finally agrees

Hoodie grins

“Finally. Well, with that out of the way, can we finally spar?”

The rest of the training session goes relatively well, all things considered

Jack’s distracted thinking about you, so Hoodie manages to land a fair amount of blows, but he’s still ultimately no match for the demon

Even on the whole trek back through the forest to get to the mansion, Jack’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute

If he was the slightest bit more aware of his surroundings, maybe he would’ve remembered to take the longer route to avoid seeing Jeff on the way in

Maybe he could’ve prevented the killer from noticing him, from locking eyes with him

Maybe he could’ve changed paths when he realized he was headed straight toward him

But that latter one is doubtful, considering the rage tightening in his sternum at the mere sight of him

Jack wouldn’t have backed down at that point—no matter how alert he was

“Out of my way,” Jeff grumbles

He nearly shoulder-checks him, but Jack moves out of the way before it connects

“Watch where you’re fucking going”

The venomous animosity dripping from Jack’s tone is enough to make the raven-haired killer pause in his tracks

“Fuck you just say to me?”

There’s no mistaking the pecking order in the mansion

Jack’s on top

But he’s usually easy-going enough to ignore Jeff’s constant attempts at proving himself

Not today

“I said—“ Jack straightens himself up, all but hissing the words out, “watch where you’re fucking going”

A look of visible confusion flashes over Jeff’s features

Until it clicks

“Ohh, I get it,” he snickers, and the sound makes Jack want to rip him to shreds right then and there

“You’re just upset because I fucked your little girlfriend before you ever even got the chance”

The way he admits to it—so crudely, so shamelessly—it actually takes Jack by surprise

And Jeff, being the constant prick he is, doesn’t stop there

“God, y’know, she’s actually way less innocent than she lets on. She likes it dirty—filthy. Like a desperate little slut. Wanna know her favorite position? She just loves getting—“

Jack punches him

He hits him directly in the temple, and it knocks Jeff out in one shot

It’s ridiculously satisfying

He only wishes he hadn’t gone down so easily—he would’ve loved to beat him down over and over again

With a snort, he walks away, leaving Jeff passed out on the ground behind him

He had planned to talk to you immediately after training with Hoodie, but he’s way too infuriated to do so right now

Instead, he makes a beeline back to his room

And he promises himself he’ll confront you the very next chance he gets

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless Jack #eyeless jack x reader #crp

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Nav // Mickey Garcia

Summary: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia has been keeping a secret, or three, from his new found family. After finding out he’d been transferred to North Island on a more permanent basis—he thinks now is as good a time as any to let the secret out.

Warnings. Believe it or not—this is a fluff piece. Fanboy x female reader. Slight mention of Smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: This weekend we welcomed Rhett Abbott and Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia to the every growing list of fictional men I’d let rail me. This is such a fandom fluff piece, but it’s what you’re getting so either take it or don’t. Idk.

Callsings. Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day.

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it. He was simply a nerd. He loved all things Star Wars and Star Trek. He adored Battlestar Galactica and honestly? If it had a Star in the title he was convinced he’d already be obsessed with it if given the chance to binge the series or movie trilogy. He was a Fanboy, so much so his aviation helmet shared the same font as the Star Trek logo. He was obsessed, plain and simple.

But there was also another thing Mickey Garcia was a huge fan of that earned him his callsign way back in the days of his fighter school training. He’d never forget the first time he heard you say it. Although he carried an encyclopaedic memory around, Mickey swore there was only ever one thing, one person, one gorgeous woman on his mind twenty for seven, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year.

The love of his life, his best friend (Don't tell Payback), his devoted wife. Mickey was well aware that he belonged in the sky. He’d wanted to be just like his father ever since he knew how to walk. There was never a question surrounding what Mickey Garcia would grow up to be. He spent more time in the sky than he did down on solid ground, that was just something you learnt to live with.

Mickey Garcia was also incredibly mindful of the fact his heart hadnt been to the earth since the first time he kissed you. When you loved him? You had sent it clear out of this world. He’d love you forever, be your devoted husband, lovingly and completely yours forever.

“Nav and the kiddos settle in alright?” Payback asked as he and Fanboy ran through their pre-flight checks. “Kinda missed her annoying ass.” Fanboy chuckled softly in response, humming at the soft jab his best friend sent his wife. He knew the minor insult held no weight, hell–Payback had been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place. He knew you longer than Mickey and you had even been married for.

“Only got a few boxes left to unpack.” Mickey explained as he checked all his weapon systems. “But yeah, it feels good to have them here, just not too sure how I'm gonna break it to the rest of the guys.” It wasn't that Mickey didn't want to tell the Dagger Squad, he always had every intention. But he wanted to make sure he could trust these people with his life before letting them into his family. After the events of the uranium mission and having been offered a permanent posting in North Island, Mickey felt the time was right. “Nav’s pretty keen to meet everyone though.”

That you were, so when Mickey mentioned that the gang were all meeting up on Saturday night for dinner and beers at their favourite watering hole, the Hard Deck, and wanted you and the kiddos to come along you were more than ecstatic to finally meet the people who had kept your husband safe.

“Hey, Miles!” Mickey called out after the five year old who booked it from where he’d placed him down beside the car in the direction of the group of people who looked as if they’d transported into a parallel universe. “Miles! Hey buddy! Slow your roll alright.” Scooping up the tiny version of himself as Miles Garcia giggled at his own antics, Mickey caught sight of his squad. All staring at him wondering what the hell was going on.

“Fanboy—who’s crotch goblin is that?” Hangman asked as he sneered and pointed at the child who now resided on his fathers hip. Watching as you came out from around the other side of the car with what seemed to be a smaller, very much younger version of the same child wrapped in a baby wrap around your chest. “And who’s this?”

“Uh—“ Mickey cleared his throat as you made your way to his side, placing a gentle but loving kiss to his cheek before rubbing the small of his back for moral support. “Guys, this here’s my wife, Nav.” Smiling softly, you waved briefly before Mickey went on to introduce your kids. “This is Miles, he’s five and this is Morgan, she’s only—six months.” He hadn’t forgotten, but for a brief moment Mickey had to count with his fingers.

The silence was to be expected as the group of naval aviators who stood before you in the carpark of the Hard Deck Bar took in the new revelations that Fanboy was and had been married with kids the entire time they’d been in North Island.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all.” You were the first to break the heavy silence.

“You’re married?” Phoenix asked in disbelief, she was careful not to utter it in a way that you may have taken offense to.

“You have kids?” Rooster couldn’t stop staring at the five year old in Mickey's arms. He looked so much like his dad it was kinda scary.

“You had a family this whole time and didn’t tell anyone?” Hangman scoffed, he couldn’t believe it—how could Star Trek over here land a wife and two beautiful children but he couldn’t even get a damn date. “What if something had happened to you?”

“Ruben knew.” Fanboy explained as the group made their way inside, Phoenix instantly filed back to walk with you. She wanted to be the first person to tell you how great a guy your husband was—not that you didn’t already know. “He was my best man.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bob asked the question everyone was asking. It wasn’t a black or white response. But nevertheless Mickey tried his best as Penny pointed them all in the direction of the tables she’d placed together.

“They mean everything to me, I guess I just wanted to make sure that you guys were all good people, good enough for them.” Although it hurt just the slightest amount, Bob understood. “Don’t tell him I said this but the jury is still out on Hangman—I just didn’t see another viable option of introducing Nav to everyone.” Bob couldn’t help but to laugh as he looked down at the child still in Mickey's arms. “I feel awful for not telling you sooner Bob.”

“Don’t be, your family’s important, I understand wanting to keep them safe, keep them all to yourself.”

Fanboy left it at that as he turned his attention back to settling his family down for dinner amongst his friends. Especially keeping an eye on you before settling in beside you. A hand gravitating to your knee under the table as Mickey looked into the wrap—Morgan sleeping soundly against your chest.

“So Nav, what do you do for a living?” Hangman asked from across the table as you looked over to provide the sandy blonde your utmost attention.

“I own a small photography business.” You were humble in your talents. “Boudoir mostly.”

“Say Phoenix? You wanna get in on that action?” Rooster taunted as he popped a few peanuts in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning back on the chair he’d perched himself on across the table from Natasha. “I’ll volunteer as tribute.”

“In your wet dreams Bradshaw—“ Phoenix hissed as she took a sip of her beer. “That’s a pretty dramatic juxtaposition from a naval aviator?” Natasha turned her head back to you, watching as you soothed the little girl who was starting to stir in her wrap. “How’d you actually meet?”

“The academy—“ Mickey interrupted as Miles got to work colouring with the crayons Payback had asked Penny for when he went to fix up the first round at the bar. Returning with beers and ample colouring supplies for his favourite five year old. “Y/n was in the Navy.” It was yet another revelation the gang had a hard time processing. “Everyone still calls her Nav though, a hard habit to kick.”

Mickey Garcia wasn’t all that fly with the ladies, he never really had been. He’d had a few girlfriends in his short life but nothing ever lasted long enough for him to start thinking about a future with them, or a family for that matter.

“Hey Mickey! I got a friend I want you to meet!” Ruben cried out from across the amphitheater. Mickey pried his eyes away from the book he’d been reading for five seconds to turn his head his best friend's way. He’d heard of the girl from across the street, but your paths had never had a chance to cross until now. “This is Y/n, Michelle’s younger sister.” Within the space of five entire seconds, the trajectory of Mickey's life changed forever. He’d never been a huge believer in love at first sight, but as you made yourself known out from behind Rubens shoulder? Mickey knew he was fucked, in over his head.

“You must be Fanboy?” Mickey stood as you held your hand out to shake his.

“Who?” He asked, smiling bright as he found himself getting lost in your eyes. Ruben just laughed to himself, knowing from this moment going forward he’d forever be known as the man who introduced Mickey Garcia to the literal love of his life.

“Fanboy right? Ruben said you’re a big fan of Star Trek—“ Mickey had never laid his eyes on a woman more beautiful than you.

“Oh he did, did he?” Deadpanning Ruban, Mickey held his glare for a few seconds before turning back to you. “Well uh—yeah I guess that’s me, Mickey Fanboy Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You had, and you’d loved everything you’d heard so far. So much so you’d begged Ruben to just cut the shit and introduce you already. He’d been dangling a carrot on a stick right in front of you for months.

“All good things I hope?” Mickey raised his eyebrow as you beamed his way, you’d definitely been shaking hands for far too long but you were both past the point of awkwardness, both just seeing who would break first. Smirking at one another like children.

“Only the very best.”

“I was uh, a navigation officer, callsign wasn’t all that unique but it did the trick.” You shrugged, looking around at all Mickey's friends as they tried to process everything they were learning. “I understand this is probably a lot for everyone.”

“It’s not.” Rooster smiled as he looked at Fanboy. There’s been a switch flipped inside the proud mustache having aviator who loved a good Hawaiian shirt. “It just means that Fanboys got a lot more on the line than any of us ever thought.”

“Dadda?” The little boy sitting next to Mickey cooed just loud enough to gain his father’s attention. “I’m hungry—“

“Foods coming bud, here, you wanna sit on dad’s lap so you can tell all dads friends what you wanna be when you grow up?” The brown eyed, dark curly haired boy who looked far too much like Mickey scrambled from the seat he’d been sitting onto into his dads lap. Mickey let out an oof sound when Miles slammed his entire body weight down into his lap. He thought his dad was some kind of superhero who never felt pain or got tired.

Whenever Mickey was deployed and on a detachment like he’d been on recently, you’d tell Miles that dad was off fighting bad guys and that once he knew everyone was safe and sound—he’d come home. Five year olds were easy to manipulate at bed time if you told them all the right things.

“Go ahead buddy, tell ‘em what you told me.” Mickey coaxed the information he knew would melt his team's hearts out of his toddler by tickling his sides to invoke a chuckle so pure it even made Hangman smile.

“I wanna be a superhero and fly planes like my Dadda.”

“I never thought I’d hear someone say superhero and daddy in the same sentence while referring to Fanboy—“ Coyote snickered in the most wholesome way he could. “You got cute kids man I’ll give ya that.”

“Nav, you look like you’re still glowing.” Bob mentioned cautiously. “You guys said Morgan’s only six months?”

“Yeah—the last month and a bit was a little rough with the kiddos back in Miami while Mickey was stationed out here with you guys.” You were just thankful that everything had gone as well as it had and that everyone made it home. “But things are starting to mellow out.”

“Do you not have paternity leave saved up Fanboy?” Jake Seresin was the last person Mickey ever thought that question would come from. But things weren’t that simple.

“I’d basically just finished my leave when this assignment came about.”

“It’s only for six weeks mamma.” Mickey cooed as he kissed your neck tenderly. Looking at you through the mirror of your bathroom as you applied a mud mask—Mickey had the same exact one plastered across his forehead and nose. His T-section. “I’ll be back before you even start to miss me.”

“I know I know.” You smiled as softly as you possibly could. It wasn’t your husband’s fault he was government property and you knew better than anyone else now the Navy worked. “Still doesn’t change the fact it just be me and the kids—“

“I’ll call my parents and make sure they do a few weekends here and there.” It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would help to patch the leak you knew would spring from time to time. “You know I don’t wanna leave you guys here, my girls and my best guy.”

“But duty calls right, superman?” You turned in Mickey's embrace, with one move he had you up resting atop the vanity—legs on either side of his hips as he stood better yours. Your arms flung over your husband’s shoulders as he drank in the sight of you. His wife, his beautiful best friend, the mother of his two gorgeous children.

“Hey you started that shit, it’s not my fault he thinks that.” Mickey beamed, leaning in in search of your lips. Kissing you softly before deepening the moment. Mickey had always been a big fan of self care days, he was adamant that’s how you both ended up with Morgan. “I love you Nav—I’ll be back before you know it.”

“When do you leave?” It was four words that never got easier to ask, Mickey let the silence linger in the bathroom for a moment—just enjoying the time he had with you. You made things so easy, made it so easy to love you and the kids. Made it so easy for him to love his job despite the distance because even on his worst days Mickey knew he would eventually come home to you and it would be like he never even left. You were far too good for him and he knew that.

“Thursday.” Mickey said just barely above a whisper as he leaned in to kiss you again. This time more passionate, a lot slower, needier. “Thursday around noon, Payback and I are gonna catch a cab together to the airport, I didn’t want you having to wrangle the kids up just to pile into the car an—“ You cut Mickey off by pulling him closer by the elastic of his boxer briefs, snapping the material back against his lower abdomen when his lips were back on yours. The groan he let slip into your mouth almost made you want to try for another baby. But the two of you were very much happy with the two you already had.

“Just promise you’ll come home to us?” You knew it was an empty promise, the ever looming possibility that something could go terribly wrong always crossed your mind. But you trusted Ruben to bring your husband home safely every time they flew.

“Nav my dear, I’m lovingly and completely yours forever.”

“Believing me, it was the longest six weeks of my life.” You sighed, running your hand gently over the sleeping baby girl wrapped up on your chest. “But we got through it and now it just feels good to be close again, I’ve heard such good things about all of you so I feel surrounded by family already.”

Looking around the table as food started to arrived in bits and pieces. Mickey knew he had it all. He had his friends, he had his family and to him that’s all he ever really cared about. Hearing you laugh with Bob and challenging Hangman, watching you bond with Phoenix and click with Rooster. Mickey loved how Coyote sparked a flame inside you he hadn’t seen in years talking about what it was like to be a navigator. You didn’t talk about it all that much these days, you were just happy to be a mum and a devoted wife. But sometimes, every now and again you would miss the ocean. Missed what it was like to roam patrol boats and look longingly to whatever coast you were near. Mickey knew that, but Coyote challenged it.

He loved his friends but they were now his family. Mickey Garcia had never felt so much love radiating around him as he sat with you and his children amongst the people who carried him throughout the day. His squad, his teammates.

His family.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

A few months after the shocking discovery that Mickey Garcia was a husband and Father and not just some Fanboy Star Trek geek had settled in—the dagger squad had seemingly become like much loved furniture amongst the Garcia household. So much so that some had their own keys, some always had their hands up to babysit, some even knew that the back window was always slightly ajar and could be opened if drunkenly in search of a place to crash.

Your house was the closest to the Hard Deck out of all the other houses that the daggers resided in, which meant more often than not you’d come down stairs in the early hours of the morning to feed Morgan and see a very hungover, very loudly snoring, very much passed out Jake Hangman Seresin on your couch. His chest sunken as he slept soundly, a small patch of drool seeping into the fabric with the back window cracked.

“Jake—“ You’d nudged him, watching with a humorous smile as he jolted awake. “Coffee, drink it—then get out of my damn house.”

“Yes mamma.” Jake would always reply, the term of endearment something the group picked up early into your friendship. Quickly becoming the one they all respectfully ran to with all their promises. The mum of the group.

Although Jake was the serial lounge hogger, it was Bradley Bradshaw who had once had a key and saw any time of the day or night to make himself at home. He never meant it in a malicious manner—he was just excited to be apart and of something bigger than himself for once. Neither you nor Mickey minded all that much—until Rooster had walked in on you and Mickey bare backing it on the same couch Jake would fling himself across after his drunken escapades.

“So fucking pretty Nav.” Mickey cooed as you bounced on his length. Straddling his waist as his hands helps your hips steady—helping to guide you up and down at the pace you set. “God what did I ever do to deserve you—Ah fugh—!”

“Ohhhh fuckk! Mickey baby you feel so good—why don’t you put another baby in me huh?”

“Yeah? is that what you want darling girl? Another one of us?” He wasn’t going to say he hadn’t thought about it, a third little Garcia running around. The two you had were perfect, but a third? You’d be outnumbered. “You always look so pretty pregnant.”

It was otherworldly the way Mickey looked up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth, you were still breastfeeding so the sensation of your husband sucking on your tits was all too much. Leaking into his mouth.

“Ohhhh fughh! Mickey!” You were still bouncing, the head of Mickey cock kissing against your cervix as he slipped a hand between the pair of you to work you over. “I’m gonna—“

“Holy shit—“ Rooster stood in the entryway covering his eyes. “Holy shit I didn’t see anything!” The sound of your husband's co-worker standing in the entryway sent you skyrocketing off Mickey and fumbling for the nearest throw blanket. “Swear on my mother’s grave I saw nothing Mick!”

“What the hell are you doing here Rooster! The door was locked!?” Mickey was holding a decorative pillow to cover his hard-on. His skin still flushed red because he was so fucking close it wasn’t funny—he was about to become a father of three.

“You gave me a key?” Rooster caught himself smirking for a brief moment as the sound of The Jonas Brothers old number one hit ‘Burnin’ Up’ played through the house. It had been your song since yours and Mickey's Naval academy days. He’d gone as Joe Jonas one year for Halloween. The song itself had even played at your wedding. “Jonas Brothers? Really Fanboy, really?”

“Bradshaw I’m a pacifist alright—“ Mickey sighed as he took a few steps towards the sandy blonde who was just in search of a ham and cheese sandwich. “But I’m about to pass my fist across your face.” It was needlessly to say Rooster, from that point going forward—always checked in before he entered with caution.

But it didn’t mean the never ending revolving door of ragtag aviators stopped. No—if anything your house had never been fuller.

“Hey Lovely.” You greeted Phoenix as she kicked her boots off, Bradley wasn’t too far behind her, next was Bob. “Here’s your Valentine’s Day package.” Unbeknownst to the group of aviators, a few months ago when Rooster had teased Phoenix about possibly taking up the opportunity to do a boudoir shoot with you, she actually said fuck it? And why not? She was a powerful woman after all who deserved to feel sexy and feminine. “There’s about fifty printouts, the dried petals from the roses and a thumb drive with like one hundred digital copies from the shoot on it.”

“Thanks Nav—and honestly I can pay for it, really.” Natasha took the little box you gifted her before taking you into a warm embrace.

“Don’t be silly, it’s on me.” Was all you said before you found yourself being hauled away by your screaming daughter, she was rather clinging at the moment and couldn’t be away from you for more than ten consecutive minutes before she thought the world was ending. It didn’t help that Mickey had shaved his head. She hardly recognised him at the moment. “Alright alright I’m coming darling.”

“Did you actually do a boudoir shoot?” Rooster's hand slid up the side of Natasha's hip, pulling her into him as he whispered in her ear. “Because if so—“ Before Bradley has a chance to say he wouldn’t mind being privy to those private photos, Phoenix caught him out, leaving the taller, blonde aviator who’d subsequently stolen her heart over the course of a few years in a puddle on the floor in one of his best mate’s houses.

“They’re your Valentine’s Day gift.”

“Bob honey, you want a sandwich?” Mickey loved the way you just so effortlessly took care of his friends the same way you took care of him. “I’ve got peanut butter or I can do ham and cheese?”

Bobs flushed a nice shade of red as he sat down beside Fanboy at the dining table, trying not to eavesdrop on the fact Rooster and Pheonix were in his peripheral vision practically eye fucking the ever living shit out of each other.

“Ham and cheese please Nav.” Is all Bob utters before Miles is climbing into his lap. The two had a unique bond now that they practically wore the same kind of glasses. Miles thought he looked weird with glasses because none of the other kids in his glass wore them. But then Bob told him that his glasses could be his superhero disguise, for when he’s not saving the world like his dad.

“Do you wanna play in the tree house with me uncle Bob?” How the fuck could he say no? Nodding softly before flipping the five year old over his shoulder.

“Here, don’t forget your sandwich!” You cooed out as Bob made his way through the kitchen with your son strung upside down over his shoulder. “Eat before you go back to work, Mickey told me you passed out the other day because you hadn’t eaten since before seven.” Bob was quick to deadpan your husband as he took the sandwich you held out for him. Leaning in to kiss your cheek softly.

“Thanks Nav.” He took a bite before pointing at Mickey, holding your son over his shoulder with one hand wrapped tight around the little boy's ankle as he laughed and screamed as the blood rushed to his head. “Snitches get stitches!”

“Yeah dad! Snitches get stitches!”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The Garcia household had become the home base for most things. Birthdays, public holidays, general get togethers, fried chicken Fridays, and seedy Sundays. But most importantly your humble abode had become the place people went to feel like they were at home. Not everyone was as fortunate to have their families in North Island. So you and Mickey became sort of the group mum and dad.

“You aren't are you?” Ruben asked with wide eyes as you gifted him the small pair of socks that said best uncle ever on the tops. “You’re pregnant?”

“After the display I walked in on a few months ago I'm shocked it hasn't come sooner–” Rooster mumbled as he looked at Mickey who sat nursing baby Morgan. Now a year old. “Congratulations by the way.”

Your first two pregnancies had been pretty up and down. With baby Miles you suffered from hyperemesis. That was a little rough to get through when Mickey was deployed, but you had his mum and dad around to help you with things. He’d been your hospital birth baby. Epidural, all the drugs and medications readily available to help ease the pain. Morgan however, she’d been the at home birth baby. She was a breezy pregnancy so it made you wonder what it would be like to give birth at home unmedicated.

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!” You were a sweaty mess as you laid back against Mickey in the blow up birthing pool in the middle of your living room floor. “I can't!! I can’t fucking do this!”

“You can mamma, you’re so strong yeah? I've got you alright, you’re doing so well Nav.” Mickey had been a saint, he just knew what to do and when to do it. He was just thankful to be a part of such a magical experience. “You’re gonna bring our baby girl into the world–” It wasn't Mickey's fault that you were losing your mind from the pain. You just wanted it to be over, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as you cried in pain.

“I fucking hate you for doing this to me.” Mickey couldn't help but to laugh softly as you placed a cool cloth against your forehead. “You did this to me, you idiot.”

“I remember this being a two player game love, it wasn't just me.” There was not a single thing on this earth Mickey Fanboy Garcia wouldn't do for you. “You can’t not not deliver this baby Nav, she's coming regardless.” But when you groaned in agony? He wished more than anything he could take that pain away from you–but he couldn't. “You’re so beautiful–”

“Oh my god it HURTS!” You shouted as another contraction took over your body, Mickey could feel how tight your belly was as the water lapped around your legs, spreading them to find more comfort as your doula walked you through what was going on from the edge of the pool. “Shut up Mick!”

“Shutting up–” He mumbled as you groaned, so exhausted from your contractions. You didn't mean to lash out, so when your contraction was subsiding, giving you a little repreve for five seconds, you sobbed in in his shoulder-your back against his bare chest.

“I didn't mean to call you an idiot, I'm sorry.” Mickey just kissed your temple lovingly.

“You can call me whatever you want, I'm lovingly and completely yours forever.”

“Yeah, congratulations guys, surely you’re gonna get the ol snip now hey Fanboy?” Jake smirked as he made a snipping gesture his way.

“I've already booked the appointment for next month.” You added as you stood from your place in the living room. The entire group had come over for fried chicken friday. “If anyone else in the room wants to get a vasectomy let me know and I'll ring and add you to the booking.”

“Don't you dare come near me, that kinda shits barbaric.” Coyote cupped at his crotch.

“It's minor surgery that can be reversed asshat.” Phoenix added as she slapped Javy upside the head in response to his statement. It made you all laugh for a moment until the conversation was drawn back to Bob’s latest conundrum. His crush on the new admin assistant in D block on base. It just felt like home when everyone was filling your home with laughter. Thinking back now you couldn't have imagined not knowing any of them. Ever.

***~***~***~***~***~

Callsings.

Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day.

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it, whenever his friends and colleagues were asked about it. They could lie and say it was because he was the biggest nerd they knew, but they didn't.

Each time Rooster or Bob, Phoenix of Payback, Hangman or Coyote were asked about their friends' callsign. They told the truth. And the fact of the matter was Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia was and forever would be lovingly and completely yours forever.

#mickey fanboy garcia #top gun fanboy #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #mickey garcia x reader #mickey garcia x you #mickey garcia x female reader #fanboy x female reader #fanboy fluff #mickey garcia fluff #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction

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starrdevereauxx · 20 days

Text

The Session

By Starr Devereauxx

Being a photographer in Los Angeles has truly been quite the ordeal. I love the freedom of it, but everyone thinks they are a star in this city. I love what I do. The creativity of it. Makes my heart truly smile. There are some mornings that I just get up with my camera and take pictures on my morning walk. It’s a calming feeling just being one with nature, camera in hand.

This morning I woke up refreshed and somewhat nervous for today’s client. I’ve worked with him before but since we have been following each other on social media and making a connection creatively, I find myself becoming more interested and intrigued with him. I met him at a vendor’s booth at a local festival 2 years ago and we have been working together ever since. He called because he wanted to take some new pictures for an upcoming business expo and he wanted to mix up his photos since he’s the keynote speaker this year. Of course I jumped at the chance to be there for him, this is a big moment for him and I’m glad to be apart of the creative process for him.

We scheduled for a Saturday morning, the weather was planned to be great that day and that made for good lighting. I was following his lead on location for the shoot. He picked an open field, not too far from my home actually. I almost felt this was weird, because I thought he would want to use a cityscape since it was for a business type event. But this was he vision and I didn’t want to take away from where he saw it going.

I arrived and he was standing there waiting on me. I think I should have worn something a little more comfortable, I almost feel like I’m about to get dirty wearing this. But what the hell, it’s all business.

“Hey Zeke! Bright and early I see” I said to him gingerly.

“Yeah mamas, early bird catches the worm. You know how I am Dev.” He said almost suggestively.

I’ve grown to know Zeke pretty well, and that’s a man that doesn’t play about his business, so yeah, I know how he is in that sense.

“So my idea is to go to the top of this hill and catch all the scenery in the back, just me against the world so to speak.. you get it Dev?” Zeke smiled.

“I sure do, I see it perfectly. But are we supposed to hike up there? I should have worn better shoes. I wish I would have known, I would have brought help for my gear” I said nervously.

“I’m all the help you need, I got you” Zeke looked at me and assured me. I almost took it the wrong way, but I knew he couldn’t possibly be talking to me that way. Something about when Zeke talks to me, I take him super seriously. He just doesn’t play about his shit. I admire that. If I didn’t watch it, I could easily develop a crush. But I never mix business and pleasure. Although it wouldn’t be hard to mix those two together with Zeke. He is the epitome of fine.

Zeke is 6’3, caramel complexion, beautiful black hair with the most luxuriously sexy thick beard adorned on his his face surrounding the most beautiful succulent lips you ever seen. Behind those lips, the most beautiful smile a man could ever have. If you were awesome enough, he might show it to you. Zeke didn’t smile a lot, but he always smiled around me. I took it as a compliment honestly. Zeke stayed in the gym, so his body.. chef’s fucking kiss. He never skipped leg day, shit any day. He looked amazing. But I’ve barely looked at him right? Who am I kidding? I didn’t even wear panties today, that’s how wet he makes me every time I see him. Let me stay focused so I can go home.

Zeke and I began our trek up the hill. Talking and shooting the breeze the whole way up. I’m doing my best not to die on the way up. I’m not a small woman, and I’m carrying all this equipment, trying to talk at the same time is pulling a miracle.

We make it to the top. He’s super excited to get started. I start to put my camera together and I immediately start shooting. He’s posing and doing a great job, I never seen him this into it. This isn’t our first time shooting, but he’s serving it up today. Wonder what’s gotten into him today?

We are sharing stories from our week during the shoot so there’s no uncomfortable silences while we work. There’s a look in his eyes, almost like he’s looking past the camera and looking directly at me. I’m doing my best to not overthink because if I didn’t know any better, I would think I’m getting a vibe here. But not Zeke, I’m not even his type.. at least I don’t think. I’ve never talked to him on that level. I always keep it professional.

“I have another outfit, let me change” Zeke stops me.

I turn red immediately. Change? Where nigga? There’s no bathroom here. He begins to take his clothes off and let me tell you, he truly misses no days at the gym. He takes off his pants and I don’t know what that family size Pringles can is laying on his left leg is, but he should call a doctor and get that checked. I’m choking from here and I haven’t even gotten on my knees, that’s how big it is.

I swallowed slowly and turned around like I wasn’t staring that whole time. I’m sure he caught me gawking at him like a ravenous beast. But I keep it professional, so he didn’t see me.. right?

“Dev, you ready? You can turn around now” Zeke said softly.

I turn around, but his pants weren’t up yet. Not only were they not up, other items had been removed. He’s ass naked. I stare, mouth agape.

“Zeke, what part of the game is this?” I said with my voice literally shaking.

“I didn’t want to be prepared for this. I want some pictures of me nude. Professional ones, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do them. I didn’t want to ask first, so I thought I would just surprise you…. Surprise” he said slowly.

“Well hell yeah, this is truly a surprise, but I don’t mind. I got you. This is art, and that’s all I see this as. You displaying your art. I got this. I got this” I said trying to convince myself that I don’t want his dick in every hole I have. He’s so gorgeous I’d let him fuck my inner ear cavity. So I’m gonna sit here, do my job and lie to myself like I don’t want him to blow my back out.

We begin working again. This time some wind picked up, just my luck because now he’s sporting a giant erection. I can’t ignore this. I’m trying hard, I’m trying as hard as his dick is.. and that’s REALLY hard.

“Can you help me pose for this next part? I wanna make sure I have a good angle.” He said sharply.

POSE HIM!? Touch Zeke while he’s naked! I can’t do this. I’m gonna give him his money back and leave. I can’t do this. If I touch him, I’m gonna most definitely be unprofessional. I don’t wanna lose a client this way.

“Sure” I gulped.

I walked over to him slowly. Slow like a man on death row, because I knew it wasn’t gonna go well when I touched him. At this point I’m not even giving him eye contact anymore. I reach out to touch him to pose him and he quickly grabs my hand and takes my camera out of my hand.

My pulse is fucking racing triple time. I think I’m having a panic attack. Oh no, I fucked up. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.

“It’s okay to look at me Dev, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m just naked. Is that okay? Is my dick being out bothering you?” He said in the most gentle deepest voice possible. His voice felt like a subwoofer booming in my panties. He’s got me so wet, my jeans are finished.

“I.. I just wasn’t prepared for this today Zeke, I just came to take your pictures. It feels like something else is happening here now” I can’t even feel myself breathing.

Zeke looks in my wide innocent looking eyes, and grabs the nape of my neck and pulls me close to him and says “Something else can happen right now if you want, if you don’t want it to, just say the word and I’ll respect your word”

I remained silent.

“Come here” he said as he kissed me and held my face in one hand and my camera in the other hand.

He places my camera on top of my backpack next to him. He takes his other hand and pulls me closer to him. I feel that giant dick pressing against me and grazes my pelvis. I inhale deeply like he put it in me already. My body is starting to feel limp. He’s taking all my energy with every kiss he takes from me. My hands begin to run up and down his chiseled body. He feels amazing all over. How the fuck did we get here? I just came to work. Now I’m in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere making out with my naked client.

I begin to kiss all over his neck all over his chest and down his stomach. I can literally see the main vein in his giant member pulsating, literally waiting to make itself a home in my throat. I’m salivating just making my way down. I bow down before him like I’m about to give thanks and gratitude on both of my knees. This head is about to be religious. I’m ready to give my best in this moment.

I part my lips and gently greeting the tip to the warmth of my mouth. Letting his dick get acquainted with my wet face hole. This will be one of the 3 holes he meets today, so I wanted him to feel the difference between the three. Pursing my lips and allowing him to sleep past my opening straight to my uvula. Punching it with each stroke he takes as he simultaneously covers it in precum.

So here I am, in the middle of this feild, being throat fucked to no end. Zeke’s head is tilted all the way back in the air as he moans into the great wide open. My great wide open is becoming wetter as I sit here on my knees, waiting for my holes to be used. He’s gagging me so hard I almost throw up, but my gag reflexes are stronger than his thrusts.

“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna paint your fucking throat” Zeke screams out as I am sitting here waiting for him to Picasso me with his ejaculation. He strokes harder and harder, saliva is pouring from the sides of my mouth as my tongue licks all over his shaft and tip. He starts to pick up the pace even more, harder and faster until….

My face is covered in cum. Dripping out of my mouth and covering my lips. My throat is coated. I know I must have seriously swallowed a lot because there was more that came out than what’s covering me.

Zeke stares at me in amazement.

“I think this changes our business relationship a bit Dev” he says while touching my face, rubbing his cum into my lips.

“I want more, my pussy is aching for you to be inside me” I reply to him, uncovering my engorged clit and soaked pussy. Showing him what I want him to destroy.

“How bad do you want me right now Dev? I want you to beg for my dick” Zeke says with all authority in his voice.

He walks over to her, reaching for her. She reaches out her hand, he moves it and grabs her by the neck. She instantly climaxes in his hands. He’s holding Dev his hands as she drops all over the tall grass.. he moves in close to kiss her cum covered lips.

And then…

To be continued.

#ginger pussy #onlyf@nz #+18 or +adult only #sexy content #18+ content #spicy content #watch me masturbate #starrdevereauxxtales💋#submisive and breedable

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veala2 · 7 months

Text

“ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ.”

fluff prompt: “I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite.”

SYNOPSIS - After joining the Whitebeard pirates, you start to lose the sense of belonging you once had, only thinking of yourself as the “non- favourite.” Ace quickly reminds you something you should have realized sooner than later.

CW - gn!reader, could be either seen as romantic or platonic, up to you, angst but ends up fluffy as hell.

A/N - works killing me, but I managed to find the time to make this. I have a soft spot for writing Ace because he’s so damn cute!

“Y’know, I think the old man is going easy on us.”

The wind blew gently through the air of the hilltops that you’ve been travelling through with your pirate partner, 2nd commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Ace. It had been about a year since the two of you met, after joining Whitebeard at his request.

The two of you often got sent on missions where you defeat certain pests that Whitebeard wants to “shut up”, as he would say.

In turn with you helping him in battle (and other things where he might be challenged), he trains you to be stronger and defend yourself in the heat of battle. It’s a win- win!

Despite how smoothly your life has been going so far, you’ve been starting to feel… out of place, compared to your fellow crew members. They never treated you poorly or made you feel less than, oh no! Everybody was kind and caring.

But, when you come back to the crew laughing and drinking with Pops or when Marco would joke that Pops had favourite kids, your stomach unintentionally drops. Making you question yourself.

Was it insecurity? Or did everyone not care for you?

Anyways, after having defeated a particularly easy opponent, you and Ace decided to take the long, nice way back to where your mini- ship had docked. Taking in the scenic route.

“He’s just mad. Probably ‘cause you kept making those ancient jokes last week.”

You said, kicking a lone rock on the path you took. He heartily laughed, throwing his head back.

“Ah, but it was funny! Everyone laughed, including him. Besides, I’m his favourite, he won’t stay mad forever. Y’know?” He smirked, turning his head towards you.

Despite his antics, you couldn’t help but agree. Sure, the emperor loves all his children the same, but there was something about Ace that made him treat him differently. Maybe it was that shiny, raven hair or devil- may-care smile, you jokingly thought. Either way, having favourites was not a new topic.

“Yeah, none of us are as lucky as you, Portgas. Being the favourite must be nice.” you confessed.

His usual carefree smile turned into a frown, noticing your now sad face. He stepped in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, stopping you and forcing you to look up into his warm eyes.

“Hey, you know that it was just a joke, right? The old man hates and loves us equally.” He chuckled, trying to make your face break. Which it did.

“I know. Just… kind of wouldn’t mind being someone’s preference.” You said, exasperated. Continuing to trek down the path. Ace scoffed, catching up to you.

“Y/N, you act as if you aren’t my favourite!” He exclaims, a bit annoyed.

You paused, stopping in your tracks. Turning to him with a quizzical yet intrigued expression. Almost like you trying and wanting to believe him.

“No! Give me a break, Ace, you're just saying that.”

He’s taken aback. Both with your words and the glossy look starting to form in your eyes. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, and like a frustrated toddler trying to explain his emotions.

“I’m serious! I thought you knew that you’ve always been my favourite person.” His voice is only a decimal short of yelling, as he puts his hand up in the air.

“You’re up here with my brother, I swear! There’s a reason why I didn’t reject Pop’s telling me you have to come on missions too, and that’s because I enjoy your company and you. You’re kind, thoughtful and smart, that’s why he paired his idiot son with you,” He says, pointing to himself.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is: everybody goes lower ‘cause you're my favourite, and there’s no other explanation. I’ve always cared about you and forever wi-“

A swift wrapping of your arms around his body shuts him up. You squeeze tightly, as to disguise your overcome emotions. He doesn’t say anything, simply reciprocating the hug. Letting you enjoy his warmth.

“… Thanks, Ace…” You whispered, not being able to get anything else out. He welcomed you, patting your back gently but firmly.

“Don’t mention it. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back. My favourite person deserves it after kicking ass today.” He laughs, giving a toothy grin. With that, he kneels down in front of you. Arms reaching behind him to hold you in place. You blushed, not used to the sudden act of affection the man was displaying.

“Oh, by the way,” He starts, adjusting to you on his back, “Don’t think we all don’t think the same. Trust me, Marco and Izou will hound me if you get a single scratch, they always worry about you. Especially Pops.”

The sinking feeling that had once been had changed into warmth. Ace’s kind warmth.

“Thanks, Ace. Just so you know, you’re my favourite, too.”

#not my best work #but its something!#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace fluff #portgas ace x you

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just-jordie-things · 11 months

Note

11 and 34 for satoru with happy ending???

11: "I Almost Lost You" Kiss 34: Returned From The Dead Kiss ** current manga spoilers but also i haven't read this part myself yet either so it's not totally accurate lmfao** also hope this is good enough bc it's not super specific to the prompts but it's the same idea, yeah? ___

it had been weeks since satoru had been sealed in that damn box.

the world around you had fallen into chaos in a matter of minutes since word got out that the great gojo satoru was in the prison realm. curses and curse users seemed to crawl out of the shadows and the depths of hell itself to celebrate his removal from this plane. every day there was a new strife, a new challenge, just to keep up with exorcising all the curses that came out of hiding.

not to mention the weight of fear you carried, not knowing of his well being.

was he even alive in there? you worried, your mind too occupied with anxiety for you to properly patrol the area you were asked to.

there weren't many jujutsu sorcerers left. so many retired. so many died.

was he okay? you wondered. time worked differently in the prison realm, but that was about all you knew of it. it was supposed to be a rare object, but geto suguru had found it and used it with ease. would he ever return?

as the reminder of suguru crossed your mind, your teeth grit together. your eyes focused on a rather rowdy group of teenagers on the street, distracted.

your feelings about the man who'd once been your friend were always complicated. after he'd reportedly killed his family and went on to slaughter hundreds of non-sorcerers, you struggled with the way you missed him. no matter what he seemed to do, what heinous acts he committed, some nights you'd still cry yourself to sleep because you wished things could go back to the way they were.

most of those nights, satoru sat awake with you, comforting you as you wept and reminisced over simpler times, happier memories. he'd spend hours combing his fingers through your hair and cooing to you softly about how he missed those days, too.

and now that you were here, now that sartoru was sealed away, and suguru was to blame, it was as though all of your feelings became crystal clear.

you hated geto suguru. you hated everything about him. you hated who he'd become. you hated that he'd let himself take such a dark path. you hated that he'd betrayed you, and satoru, and shoko, and jujutsu sorcerers everywhere. but right now, you mostly hated him for what he'd done to satoru.

and satoru, on the other hand...

you loved gojo satoru. you loved everything about him. you'd grown to love him over many years, but you'd known you'd fallen when he'd give up his free nights to console you, to ease your heart and mind, and helped you rest. you loved that he kept you close, after everything that happened. you loved the effort he'd made to always know what you were up to, and how you were doing. you loved him for loving you, in whatever way he did, you knew he did.

with a huff, you deemed the area safe for now, and made the trek back to your apartment. if you mustered up the energy you could have jogged there to make it to the comfort of your bed sooner, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

so even in the dead of night, and even as you watched storm clouds rolling in, you walked yourself back home.

you've been trying to remain positive for so long, for the students, for the other sorcerers, you knew that your position as satoru's closest friend had meant you'd have to put on a brave face and ensure everyone that hope was not lost, that at the end of the day things would be okay and good would triumph because that's how it was supposed to be.

but you were feeling hopeless. and you'd carried that feeling since that day in shibuya when itadori had told you his sensei had been sealed away. you remember every second of the short interaction. his wide eyes, his shaky voice, the way he'd asked you what that meant, and then looked to you for guidance on how to help. you'd sent him off rather quickly to help at the bus station, but truthfully, you just needed him gone so he couldn't see your entire foundation crumbling.

and then the deaths of your friends, of your students, of people you'd fought alongside all your life, they all began piling up, and you couldn't help but feel hopeless. what else was there to feel?

the man who's mere existence was supposed to put all of this at ease was gone, and you were starting to think he'd never come back.

cold drops of rain begin to hit your face just as you make it to your apartment. you supposed you should consider yourself lucky that you'd made it home before the storm really started, but such positive emotion was squashed by the weight of your anguish.

it was only a matter of time before you were killed too, you thought bitterly, more irritated by the notion than afraid. you were getting reckless. running on little sleep and barely eating meant your energy was always on low battery. the last few curses you'd had to exorcize were low enough in grade that you considered yourself lucky, but you knew that if you ran into a grade one- or a special grade- that you'd be lucky if your death was quick.

"what am i going to do?" you mutter to no one and nothing in particular as you dig in your pocket for your keys.

the rain seemed to have stopped, as you realized you no longer felt the chilly wet drops hitting your head. i could have sworn the skies were overcast just a minute ago, you pondered, ignoring your door for a second longer to tilt your head back to check the night sky.

sure enough, the stars weren't visible, and the sprinkle had turned into a full on down pour. you even heard distant rumbles of thunder, now that you were paying attention.

but curiously, you remained dry. you remained untouched.

you weren't under an awning, and you obviously didn't have an umbrella, so you weren't sure what caused this phenomena.

your brows furrowed as you stretched your hand out in front of you, reaching as far as you could, and to your surprise, you remained dry. when you brought your hand back to your chest again, you studied it curiously, wondering if this was somehow your doing.

experimenting again, you reached your hand upwards, but still, not matter what direction you lunged, the rain fell around you without touching you.

"what the hell?" you mumbled, checking the pavement below you now.

you could see a clear line before you, where the pavement had been pelted by raindrops, but it stopped just in front of your feet. this had to be the most peculiar thing you'd ever seen.

you turned in either direction, and just as you thought, to your left and right, there was a dry patch of pavement underneath you. an amused smile dares to creep on your lips as you turn your head to see just how far this dry patch stretched.

but as you turned to check the ground behind you, you find the dry patch stretched a few feet back, and clung around another figure.

the air is knocked out of your lungs as you saw that familiar shock of white hair, and you sputter for a second before you're gasping and tears are stinging your eyes.

you're running at full speed with abandon, and you don't slow down as you grow nearer, to until you've crashed into him and knocked the air out of him, too.

strong arms wrap around and you and hold you tightly against his chest, not that he needs to, you're clinging onto him with your arms around his neck and your legs wrapping around his hips to keep yourself in place.

for a moment, you just hold each other, wordlessly, too busy gasping for air and sharing breathless laughs of relief. your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and his is lost in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he'd damn near forgotten.

when you do finally pull away, it's only for a split second, just long enough to see satoru's pretty face is unharmed, before your hands are grabbing the collar of his tee shirt and your tugging him against you so fast your lips slam together.

it's messy, your teeth clash and you're panting so hard that it's difficult to properly kiss him, but neither of you seem to mind one bit.

just a minute ago you were certain you'd never see him again, so you'll take any scrap of closeness that you can get.

he has one arm wrapped under your legs to help support you, but his free hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back while he gasps for breath.

he's not sure what he'd expected when he'd warped his way to your apartment, but he wasn't expecting this.

your teary eyes flicker between his as you finally find your voice.

"oh my god, you're real," you say through heavy breaths, your shock still not having worn off. "you're here- you're alive"

satoru chuckles, nodding back at you, pressing his forehead into yours to better look into your eyes. he's not sure how much time had passed exactly, but he knows he missed your eyes more than anything else.

"i'm alive," he assures you, his lips whispering against your own, before he gives you a longer, deeper kiss. when he pulls away again, he presses his lips into your cheek, next. "i'm here, i'm home"

"i thought-" you choke on your burning throat. "i thought you were gone, i thought- i thought I'd never see you again," you're tearing up again, the weight of your emotions confusing you, but you still muter a smile as you look at him. "i thought i lost you" you whimper out.

"oh, baby," he sighs, setting you down on your feet so that he could wipe our tears away. "you didn't lose me, i'm right here," he assures you, and you nod, leaning into the warmth of his palm. "and i'm not going anywhere, never again, okay?"

you nod back at him, shutting your eyes as you relished in the comfort of his presence. his thumb strokes your cheek as he finally takes you in. there's bags under your eyes, and you look skinner, maybe even more frail. he frowns at the state you're in, but decides to ignore it for now. there would be time later to get you both back on a healthy track. right now all either of you wanted was to be wrapped up in the other.

keeping his infinity on like an umbrella, the two of you embrace tightly. hands clinging desperately to one another, just to make sure there was nothing that could take either one of you away.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru brainrot #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Who wants to read the first like 1.4k of the winter ghoap fic even though it has absolutely no ghoap in it?

Winter in the mountains can be cruel.

Although, there are some who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter. There are predators who thrive.

“I am.” She casts the one window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new baby this weekend.”

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with ski traffic and the tourists in their rental cars.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. Weekend traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained road, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It travels perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, slamming the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away as you’re jostled around, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and lights spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, black pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.

Sleep. You could just close your eyes. Close your eyes, and sleep.

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black pool, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.

Sleep.

#peaches writes

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anonymous-rendezvous · 6 months

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Redamancy

💛 Luca Kaneshiro x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod I ✨. Beta Read and Edited by Mod S 👿.

✧ — Contains: Established Relationship, fluff, spicy 🔞

✦ — Word count: 5.8k+ | Ao3

redamancy | pronunciation - ‘red-a-“man-sE(n.) the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full. — After a night out with friends, Luca can’t stop thinking about his relationship with you. You are his world and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. But he can’t help but wonder, would you want to take your relationship a step further?

First | | next >>

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Wait–wait,” Mysta’s eyes blink repeatedly, eyes hazy with alcohol. “Wait. You’re telling me the two of you have been together almost a year and haven’t had sex yet?” From across the table, the mafia boss's hands twitch, eyes locked anywhere but on his friends.

“Mysta.” Ike immediately chastises the detective, shooting him a disapproving look.

Said brunette nearly yells back, “What!? I’m just surprised! Yeah, they’ve been in a relationship for a year, but he’s had feelings for them long before that. Hell, he’s known them longer than most of us have!” Blue eyes lock back onto the large blonde. “To be clear, I’m not like judging or anything. Just curious. Have you ever asked or talked about it?”

The novelist shakes his head, sighing at the direction this conversation has taken. “There’s always the chance they’re on the ace spectrum, Mysta. You can’t just assume these things.” He raises his drink to his lips. “Or it could just be something neither of them is interested in. Not everyone is interested in sex.”

When Luca finally raises his eyes from the table, ears all red, he finds Shu silently watching him. “We can change the subject if you don’t want to talk about it.” He sends the sorcerer an awkward smile, raising both hands as he starts to speak.

“No, no! It’s, uh it’s fine! We’ve just…” His eyes dart back down to the table again, his face no doubt red as his flush refuses to go away. “We’ve never really talked about it. And I didn’t–.....” Luca paused as he reflected on of his next words. “I didn’t want to seem disrespectful, ya’know? So I figured if they ever wanted to discuss it, we would.”

The Brit across the table scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh please, you’re incapable of being disrespectful Luca.” He raises a hand to point a gloved finger at the blonde, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Himbo.”

“What!... I’m not a himbo!” Luca immediately denies. “I’m mean and evil! A big scary mafia boss! I'm not a himbo...” He pouts, eyes looking off to the side as his last statement trails off.

“I mean… you do check off all the credentials though…” Shu smirked into his glass, trying his best not to choke on a laugh as the blonde’s head turned quickly in his direction, shooting him a betrayed look. “Just saying!” Ike shakes his head with a laugh. Taking pity on his friend, decides to move the topic to the new series he was reading, making the aforementioned mafia boss extremely grateful as the topic finally shifts away from his sex life. Or rather lack, therefore of. Relaxing back into the faux leather of the booth seat, he cradles his drink between his hands, crossing one leg over the other as his eyes trail around the bar.

They had rented the place out for the evening so that they could relax and share a few drinks without having to worry about being recognized. No matter how casually they dressed, it was hard to miss the mystical creatures that the majority of girls were; being so easily recognizable and all. Currently, those same girls were scattered in groups around the bar. Some were tucked away in booths, while the majority were enjoying themselves on the dance floor. Luca can’t help but giggle as he watches Uki quite literally drag Fulgur and Sonny to join the girls dancing; both looking extremely awkward as they’re pulled along. Lilac eyes continue their trek across the room before finally, they come to a stop on you.

He watched as you stood with Vox in front of the sound system, arguing over music choices. “No. Nonono, Vox, you don’t understand–”

“I don’t understand!? You can't simply play ‘Party Rock Anthem’ this late into the night! We either all have to be completely sober or shit-faced to enjoy that song in its entirety!” The voice demon argues.

“And yet you wanna play a song by ‘Queen’? The perfect karaoke band? How is that any different!?”

Before Vox could speak another word, Nina appeared beside the duo. “Alright babies, since I've already collected the next round by myself and you still haven’t decided on a song, it’s mommy’s choice.”

Luca can’t help but laugh as the two of you comedically groan in unison, “But Moooom!”

“Sorry honeys~”

The pair retrieve the trays from the ex-goddess before shuffling their way back to the tables. Once you set your tray down, your hand affectionately reaches up to squeeze your boyfriend's arm. "Doing okay, love?" You wondered aloud, thumb running soothing circles over the fabric of his dress shirt. It's such a simple action, yet every time you do it his heart still skips a beat. He reaches up, clasping his hand over yours before taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He gives a soft 'mh-hmm' drawing your hand closer before pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

His eyes flicker up to you, "How 'bout you? You okay? Hmm?" Your expression softens further, nodding your head with a smile. A disgruntled groan draws both of your attention back to the rest of the group.

"Wow, thanks for reminding the rest of us how painfully single we are." Mysta pouts as he slumps over the table, the only one that actually looks bothered by that fact. The sound of your laughter fills the air, causing an immediate grin to tug at the blonde's lips.

"Awww don't worry Mysta! You'll find the perfect person, eventually; you're an absolute catch after all, despite what you think." You finish with a wink in his direction, which causes the detective to jokingly sob before facing Luca.

"Dammit, man! Why’d you have to steal them away first? Unfair."

Luca can't help but smirk as he leans further back into the booth. "Of course, I had to steal them away. I'm the mean and evil Mafia boss, remember? But…" Lavender eyes trailed up to lock on yours, a flush creeping over his cheeks as he pulled your still-clasped hand back to his lips. “...they stole my heart first. So it's only fair that I pay them back by stealing theirs." Mysta groans again causing Shu and Ike to laugh, the sorcerer patting the detective's back while Nina and Vox coo at the two of you.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A couple of hours later, the pair of you stumble through the door of your shared home, hand distractedly waving the Lucub that was your Uber, goodbye. Your hand skims the wall in search of the switch as you try to catch your breath, laughter continuing to shake through you; struggling but being able to close the door with your other hand. Your boyfriend was in no better state.

"Can–can you believe it? I didn't think he would actually climb up and dance on the table!" Luca laughed, clutching at his sides.

"You literally told him he didn't have the balls to do it! You have got to stop being such an enabler!" Wheezing, you place a hand on your chest and try to slow your breathing. The blonde only laughed harder. "We're so lucky we'd rented the place out, we absolutely would have gotten kicked out!" After briefly catching your breath, you use your feet to fumble with your shoes but let out a startled sound when you're suddenly swept up in muscular arms. "Ah–Luca!"

Said man continued to laugh as he pulled you into the living room and out of the entryway, beginning to dance you around the furniture; humming a tune of his own. You struggled to keep up with his sudden movements, but not once did you attempt to stop the impromptu dance. His exaggerated movements eventually slowed before he pulls you closer to him, watching as the smile never left your face. He wraps an arm around your waist to draw you flush to his chest, the other clasping one of your hands in his. Your free hand slides up along his shoulder before resting at the nape of his neck. His face and ears are warm as he feels your fingers play with his hair softly.

Luca continues to dance you around the room slowly before lowering you in a dip. The way you ease your body into it, trusting him fully not to drop you, sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach. For a moment he feels like he’s in a dream – the way moonlight peaks through the window, bathing your skin in a soft glow. Or maybe, he half thinks, it’s just the residuals of all the drinks he’s had. Yet he just can’t help the way he stares down at you, holding you suspended in that pose; this kind of feeling can’t only be explained away with alcohol. Only he gets to see you like this – completely comfortable in his arms. You are his, and his alone, and he couldn’t be happier with that thought.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his awed gaze. The enormous smile that’s been on you since he began this impromptu waltz grows gentle as you take in his expression hovering over you. That fluttering feeling intensifies as he watches the sheer open affection dance in your eyes, and he’s speaking before his brain can even properly process – his tone full of nothing but admiration, “You look amazing.”

Laughing with a hint of shyness, you parrot back at him, “You look amazing.” Your expression grows cheeky as you grip him tighter.

He lets out a little flustered laugh as he shakes his head. “No, really. You look amazing.”

His tone is so serious it catches you off guard, eyes widening for a split second before you pat his chest, letting out a small chuckle. “Okay, we’re both still tipsy.” You pull yourself up while gripping his shoulder; trying to stand up as you regain your footing. Luca quickly realizes and helps with a supporting hand on your back. Though once you’re standing properly, he gets a better look at your face – a chance to see how flustered you are by his words before you duck away, head downcast to hide your sudden rush of shyness.

“Maybe, but–” he slides his hand down your back, pulling you closer by your waist to be against him– “you really are so pretty.” His free hand reaches up to grasp your chin, leaving you no choice but to meet his eyes. There’s definitely alcohol still coursing through his system. He was rarely this bold without some of it in him. As his thumb brushes against your lower lip, his voice gets softer and deeper the longer he continues to speak. “So damn gorgeous...” He leans into you, your noses brushing as his lips ghost over yours; eyes remaining locked. “And you're mine.” His words have weight to them, and it doesn't take long for him to depict it, lips feverishly pressing against yours.

You’re barely able to let out even a sound as his lips mold to yours. Every time your lips part to catch your breath, the more his lips seem to seek yours out. Luca’s chasing yours with something toeing the line of desperation and need. Strong hands clutching at you in such a way that you knew could leave bruises if he so wished, yet his strength was something he was acutely aware of – even with his alcohol-addled mind.

His tongue brushes against your lips and there's not a second wasted before you open your mouth to him, allowing your tongues to brush against each other. You can still taste the drinks on his breath as your hands trail to tangle themselves in golden strands. Pulling out the golden clip, you can't help the content sigh, leaving you at the feeling of his soft hair falling against your fingers. Luca’s own hands began shifting, his hands sliding over your form; slipping their way under your shirt to grasp at your bare skin. The cold leather of his gloves causing you to shiver, his hold on you growing tighter. Yet you suddenly realize where the two of you have been heading, when the hand you have in his hair tugs, and a moan slips from his lips.

You attempt to pull away. However, Luca chases after your lips. “Wai–” You can’t help the noise that leaves you as Luca’s hands grope at your hips, attempting to pull you further against him. Your hands fall from his hair down to his shoulders and attempt to nudge him back. And although he makes another attempt to recapture your lips, he allows you the distance. Breathless from his kisses, you finally say, “Luca wait…” You have a feeling he’s not even aware of the whine he lets out as he finally allows you to take a full step back, his grip loosening but never fully retracting from you. “We’re still tipsy we shouldn’t–I don’t want–” You let out a frustrated breath, head foggy from both the alcohol still in your system and the intense make out you just had. “I don’t want to be tipsy the first time we’re together like that.”

Lavender eyes go from half-lidded to wide-eyed, blinking owlishly at you as the words sink in. You watch as his face shifts from surprise to an emotion you can’t quite depict, before finally settling on serious. With the firm nod he gives, you’d almost believe he was sober if you hadn't seen him down a few glasses at the bar with your own eyes; not including what you could taste on his lips. He tugs at the hem of your shirt lightly, silently asking if you’d move closer. Taking a step forward into his space, he leans in to press another kiss to your lips – much softer than the ones you shared seconds prior. This time, he doesn’t chase after you when you pull away, his eyes looking at you apologetically.

His flush deepens as you chuckle, lips brushing against his cheek before stepping back once more, lightly patting his chest. “Okay, we should drink some water, maybe get some food in us too.” One of your hands raises to tug the collar of your shirt away from your body; almost having to peel it off your skin with how warm your body has gotten. “Definitely take a shower. I’m so sweaty after all the dancing tonight.” You say with a light laugh.

Luca smiles lazily as he watches you make your way to the kitchen. His head still feels like it’s buzzing; mind racing as he thinks about how your body felt in his hands. As he idles there, still in the middle of the room, his thoughts drift back to his earlier conversation with the boys. He can’t help the way he shifts in place, feeling a mixture of nervous excitement. The conversation wouldn’t be as hard or awkward to broach as he initially thought it could be; the previous minutes playing through his head. Luca’s eyes follow you as you amble back into the room and pass him a water bottle. A quick ‘Thank you.’ escapes his lips before he uncaps it, downing about half of it immediately. There are simultaneous ‘Ah's’ as you both finish drinking, causing the two of you to laugh.

Meeting his eyes, you tilt your head toward the staircase, eyes going between it and him. “Do you want to use the shower first? As sweaty as I feel, I don’t mind waiting.”

The mafia boss tipped his head in contemplation. His eyes mimicked yours by looking back towards the stairs before meeting yours again, mouth opening before closing in hesitation. He takes another gulp of his water before nervously stuttering out, “We–we could both take one, ya’know. Together. Bathe together, I mean.” You're not even given a second to respond before he seems to start backpedaling, shaking his head aggressively. “We don’t have to! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable! You can just take one fir–” His jaw shuts with an almost audible click as your hand rests lightly on his forearm.

“I wouldn’t mind, Luca.” You soothe, looking at him with adoring fondness. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that? I know we typically change in the same room together but…” Your sentence trails off, but he understands what you mean, anyway. He shifts his arm, positioning it so he can clasp your hand.

“I am,” He says with a firm nod, “I want to. I–you know–” He swallows as his voice starts to shake from embarrassment, pausing to collect his words. “I like taking care of you; want to care for you in that way, too.”

Now you can feel yourself growing flustered as well. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head. “Okay.” The smile you receive could rival the sun’s warmth. He pulls your hand that’s still clasped in his up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before the pair of you part ways. Luca heads up to prepare the bath, while you grab extra water bottles, making the mental note to grab clean clothes to sleep in.

You can hear the water running as you walk up to your shared bedroom, the door to your bathroom wide open. Setting the bottles on the dresser, you start digging out some comfortable night clothes for the pair of you before joining him in the adjoined bathroom. Luca already has towels set aside for both of you, along with lighting one of your essential oil candles, filling the room with the smell of eucalyptus and tea. He was currently kneeling beside the large tub, one glove removed, as his bare hand dipped into the water to test its warmth. You’ve noticed he tied his hair back, likely not wanting to get it wet before bed; remembering he took a shower before you left to meet with your friends. Setting the clothes on the counter as the blonde finally turns the faucet off and stands. Though he must have not heard you enter the room, as he nearly jumps when he turns to find you behind him. A tell of how lost in thought he is considering how acutely aware of his surroundings he normal is.

“Oh, hi–umm…” You can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of Luca. His hands fidget with the glove he’s still wearing before taking it off. His nervous eyes can only look at you for a few seconds before letting them settle back on the tub. He's out of his element here – unintentionally causing a standstill between the two of you. The awkward seconds you both are just standing there become increasingly long in his head as he tries to think of a way to break it. Should he just start undressing? Should he help you undress? He doesn’t get very far into the thought process before you approach him, hands gripping lightly on his blazer, deciding for him.

“Need some help there, big guy?” He can practically feel his mind stop working, letting out a flustered noise.

“I–” He pauses, letting his brain process before continuing. “Yes? But shouldn’t I–”

Your hands help ease the white blazer off of his shoulders, letting it slip down his arms before turning and laying it nicely over the counter. When you turn to face him again, his lips are parted in surprise, brain trying to catch up with your actions. “Luca, you already do so much for me. Let me do this for you. Okay, hun?” He’s clearly still flustered, but nods his head in agreement, letting out a shaky breath as your fingers find the top button of his dress shirt. You refrain from making any comment, not wanting to cause your boyfriend to go on a tangent, but you can’t help but admire his pecs as they’re slowly exposed to you. Eyes tracing the lines of the tattoo you’ve seen a hundred times. Once it’s fully unbuttoned, Luca gives a small roll of his shoulders, helping the silky fabric slip down his arms. Before you can catch it, as it slips down to the floor, the blonde's hands move forward, lightly tugging at the bottom of your shirt. Without any preamble, you raise your arms to allow him to pull the fabric off of you.

The Mafia boss can’t help the way his eyes immediately trail down to your chest before coming to a stop at your hips. His hands subconsciously reach out and brush the tips of his fingers along them and he can feel the way your body shivers at the almost ticklish sensation before pulling his hands back as he realizes what he was doing. He’s so unsure of how to proceed, not used to being this intimate with someone. Yes, this is far from the first time he’s seen you in some state of undress. Except this was the first time he’s ever helped undress you. This is one of the very few situations where you are more experienced, Luca never having gotten this far in a relationship before. Hell, this is his first proper relationship. Though he didn't have the time to casually look for lovers when it came to his line of work. He's thankful because you even accept him for who he is, and what he does.

He’s jolted back to the present once more when he feels your fingers tug at the belt on his pants. “Can I take these off too, darling?” Luca lets out a heavy breath, not realizing he had been holding it.

“Yeah. Can I also–” He brings his hands up to thumb at the button of your pants. Giving your consent, you both undo the other pants. Once they were as far as you each could take them, you both stepped back to finish removing them until the two of you were left standing in your underwear. To speed this part up, you both removed them yourselves; placing them in the clothes hamper to clean later.

Once those were set aside, Luca offered his hand to help you inside the tub. Smiling, you thank him as you step in. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you sink into the warm water. Making yourself comfortable against the back of the tub, you reach your arms out – gesturing for Luca to join you in the tub. You can practically see the gears start turning inside his head, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he connects the dots. There’s a stutter to his movements. However, you can tell it’s from embarrassment rather than hesitation. He joins you in the bath, eyes so focused on the water it almost makes you laugh. Luca sinks into the water and makes himself comfortable between your bent knees; facing you.

One of your hands rests on his upper arm as you ask, “Is it okay for me to wash you?” The tips of his ears are still a bright red as he gives a quick nod of approval. Picking up the small cup you keep here for baths, you fill it before pouring the cup over his shoulders. You can’t help but watch the way the water rolls over his skin, eyes tracing over his chest and tattoos. Once his skin is damp enough, you reach over to grab his body wash before pausing as an idea strikes you. “Luca, could you turn around for me? I think it’d be easier to start with your back.”

“Oh, uh, okay like–” He does his best to turn around without sloshing the water too much, making sure as well to not bump into you. Once his back is to you, he looks over his shoulder at you and asks, “Like this?”

“Mhm, perfect thank you.” Finally picking up the body wash, you pour a bit of it onto your hand. After you place the bottle aside, you lather the soap between your hands before reaching up to massage it into his shoulders. He grows a bit tense instinctively before relaxing into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. Working the soap into his skin, you ease the knots out of his shoulders. By the time you reach his lower back just above the water, he's completely relaxed under your touch. You rinse him off before placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, leaning your head forward to speak. “Lean against me, please?”

He looks at you again, a small crease between his brows. “Like against you?” When you nod, he continues. “But won’t I be too heavy?”

“No, it’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I like it when you're against me.” Your hands gently urge him to lean back against you, rubbing small circles into his shoulders. It takes a moment before his toned back is resting flush against your chest. The warmth of his skin causing you to smile. Luca swallows, still red in the face, and if anything it grows darker. He can feel the way your heart beats against his back and it makes his own feel like it skips a beat. Not to mention the feel of your bare chest against him makes him glad that you couldn’t see his face, knowing there's no way you wouldn’t tease him relentlessly for it.

You pick up the body wash again, soaping up your hands before slowly bringing them to hover over his stomach. His breath hitches even as you just barely brush him before they fully settle against his warm skin; spread fingers dangerously close to his pelvis. When he doesn’t pull away, you allow your hands to start rubbing the soap into his skin. Your fingers edge towards his elevated thighs, swiping lightly over the place where his hips meet said skin. The effect it has on the blonde is instantaneous; letting out a shuddered breath before dropping his head back on your shoulder. His breath fans against the side of your face in quick pants as your hands massage down his thighs, digging your fingers into any soft skin they can reach. Turning your head allows you to press soft kisses against the side of his face; watching him sink into your soft touch.

Luca felt like he was melting, eyes becoming half-lidded as he relished in your touch. Between the warmth of the water, your chest pressed against his back, your mouth– your hands– you. All of you. He couldn’t help but crave more. One of his hands grasps your wrist lightly, resting there as his other hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, turning his so he can meet your lips. Feeling your smile grow against his mouth makes him kiss you deeper, hand moving to the back of your head as he takes in your lips. Luca could kiss you for hours, the taste of your lips intoxicating to him. He wanted to be engulfed in the feeling completely, drinking in the entirety of you, and only you. Of course, he’d be too embarrassed to ever tell you this to your face.

The water shifts as he turns his body towards you, the blonde’s heavy breaths fanning against your lips every time you separate from each other's mouths. He fully sits up, causing you to tilt your head up as he towers over you, your back remaining relaxed against the tub. When his kisses start to grow feverish once more, you break away with a light laugh, pressing your free hand to his chest and pulling back enough to look him in the eyes; voice hushed as you speak.

“Luca, I haven’t even finished washing you yet. Come on big guy,” Your smile widens at the quiet whine he lets out, watching him pout.

“Can I help you?” When your head tilts in question, he clarifies, “Wash you? I want to wash you too.”

“Sure let me–” Your words are cut off as Luca’s large hands grab your waist, lifting you out of the water enough to switch places with you. He settles back against the tub before setting you in his lap, facing him. You shake your head with a fond laugh. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I know, sorry, but,” He blinks, pausing to think for a moment. “This way you can finish washing me while I wash you, yeah?” His hands shift from your waist to rest lightly on the top of your thighs. “What do you think? Hmm?”

Instead of responding, you pick up the cup once more; filling it before tipping it over his chest. He takes the cup from you once you're done with it and repeats the process with you. Pouring more soap into your hands, you pass him that bottle as well before finally bringing your hands to his pecs. Although he knew it was coming, a gasp still left his lips as your hands cupped his chest. Part of yourself is slightly jealous of how soft and large his chest is – though that thought is all but overwhelmed by the content feeling of knowing that this man was yours. Your fingers dig more into the muscle, practically groping him at this point, drawing out a huff mixed with both exasperation and shyness from the blonde that's your in the midst of feeling up. “They’re not that big,” He grumbles.

“They totally are.” You snicker. He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off by swooping in for another kiss. It’s nothing more than a peck, yet you begin trailing these light kisses from his lips to his cheek, his chin, down his throat, before finally coming to a stop over his fast-beating heart. “I’m not complaining, though. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How damn attractive you are, physically and otherwise?” He gasps as your kiss turns into a nip, leaving a pink mark over the place where his heart rests. “I’m so lucky to call you mine.”

He’s unsure how to respond to your words immediately, feeling overwhelmed by his emotions. Biting his lip, he tries his best to return to his initial task; pouring some of the body wash into his hand before setting it aside and bringing his hands to your waist. They hesitate there for a moment before he starts to massage the soap into your skin. He flinches slightly when you cup the side of his face with one of your hands, your thumb forcing his teeth to release his now-swollen lip. His hands tighten their hold on your waist and the resulting groan that falls from your lips stokes the heat twisting in his stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even think. Leaning into you, he buries his face in your neck, brushing his nose back and forth against your collarbone. “So damn gorgeous.” Leaving a trail of kisses, he makes his way to your shoulder. “So gorgeous.” He mutters again. His hands slip further down, gripping the plush of your thighs. Luca feels your hand trail to the back of his neck, playing with the few short strands that have slipped from his ponytail. “You're so sweet to me. Sometimes I really don’t know what’d I do if I didn’t have you. And even if I get embarrassed and don’t have the words to give back to you, you always know how to read me like a book…” He brushes his nose against your skin once more before pulling back to look into your eyes, his gaze glimmering with nothing but pure affection. “I love you…. so, so much.”

Leaning your forehead against his, you smile warmly, returning his gaze with just as much vigor. “I love you too.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The two of you stay in the bath until the water starts to turn cold, wanting to get properly cleaned but also not wanting this new experience to end. After giving yourselves a proper wash, you both drain the water, reluctantly get out and dry off. Pulling on your sleep clothes, the pair of you fall into bed together, getting comfy under your big blanket. Luca takes up his usual position; lying partially on his side with you tucked into his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist while he runs the fingertips of his other hand along your back. One of your arms is tucked under your head while your free hand plays with the now loose strands of his hair.

“Would you really want to?” He suddenly asks; voice lowered into a whisper, believing if he spoke any louder, you'd somehow be overheard. You hum in question, giving him the sign to continue, “Y’know, want to be–” he stops for a moment, before looking down at you. “Do you want to be intimate with me?”

You're silent for a moment, searching his eyes. He looks utterly serious about his question and, after a moment, as you throw his own words back at him, “Do you?”

“Y–yeah?” His immediate response is hesitant before responding again, firmer this time. “Yes.” He lets out a shuddering breath, focusing on the feel of his hand trailing over your back. “I’ve thought about it for a while, but I know I’m pretty inexperienced. I–” his eyes dart away from you as his expression grows hesitant. “I know it’s dumb since we’ve never really talked about it, but part of me was worried that it would…” His voice trails off, leaving his sentence unfinished. You, however, could pick up what he couldn’t say.

A frown tugs at your lips, wanting nothing more than to shoo those thoughts away. “Luca, please look at me.” His lips purse for a second before he meets your gaze. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss against his lips. He returns it, sighing contentedly as the tension melts from him. He’s much calmer when you pull back. “I don't need sex to have or want to be with you, hun.” You press another kiss to his lips. “I didn’t fall in love with you with the thought that I’d eventually get sex out of you. That would have just been a bonus. If you had even wanted that, of course.” You say with an easy shrug.

He swallows, before nodding, a small smile finally returning to his face. There’s a quiet moment before he whispers once more, “I’ve never done it before.”

“And that’s alright.” You acknowledge as your hand brushes his bangs back. “That’s why I don’t want to rush into any of this. Or be potentially inebriated.” Snuggling deeper into his chest, you rest your ear against his heart. The consistent thump of his heartbeat is the perfect song to lure you into sleep. “We can talk more about it tomorrow, okay? I’ll answer questions you have.” He agrees with a short hum, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you, Luca.”

“I love you too.” He buries his face deeper into your hair. “More than anything.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

It might take a while, but there will eventually be a part 2. I'm just a very slow writer lol.

Likes are nice and we do appreciate them. However, comments/feedback is what really motivates us to continue writing. Even just a keyboard smash or emojis are a joy to see!

#luca kaneshiro x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #luca kaneshiro #luxiem #nijisanji luxiem #nijisanji luca #nijisanji en #nijisanji #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #Written by Mod I ✨

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