#and lemme tell you that is torturous enough!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sp0o0kylights · 9 months

Text

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities.

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking.

Right.

Pain management.

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot.

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice.

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit.

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer.

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open.

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it.

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed.

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up.

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick."

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed."

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit.

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it.

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store.

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted.

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand.

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed.

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed.

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture.

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.'

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday.

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire.

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it.

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights.

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two.

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this.

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight.

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches.

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over.

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home.

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it.

Not in general, and definitely not for this.

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill.

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go.

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good."

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes.

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced.

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo.

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago.

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly.

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything.

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons.

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them.

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental.

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth.

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face.

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve?

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch."

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least.

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off.

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side.

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife.

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know."

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face.

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door.

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?"

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed.

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react.

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne.

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?”

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.”

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train.

All gas, no breaks.

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant.

‘Dammit.’ Wayne thought with a sigh.

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats.

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid.

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve.

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit.

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face.

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?”

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.”

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time.

God save him from idiot teenagers.

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking.

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills.

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit.

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind.

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?”

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb.

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,”

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious.

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases.

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position.

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent.

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.”

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed.

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation.

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home.

“Good.” Wayne said.

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room.

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer.

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways.

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag.

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both.

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked.

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep.

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with.

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him.

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute.

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure.

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on.

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet.

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on.

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain.

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out.

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid.

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse.

He just had to find the right words.

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up!#little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

shy reader x eddie smut, maybe not their first time? like eddie telling reader "you're always so shy, baby, lemme see you", or maybe eddie convincing reader to be a little more talkative in bed + inadvertently making eddie realise he has a praise kink hehe

tysm for ur request CW WEED MENT + SMUT 18+ ONLY ♡ shy!fem!reader | 0.6k

Even home alone you whisper in bed like everything is a secret. Eddie's lucky if your voice passes a meagre thirty decibels, and lucky is the right word. You make this little gasping sound and it's enough to have him squirming, but when you moan?

Fuck, Eddie's a total goner.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he murmurs pleadingly.

And it's brilliant – you're in his lap, his lap, and your hands are trembling but deliberate as you run them over his chest. You stop with your fingers poised at his waist.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi," he says back, grinning.

He rolls his hips and your panties brush over his naked dick, the dampened silk a sick sweet torture. "Where'd you go just now?"

"Nowhere. Nowhere," you repeat, leaning in.

He hits under your chin with his knuckle to lift your head high. There's a glassy quality to your eyes. Your mascara is smudged.

"You're always so shy, baby. Lemme see you."

You keep your head high but close your eyes, overwhelmed by his soft chiding. Eddie takes in your every feature, every fine hair and tiny pore, every little wrinkle.

"You look… so fucking pretty."

"Stop," you murmur, smiling.

Eddie runs his hands up to your chest and under your t-shirt, catching your nipple between his index and middle finger as he squeezes your breast. Your breath catches and your hips stutter and he thinks, Fuck, if I could play that back.

He brings both of his hands to the small of your back and feels the naked flesh there greedily. Your hands search for something to grab in turn, your arms crushing his dark curls against his neck as you move in and hug him.

Friction everywhere. He looks up at you with his chin digging into your chest, eyes wide and waiting for you to look down.

"You know we're alone, don't you?"

Your poorly constrained bliss turns to confusion. "Yeah, Eds."

"Nobody here. Just me and you. Make some sounds for me, yeah?" He grinds up into you and you sigh happily. "Just like that. Just like that." His voice goes weak.

You duck your face into the side of his, your cheek to his cheek, your breathing amplified so close to his ear. Every intake of breath, every quiver sets his nerves on fire.

"You're fucking perfect. Need you to make some pretty sounds just like that, okay?" he asks, hand moving down to where your cunt warms his cock.

"Yeah, okay," you pant.

He pulls your panties to the side and takes his aching cock into his hand, smearing precum over the soft bead of your clit. You smother a moan and he raises his eyebrows.

"Please?" he asks.

You nod very slowly. When he rubs up against your clit again, you moan.

"Fuck." He drags out the word. His heart is racing in his chest and his cock is practically sobbing precum. He can't help but tug at the shaft erratically. A rivulet of sweat drips down the back of his neck.

"Sweetheart, you're gonna have me fucking creaming in my hand."

You giggle and spread your thighs wide over his. He takes it for what it is and grabs your hip cruelly. "Ready?" he asks.

You nibble your lip and nod shyly.

Eddie gives it one last stab, massaging your flesh where it burns under his hands.

"You know, you have such a nice voice. When you're sitting in the passenger seat all toked up and pretty, and you sing along, shy and sweet…" He brings a hand to your cheek and squeezes, your eyes creased with insecurity slowly waning. "You think you can do that for me now? Sing me something pretty?"

You inhale hard, your chest moving erotically. "Yeah."

"Good girl."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble

8K notes · View notes

celtic-crossbow · 9 months

Text

Uh-Oh, There Was a Monster in My Bed

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Anytime, really

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, hand job, edging, blindfold, choking

Summary: Sometimes, he was your good boy.

A/N: Help! I’ve fallen for subby Daryl and I can’t get up. I’ll check this for errors later. Also, I think I finally managed a drabble!!

“It’s okay, you can handle a little more, can’t you?” Your praise was met with a guttural moan, the muscles under your fingertips spasming before you lifted your hand from his thigh. Your palm traveled up the planes of his stomach and chest before slender fingers squeezed his throat. His hips bucked, cock twitching in your grasp. “You’re such a good boy for me.” Each stroke was torturously slow, leaving him almost whimpering and ready to beg for more friction.

You released his neck and let your fingers crawl up to the blindfold, caressing the part of the cloth that lay over his temple. The idea had initially made him anxious, but Daryl trusted you. You established a safe word, but to his credit, he had not used it. And you had been torturing him for over an hour.

Your index finger was in his mouth now, pressing on his tongue while you delighted in the sounds he offered at each stroke of your hand. Rising from your knees, you released his tongue and perched your naked cunt on his thigh, grinding against his jeans to seek some relief for yourself. You had only removed his shirt and opened his pants, a decision you were now regretting. Not much you could do with him tied to the chair, though.

“Y/N.” He groaned, his head falling back, each breath a sharp pant. You answered with a hum, closing your lips around his nipple. “I—I need—”

“Not yet.”

He bucked again with a whine. Dragging your thumb over his tip to collect the liquid there, you licked your lips when your next strokes sounded wet and sinful. You yourself had nearly had enough and released him, lifting off his thigh. His head dropped forward and angled to the side, listening to your movements.

You threw a leg over him, sinking onto his length without warning, your velvet heat causing him to twitch. “Don’t you dare.” You warned, giving him no time before both hands roughly grabbed his hair and wrenched back his head. He somehow managed to refrain, breathing harshly through his nose. The pace you set was brutal, bouncing up and down with abandon to chase your own high.

“Y/N—Y/N, please—” He begged through clenched teeth. He was barely hanging on.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Your fingers twisted in his mane, earning a high-pitched keening noise.

“I need—lemme cum.”

You offered another hum, swallowing his moan with a rough kiss. “My good boy needs to cum?” One hand fell to his shoulder to help you balance, your thighs beginning to burn.

“Fuck. Yes, please.”

“I love it when you beg.” Your words whispered against the skin just below his ear, your teeth finding his pulse to nibble on the flesh there. You felt the fire building in the pit of your own stomach, your walls fluttering around him as the familiar tingle began to race out through your veins. “Alright, Daryl. You can cum.” You almost didn’t make it to the last word, your orgrasm crashing over you. Your pace slowed but didn’t cease, coaxing him to the precipice so you could force your eyes open to watch him fall apart. He writhed in the chair, mouth hanging open while his muscles twitched and flexed. Warmth flooded within you, the contractions of your cunt milking the most delicious sounds from him while his seed filled you.

“That’s my good boy.” You rocked atop him gently, drawing out both of your highs until you were oversensitive. Once you had stilled, you smiled and kissed him delicately, pulling the blindfold away. “Such a good boy.”

Outside, he was a badass archer, afraid of nothing.

Inside the walls of your home, he would always be your good boy.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #mdni #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon is a good boy #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon drabbles #Spotify

467 notes · View notes

timidpumpkin · 11 months

Text

Little Light (Stucky x reader)

Part 4: Retribution

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: While you're left feeling hopelessly confused, it's clear to Steve and Bucky that you have a lot to learn about being their good little girl.

Warnings for this part: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Forced age regression, DDLG themes, Female reader, Manipulation, Violence against reader, Being tied up, Hints to sexual themes, This one's dark folks, Mean Steve and Bucky, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

As always, lemme know if I missed any!!

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has supported me since I posted Part 1 many many months ago. I love you all and appreciate your support and kind words more than I can express. I'm super nervous to post this one so i'm really hoping everyone likes it. ^.^

Tagging: @ppatricia34me @canyonmooncreations @haleyhunwritess

(lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

P.S. Please feel free to comment/ask questions as they are a million times appreciated as I ALWAYS love to read you guy's thoughts!

(pictures are not my own)

Warm.

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose.

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you.

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed.

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap.

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion.

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore.

Not right now.

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion.

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down.

But you did.

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this.

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state?

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb.

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in.

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen.

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory.

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in.

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room.

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?”

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that?

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you.

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think.

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm.

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer.

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him.

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after.

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin.

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part.

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?”

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that.

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to.

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter.

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you.

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines.

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile.

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise.

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you.

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms.

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told.

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him.

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky.

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off.

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand.

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books.

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial.

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them.

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle.

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands.

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head.

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it.

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines.

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency.

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him.

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other.

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots.

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of.

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job.

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry.

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook.

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was.

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan.

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it.

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests.

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative.

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him.

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps.

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line.

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard.

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer.

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars.

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago.

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him.

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you.

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come.

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this.

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet.

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you.

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up.

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you,

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib,

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you,

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force.

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself.

The only sound that accompanies you now is your own cries, echoing back pitifully to you from the horizontal bars above…

542 notes · View notes

aquagirl1978 · 29 days

Note

Hellooooo! Can I request HCs for Chevalier, Yves and Licht with a really ticklish MC please? 😊

Hello there! Thank you for this request, anon - this idea was too cute, I had to write this and I think it pulled me from my writer's block.

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - SUITORS REACTIONS TO A TICKLISH MC (Chevalier, Yves, Licht)

It could barely be considered morning when you were still cuddling with Chevalier under a cocoon of blankets.

Your back was pressed against his chest, his heavy arm draped around your torso. His breathing rhythmic and soft in your ear.

His hand drifted along your ribcage. Until he found it. Your ticklish spot.

You knew your lover well -- he was a bully who took pleasure in tormenting you.

You had done well hiding this secret; while he had touched you in this spot before in past, it had been while you were in the throes of passion and well, your body and mind were elsewhere.

If Chevalier were to discover you had a ticklish spot, you'd be a goner. He'd torture you. Forever.

Covering your mouth, you feigned a yawn. It was still early enough, he could still be sleepy enough that he couldn't discern the soft giggle hidden in your yawn.

When he made no sound, you let out a sigh of relief and considered yourself safe.

Until he touched you again. This time, his thumb stroked your skin roughly, much like how he so often tickled your tongue.

Squirming in his arms, you clamped your mouth shut. Praying.

The bed sheets ruffled, and before you knew it, you found yourself lying on your back, a pair of ice blue eyes piercing yours.

With his eyes locked on yours, he tickled you again, his smile smug as he watched your expression.

"You're enjoying this too much," you huffed in between peals of laughter. Writhing under his ministrations, your eyes never left his, watching his expression with as much interest as he was yours.

"Indeed. And so are you." He gave you a knowing smile as he lightened his touch, giving you a much needed reprieve. "Lucky for you," he added, his grin turning wicked, "I have no where to be today."

Yves' head was resting on your chest, your heart still racing, your bodies still coming down from their highs.

He was idly tracing circles on your skin with his fingertip, the sensation soothing, helping slow your breaths.

His pinky finger grazed your arm. It was an unintentional touch, gentle on your skin. But it was enough to get a reaction.

Instinctively, you pulled your arm away.

Yves lifted his eyes to meet yours, pulling his hand away. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you whispered back, "it's just, ah....I'm a bit ticklish there."

Yves gazed at you curiously, and returned his hand to where it was. He rubbed your arm, testing to see your reaction.

"Don't move," he said as he continued to tease you. Waiting...

"There..." he whispered, pleased when you began to laugh. It was light and free, much like a child's.

When you caught him smiling at you, you turned your face, your cheeks feeling flush.

Removing his hand from your arm, he tilted your chin with his thumb, wanting to see your face.

"Don't look away. I love your laughter and your smile."

"You have a petal in your hair. Lemme get it..."

Licht lifted his hand towards your ear to brush away the stray pink petal, his thumb inadvertadly grazing your neck.

"Are you...?"

"Ticklish?" You finished his sentence in between a bubbly burst of giggles. "Yes. Ever since I was a little girl, I've been ticklish there."

"Interesting," Licht commented in his soft voice, his crimson eyes fixed upon the column of your neck.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, fully exposing your neck to him. He pressed his thumb along your sensitive skin, searching for that special spot. Waiting for your laughter to tell him when he's found it.

"There..." He continued to stroke your skin lightly, the touch just enough to get you laughing.

Your sweet laugh was infectious, enough to make Licht laugh with you.

After he removed his hand from your neck, you missed it immediately. It was an odd spot to be ticklish, one that wasn't often tickled, but you liked it when he did it.

Most likely because it was Licht who was doing the tickling.

Once you both stopped giggling, you took his hands in yours.

"Are you ticklish, Licht?"

He thought for a moment. " I dunno." He gazed into your eyes, a soft smile spread on his lips. He lifted your joined hands and placed your palms on his chest. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #yves kloss #ikepri yves #licht klein #ikepri licht #ikepri headcanons #ikepri fanfic #ikemen headcanons #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

98 notes · View notes

morverenmaybewrites · 26 days

Note

Hiya! First of all your blog’s interface is so cute i’m rolling on the floorrrrrrr

Second of all your writing is absolutely amazing, i’ve just finished reading “the pizza delivery girl’s survival guide to gotham city” and lemme tell u i can’t wait for the next chapter cause absolute gold-

I wanted to ask what your thoughts are on Jason and day-to-day life outside of costume. Like, dude HAS to go outside as himself at least every once in a while, out of pure necessity. How do you think he goes on about it?

Aw, thank you, I'm glad you like my blog interface and my fic. I think it depends on how much he's progressed in processing his trauma, to be honest!

I imagine when he first moved back in Gotham, he avoided going out as much as possible, for a multitude of reasons. First, because he was still reeling emotionally from Bruce enacting project Knightfall (aka faking his own death), he was recovering from the injuries he sustained during the events of Arkham Knight (and of course, the injuries he got from the Joker). Most importantly, he is adjusting to living in a city he once hated enough to want to destroy.

I feel like those first few weeks were painful for him. Every place is filled memories, and while not all of them are bad memories, they often feel too painful to revisit. He likely spent most of his time cooped up in a safehouse (which was established as something he makes no effort to make comfortable), only going out when he absolutely had to. Interacting with the city and its people as little as possible. While I don't think the Joker ever meant him to survive his torture, the amount of scars and physical injuries he bears means that a lot of his interactions bring a lot of (misplaced) guilt and shame. Did that shopkeep spend too long looking at his face, his scar? Maybe he'll pass by some hole-in-the-wall shop and remember that he and Dick and Barbara would cool down there after patrols. The ramen, he'll think, is surprisingly good. The owner is a smiling, heavyset man who insists that they never pay for their meals. Maybe he'll even take a single step toward the shop, only to remember that the scars on his hands make it so it's hard to hold cutlery without shaking. That there are days when it's physically painful to eat. And he'll shake his head and walk away.

But I think the more he interacts with PG in the story and the more he fixes his relationship with his family, the more he'll be able to interact with Gotham City. Maybe going to the grocery won't be treated like a military supply run. Maybe he'll look up from his carefully-curated list and realize a type of candy Barbara used to be obsessed with is back in stock now. Maybe he'll put it in his cart, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't have to think about what he did to her as the Arkham Knight. One day, he'll wake up before his alarm and remember that you used to talk about watching the sun rise over Gotham Bay. He'll take a long walk along the shoreline and watch the way the sky turns into soft shades of pink and orange, and he'll be surprised at the realization that there are still beautiful things in Gotham. Maybe your face will flash in his mind, and he'll think that perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised, after all. Maybe one day, after a long night of patrol, he'll pass by the ramen shop again and this time, he decides to stay. The only thing that has changed is the owner, who's gained weight and a few gray hairs, but his smile is still the same. He'll bring Jason's order without asking, and he'll insist that he doesn't have to pay for it. Eating doesn't hurt as much as he feared. In fact, some days, he can move his hands without feeling pain. This is one of the good days. Maybe on that good day, he'll be surprised to find that the ramen is still good. That he can think of the days he used to stay here with his family after patrols, exchanging combat tips and juicy bits of gossip. And this time, he's able to smile.

#ask #anon #jason todd #jason todd x reader #it is actually SO important to me that PG loves gotham city while for the early chapters jason mostly sees it as a duty to be borne #jason learning to fall in love with gotham city all over again #jason finding beauty in the mundane #i just woke up after a 24 hr shift the other day so here have some word vomit

78 notes · View notes

elizakai · 2 months

Note

UH OKAY DUST X REAPER AND/OR SWAPFELL X NIGHTMARE? AHEUUEHA

omfg i love you i’m jumping at the chance to look at dust x reaper i better see some art somewhere in this fandom OUGH ok

well, dust’s died like how many times now, lets just assume they’ve ENCOUNTERED one another yeah?

⬇️⬇️⬇️

reaper feels bad for him. he isn’t even allowed to actually die, just experience death over and over, only to be thrust back into this torturous cycle.

imagine dust dying in the hall, he’s stumbling away and he just. sees the grim reaper. and he’s like oh shit. well then. *gets thrown back whenever they decide to reset*

reaper visiting a lot because, well, he’s dying a lot, he’s probably gotta. imagine a scenario where they actually get to talk. but its so so brief, dust is never dead very long, and reaper probably shouldn’t interfere otherwise…

(he’d also, be witnessing the deaths of the aus other residence, which. interesting. wonder what they have to say about things. and what reapers response may be.)

(of course this is assuming they interact after death, which i think makes sense with common depictions of the reaper at least)

dust probably chalks him up to a vision he’s having, or hallucination, when he dies, but maybe when he’s given more time, they can have broken up conversations.

like hey, mid sentence he gets thrown back into the land of the living, but HEY! next time he dies, just pick up the convo like nothing happened. “Anyways as i was sayin-“

Another thing to think about is just how SIMILAR dust is to geno. and most of us are afterdeath junkies i think💀

like, dust and geno have VERY similar motivations and go to similar lengths (think of error even)

i think of reaper could come to respect genos desires and motives, he’d feel the same towards dust. reaper always strikes me as a really lonely person, and dust is too for obvious reasons.

i’m imagining a scenario where reaper is just. real bored of just watching. so he starts like following dust around so he can see him. and dusts like ah. cool. fucking phantom ass to add to the list. i’m imagining reaper telling him like no, i’m very real dude, and dust is like haha ok, lemme touch you then

…for obvious reasons he can’t let him touch him💀💥 but that would probably make dust assume he is in fact a hallucination. but that’s ok. he’s an ODDLY nice hallucination.

maybe he even reminds him of the river person🤷🏽‍♀️

anyways, reaper just having convo, dust finding he likes it, it’s pleasant chatter to listen to, and then he’s like damn i really am sick, why am i so attached to this weird ass hallucination

(i’m just idea dumping so hard i apologize.)

reaper would find his conviction kinda cute, if not slightly frustrating. like bro, out here denying my existence, wtf💔

i wonder, if reaper can touch him when”” when he’s in the space of death, temporarily.

that would be cool :,))

if reaper doesn’t show up for a while and comes back dust just, getting happier, he’s got someone to talk to again that isn’t a dead friend or relative he’s killed multiple times.

i imagine dust has seen “death” enough times that, in life, he can “see death” (reaper)

they gain this weird little affection for eachother ok💔 a selfish part of reaper hopes dust will always get reset…so he can come talk to him

but part of him is also disgusted by the hope that he’s able to just. be laid to rest. what can be done yk?

YOU COULD MAKE THIS SO ANGSTY WHERE LIKE the anomaly suddenly

stops!

and dust is actually on his way to wherever you’d go when you die

imagine, reaper just. guiding him away to whatever afterlife or lack thereof, carrying his soul away and having to let him go. no more coming back.

cries

or yk, we can imagine a scenario where dust gets out of the loop, and they continue to see eachother and have their weird little friendship (?)

dust is like “i’ve seen death, he’s over my shoulder as i walk, whispers in my ear as i lie awake at night. death awaits my presence, and i deaths. i’ve felt the touch of death, and it was unbearably sweet , a feeling i will forever long for”

*horror from whoever he’s speaking to*

meanwhile reaper is just like, telling stupid jokes in his ear and giggling over someone’s stupid outfit, gossiping about the other gods and making dust look crazy laughing at stupid shit

i wonder if reaper could potentially see dusts phantoms, it’s a fun idea. they aren’t REALLY there, but dusts magic is kind of projecting them i imagine, and reaper has seen them when they die. i just imagine him shooing them away for dust, and he’s like naw man pay attention to me instead *slutty little strut*

you could interpret the way death even works a million different ways and have a bunch of different potential even. what if dust were to die and reaper…DOESNT guide his soul away. what if he keeps him. maybe dust wants that. they could “be together”.

maybe there’s an afterlife, and reaper is able to cross the gap. who knows. lots of potential.

they both have hoodies >:3 idc if that doesn’t mean anything

i feel like reapers dark humor would almost comfort dust lmao, it kinda lightens the load for him. reaper can assure dust that their souls are…ok. they��re at peace.

reaper is just happy to feel so validated and seen all the sudden

he can help dust understand how life really works

ironic huh. the essence of death being the thing that gives you a will to live.

just imagine in a time he’s died, reaper not being able to help himself. he just comes in for a hug. and both of them need it so badly. when dust is alive, he CANT touch him.

they both think about that hug a lot <//3

67 notes · View notes

perictione00 · 10 months

Text

Call me Mommy

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: Use of curse words, smut.

Synopsis: You give Gojo a taste of his own medicine.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

"You like that, Mr. Gojo", you said with doe eyes as you continued stripteasing the old man. You knew he was getting hard; it wasn't just some skin but the traditional Gojo clan kimono that did the magic. You started undoing the obi belt, revealing more of your body, leaving barely anything for imagination, but of course, you turned away to torment him more.

"Come on, sweetheart, this is torture", he said, standing up from the couch while taking off his office shirt. He was well-built for someone his age. Maybe this was gonna be much easier than you expected.

You got on your knees, trying your best to look as submissive and appealing as you could. Unbuckling his belt, you cupped his bulge, making him sigh. He looked at you with a loving gaze, and that right there was what you needed for your plans with him. Before you could think further, he got down to your level and kissed you deeply. Fuck, this is getting good.

You and Gojo had fucked around a few times, so you knew how weirdly kinky and adventurous he was when it came to sex. What you never expected was your friend showing you Gojo's sex tape online. It wasn't even surprising, but what shocked you was you. Yeah, that asshole had the audacity to not only make but upload the sex tape, including you, online without your consent. This shit was serious because, unlike Gojo, you had a job and a great reputation to maintain. It could not only embarrass the hell outta you but could get you ostracized socially or, even worse, get you fired. You were not gonna let a fucking manchild disrupt your life.

On your way to his infamous farmhouse, you kept checking your cell phone out of fear. You did not want a colleague of yours to find out about this. Once you reached the destination, you saw a few women coming out. Like, what were you even expecting? As you opened the door, you saw Gojo wearing a bunny outfit, showing his pole dancing skills. Now that was a sight for sore eyes. You wondered how someone could look so delicious but act like a total moron at the same time; however, that's not what you're here for. "You spoiled fucking whore", you begin as you move closer to him. "Wanna tell me about the stunt you pulled?"

"Oh babyyy, I don't remember telling you about my humiliation kink, but please don't stop", he said as he sat down in an intentionally sultry position. You were sure he knew about the effect he had on people, but today's not the day. Standing right in front of him, you slid your hands into his hair and pulled em before asking, "Would my lovely bitch like to explain why the fuck was a sex tape made and uploaded online without my permission?"

"Shit, babe-", you cut him off before he could continue, saying, "No, Gojo, you don't get to enjoy this situation; I'm serious right now. Delete that video right now; I don't care how many procedures it requires, I want it off the internet and your cellphone. Every fucking duplicate, deleted, RIGHT NOW!"

"Calm down, hon, why don't we have some fun", he said as his hands made their way to your ass, "we can talk, but let's be comfortable first, no?"

"No. No, Gojo I'm not kiddin right now; delete that shit, or just gimme your cellphone; I'll do it myself". Before you could search for it, he pulled out his mobile and said, "I'll comply with your wishes...I guess, but what's in it for me hmm?"

You've had enough; you already had a long day, and now he was getting on your last nerve. "Nothing. You don't get anything, Gojo; just by doing this, you've already compromised my job, and who knows what? So just stop irritating me and do it".

"Okay, okay, woah, grumpy pants I will delete it from the internet, but at least lemme keep a cop-", he stopped and started laughing as he saw you glaring in his direction. "You know you can always join my company if things go downhill", he said while deleting the last copy as you replied, "I'd never wanna work under you".

"You sure loved it the other day in the hotel", of course, he said that, for which you gave him the finger.

Fast forward: a spineless coward got you fired by spreading rumors about your risqué incident, and now you were planning to get back to Gojo Satoru. You knew no sex tape, rumors, or false accusations could shame or humiliate him, so your petty self came up with the greatest idea of all time, and you knew it was going to work.

And that's how you ended up on your knees in front of Gojo Sr. It wasn't hard to have him wrapped around your fingers, and it was just a plus that he was far more fun than you imagined him to be. Because Gojo's daddy issues portrayed him like a villain, you couldn't imagine him having such a huge dick, and he was so good at using it too, you hit a total jackpot.

You moaned loudly as you rode him, with his hands on your ass, helping you move better.

You loved how his expert fingers always found your clit helping you reach your orgasm right before he came. You rode through your orgasm as he kissed you deeply. "Fuck...fuck, are you okay, love?", he asked. "Never been better", you said as you pecked his lips again. You got ready to go back home after a shower together, as he was staying back for some work. It was all going well; you knew a confession was coming your way any day. You took more time with your heels to catch the perfect timing for something before you went out of the office.

As you walked out, you smiled when you saw the elevator door opening and a dumbfounded Gojo Satoru making his way to you. "Why—not trying to be rude, but why are you here?", he questioned as he looked back and forth between his father's office door and you.

"Oh, Daddy just needed some help, so Mommy came to the rescue".

#Gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #sub gojo #jjk dilf #JJK Gojo Satoru #dilf gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk gojo smut #gojo x reader smut

163 notes · View notes

thatbrokenheartedwitch · 28 days

Text

Marauders Era Characters Getting Upset

James: If he's really mad, he'll burst out and after he calms down he'll feel really bad for you even though it was totally reasonable for him to be angry. If it's something smaller he'll try to explain his feeling and 99% of the time will end up crying.

Sirius: Sirius would storm out of a room for sure. And then he would probably lock himself in his room and cry because my poor boy has so much trauma that he's never been allowed to tell anyone about.

Remus: Tries to make it up, but he secretly has a big ego. Would most likely just smoke the feelings away or either a) vent to someone about all his emotions, or b) joke about wanting to khs (with Reggie)

Peter: Feels really guilty about it, and tries to apologize a bit but he's so scared that it's not enough and that everyone hates him now that he eventually just stops, not wanting to get rejected

Lily: Goes on long rants about why she's upset. Either that or she completely ignores you even though the only thing she wants is to make up with you.

Regulus: This one is kind of hard, even as a Regulus kinnie, but he would either a) kill someone or commit a major crime, b) write sad boi poetry in his diar- ahem, journal, c) lash out at everyone and then stalk off into his room for the next 5 days, or d) tell everyone he's going to khs

Barty: He is commiting a major crime to help him relax. Preferably arson or murder, but torture is also very acceptable. That or he sulks for hours, completely ignoring his own health:(

Evan: Idk how to characterize Evan so well, but I think he would try to make up with people a tiny bit, then just yell at them continuously before stalking off to silently cry.

Pandora: Will not rest until they both apologize to each other. Very stubborn, is not going to let you leave until you make up. She strongly hates that awkward tension when you both want to just make up but are too afraid.

That's it for now cuz I have to get ready for school but lemme know if you want more!

#marauders #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #marauders headcanon

45 notes · View notes

the-heart-of-a-monster · 4 months

Note

PUTTING THE NEW PAGE INTO THIS ASK AS WELL FOR GHE FIRST TIME BECAUSE THERE IS A LOT TO TALK ABOUT WITH THIS PAGE SO PLEASE BEAR WITH ME HERE

Ima start with the first panel because there’s already so much in that one single panel and it is gonna drive me nuts!

So first up, we have “Secret” Chaotix meeting room. Yes, this place is apparently being kept a secret from the public eye. This could be due to the Chaotix having to handle a bunch of super deep and disturbing cases that, if allowed to spill out into the public, would be catastrophic! Not in the sense that it would destroy the world or anything like that, but it’d certainly ruin their reputation as detectives! Don’t detectives irl have these kinds of cases too…? Or maybe I’m thinking too hard on this and it’s just the place they meet with their friends whenever Eggman does something stupid? Who knows.

I do know though that it looks beautiful and it looks like they’re actually in a room which, as an amateur artist myself, can only dream of achieving!! It looks so cool! I just… I adore your backgrounds and I can tell you put a lot of love and effort into making them, so please give yourself a pat on the back!

And maybe I’m reading too much into a single panel.

But that’s not all that we get to see!!! (No I’m not talking about the Chaotix even though I REALLY wanna talk about the Chaotix cuz they deserve more love and I’m so glad they’re here THANK YOUUUUUUUU) YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, SONIC IS FULLY CONVERTED TO DARK GAIA SONIC LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Well not fully converted, but we can clearly see that it’s taking a huge toll on his body! Not only are the markings now visible on him during the day, but it also seems to be siphoning his energy…? Kind of…? I mean, Sonic has been out cold since “Killing” Omega, and usually he wouldn’t be so out of it otherwise. And I can see a little tiny X over his Gaia eye, so… I’m not too sure, but what I am sure of is that this is BAD for Sonic. The poor guy is gonna have to deal with not only being corrupted during the day, but also at night, and that cannot be good for his psyche. It was bad enough when he had to be in a completely new body for just the nighttime, but now it’s for both day and night in its own way, and… Gosh, this is gonna be torture for Sonic once he wakes up.

Okay now onto the actually lore panels because there is so much to uncover but BEFORE WE GET INTO THE LORE PARTS OF ALL THAT LEMME JUST POINT OUT HOW PISSED SHADOW LOOKS IN THE SECOND PANEL BRO LOOKS LIKE HE WANTS TO PUNT CHIP INTO THE SUN FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER AND HE IS JUST SO OVERPROTECTIVE OF SONIC IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY I LOVE THIS ANGSTY EDGY BOY SO MUCH BUT I WANNA KNOW WHAT IS GOING THROUGH HIS HEAD RIGHT NOW WHY IS HE GLARING DAGGERS AT CHIP WHAT DID THIS LITTLE CREECHUR EVEN DO TO YOU SHADZ

Okay back to the lore-

So, im still gonna call Light Gaia as Chip because I still see a cute adorable fluffy fairy in those big brown eyes and I think he deserves a real name. Anyhow, Chip now is aware of him being a literal god. He says he regulates the day and Dark Gaia regulates the night. This kind of makes sense. Chip handles the sun and DG handles the moon. Think Luna and Celestia from MLP. And similar to those two as well, Dark Gaia got out of control like Luna did and created an eternal night. But this doesn’t really explain the planet splitting into a million giant pieces. (Not literally a million) Nor does it explain Chip losing his memory. Chip claims that whenever one of them falls out of line, the other will be there to pull them back together. Does this mean Chip or Dark Gaia have lost their memory before? Have the events of Unleashed happened before? How do they reign the other in?

These questions are probably gonna get answered in the next page lmao what am I doing-

Everything else is kinda sorta spelled out to us which I think is a good thing, since Chip is, in the story, explaining all of this to a group of people who had no idea about any of this for their entire lives. The poor Chaotix just got roped into this, they just want their pay. So with that in mind I don’t know what else to really cover…? Maybe I’ll notice something later on and just start spamming you with questions, who knows. For now I’m SUPER DUPER EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PAGE LET’S GO THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUN CANNOT WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK

hell yeah do look out for the new page on monday :3 i love ur little big analysis its always the highlight of my week to see one

btw this goes out to evecryone but the whole scene has a lot of moments for everyone else than sonic and shadow so we are winning

#fan lore #clover-the-awesomest #long post #text heavy #fan theories

63 notes · View notes

whats-it-mean · 6 months

Note

HII so umm could i request fuutaxreader who is convinced that their room (...cell?) is haunted?

After being met w skepticism theyre like ok. ill have to show u then.

this is mostly inspired to the mysterious scratching i keep hearing at my door every night 🙏🙏 also btw ur works are amazing+ ur a lifesaver for making 'milgram x' contemt tysm

Haunted cell is nothing in the face of a protective Fuuta ☆

Fuuta Kajiyama x Reader

For @twodawns !!!

A/N - yeah.. so.. about that scratching n at your door…? it.. its me… I’m sorry…. I need more milgram friends.. so… i may or may not have tracked you down….. lovingly though, i SWEAR!!! (also TYSM)

C/W - ghosts ^^

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After about a week of trying to write it off as just some odd noises, you were starting to really lose sleep over the ominous scratching and scraping noises surrounding your cell at night. Being in a prison watched over by a nonbinary fifteen year old and a talking rabbit was unnerving enough, but you could deal with that. At least the rabbit provided entertainment. But the way your cell door moved in an almost controlled manner at night? Ahahahah. Nope, you were not putting up with that.

Last night, you’d even purposefully stayed up just to wait and see if anything would happen while you were watching- and it had, relentless sounds of scratching and dragging metal near your doorway bothering you all night. You had gotten no sleep, staying up the entire time after that out of sheer terror.

However, you and your feeble arms had no chance of defeating whatever ghosts had decided to torture your sleep schedule, so you knew trying to do something against it on your own was a futile attempt. The next most logical choice was to ask Es for help, them being the prison guard and all, but you already knew that poor kid was getting worked to the bone with absolutely no pay, so you preferred to leave them alone.

So here you were, standing in front of the cell door for prisoner 003, hovering your fist in front of it for a moment before knocking down on the cold metal.

Fuuta looked disgruntled as he peeked his head through an opening in the door, red hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes as he glared up at you with a slight pout on his face. “What do you want?” His voice was in his usual growly tone, but softer than he used it with most when it came to you.

You gave the boy a sheepish grin. “Um.. sooo… I have this little… problem back at my cell.”

He narrowed his eyes at you as he released his grip on the door, letting it open properly as he leaned against the doorframe. “How’s that my issue? Shouldn’t you bug the little brat about that sort of thing?” He huffed, tapping his foot against the floor in impatience.

“Well- It’s. Uh. It’s complicated.”

He continued to stare at you, not convinced as he just looked at you with a sort of judgement in his eyes. He sighed in defeat after a moment before stepping back, a silent invitation for you to come in. You complied, shuffling past the redhead and taking a moment to glance over his cell- it was esentially the same as yours, except with a couple of drawings from Amane taped up against the walls. “What’s the issue?”

You fell silent for a moment. “Well- So- Uh- I think my cell is haunted???”

Fuuta blinked at you.

“You.. think your cell.. is haunted?” You nodded. He scoffed, looking at you for a moment as if to tell if you were being serious before crossing his arms. “No it isn’t.”

“It is! I swear, it is! There’s these- noises- and--”

“Noises?” He grinned at you. “Oh, how horrible. You sure sound like you’re in really grave danger--” You elbowed him at the stomach, succesfully getting him to shut up before glaring at him.

“Lemme show you, then.” Fuuta blinked at you, hesitating for a moment before shrugging with an air of forced boredom. “If it’s a safety concern, I’m sure i can convince Es to let you sleep on a mattress on the floor in my cell tonight. Then you can see for yourself.”

Hours passed, you having headed back to the commons area to converse with some of the other prisoners for a little bit, before dinner, evening routines, etcetera etcetera. After the rather shabby meal, complete with a few stray pieces of Jacklope’s hair which you had to pick out of your food, you made your way to Es’s office, knocking quietly on the opened door to announce your presence.

“Can I help you?”

Ah, yes. Here came the social anxiety. For being fifteen, Es was terryfying. “Um. So.. ahaahah. I think my cell is haunted and since I don’t feel entirelt safe would it be okay if Fuuta stayed in there??” Your words stumbled over each other as you spoke with unreasonable speed, face red with how stupid it really sounded when you said it all. Not to mention Es’s judgemental stare, which was served with a side of cold silence.

“...As long as you don’t do anything… bad… then I see no issue with it.”

After everyone went about their usual routines and got themselves ready for bed, Es supervising as you and Fuute carried the mattress into your own cell. All the other prisoners said goodnight, not going without a little chirp from Mahiru about how cute she thought it was that Fuuta was staying with you, and Es finally let you be after plenty of promises that you would not be any ‘passionate frolicking’.

An uneasy silence settled over the two of you for about twenty minutes while you just, kind of.. sat there, Fuuta staring at the door expectantly before turning to you with an annoyed expression. “Thought you said there were noises---”

Perfectly timed, the indistinct noise of what sounded like a faint, pained cry coming from the door, to which Fuuta jumped noticeably, muttering something of a ‘what the fuck’ under his breath. He glanced back up at you, now much more trusting as he gave you an almost concerned expression. “You hear that shit every night?”

You nodded. “For at least a week.”

With a pause, Fuuta slowly crawled up onto your bed and inched closer to you, refusing to speak as he directed his gaze back at the door. After about one whole minute of slight peace, there was another noise, and you could feel Fuuta tense up next to you, before he ultimately reached an arm over and draped it over your shoulder.

"I.. I'll keep you safe, okay?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── End

(Props to @mondaymelon for giving me the phrase ‘passionate frolicking’. truly, a sacrifice we will never forget.)

#⤥ Mairu Writes !#fuuta kajiyama #fuuta milgram #fuuta kajiyama x reader #fuuta x reader #milgram x reader #milgram #i bullied reader a teensy bit lmao

62 notes · View notes

spiderlily-w1tch-blog · 1 year

Text

𝔖𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔈𝔵 𝔈𝔵-ℌ𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔦 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰(𝔦𝔰𝔥?)

inspo: I cannot for the life of me find the post or remember who it was so if you might know who made hcs kinda similar to these, please tag them n lemme know ;-;

✯✯✯⬐ 💥💥💥 ⬎✯✯✯

CW: Mentions/references(non-graphic) of domestic violence, forced marriage (not Katsu!!!), angst to fluff, lil bit of suggestive content, non-graphic injury; bold = sensitive content

✯✯✯⬐ 💥💥💥 ⬎✯✯✯

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who can’t seem to fully convince himself that you’re really gone

💥 Who wakes up and still subconsciously reaches for your side of the bed and is filled with the same disappointment every day that it’s still cold as it was yesterday

💥 Who looks in the mirror and can’t help but remember how you used to wrap your arms around his waist, no matter how much it interfered with what he had to do, and how much he not so secretly loved it

💥 Who still made two portions of breakfast before the memory solidifies that you’re gone

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who can’t help the painful ache in his chest that made it feel like he couldn’t breathe when he saw you happy with someone else. someone who wasn’t him

💥 Who beat himself up inside and repeatedly scolded himself for daring to feel any kind of happiness when he saw the telltale look of glum on your face that meant you and that other guy broke up

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who feels indescribable rage when he catches sight of you flirting back and forth with some random guy at the bar

💥 Who doesn’t feel a shred of regret when he beats the guy bad enough he needs to be kept in holding for the night and suspended for a week

💥 Who only feels even the slightest hint of remorse when he sees how upset you are

💥 Who tries to apologize but he just gets the back of your head(and sometimes your hand)

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who feels like his world is crashing down around him when he sees you walking hand in hand with a guy, a bejeweled ring around your finger

💥 Who desperately wanted to turn away and shield himself from the pain of the sight but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki tortures himself by watching you look up at this man the way you used to look at- wait

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who knows what your looks of love look like, what with having been together for 6 years, married for 3

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who can see that you’re putting on a show

💥 Who can see that there’s nothing behind that “loving gaze” you send your supposed fiancé

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who can tell you aren’t in love with this guy but knows you would hate him even more if he tried to butt into your relationship again

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who painfully watches you play with your daughter and remembers his dreams of having a family with you

💥 Who watches your new husband sit beside you, looking bored but keeping up the appearance of a good Father and Husband by occasionally sending a half-assed smile to his daughter and nudging his finger against your shoulder from where he’s lazily resting his arm over the back of the park bench

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who sees the way you either subtly pull your arm closer to your body or moves your arm more than necessary to play with your daughter when that man even grazes you

💥 Who sees the way you subconsciously keep your daughter more towards yourself and more to your side further away from your husband

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who sees you look up and meet his eye and the way you freeze and stare into his eyes

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who sees such depth in your eyes that combines a longing love with a subtle begging

💥 Who doesn’t quite know what you’re silently begging for but he can tell that it’s something he should be worried about

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who takes a chance and strolls forward, a reassuring look in his eyes to comfort you that he knows what he’s doing

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who acts like he’s seeing you for the first time in years and tries to “catch up” with you

💥 Who sees your husband suddenly seem to actually care and places a possessive arm around your waist, his hand almost too obviously digging into your side

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who saw the way you flinch at just the first contact and the way you wince at the start of his tight grip, like it’s already bruised and the way you pointedly gesture to the man with your hand donned with your wedding band but don’t call him your husband

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who sees your daughter look up at him with hope, like she’s expecting him to save her even if there isn’t a villain around, at least not one actively wreaking havoc

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who offers to walk you through the park centre when your daughter “needs to use the potty” when your husband’s lip curls in disgust at the idea of taking care of your daughter

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who asks you what’s wrong the moment you’re out of hearing range of your husband

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who pulls you into a hug when you start crying as you speak of what your husband is really like

💥 Whose grip tightens when you tell him your husband forced you to marry him when you fell pregnant after only a handful of dates when he demanded you keep it

💥 Who quickly stops you and assures you he understands when you quickly try to explain that you wouldn’t trade your daughter for anything

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who sees you look up at him with the same look of love you did for almost the entirety of your relationship, at least before he wrought the beginning of the end

💥 Who prompts you to explain to him that you never stopped loving him, that things just didn’t look like there was a returning point, that you didn’t want to seem weak, so you never gave into your feelings again every time you saw him afterwards, that you couldn’t risk looking into his eyes else he knew that your love for him never ceased

💣 Ex-husband Katsuki who says that he’s still madly in love with you, too

💥 Who tells you that if you would allow him, he’d happily protect you and your daughter from that man if you should begin the process of leaving him

💥 Who reminds you that you have an army of pro heroes ready to protect you with everything they have if you should need it, and that many of them, including himself are more than willing to intimidate your husband into signing all the proper documentation for you and your daughter to escape

🧨 Katsuki who happily lets you and your daughter stay with him to keep an eye on you both to keep you safe from that man when he starts to get violent when you say you’ve had enough

🧨 Katsuki who feels happier than he has in years to wake up with you next to him again, or at least your side warm if you woke up earlier and went to get coffee from the kitchen

🧨 Katsuki who accidentally falls right back into your routine from your marriage of coming up behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pressing light kisses to your shoulder as you stand in front of the gargling coffee maker, in only one of his old shirts that hangs off you like a loose dress, a pair of your underwear and socks to keep your feet warm from the cold tile floors

💥 Who realizes what he’s doing when he nestles his head into your neck and doesn't feel the chain of the necklace he gave you for your 3rd anniversary together that you tore off your neck and chucked at him in your last fight

💥 Who immediately pulls back and almost bolts to the other side of the kitchen with rapid-fire apologies without looking at you as he rushes to start breakfast

🧨 Katsuki who notices your lack of protest at his actions and your almost disappointed look when he pulled away

💥 Who hears the soft sadness in your voice when you mutter that it’s fine

💥 Who you and he both avoid making eye contact, him out of embarrassment and you out of an awkward downtrodden mood shift, as you shuffle out of the room to wake your daughter for school

🧨 Katsuki who happily brings Red Riot and Mindjack to your soon-to-be ex-husband’s place to make sure he signs the divorce papers and the documents that sign away all custody of your daughter to you

🧨 Katsuki who offers you to keep staying with him for as long as you want or need

💥 Who claims it’s for your protection and that he would never just toss you out without anywhere to go, or at all in any case

🧨 Katsuki who hugs you for just a few moments longer than he needs to when you hug him in thanks

🧨 Katsuki who absolutely adores your daughter and plays with her all the time

💥 Who’ll play hero with her the way his mother and auntie would play with him and Izuku, where he’d sit in a room and wait to be “rescued” and spin your daughter around in the air as thanks for her rescue

🧨 Katsuki who personally takes her to school, even on days he patrols first thing

💥 Who shows up with her in full hero garb, with a sparkly pink and purple tiny backpack slung over his shoulder as she hangs off his forearm when he drops her off

🧨 Katsuki who will personally pick her up from school both at the end of the day and any time she needs to leave early, even if he’s in the middle of patrol or just finished a fight

💥 Who’ll show up bloody and bruised if he has to because he will not waste a moment to get to her, even if his arm is still hanging out of its socket

💢 (That did happen once but the teacher said he scared the other kids so he had to make sure his joints were all in place before he showed up there from then on)

🧨 Katsuki who treats you like a queen, like he knew he should have more while you were together

💥 Who brings you breakfast in bed whenever he can and has you relax while he takes care of your daughter or makes a special meal for you

💥 Who makes it so hard for you not to simply give in and fall right back into your married life with him as if nothing happened

🧨 Katsuki who assures you your daughter will be perfectly fine with Izuku while he worships your body with soft kisses and light touches that leave a trail of heat, despite the goosebumps raised there

🧨 Katsuki who promises to never let you go again as he tenderly holds you afterwards, promises to show you all his love for you

💥 Who promises to always be there and promises to spend the rest of his life making up every mistake he’s made with you

🧨 Katsuki who proudly walks around with his hand around your waist and your daughter in his arm

💥 Husband Katsuki who doesn't bother to hold back his tears as he sees you walk down the aisle to him for the second(and last) time

💥 Husband Katsuki who unabashedly displays pictures of his family on his desk and walls at the Agency

💥 Husband Katsuki who goes all out for your- his daughter’s birthdays and would bend over backwards to make her happy

💥 Husband Katsuki who barely holds himself together before sobbing in your shared room when she calls him “Dad” for the first time

💢 Who doesn't shut up about it for the next month at the agency

❤️‍🔥 Eijirou, Denki, Hanta, and Mina who have all heard about it enough times they genuinely feel like they were there, in the room

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #ex husband bakugou #headcanons #bakugou headcanons #bnha #bnha headcannons #bnha hcs #mha #mha headcanons #mha hcs #angst to fluff #angst with a happy ending #sfw #spiderlily spells

258 notes · View notes

whumpcloud · 1 year

Text

Red Room - Mine

content: creepy/intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, kidnapping, filmed whump, threat of future torture, restraints, gagging, implied threat of noncon but it won't happen/it's not really stated, pet names, begging, noncon kissing, manhandling, choking, whumpee tells whumper to kys

Jack wakes to a light bulb.

Back and forth. Back and forth. His fluttering eyes follow it for a moment, trying to focus. He tries to move, but his limbs feel leaden, and all it does is make him softly whimper at the leather biting into his skin.

Leather.

Jack's eyes widen and he snaps his head to the side. He's flat on his back on a wooden table, tightly strapped by his wrists and ankles and throat. Bile burns his mouth.

A door slams open and Jack lets out a small scream into his gag, into the cloth gag shoved inside his mouth and tied tightly around his head. He hears a laugh.

"Aw, baby boy…"

A face appears, framed by the flickering light, long black hair tickling the sides of Jack's face. The man grins.

"Heya, cutie," he says, soft, almost soothing. "No need to scream, okay? If you keep doing that, I'll let you scream yourself hoarse. And if you don't, I'll take off the gag and let you ask some questions. I'm sure you've got some, yeah?"

Jack exhales harshly through his nose, tears forming in his eyes, and nods.

"Alright." The man gently tugs the gag from Jack's mouth, and uses the free moment of Jack swallowing his spit to speak. "Don't try begging, by the way. No, I'm not gonna let you go, yes I'm gonna hurt you, no there's nothing you can do about it. Now ask a sensible question, okay, baby?"

Jack's head spins. He remembers walking home, he remembers the sound of the car door opening and being shoved inside, the man straddling his lap and whispering softly as he was sedated. Only in a haze, but he remembers.

"W-Who are you?" Jack finally says, voice more of a whimper than he means it to be. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Matthew Seung." He grins. "I'm just a content creator. And I'm gonna do… whatever the audience wants, really."

"Th-The audience?" Jack's heart becomes a pit in his stomach.

"Oh, yeah, they're gonna love you, sweetheart." Matthew's fingertips come to Jack's jaw, tilting it to the side. "You have to know how pretty you are. Very photogenic. And your eyes, baby boy, goddamn."

Jack flinches and lets out a soft whine when Matthew trails his fingers around Jack's eyes and over his cheekbones.

"I'll set some rules, obviously," Matthew says, lilting and gentle. "No damage to your face, nothing too permanent, but anything else goes. They might wanna cut you up. Boring, but doable. Maybe break a couple fingers, or let you almost drown, something like that."

Matthew playfully taps Jack on the nose.

"I'm not very creative," Matthew says. "That's why I leave it up to the viewers."

Jack bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and contorts his face with the effort of refusing to cry.

"Ohhh…" Matthew sighs happily. "Go on, cry, lemme see you cry. I bet it'll be just adorable."

"S-Stop, please," Jack whispers. "Don't, please, please don't do this to me…"

"Shh, shh." Matthew runs his hand through Jack's hair. "I can't help it, baby boy. I don't find someone like you every day. Really, I'm surprised you didn't get nabbed before, looking the way you do. You got lucky."

"Lucky?" Jack shivers at Matthew's touch. "How is this lucky?"

"Oh, I know plenty of creepies who'd bid for you," Matthew grins. "I'm pretty tame, all things considered. If you were put with someone who was really sadistic, well, they might not even care if you died on camera. Not to mention what would happen behind the scenes to break you in. Nah, you're very lucky you got me instead."

"B-Bid-" Jack squeezes his eyes shut. This isn't real, this is something that happens in movies, not to real people, not to him. "Bid for me?"

"Yeah, I could easily sell you on, baby boy," Matthew chuckles. "Do you have any idea what people would pay for a face like yours? God, you're so fucking pretty. You're really lucky I admire you so much. I could sell you to someone who'd make a real mess of you."

That's when the dam breaks, and a wretched sob forces its way out of Jack's throat. Matthew laughs, and there's a click as a camera turns on.

"Sorry, baby boy, I gotta capture this," Matthew says, throwing his hood over his head and pulling a scarf up to his mouth. "God, you see that? Gonna love you."

"Stop it!" Jack snaps, though it holds no energy coming through tears. "S-Stop it, just let me go, I'm fucking begging you, please!"

Matthew rolls his eyes and whistles softly. "Told you I wasn't gonna do that already."

"I can pay you!" Jack tries, desperately pulling at his bindings. "P-Please, my family's rich, they'll- they'll give you whatever money you want!"

Matthew laughs so hard he has to put a hand against the wall and vaguely apologise to the camera for how loud he is.

"You hear that?" Matthew circles around so that he's crouching out of Jack's sight, just behind his head. "My new work of art thinks I'll let him go for money."

Matthew chuckles, and leans up, gripping Jack's face between his hands. He's so close that Jack can feel Matthew's hair on his forehead. His eyes glitter. Excited. Hungry.

"I'm doing this for fun, silly. For the attention. And you, baby boy"–Matthew presses his fingers against Jack's lips–"are gonna be my star."

Jack can't find any more words to say. What is there to say? This man wouldn't let him go for all the money in the fucking world, because he's cute when he cries and his only worth is looking good in front of a camera.

Matthew wrenches Jack's head toward the camera, curling his fingers into Jack's hair.

"You wanna tell them your name, baby boy?" Matthew coos, and the scarf does nothing to hide that he's grinning.

"J-Jack." His voice isn't more than a croak. "Jack Mitchell."

Matthew stops. Completely and utterly stops.

"Say that again," Matthew says, disbelief in his tone, just loud enough to be heard.

"Jack Mitchell," Jack squeaks.

"I fucking knew I recognised you!" Matthew lets go of him and claps in delight. "Kid of Killian Mitchell? Like, for real?"

Jack nods silently. People recognise him often enough, but not really for him, just for his father. He hasn't done any acting in recent years, and he doesn't look enough like his younger self to be recognised for those roles. So his father drags him out at events, pretties him up for the red carpets and the charity balls and tugs at the back of his collar where nobody can see the moment he says a word wrong.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Matthew's voice is growing frantically giddy. "You're perfect, you're so, so perfect. The views. I'm never gonna be this popular again."

"Fucking kill yourself," Jack hisses.

"Spicy baby boy." Matthew reaches under the table and pulls at something, and Jack gags as the leather around his throat sharply tightens. "You wanna say that again?"

Jack's vision pulses at the edges and he whines. It's tight, but not so tight that he can't breathe at all. Just to hurt.

He's here just to hurt.

"Fuck…" Matthew lets out a breathy laugh. "This is gonna make such a good intro video. You know just how to behave in front of a camera, yeah?"

He does, he knows exactly how to behave, he's behaved for the cameras his entire life, buried every part of himself to look however they want him and that's exactly what Matthew wants out of him too.

Jack takes in a ragged breath the moment the buckle loosens, and lets it back out with a scream. He doesn't know why, and Matthew doesn't stop him.

Matthew just regards him with nothing more than mild amusement.

The end of the scream comes sooner than Jack thought it would, and he coughs, phlegm trapped in the back of his throat. He's still crying, can't stop crying.

"You tire yourself out already, baby boy?" Matthew asks. "Adorable. Lemme turn the camera off."

Click.

Jack lays limply as Matthew unbuckles him and lifts him up. His head throbs. Matthew carries him out of the dimly lit room, into an entirely dark one, that Matthew easily navigates through and sits down on top of a mattress, holding Jack around the waist.

"Relax now, baby boy," Matthew whispers. "You can relax now. It's just us."

Matthew presses a soft kiss to the back of Jack's neck, and smiles when Jack flinches away.

"You're so cute," Matthew says, gripping Jack's jaw with his other hand. "I gotta keep you. I'll take care of you off-camera, promise."

"Are you going to kill me?" Jack whispers. "W-When you're done with me?"

Matthew hums, as though he hadn't considered that. Kisses Jack's neck again, then his jaw, then his temple. Jack lets him, because he isn't stupid enough to think that these soft words and touches are anything but a thin layer over a man who has so clearly done this before and felt nothing more than delight.

"Nah," is the eventual answer. "The audience will get bored of you quicker than I will. And I can bring you back out to spice things up. Nah. I'm not gonna waste your pretty li'l face like that."

Matthew kisses him again, at the corner of his mouth, and lingers.

"Keep you for myself," he murmurs. "Yeah. Couldn't let you go to someone else."

Jack keeps still, as the hand on his waist traces upwards along his chest, slips just underneath his sweater to feel the ridge of his collarbone. The scars on Matthew's hands tell stories - teeth marks on his thumb, a faded knife wound through the palm, crescent shaped marks like nails cutting into the skin. If they were from innocent sources, Jack would be surprised. He's not the first, but the others fought.

It's an odd comfort. He'll stay alive, in the videos of him pleading and the reminders of his suffering on his captor's skin, even if he isn't quite here when Matthew's done with him, even if he doesn't figure out how to get the upper hand and escape.

Jack jams his elbow into Matthew's ribs, and the man's only reaction is to pin Jack's arms to his sides. Not even a sound of pain or annoyance.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, baby boy," Matthew sings. "How about you just let me hold you, huh? Just wanna hold you. Fuck, I think I love you."

Matthew starts murmuring to himself again. Jack doesn't catch most of it, just a vague impression of the word: "Mine."

#polly's prose #jack mitchell #matthew seung #sadistic whumper #creepy/intimate whumper #break from the vincent posting lol. not 100% on continuing this but jack was so baby boy in my head i had to write him at least once #whump #whump writing #red room

147 notes · View notes

callsignfangs · 5 months

Note

Aaaaaaaall right- I'm very curious.

I wanna know why you love Farah.

Do it- Yooou KNOW you want to. >:)

GIGGLING youre absolutely spoiling me right now 😇😇

I will take literally any opportunity to talk about the sweet girl so here we go 😻

Btw this is going to be completely unorganised, I’m literally just dumping my thoughts into a tumblr txt post 🧍‍♂️

Also ik for a fact that I literally cannot put my love for this character into words to forgive if my wording is horrible 😇

This is also for @missaimfire14red, who was lovely enough to drop this in my askbox as well 😚 Figured I might as well merge the two!! I’ll also be fleshing this out later for yous, hopefully into an actual semi-formatted essay lol 😭 /lh

Cw: Blood warning for clips & images of canon scenes

Now: Mwi (Modern Warfare one)

I’m gonna start off with her and Hadir. Their bond, like, HURTS me (in a good way 😇). They went through so much together - loosing both their parents, growing up in a warzone and almost dying + having to flee their home as CHILDREN, then being imprisoned for, as far as i know, almost all of their childhood and early adulthood.

DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM??? 😭😭

Hes just her big brother and they love each other to pieces, literally quite possibly the strongest bond in the cod reboot imo. (See Hadir saying ‘I love you even if you hate me’ BAWLING)

And now let’s talk about her reaction to Hadir using chemical weapons.

Firstly, this scene, when she first finds out that Hadir betrayed them when he originally used them. I’m not gonna go too much into this scene bc I think it’s more about her bonds with Hadir, Price and Alex and I’m trying to keep this as a Farah post, but I might make another one abt this in the future. Lemme just say that she literally fights Hadir until she passes out. Ty 😇

Now what she says when she confronts him and he starts blaming Price for betraying them???

‘You betrayed yourself’. PAINNN 💔💔

She hated those weapons because they were used on her an her people and she just never wanted anyone to experience that ever again, even the enemy.

Let me reiterate that - she literally wouldn’t use the enemy’s own weapons against them due to the sheer inhumanity of it. Her morals are literally so strong that she practically disowns him because of it. She refuses to use the weapons that were used on herself, even on the people who attacked her. When I say I fully believe she is one of, if not the kindest, person in the cod reboot, I MEAN it. She rightfully refuses to give into the occupying forces but is still merciful enough to refuse to torture them the way they tortured her. She’s merciful in her warfare and her revenge and it just. It just breaks my heart 😇

Adding to that,

ALSO. Let’s talk about how, when she was being detained by Hadir, she had all the opportunity to kill him, literally weapon in hand, and she just let herself get taken. Was it for the greater good? Totally. But I think it also tells us that she trusts her allies enough to be willingly taken by the enemy (calling Hadir the enemy HURTS bro 😭). I also think it tells us that she still loves him, to some extent. She hates what he’s done unbelievably, but he’s still her big brother and she still loves him.

Okay, onto Mwii (Modern Warfare two)

First: Hadir’s death.

He tells her that she has the warhead and tells her to use it, but, ofc, she refuses. But then, what does she do??

SHE COMFORTS HIM. Tells him that she’ll defeat the russians, even if it’s not the way he was planning. That’s why I’ll literally NEVER take anyone saying they didn’t love eachother - bc no way would she ever spare an actual enemy (esp one she was technically interrogating) this kind of mercy, but she does for Hadir.

THEN the way he encourages her and her reaction 😭 She tells him that they have nothing to do with this, and I kinda feel like it’s either out of grief or because she doesn’t want them to know about this, in a way? She wants to keep their memories of their parents in a simpler time and doesn’t want to acknowledge what Hadir did, maybe even partially doesn’t blame him, because she’s angry too and she might even partially understand why he did it, yet she’s logical, kind, and thinks things through enough to know that it wasn’t the right thing to do, ethically or tactically.

And dont even get me STARTED on tactics. She’s literally the commander of her ENTIRE force ffs, you know she’s literally unbelievably smart, both against an enemy in general (Al Quatala) and against one with more populated and technologically advanced (manufacturing-wise, they have more weapons and are much more heavily funded). Not to mention her and Hadir literally produced weapons for their troops themselves. Personally, I don’t have much knowledge with weapons, but I do know that so many intricate parts go into them that it’s not the kind of thing a normal person can just do.

Admittedly, bc of the shift in focus for mw2, theres not much else I wanna talk about Farah-wise. I’m not gonna go into detail with the atomgrad raid bc honestly I dont have the time rn lol- might make another post about it.

The only other really notable Farah we got here that I’m gonna mention was Laswell’s rescue.

Firstly, let’s talk abt how she was willing to help, but was also smart about it. She didn’t risk forcing her people back into war, only pursuing the kidnappers once they reached Urzikstan, and the plus that they were Al Quatala.

Then, Farah’s ‘we share a common enemy,’

And Price’s ‘and a common friend.’

Honestly I’m totally projecting by saying Laswell is a mother figure to Farah bc there’s literally no plot evidence but. In my heart Price and Laswell are besties co parenting Gaz and Farah 😇😇 (and honestly all of 141 and ULF as well to some extent). But!!! Laswell does call her, Price, Gaz and Farah meeting as a ‘family reunion’, so there’s definitely some level of bond there. And then Farah proceeds to compliment Laswell on her moves which honestly had me giggling a little 😇

(Also can i just say I’m so upset we didn’t get a Farah reaction to Gaz’s heli moment?? Disappointing 🙄🙄 /lh)

Lastly: Mwiii (Modern Warfare 3) - and ofc spoilers for it.

For mw3, I’m only gonna go over her and Dena, mostly bc I’m running outta time rn lol.

They have such an adorable bond and I love them sm 😭😭

Can we talk about how one of the only times we see Farah smile,

Is at Dena? 😭 And Farah immediately asks about her mother? It’s such a like domestic sort of scene that I just love so much bc we get a little peek into Farah outside of Commander Karim 💟💟

Then they have the little moment in the car 💔

You can just tell how much Farah appreciates the encouragement and the trust between them

Honestly, I’m not gonna go over Dena’s death 🧍‍♂️ Like the other death in mw3, I feel like it kinda could’ve been handled differently/better (also like give my girl Farah a break jesus can she not be happy?? 😭 /lh)

Still, the way she promises to give Dena justice literally breaks my heart 😭💔

Anyways, that’s it for now 😚 At some point I wanna like come back to this and flesh it out a bit alongside other dialogue and plot stuff with Farah, I just didn’t have the time today :[

33 notes · View notes