#the word count got away from me
Text
Fire Escape - Dead on MAYn Day 1
Prompts uses:
-Courting rituals
-Flickering
-Dinner interrupted by a fight
-“Are they gone yet”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Not beta read. 6k words.
Jason has a stressful day and shares dinner with his downstairs neighbor, Danny. The following week, Danny leaves something for him. A courting ritual between busy, stressed disasters.
AO3: Fire Escape
Dead on MAYn Blog
@deadonmayn
Fire Escape
Life as a vigilante was stressful. Their world was not always easy. Cases did not always wrap up nicely in thirty minutes with everyone skipping off, hand in hand.
This was definitely one of those bad days.
A child trafficking case, after dragging on for the last 3 months, ended horribly. The head of the ring got away before Hood and Nightwing could to box him in. Most of the kids were already gone, whisked away to another location while Jason and Dick were fighting to reach them. And the kids they were able to find? Jason took a deep breath. This wasn’t a night he would be able to forget anytime soon.
He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight so after Dick left, Jason cooked. He made chicken and bacon stuffed shells with a creamy marinara sauce. The recipe always took forever but it was a welcome distraction. Jumbo shells, chicken, bacon, broccoli, cheese, and sauce and a dozen other components to prep and cook. No time to think of anything else.
Two hours later, Jason was still wired, but he had stuffed shells. Enough for his whole family, if he was honest with himself. Enough to feed those kids who didn’t make it. Enough to fill the stomachs that hadn’t been full in so long but would never be hungry again.
Jason was broken out of his despair by a noise on the fire escape. His gun was in his hand without conscious thought. Slow, steady steps took him closer to the window until he could see the potential intruder.
Jason's shoulders dropped back down as he spotted his downstairs neighbor outside their window. It wasn’t unusual to see Danny out on the fire escape, one level down. Nothing unusual. Nothing to be concerned about.
Jason reupholstered his gun before Danny spotted him and turned back to the kitchen. They’d introduced themselves when Danny moved in a few weeks ago at the beginning of the fall semester but hadn’t interacted much since then.
Grabbing the casserole dish and an extra plate and fork, Jason stepped out onto his level of the scaffolding and called down to Danny.
“Hey, you want some food? I made too much and can’t possibly eat it all.” Jason set the dish down between himself and the stairs and started in on his own plate.
“Oh my god, Yes! I haven’t had food all day! You are a life saver. A knight in shiny armor.” Danny made his way up the stairs and peeked his head just above Jason’s level. He reached slowly for the extra plate and serving spoon while watching Jason. Jason motioned a little ‘go ahead’ with his own fork and Danny’s face lit up as he scooped a modest portion of shells onto his plate. “I was stuck in meetings all day. The council just wanted to drag everything out and every issue solved spawned two more. And it’s not even like they listen to me,” he stopped, eyes wide and he put the serving spoon back in the dish and looked intently at his own plate. “Not that they would. You know. I’m just a,you know, just an intern. I’m not even paid. Just an unpaid internship. Yep. I’m just there to take notes and get college credit. I’m an engineering student at Gotham U.” He glanced over at Jason, eyes a little panicked as he tried to sell his obvious lie. “But I don’t wanna bore you. You probably have a real job with real stress. I’m just an intern student. Aaaaaaand I’m gunna stop rambling now and go eat. Yep. Thank you.”
Danny clammered back down the stairs (and Jason could swear he missed that last step based on the noises) before settling down against the wall next to his window. With a chuckle, Jason took another bite of his food. “You’re right, my job is stressful. That doesn’t mean you’re day can’t be stressful too, though. Stress is relative. We all handle it differently. It’s how I ended up making too much food. I’ve got a big family and I just went on autopilot and before I knew it I’d made enough to feed them all, even though none of them are over tonight. It’s still a nice way to decompress. I’ll give them a call tomorrow to see if any of them want some but this dish is better fresh.” He leaned back against his own wall, eyes closed, taking in the steady constant noises of the city. The chatter of Crime Alley and the more distant rumble of Gotham. It was several minutes before Jason heard Danny call up again.
“This is amazing. I don't think I’ve eaten anything this good since….Actually never. I definitely can’t make anything like this and my parents didn’t really do home cooked meals.”
Jason glanced down through the grates and Danny was scraping the sauce off the plate onto his fork. Jason decided to show some mercy before the poor guy started licking the plate. “Feel free to grab more. I’m not gonna eat this all and my siblings should have clairvoyantly known I was cooking if they really wanted any.” Jason chuckled a bit but it also didn’t seem that unrealistic.
“Thanks! I’m going to be full for a week after this.” Danny popped back up the stairs, his face lit up in joy, as he pulled the dish over to him, spooning out a full plate of shells this time. “I guess their loss is my gain.” He went back down to lounge against his own wall.
An easy silence fell. The noises of the city a distant juxtaposition to the bubble they had created. Just two people enjoying food. Enjoying a little down time. Enjoying peace.
****
A few days later, Jason came home to a surprise. He didn’t expect to really hear from his neighbor again beyond the occasional waves and hellos they had previously established. Just the coming and going in the stairs or passing on the street. But there on the outside of his window was a sticky note. Black with tiny nebulas, Jason’s name was scrawled with silver glitter gel pen and an arrow pointing down.
He opened the window and looked down to see if Danny was out, Jason spotted a ziplock bag full of cookies and a thermos. With Danny nowhere in sight, Jason inspected the note again and on the other side was more writing.
“I can’t cook anything near as good as what you made, but these are my favorite cookies from the bodega by campus. I like them with cardamom tea.”
Jason opened the bag and caught a whiff of the cookies. He had fully intended to run them through a spectrometer but the enticing scent of ginger snaps and some urge deep within his soul overrode his caution. He took a small bite. And they were delicious. The spices were deep and warm. The molasses earthy. Setting them aside for a moment, he opened the thermos and took a tentative sip. The tea was still warm and lightly sweetened. The sharp spices of the tea playing well off the warmth of the cookies.
He’d never had anyone leave him offerings like this. The thought stopped him for a moment.
Gifts. Not offerings, gifts. He shrugged and grabbed a book from his TBR shelf. Settling in with the cookies and tea to relax before he had to go out for patrol. His mind was distracted by stray thoughts of what he might be able to leave his neighbor in return.
****
Danny hated his teachers. He hated this city. He hated his creaky apartment. Though he didn’t mind the eye candy of his upstairs neighbor when they passed on the stairs. And if Danny turned around once in a while to watch Jason go up the stairs and enjoy the view? Well that was just the payment he deserved from the universe for the elevator always being out. There were other perks too, Danny decided thoughtfully. He and Jason had been leaving each other little offerings on the fire escape and it had become the best part of Danny’s day. It wasn’t every day, maybe more like once a week. But the joy he got when there was a little package outside his window? Unparalleled. As if matching Danny’s galaxy post it note energy, Jason left notes with his gifts on stationary that looked like old parchment paper, quotes from classic authors printed along the bottoms. Just a little explanation of what the gift was and where it was from. Or sometimes, if it were a homemade dish, Jason would include where he’d got the recipe from. Danny was on the look out for a larger notepad that was still space themed. He found he was running out of space on his post its and using two seemed like trying too hard, as if going out and buying all new stationary wasn’t also trying too hard. But Jason didn’t have to know it was new. Danny could have already had this.
To Danny’s joy, there was a take out box outside under his window today. No Jason to be seen, but they rarely made it outside at the same time. Their schedules rarely lined up.
“I found a new korean place over off Vermont St. I got you some char sui pork buns. I hope they help tonight while you’re studying for finals. The things you’ve left for me have always made my evenings better. -Jason”
And at the bottom, the little book quote read “‘Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’” -Charlotte’s Web
What had started as a simple shared meal from Jason making too much food after work had become the best part of Danny’s week. And it seems like Jason might feel the same. A lovely give and take of food offerings. A courtship. Or at least, Danny liked to think of it that way. But even just simple friendship was a welcome feeling. At least now he knew Jason also liked their little dance and this wasn’t out of some misconstrued obligation. And Jason even remembered that he was a student and that it was finals week. That extra thought had Danny blushing as he took the buns to his kitchen counter and stuck the note on his fridge with a comet shaped magnet. Danny kept all the notes Jason left. Luckily the fridge couldn’t be seen from the window because otherwise Danny would die (again) of embarrassment. As it was, he simply enjoyed his dinner while rereading Jason’s words.
****
“Wait a minute” Dick interrupted Jason’s story description of Danny’s most recent gift of curry and boba tea. “So you and this guy-”
“Danny,” Jason corrected.
Dick nodded, a conspiratorial smile growing. The kind of smile your brother gets when he stumbles across potential blackmail material on you. “So you and Danny” Jason did not like that tone, “have been leaving gifts outside each others windows.” Jason nodded, “Every week, or MORE,” Dick looked pointedly at Jason for confirmation, to which Jason nodded again. “And you FINALLY tell him that his gifts ‘make your day better’ and you use the page with a quote from Charlotte’s Web about FRIENDSHIP?”
“What’s the matter with that? It’s not like I picked it specifically. It was just the next page.” Jason was beginning to regret sharing this joy with his dick of a brother.
“Ok, So.” Dick threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders, “We need to either work on your delivery, or get you some stationary with better quotes. You’re clearly over the moon about this guy-”
“Hey, what makes you say that? I just- It’s- I…”Jason stuttered, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. “Having something to look forward to after I get off patrol is nice. And having someone go out of their way to do that for me…”
Dick really looked at his brother. It wasn’t often that Jason managed to look small these days. But there he sat, shoulders hunched, fingers fiddling with Danny’s most recent note. It wasn’t a sticky note size, but a small half page. Very much like Jason’s own notepad with the quotes from famous authors. He was absentmindedly folding the paper back and forth, making lines from star to star among the constellations decorating the page. “Jason,” Dick dropped his teasing tone and waited for his little brother to look up. “It sounds like you’ve got a good thing going here. I wouldn’t want you to mess it up by being impatient. You laid out your cards, in a small careful way, and you received something in turn,” he nodded to the creased note. “Keep taking those steps. I can see how happy this has made you, even as simple as it is. Keep finding things you think he’ll like. Keep leaving your little courtship gifts. And maybe just flip through your stationary and pick the quotes a bit more deliberately,” Dicks eyes glinted dangerously, “You lit’ nerd.” Dick quickly flipped backwards from sitting into several handsprings across the training mat, his maniacal laughter echoing across the cave as he tried to escape the very predictable ire of his younger brother.
“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Jason rolled up onto the mats to chase Dick, joy in his heart and violence on his mind. Danny’s note settled to the floor, waiting for Jason’s response.
“I hope you like curry! I got a medium spicy, but eat it with the naan if it’s too hot. Your gifts are the highlight of my day whenever you leave me something.”
And then, hand written at the bottom of the page where Jason’s stationary had quotes, “With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad I ended up in a constellation next to you.”
****
“Guys, I’m going to die.” Danny declared and then promptly face planted into Sam’s couch. They were having their monthly catch up dinner and hang out. Sam was attending Metropolis University for Law with a minor in environmental studies. Her parents weren’t happy with her obvious post grad plans, but she was fulfilling their terms of getting a traditional, respectable degree, so they were footing the bill. That included her off campus apartment because no daughter of theirs was about to live in those dingy college dorm rooms.
Tucker was attending MIT while also building a name for himself in the hacker community. Two streams he was desperately trying to keep from crossing, lest MIT expel him on ethics.
Danny, of course, was attending Gotham U for aerospace engineering and astronomy. Their schedules made it hard to find a common evening once a month that they were all free. Danny’s ability to make portals (thanks to a new set of powers and abilities that came with being Ghost King of the infinite realms) made it slightly easier to get everyone in the same room once they found the time.
Danny’s muffled voice drifted up from the couch cushions.
“What was that Danny? I couldn’t quite get that through the literal couch in your face.” Sam sassed.
Danny lifted his face from the fluff and whined, “I left Jason the sappiest note and by the time I came to my senses, he had already taken iiiiiiiiiit! And now he’s read it and he hates me and he’s never going to talk to me again or leave me homemade cookies or anything else ever again and it’s all because I read too deep into a quote from fucking Charlotte’s Web!” He flopped onto his back and then slowly melted off the couch, thumping to the floor when Sam pushed him to make room to sit down with her pho bowl.
“Come on man, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Tucker said. “Tell us what you wrote.”
“No.”
“Don’t make me check the security footage. You know we’ve got HD cameras on your place.” Tucker, horrible friend that he was, was already pulling up the footage. The cameras had been installed as a valid security measure but were mostly used to retrieve blackmail footage against Danny by his friends. Danny had a tendency to glow and float as he stargazed on rare clear nights in Gotham and Sam and Tucker gave him no end of shit about it.
“Did you find it?” Sam asked excitedly, crowding closer while holding Danny off with a boot to the face.
“Yep! Let’s see, ‘Hope you like curry,’ blah blah blah, oh here. ‘With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad you ended up in a constellation next to me.’ You’re right.” Tucker declared solemnly. “It is bad. He’s never going to talk to you again. He’s gunna move states. Dye his hair. Change his name! You’ll never find him again and you’ll never find love.” Tucker lost his deadpan demeanor and dissolved into laughter.
Danny glared at him and phased the couch out from under him. Tucker hit the floor still laughing and didn’t stop.
“Captain Chuckles can stay on the floor, but please re-solidify my couch. I like it to exist in this dimension.” Sam nudged Tucker ever so gently out of the way so that the couch could exist again.
“But really. Was it too much?” Danny asked Sam, since Tucker was clearly just going to be useless.
“I think it was honest and forward. I think if you guys had been going on traditional dates, then it might be too much.” Dannys face fell and his shoulders slumped. “But!” Sam interjected quickly, “That is not what you guys are doing. For better worse, you have some archaic courting ritual going on. You’ve only been exchanging words and gifts. Small offerings of your heart and soul. To give less than your full self in this situation would be disingenuous. I don’t think it was too soon, especially since he initiated the sentiment. Sure, writing down undying love,” Danny and tucker both chuckled at the ‘undying’ part and Sam kicked them both for it, “Would have been too much. But directly stating that you enjoy the little dance you have going on? And that you like him? Nah. I think you did good. Especially since he’s clearly a literary nerd.”
“Yeah” Tucker chimed in, “He matches well with your space nerd!”
“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Danny rolled off the couch and chased Tucker around Sam’s spacious apartment, promising to freeze him to the ceiling once he caught him.
****
Jason decided to take a night off patrol. Nothing major should be going on tonight. The Alley could do without him being a helicopter parent for one evening. He wanted to make a more involved meal for Danny. There was a good chance that they would see each other tonight. Jason had connected some dots and realized that Danny, the beautiful face and soul that he was, liked to stargaze on clear Gotham nights. This would be the first clear night in weeks and there was no way that Danny would miss the opportunity.
So Jason got started early. Rissoto didn’t look fancy but it took skill to get right. The results, when done right, were amazing. Jason had also picked up a bottle of wine. Call it wishful thinking, but he hoped Danny would share it with him and they might sit down and really get to know each other. That would be nice.
****
As Jason stood, stirring his hopes and risotto, Danny was one floor down trying not to burn the entire building down. This was his fourth night trying to make the same thing. He’d watched so many videos. So many tutorials. All of them said this could be done by a beginner cook if they just followed the steps. None of them really sold how difficult it was though. Someone needed to start a cooking channel where an average person tried to follow these recipes.
The first attempt, several nights ago, ended in him realizing that he could not melt sugar on top of a creme brulee in a plastic ramekin. Fire plus plastic is bad. That was the first batch ruined.
The second batch didn’t set in the oven. Which didn’t make sense because he’d done everything the same as the first batch, which had turned out fine.
The third batch, he turned the oven up just a but realized while he was cleaning up egg shell that he’d never actually put eggs into the second batch. By the time he got the third batch out of the oven, they were horribly over cooked.
For the fourth batch, he laid out all his ingredients, portioned and in order of use. Set his oven back to the right temperature and gave an offhanded prayer to Clockwork for proper timing.
The timer dinged, the custards wobbled ever so slightly and Danny about collapsed with relief as he got them safely removed from the oven and set on his counter. He took a moment to contemplate how he’d ended up cooking the same dessert four nights in a row. These were way too complicated for him. But he’d done this to himself. He’d looked up “impressive desserts to make for your date” and Creme Brulee topped half the lists. Last step was to toast the tops with a micro torch after they cooled.
Danny returned to his homework while he waited.
****
Jason opened his window, two servings piping hot seafood risotto plated and ready. He’d heard muffled cursing from downstairs, so he knew Danny was home. Most likely cursing one of his professors. Jason left the bottle of wine just inside his window. He was hopeful that the evening would go well but no sense in being presumptuous. He wasn’t even sure if Danny liked wine, or drank at all!
Starting down the fire escape, Jason was surprised to see Danny already out. He was peering into the eyepiece of a telescope muttering to himself. Danny did talk to himself a lot now that he thought about it. Not wanting to startle him, Jason waited on the upper level of the fire escape and simply watched. Admired the object of his affections these past months. It was odd to think how much they’d both put into the relationship so far for how little time they’d actually spent together. Danny sat on the stairs in his Nasa hoodie and some Justice League pajama pants, which caused Jason to chuckle quietly to himself.
Sitting next to Danny was an open notebook, Danny’s chaotic handwriting scattered over the page along with some very precise charts. Jason almost didn’t believe they were hand drawn except that they were penned in the same aggressively bright neon green sparkly gel pen as the chicken scratch writing. What a strange dichotomy. Next to the notes sat a tray with two ramekins of creme brulee. As Dannys hand moved down to make some notes Jason noticed several bandaids with burns peeking out from under them. Had Danny made the creme brulees himself? He’d mentioned a few times that he was hopeless in the kitchen. Had he gone to all that trouble and apparently pain, to make something for Jason?
For no particular reason, Jason needed to clear his throat, which startled Danny of his concentration trance.
“Oh! You’re here!” Danny said. He capped the eyepiece and looked around. “I made you something. You’re always making things for me and I’ve just been buying things so I wanted to put more work into your gifts. So I made these. For….For us. I was hoping you’d eat with me? I waited out here for you. Also it was a great night for some stargazing so I was just doing that while I waited, of course, because sometimes you come home really late. Not that I’m watching you!” Danny’s hands came up defensively, a blush coloring his cheeks as he rambled. Eyes darting away, he started clearing off the stairs for them to sit. Moving his notebooks and the creme brulees. Jason just smiled at the disaster he was already half in love with. He couldn’t wait to learn all of Danny’s quirks and habits. Would he always ramble on or was this just jitters? Would Danny’s face light up the same way every time Jason came home from patrol? He hoped so. He wanted to make this work. He wanted to come home to that face.
“I’m actually really glad you’re out here,” Jason said, saving Danny from himself. “I’ve seen your telescope and noticed that you like to come out on clear nights. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me again. I made seafood risotto. It’s shrimp and muscles. Would you like some?” Jason presented the plates to Danny as he came down the stairs.
“Yeah. I’d love to have dinner with you. I like any food that doesn’t try to eat my back. I don’t think I’ve ever had risotto. Let me just finish moving my junk.” He smiled as he set everything off to the side in a pile.
Jason settled down and handed one of the plates and a fork over to Danny. “How has school been going? I think you mentioned you were going for engineering?” Danny nodded. “What made you pick Gotham U? Most people are trying to leave the city, not come here.”
“Oh, that’s easy. But two reasons really. First, Gotham U has the Wayne Tech scholarship program and the great internship programs. I’ve also heard hush-hush rumors about some great job opportunities that recruit from Wayne Tech. If it’s true, I want to be here.” Danny gazed up longingly at the sky. Wayne Tech of course had partnerships with NASA but that was a well known connection. It wasn’t hush hush. The only thing Jason could think of that Danny would be alluding to would be jobs on the Watchtower. They did hire civilians, but the Justice League hand selected the best of the best. Bruce and Lucius kept their eyes out for those people. Not that he supported nepotism, but Jason wouldn’t mind making sure Danny’s name got added to the hat once he was ready.
“The other reason,” Danny said, breaking Jason out of his future planning, “is that Gotham is the only city I could find with even half the amount of crazy as Amity, my home town. We had some crazy super villains and after growing up with that daily madness, I can’t settle down in a peaceful city.” He took a moment to savor the food, bliss coming across his face. It made Jason want to make more food for him. Jason wanted to bring him that joy again. To provide for Danny and take care of him. “This is really good! I love your food. Best thing I’ve ever had every time. I just hope what I made doesn’t give us both food poisoning.”
“Hey, I’m sure it’s great. Did you burn your fingers making that? I saw the band aids. Even if you need chaos, I’m sure you don’t need to make more by burning yourself making dessert. Just walk through the alley in the daytime and I’m sure you’ll get enough excitement.”
“Nah, Muggers are small potatoes.” Danny contested. “Most exciting thing that can come of that is Red Hood showing up. And I’m typically not out while he’s patrolling. Hood keeps most of the rif raf out of the area, so I generally feel safer here than the rest of Gotham.”
“Hmmm. So Hood is doing better than the bats and birds? I’m sure Batman would love to hear that.” Jason bumped Danny’s shoulder playfully. “Since you’ve been here for a few months now, do you have a favorite bat or bird?”
“Red Hood.” Danny said quickly and decisively. “Definitely Red Hood. Not only does he have his area on lock down, so much so that even the other Bats stay out. Black Mask? Nope. Traffickers? Gone. Most violence? Low level. I know some of the bigger name rogues will ignore all the boundaries but they’re really not known for following the rules so they don’t really count. And also he’s….” Danny stopped abruptly, a blush coming over his cheeks. “But what about you? You grew up here. Who’s your favorite?”
“That’s a hard choice. I remember when it was just Batman and Robin OG. So I would say it was original Robin, then Nightwing, but then he abandoned us for Bludhaven. Now It’s probably BlackBat. Though the current Robin is also doing a great job. He gets a lot of shit for being so young and violent but what do people expect? Of course he’s violent. Being Robin is not easy. It’s- And now I’m rambling on.” Jason chuckled. “BlackBat. She’s my favorite. For now.”
“Hmmm. I haven’t heard a lot about her. It makes sense since what I have heard is that she’s the stealthiest of the bats.”
Some time during the conversation they had relaxed, no longer holding a strict gap between their bodies. Forks clinked as they sat shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip on the narrow fire escape staircase. A peaceful silence fell around them like a cozy blanket.
“Can I try one of the creme brulees?” Jason asked, having finished his food already. “I would hate to see all your hard work, pain, and suffering go unappreciated.”
“Sure, but you’re taking your life into your own hands. Just do me a favor and lie to me about how good it is.” Danny passed one of the desserts and a small spoon over to Jason. Their hands touched and they both paused, but neither pulled away.
A gentle smile grew on Jason’s face as a blush returned to Danny’s cheeks but still neither pulled away. The world seems to pause around them, allowing them this moment. The soft light coming from the windows flickered….and then went out.
“Um…What just happened?” Danny asked, looking around. The ambient glow of Gotham still loomed in the distance but most of the closer lights had gone out, just street lamps remained. Down at the end of the street, a red glow flickered. The glow of fire.
“I gotta go.” They both said at the same time. Their eyes met in the dim light. Shadows made masks on their faces and sudden understanding lit their eyes. A mutual epiphany.
“Be safe.” Danny said to Red Hood.
“You too.” Jason responded before darting back up the stairs and into his apartment.
****
Danny’s mind was reeling. How could he not have noticed? All the clues were there in hindsight. The late nights. The tired days. The various bruises and scrapes. Even the vague half answers and glaring lack of personal info in their brief conversations. But in that moment of calamity, Jason’s entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders squared and resolution threaded every fiber of his frame, and what a great frame it was. On the plus side, Danny felt less conflicted about staring at Red Hood’s ass while courting Jason. They were the same ass. The same thighs. The same broad shoulders that Danny had way too many private thoughts about.
Focus Danny!
Once he got into his closet, he transformed. While he no longer shouted “Going Ghost” at the top of his lungs (He was young, leave him alone), he didn’t have any way to dampen the bright flash of light his transformation gave off. So into the closet he went.
Flying through his apartment walls and over the battle zone he quickly assessed the lay of the land. There seemed to be two groups shooting at each other from opposite corners of the street. Behind every available place of cover and down every alley, people were hiding. Sneaking into the intersection from their apartment was Red Hood, also assessing the situation from the ground. His eyes raked over both factions, the civilians, the fire escapes and windows, and even the rooftops. Danny was impressed because few people thought to look up. Danny allowed himself to pop back into the visible spectrum as Jason’s gaze passed over the rooftop Danny was hovering over. Nobody else was looking up. Nobody ever looked up.
Danny pointed at Hood, then at the violence. Then after a pause, pointed at himself and circled his hand around to indicate the surrounding area. He hoped Hood would catch that Danny was going to take care of the civilians and general crowd control. Jason nodded and took out two of his guns, checking the safety and loads before focusing on the task ahead. Danny faded back to invisibility and looked around for the most vulnerable of the civilians to get them out first.
****
The firefight took much longer to handle than Danny expected. He was used to one on one or maybe himself versus a group, but never a gang war like this. Never with so many people. So many combatants. So many innocents in the line of fire.
The noise in the streets had been like listening to a bag of popcorn. Shots overlapping. Echoing endlessly. A constant incomprehensible cacophony of gunfire. As Danny got more civilians to safety, the density of noise began to wane. Little by little the gunfire spread out as Hood disabled the shooters and their weapons until it went from constant noise to just isolated pops to silence.
Danny allowed himself to become visible atop the same roof as earlier when he noticed Jason looking for him once more. Danny held his fist out, thumb to the side, head cocked in question. Red Hood returned the thumb out fist and turned it up briefly, before pointing with his thumb over his shoulder back towards their apartments. Danny turned up his thumb to match and nodded before disappearing and leaving Hood to the mercy of the converging Bats. Danny didn’t even remember them showing up. He was so focused on getting people to safety. He was glad Jason had help though. He sped back to his own apartment to wait. To pace restlessly and hope that Hood hadn’t been hurt.
****
Jason was annoyed. Bruce was annoying for trying to act like he was in charge while standing in Jason’s damn apartment. Tim was annoying, standing off to the side while silently judging Jason’s lack of coffee choices. Oracle was annoying for sending Bats his way when she heard him get winged by a stray round at the beginning of the firefight. He was even annoyed with himself for somehow missing that Danny was apparently a vigilante? Or maybe a rogue? He needed them to leave. He needed to check on Danny. There was clearly some kind of powers involved but nothing to say that Danny couldn’t be hurt. That he wasn’t hurt. He’d seen Danny peek his head around the window frame three separate times before literally disappearing from view each time. Clearly waiting until Jason was alone again to talk.
“Look.” Jason interrupted whatever Bruce was saying. “I’m tired. I was already in for the night before that clusterfuck even began. I need you both out of my place because I have a date with a cup of tea and possibly a shot of whiskey.” Jason stalked over and opened the front door in clear invitation to leave. “Out. And tell O to mind their own business and butt out of my feeds.” Jason continued to motion out the door. Gentleman that he was, he even waited politely until their capes were all the way out the door before slamming it behind them. Jason took a deep breath and turned around as he felt the air shifting.
“Are they gone yet?” Danny asked. His inexplicable white hair from the battlefield was gone but he was floating a couple inches off the floor.
Jason wondered if he knew he was doing it as he walked over to retrieve the bottle of wine.
“Yeah. They’re gone for now. Let’s talk.”
#dead on main#dpxdc#danny phantom#jason todd#red hood#my writing#deadonmayn24#Not beta read#we die like our boys#courtship rituals#flickering#prompt fill#the word count got away from me#Fire Escape
177 notes
·
View notes
Text
billy’s mom waking him up while it’s still dark, whispering even though neil’s working the night shift. it’s a couple days before his tenth birthday and she’s telling him they’re going to have their very own adventure, just like the ones in billy’s books. she grabs an already packed suitcase from under billy’s bed and kisses him on the nose, tells him to get dressed quick. the two of them leave in an old beat up yellow bug that she managed to get for a third of the asking price and keep parked around the corner until now. they stay with friends and jump from place to place so neil can’t track them down. billy gets used to surfing couches and staying in motels.
he spends his tenth birthday in a diner, his mom gets him a big stack of pancakes and a milkshake with extra cherries. gets a candle out her pocket along with her silver lighter. sings happy birthday and pulls a face when the waitress frowns at them, just to make billy laugh. she sips at her coffee while billy tucks in. smiles when he holds some out with a “c’mon mama, share with me.”
billy thinks it’s neat. thinks it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.
they eventually end up with a place in california, a little bungalow near the coast and billy grows up with his mom. billy gets pretty shirts from the thrift store ‘cause his mama lets him do stuff like that. doesn’t call him a queer, doesn’t force a baseball bat into his hands whilst yelling at him for crying, for being a pussy. his mom lets him read and keep a journal and press flowers between the pages of the neverending story, she plays hendrix and dusty springfield and laughs when billy comes home from his friends’ house with his first piercing at thirteen. she doesn’t tear down his posters or yell when she finds him using her eyeliner.
and everything’s perfect. sort of.
they have bad days- billy’s mom has bad days. billy calls them gray days ‘cause that’s how the world looks when she’s like this. all her color gone. no singing-dancing in the kitchen or baking five different kinds of cake because she couldn’t decide which one was best, no last minute trips to the beach or sitting outside at night and telling billy about the stars. instead she’ll stay in bed, won’t go to work. she’ll stare at the wall blankly and look right through billy when he tries to talk to her. she won’t take the pills the doc gave her and billy doesn’t know what to do. never knows what to do. just chews at his lip until it bleeds, bites at his thumb until it’s red raw. he’ll get in the bed with her. lay beside her and just talk like she used to do with him when he had a nightmare. hum a song to her.
billy’s still pissed at the world just slightly less so. still has that anger and anxiousness simmering just below the surface and shows his teeth when cornered. he’s still hardened in a way that a kid shouldn’t be but. it’s different. there’s no neil. the only bloody noses he gets are at school, when he fights with the kids who call him a fag and a fairy, call his mom a basket case. he uses fists when they laugh and ask if she’s all there with a finger pointing at their heads, ask if billy will “catch the crazy.”
those are billy’s bad days. sitting in the principals office, icing his knuckles.
when he’s fifteen, billy manages to bag a job at the local auto repair by turning up every day and telling howie how good he’d be, that he knows cars and it’s all he wants to do and please please please. eyebrows pulled together, eyes puppy dog wide and hands clasped in front of him until howie grumbles, throws an oily rag at billy. says fine but billy’s gotta pay for anything he damages. someone brings in a chevy camaro and billy asks howie to let him help fix it up. does the begging again until howie laughs. says get a hold of yourself, kid, voice fond as he ruffles billy’s hair.
billy’s four months away from turning seventeen when the doorbell goes. he’s eating a sandwich and watching knight rider. he’s wearing the necklace his mom got him for his last birthday and- he answers the door. doesn’t think twice. freezes when he sees neil standing there. he looks different. hair a little shorter and more wrinkles. where billy’s gained weight, gained muscle, neil’s lost it. his eyes are a little sunken and he’s still got his wedding band on. he reeks of booze. billy has to remind himself to speak, just says “yeah?” his voice comes out small and neil smiles at him. smiles and billy feels this weird twist in his stomach ‘cause .. that’s his dad and he hasn’t seen him in years and it twists and twists and-
turns out. not much has changed. billy realises a little too late that neil will always be neil. they run again. have to leave everything behind. billy doesn’t get to say bye to his friends, to howie, to the car. they leave a lot of stuff behind and head in any direction away from neil. they both try to keep the mood light, take turns driving and play the tapes billy grabbed. they end up in indiana- hawkins. they stay at a motel until billy’s mom finds a place for dirt cheap. it has two bedrooms and a dingy bathroom, a living room slash kitchen and one hell of a damp problem. it’s dirt cheap for a reason.
it’s above a shop in town and- it’s fine. their landlord is an asshole but they’re together and they’ve got a roof over their heads. billy’s enrolled at hawkins high and his mom gets a job at the laundromat. he tells her that he doesn’t need to go to school, that he could just work and help pay the bills but his mom won’t have any of it. says that she wishes she had finished school and that billy’s too clever to waste it. that he has potential.
billy knows the reason she dropped out of school was because she had him. he just nods, rests his head on her shoulder.
it’s billy’s first day at school and his mom drives him to make sure he actually goes. he gets out the car and tries to shake the nerves off. straightens up and puts on his act. plasters a fake smile on his face and it’s working, he’s got most of the girls swooning and the boys at least seem curious. billy looks around and his eyes land on a guy leaning up against a bmw. his hair’s coiffed to high heaven and he’s wearing a polo, preppy as fuck but- pretty. it’s one of the first things billy realises about him, all doe eyes and moles dotted just about everywhere. he’s got a smirk on his face. not aimed at billy but the guy beside him.
pretty-boy walks over to him and billy raises an eyebrow, plays it cool. he introduces himself as steve and billy gets the idea that he’s top dog at hawkins high, is immediately proved right when they step into the building. king steve, freckles calls him. billy laughs- catches steve looking at him when he does and feels his face get hot. steve just smiles wider, calls billy california and tells him to sit with them at lunch. billy tries to ignore the way steve’s smile makes him feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under his feet.
he nods and steve grins. tugs at one of billy’s curls.
says “i think you’re gonna like it here, california.”
#it got away from me i fear#billy has to live somewhere else at the start and then they move to california i don’t care he needs to be there with his mom for the#majority of the time he just has to#he Is california ! what else am i supposed to do here he needs it#makes hawkins that much worse#he’s best friends with argyle but he doesn’t get to say bye !#billy’s first kiss is with a girl but the second the one he counts is with a boy and his mama knows he’s gay also#probably argyle if we’re being real#my words#billy hargrove#billy’s mom#harringrove#cw slurs#cw mental illness#spinning in circles i just need mamas boy billy and king steve so bad#mamas boy billy & king steve
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fluffbruary Days 9, 10 & 11
gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.
Dream/Hob • rated T • urgency | kneel | rural & flush | angel | owl & reflection | water | apology
Hob’s vigil is but halfway gone when he hears footsteps behind him.
The chapel is dark. The only light comes from the pair of candlesticks flanking his armor and sword where they are laid upon the altar. Hob is clad only in a thin cotton shift, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as the footsteps slowly make their way down the aisle to where he kneels on a thin cushion directly before the altar.
“Rise, sir knight,” says a deep and familiar voice.
“Not a knight yet,” Hob responds quietly. “Your Highness.”
“Do you doubt your ability to master this challenge?”
“No, my liege,” Hob says. He remains on his knees. “Lest you be a manifestation of temptation, sent to sway me from my path.”
“Not I.” Dream finally steps into his line of sight, and Hob’s breath catches in his throat. His prince is a vision, dressed in a diaphanous robe, long hair in a simple braid over his shoulder. “I merely wished to look upon the face of the man I love once more, ere it is wreathed in responsibilities.”
Hob flushes. He is not supposed to touch another soul between the ritual bath and when the priests come at dawn to fetch him for the ceremony, but he longs for Dream with every fiber of his being.
“I think you have come to tempt me, you sprite,” he accuses, and Dream smiles softly.
“Peace, my own,” he says. “Return to your prayers. Know that mine are with you also. I will see you in the morning.”
He glides from the chapel, but turns when Hob calls his name.
“Dream. My prince. I want you to know…” He has to pause and swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “When I swear my oath it will be to king and country, yes. But my first and best oath – the one I swear in my heart – will be to you. Always.”
He is shocked to see tears glinting in his lord’s crystal blue eyes. Dream nods, once, and slips out the side door.
In the morning, the priests come. Hob is clothed in a robe of pure white and thinks of Dream. He receives the sacrament, the first food to pass his lips in twenty four hours, and thinks of Dream.
The king presides over the ceremony. There is a pained look and a murmured apology from his advisor when he forgets Hob’s name.
Hob barely notices. He thinks of Dream.
Dream’s hands drape the red robe over his shoulders. Dream’s hands drop the embroidered black tabard over his head. Red, for his willingness to be wounded. Black, for his readiness to die for his lord.
The king rests his sword on the back of Hob’s neck, but it is Dream’s voice that rings out over the assembled crowd.
“Rise, Sir Gadling, knight of the realm.”
prompt list!
#okay the word count got away from me on this one#I think this is actually the first time I've written knight!Hob#which is kind of crazy#dreamling#the sandman#my writing#fluffbruary#fluffbruary 2024#kinda shoehorned some words in to stretch this out over three days' worth of prompts#meh
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
All Yours
prompt | yamato x f!reader + snow day
summary | yamato shows you a slice of life outside the walls of the flower capital.
word count | 2k
content warnings | reader is implied to be a geisha in orochi's court, some slightly suggestive conversation but nothing explicit
winter holiday event masterpost
You carry the note close to your chest all morning.
A thin slip of parchment tucked beneath the neckline of your hikizuri: meet me in the gardens this afternoon? I’ll make it worth your time.
It bore no signature, but it’s not hard for you to know who the sender was. Yamato’s hand, so careful and delicate, an endearing contrast to his sometimes-brutish appearance and temperament. He’s written you letters before, during periods when the shogun kept you too busy to slip away; always extensively wordy, his written language so much more refined and florid than when he speaks.
And yet, this little note is so short that it’s almost curt–a small mystery that’s left your heart thrumming with anticipation from the moment you found it, slipped beneath your door in the early hours of morning, to now.
The winter months always leave you hard at work, as the shogun buries himself in the warmth of sake and women. Yamato knows this, and you know that he would be understanding if you didn’t make it to your rendezvous. But as you can feel the paper, pressed warm against your bare skin as if it were Yamato’s own hand, you can hear the shogun’s lecherous laughter down the hall, and you know that whatever risks you may have to take to make it to the garden are worth it.
Thankfully, with the shogun already waist-deep in sake by noon, it isn’t difficult for you to excuse yourself under the pretense of fetching another bottle and slip away.
Your skirts trail through the snow as you pass down the twining paths of the garden, taking a bridge across the frozen creek to your usual meeting place: a bench beside the property’s walls, tucked safely out of view from the rest of the gardens. It’s surrounded by cherry trees, their branches now bare with winter but still enough to provide shelter from the snow.
Yamato is waiting for you there, hands fidgeting with a bundle of fabric on his lap.
“(Y/N)! You came!” he calls out as soon as he sees you.
Used to his unguarded enthusiasm and energy by now, you lift a finger to your lips, reminding him that you’re still supposed to be working, and he nods, flushing a little with embarrassment.
“Put these on,” he says, voice softening a bit as he holds the bundle out to you.
“What is it?” you ask as you inspect the fabric: quilted cotton, printed in a rippling pattern of pale blue and white.
Yamato’s fangs peek out from behind his lips when he smiles at you, his expression one of utter excitement. “You’ll be too cold, dressed like that.”
You hesitate, considering the potential repercussions of disappearing in the middle of the day like this, but Yamato’s enthusiasm is so irresistible, and you know that if worse came to worst, he could pull the strings to keep you safe.
“Don’t look,” you instruct him as you place yourself between him and the wall.
Obediently, Yamato fixes his gaze straight ahead, broad back shielding you from view of the rest of the garden as you unfold the bundle to find a shirt, trousers, and hanten. A less trained eye than yours would only see simple garments, made to withstand the cold and not much else, but you can tell by the weight of the fabric and the fine stitching that Yamato must have spent a fortune on these–possibly even had them made specially for you.
It’s not the cost that surprises you–he is Kaido’s son, after all, he could likely buy you a whole new wardrobe if you asked–as it is the care evident in the fact that he put so much thought into something as simple as keeping you warm.
Once you’ve changed, folded your court clothes, and stashed them safely in an alcove on the wall, you wrap your arms around Yamato’s neck, snuggling up to his warm body.
“Ready?” he asks, nervous energy clearly apparent in his voice.
“Ready,” you nod.
You keep your arms wrapped tightly around him as you feel his weight begin to shift beneath you, shoulders and back expanding as white fur sprouts from his arms and the nape of his neck to tickle your nose. While it’s not the first time you’ve seen his Zoan form, you’re still unsure whether you’re ever going to get used to the feeling of his muscles shifting and contorting until all that you can recognize is his eyes: beyond his innocent demeanor, they're so wise beyond their years, and so headstrong.
He waits for you to securely wrap your legs around his waist before he gathers his weight on his back haunches and leaps, clearing the wall in one easy stride. And then you’re bounding down the path that leads from the palace, through the streets of the Flower Capital, the whole world flying past you with a kind of confidence and ease that you can’t help but envy.
When he finally stops moving, far from the city, you find yourselves in a snowy grove hemmed by cypress trees and dusted in powdered white snow. Across the clearing is a small wood cottage, soft light flickering behind the paper windows.
Yamato waits for you to slip from his back before he returns to his human form, unbothered by the way you stare as he stretches and rolls his shoulders like he’s settling back into his human skin.
“What do you think?” he asks, tipping his head to the side curiously.
“It’s beautiful,” you answer, not bothering to hide the awe in your voice.
It’s like he knew exactly what you needed: picturesque and wild, nothing like the neatly trimmed gardens of the shogun’s palace. And even better, completely closed off from the rest of the world, like it was made just for the two of you.
“Come on,” he says, waving to you over his shoulder as he turns toward the cottage. “I want to show you something.”
You’re not entirely listening, though; he’s already set your mind wandering back to the days before you became a kamuro, when dignity and elegance were the last things on your mind. Memories of your childhood, playing with your friends in forests not unlike this one, and Yamato’s back turned to you as he walks away give you an idea.
Before you’re entirely sure what you’re doing or why, you’ve begun rolling a small ball of snow between your hands, pressing it together until it holds.
And then it’s sailing through the air until it lands in the middle of Yamato’s back with a satisfying smack.
For a moment, he just stops moving and stands completely still, leaving you worried that you’ve somehow offended him even though that seems near-impossible. But then you see him bend over, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
In one movement so fluid that it doesn’t leave you time to react, he swoops low, pivoting on one foot as he gathers a ball of snow in his own hands and slings it in your direction. The snowball bursts against your shoulder in a puff of white.
“Revenge!” Yamato crows, raising his fists to the sky as he grins at you.
“You know what they say about an eye for an eye, right?” you giggle, dodging to the side as you duck down to roll another snowball and toss it at Yamato.
The moment the words leave your mouth, it’s all out war. For once, your smaller frame gives you the advantage; while he may have better aim than you thanks to all his time spent training, his broad frame and towering height mean that Yamato is practically a walking target. Still, he manages to land a couple good hits of his own until you’re both panting, the fronts of your hanten flecked with snow.
“Are you ready to surrender yet?” you say, placing your hands on your hips and smugly puffing out your chest.
“Never!” Yamato proclaims, rolling a fresh snowball between his palms in preparation for the end of your ceasefire.
Knowing Yamato well enough to know that he’d never give up so easily, you’ve got another trick up your sleeve. Before he can react, you’re barreling forward, leaping toward him as soon as you’re close enough to tackle him.
Yamato playfully stumbles back, clasping a hand to his chest as if he’s been stabbed, and collapses back onto a snowbank, your legs straddling his waist.
You lean in close to Yamato’s ear, relishing how easily he flushes as you whisper, “what about now?”
His voice has gone uncharacteristically shy when he concedes, “I’m all yours.”
“And how should I use my spoils of war?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on your arms, folded over his chest.
Yamato blinks and glances away as he thinks, cheeks flaring even brighter against the white snow. “However you’d have me.”
Ever since you first met Yamato, you’ve been charmed by how delicately he tries to treat you, even when it’s so clear that he’s naturally much more physical and uninhibited. It was a welcome reprieve from men like the shogun, with their entitlement and possessiveness. But sometimes, you wish that Yamato was more willing to take what he wanted from you.
So you take what you want instead: a kiss.
His lips part so easily for you, as if he’d been waiting for this moment since you first met. Then again, you muse, perhaps he has. The soft groan he releases when you place your hand on his chin, tug of his fingers running through your once-carefully arranged hair as it tumbles around your shoulders, the fervor of his gentle nips at your lower lip; all charged with the hunger of a starving man.
Unfortunately, even with Yamato’s warm body as a barrier between yourself and the snowy earth, it’s too cold for the two of you to stay that way forever. Eventually, you have to pull back, running your hand along Yamato’s jaw as you ask, “you wanted to show me inside?”
He has to take a moment to collect himself, lucidity returning to his eyes, before he nods wordlessly. As he stands, he scoops you up in one arm as if you weigh nothing and carries you through the snow, past the sliding doors of the cottage, to find a small room, cushioned with pillows and blankets and warmed by a fire in the hearth.
“Whose–” you begin to say, but Yamato cuts you off.
“I had it built.” Then, shyly avoiding your gaze, “for you. If you ever need–a break. To get away.”
“It’s–” Your voice cracks, forcing you to take a brief pause before you’re able to finish the thought. “Yamato, this is too much.”
“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head obstinately. “If I must live with my father’s wealth, I may as well use it for the ones I care about.”
And it’s true, Yamato has been generous with his wealth for as long as you’ve known him–not just with you, either, but with all the people of Wano, whenever he’s able. So you pause, biting back further protests, before pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek.
“Thank you. It’s perfect.”
“It’s nothing,” he repeats, cheeks reddening as he carefully sets you on the ground. “You must be cold.”
Eventually, you find yourselves nestled before the fire, dressed in fresh, dry clothes and mugs of tea cupped between your hands.
“Someday I’ll liberate this land from my father,” Yamato promises, absentmindedly curling your unbound hair around one of his fingers. “And then we’ll both be free.”
“What then?” you ask, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll take you there,” Yamato answers, the simplicity of his promise and the sincerity of his tone yet another reminder of why you’ve chosen him, why you’d choose him again and again if given the chance.
You think for a little while, watching the steam rise from your teacups.
“I want to see the world outside Wano. Want to travel by your side. That’s enough to make me happy.”
He presses an affectionate kiss to your temple. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I’m all yours.”
#word count on this one got away from me lol but hopefully it's worth it <3#yams ended up being so fun to write!!#not sure i got his characterization nailed as well as i'd like but i definitely wanna do more for him in the future#one piece#yamato#yamato x y/n#yamato x you#yamato x reader#one piece x reader#one piece fanfiction#one piece fanfic#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece reader insert#op fics#ronan writes
154 notes
·
View notes
Note
send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with
ask meme
cw: discussions of death & religion
(ty for the ask @oneiroy!)
"D'you think She's listenin'?"
A low voice came from her right. It was midafternoon, a time dedicated to meditation and spiritual nourishment, not childish whispering. Tauvane usually spends her rest period alone in the empty chapel, but the task to monitor the recovery of one poor soul her Sisters had saved fell squarely into her lap. Tauvane didn't falter in her prayers, however. She kept her head bowed, her eyes closed. The muted words flowed from her mouth like water from a spout. She knew the Halonian prayers better than anyone, for it had been ingrained in her mind since she was old enough to talk.
"Ya have to wonder if the ice queen up above gives a fig about Her flock if all She does is plug Her ears."
Her eyebrow twitched, a sign of slight irritation. Tauvane rolled the rosary between her fingers, clasping the beads tighter. She heard a petulant sigh and shuffling, followed by a sharp wince. Tauvane let out an exasperated sigh before turning to face her fidgety companion. Pelleas scowled in discomfort as he massaged his lower back. Perhaps the stone pews were too uncomfortable for his battered body, but this was the first time Pelleas had been allowed outside his cell after five moons of confinement.
The spear of a fellow knight impaled his abdomen in the chaos of the ambush. Instead of wisecracking, Pelleas should thank the Fury for aiming the polearm slightly to the right so it would not sever his spine. Tauvane felt a slight twinge of pity for the man, nonetheless—slight.
"Come, you must return to your quarters for another healing session."
"Oh, joy, more manhandling," came a deadpanned response. Tauvane let the comment slide as she helped Pelleas into his wheelchair since he still couldn't walk a few fulms before growing exhausted. Tauvane noted how the muscles atrophied during his time bedridden, meaning he would have to rebuild strength in his legs to support his tall frame. Pelleas, usually cheeky enough to playfully fake aches and pains to get a rise out of his caretaker, was not up to it today. Exhaustion painted Pelleas' features and aged him considerably, his one good eye sunken and dark.
She wheeled him down cold, unassuming hallways and into the snow-covered cloister, making a note to go faster at risk of Pelleas catching sick. Tauvane made no effort to speak to her fellow Swordsisters who passed her by, for they would not turn their gazes to her and her charge. For all concerned, Pelleas was invisible, something to look past.
While not outright forbidden, it was rare for the Order of Saint Jehanne to take in male outsiders, but they wouldn't stay long. The vow of chastity was an unbreakable oath every Swordsister took to heart, but temptation lurked around every corner. To have a man housed underneath their roof for so long was a test sent from the Fury; would Her subjects endure this trial or be swayed by earthly cravings? Pelleas knew not the way of the Swordsisters, and he was as ignorant as a newborn. But even newborns need to be taught much like Tauvane had been.
The warmth from the fireplace kept away the chill from Pelleas' stone walls, his back exposed as he lay on his belly in bed. Tauvane's knowledge in conjury wouldn't be a cure-all, but it helped the man's pains during these long winter months. The tingle of aether weaving through Tauvane's hands set Pelleas' taut muscles underneath the ragged scar tissue at ease, and a sigh of relief broke the silence. Tauvane gave no outward reaction. She continued to provide aid as any good shepherd would do to their flock. But a flock of karakul can't speak.
"I can't stand the church."
Her fingers twitched. Tauvane lifted her gaze to rest on the back of Pelleas' blond head, his face obscured by his cool pillow. His words came out muffled, but the lingering contempt was plain.
"Does that include me, Ser Pelleas? I am but a cog in the greater design."
A mirthless snort came as a response.
"You're a cog, yeah. But not a well-oiled one."
"Why is that?"
Tauvane's neutral response elicited Pelleas to twist onto his back to stare at her. His green eye burned with resentment.
"Look at me, look at yourself. We risk our lives day in and day out for the blasted church filled with sniveling whoresons, fighting this war with no end. We are cogs in a machine, but there's no one operating the machinery. But that's besides the point I'm tryna make: why doesn't Halone send down Her bloody spears and kill the raving lot of snakes already? Why should I have to do all the hard work?"
Tauvane pinched her brows together; she didn't like the tone of voice Pelleas took. He would usually incite Tauvane with innocuous statements of blasphemy that would lead to ecclesiastical debate, but Tauvane never realized Pelleas held such resentment in his heart.
"I suggest you keep your voice down ere any judgment come upon you," she earned a scoff, "but to answer your question: yes, Halone could end the war with one fell swoop. But you and I, as Her congregation, are Her earthly soldiers tasked with preserving the land, and we must continue to show Her our unbending loyalty and spirit to fight. To suffer is to be closer to the Fury, and for you to suggest indolence is inaccurate and borderline heretical. We cannot rely on Halone to solve all of what ails us, for we would not be able to grow. You must have faith in Her, as She does you."
Tauvane's response was automatic and well-rehearsed, but it sounded halfhearted in her ears. Pelleas said nothing, but he didn't seem happy with the answer. Tauvane sighed and licked the dryness off her lips, sitting at the soldier's bedside for what felt like hours, the crackling fire acting like a ticking timepiece.
"I know it's difficult to grasp for someone lapsed in his faith, and you have indeed suffered great loss in your life to warrant your frustrations, but She loves even all wayward souls under Her domain. Volume eleven of the Seventy-two Articles of Halonic Polity says: 'Of the Fury's love all men will receive, and by the balance of Her spear will all be set free.'"
"Is that what you truly believe?"
Her response came a few seconds late, "Of course."
Pelleas worked himself into a sitting position, his good eye meeting Tauvane's steely gaze. He leaned in towards Tauvane's hidden ear, the scent reminiscent of petrichor filling her nose, and whispered:
"Don't kid yourself."
Tauvane recoiled, "Excuse me?"
"Admit it. You're just as bitter as I am. We're supposed to be Halone's children, but look at us: a filthy Brumerat with no future and a sinful halfling. She abandoned us. We got no seat at Her table. I know that line all too well, it's been smacked into me head since I was a child scrounging for food after me folks froze. We're all equal under Halone, yet the wolves at Her gates dressed in fine silks and gold keep me away. For people like me in the Brume, Halone couldn't give a rat's arse about us. If suffering is close to godliness, the whole of the Brume would be saints. If I spent my whole life in solitude like you, constantly praying, singing, and whipping myself, would that earn me a ticket into the Halls? Would I be good enough then?"
It was Tauvane's turn to say nothing. Her gaze wavered—she couldn't bear to look at Pelleas' intense expression any longer.
"You could say I've lapsed in my faith, but I have a hell of a good reason to. You didn't have to watch your parents hopelessly pray for safety in a blizzard, only to wake up the next morning and find them frozen stiff in each other's arms, or spend the rest of your life praying for relief only to be ignored. And what did the holy bitch do to stop it? Absolutely nothing. I spent half of my years screaming for a reason why She couldn't extend Her grace unto me, I have done nothing wrong to be forsaken. You never had to struggle like I did, you've been kept safe and secure in your castle walls here all your life. A privileged life in the bosom of the Fury. So forgive me if my faith calls for the sacrifice of what little I have left, but you don't know me. I'm not a mindless karakul being led off the ledge by the holy book like the rest of you. Call me a heretic if that makes you feel better."
Pelleas was calm as he spoke, but Tauvane could feel the undercurrent of rage in him, evident in how his shoulders hunched over and the low growl in his voice. She dropped her eyes down to her lap and picked at her cuticles in shame. Pelleas was right; she didn't know him at all... But it goes both ways.
"Forgive me for overstepping my bounds, I mean no offense. However, I must make it clear that I am not privileged. Yes, I am a halfling, but I am as much of a sinner to the Fury as anyone else. I was not blessed with a warm and happy home—far from it. My earliest memories are of the confines of my mother's living quarters amongst the servants of my father's house... his lawful wedded wife couldn't bear my presence. I wasn't wanted, I'm a karakul with no shepherd. I was born in the sin of my mother and shaped by my father's iniquity. Contrary to what you may think, I have no place anywhere, not even within the Order."
Pelleas straightened his posture and narrowed his eye, watching Tauvane coolly unpeel the layers of her troubled past like one would do an artichoke. The whole while, Tauvane kept her eyes on the miniature painting of Saint Jehanne hung on the back wall, her patron's humility reflected in the faded watercolors. She detached herself from the current conversation as to not show emotion, she was speaking as is Pelleas wasn't just a few ilms beside her.
"I was like you once. I prayed until my knees bled for salvation, I beat myself raw with reeds for confirmation that She loved me. The church teaches us that Halone loves Her people, so surely She would have boundless adoration for a helpless innocent who did not ask to be born, not if no one else would grant me the feeling of attachment. I have no friends here, they all believe me damned. I prayed for Halone to answer my calls and tell me that I was not a sinner, I have suffered many times for Her. But because of my wretchedness, I would have to endure a thousand hardships before She'll take notice." Tauvane gave a wry smile.
"As said in volume forty-one, the Parable of the Lost Karakul: "'Which of you men, if you had one hundred karakul, and lost one of them, wouldn't leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? When he has found it, he carries it on his shoulders, rejoicing. When he comes home, he calls together his friends, his family, and his neighbors, saying; 'Lo, rejoice with me, for I have found my karakul which was lost!' I tell you that even so there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance.'" I read that passage every night before I went to sleep as a girl. I saw myself as that lost karakul, and Halone as the good shepherd who carried me home. I awaited the day where She would extend Her hand and wrest me from my suffering... that day hasn't come yet."
Tauvane drew in a deep breath, "My devotion to Halone is absolute, I was raised by the Order to honor Her. But my relationship with Her is strained, like a daughter towards her mother. Is it because of my birth that She refuses me? Does life not yet born pass Her keen judgment? For all my life, I have been told of my sin, about how much I need to repent. The price is a hefty sum, and I have already paid half of my life to the balance owed. But how much is enough?"
Silence hung over them for seconds, minutes, hours. The air felt thick, the walls closer than usual. Tauvane felt like she was being buried alive. In truth, only a few minutes passed. Tauvane returned to her senses to find Pelleas propped against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed with a serious countenance. She blinked once, then twice.
"My apologies, I fear I got too ahead of myself. What I said to you is confidential—do not say a word of this to anyone."
The dour look was soon replaced with a playful smirk stretching across his lips, "I would not think it, my fair lady."
Tauvane felt the irritation rise in her throat. She started to say something but quickly clamped her mouth shut. All she could do was shake her head at the snicker she received.
"Enough idle talk. The hour grows late, and I must return to my duties."
"Leaving so soon?" Pelleas pouted, "We were just beginning to bond over our shared disgust for organized religion."
"I'll bring you your supper in a moment. Good day, Ser Pelleas."
Tauvane ignored his last comment in favor of leaving the room, her stride unbroken as she closed the heavy door behind her. In that short moment in the emptiness of the hallway, she allowed herself to double over as it felt like the air had been forced out of her chest. The words that fell out of her mouth began to sink in.
I didn't mean any of that. O 'lone, the almighty heritor of ice, please forgive your humble servant, nothing I said was true.
Tauvane repeated that like a mantra. Why did she do that? To let herself grow so vulnerable to an outsider, a man with loose morals, it settled like a rock in her stomach. Pelleas' soul may not be saved in his final hours, but Tauvane would not be easily swayed.
She let Pelleas know her weak points, and he exploited them to his advantage to spread heretical ideals. Yes. That's the story she'll tell to the Reverend Mother if word gets out about their conversation. Tauvane let go of the doubt in her heart a long time ago through ardent prayer, she's above that now. She knows the Fury would not lead her astray; She loves even a poor sinner like Tauvane unconditionally.
She does.
She doesn't.
Tauvane shook her head as if to rid herself of the niggling worm in the back of her head, a worm that tells only lies. She'll have to show penance for her lack of faith later, a proper mea culpa. The scabbed scars on her back began to itch in protest, but she ignored it.
#inbox#oneiroy#this uh. got away from me. over 2k words jesus christ#lots of mentions of karakul in this one#tauvane and pelleas bonding. not directly related to the prompt but it deals with their complicated relationship with the church + halone#plus their actual relationship with each other wasn't the best in the beginning#that counts as strained right#q.#mywritings.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Living For You
Word Count: 10,732 words
Rating: Teen and Up
Relationship: Henry Creel | One | Vecna/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson/Vecna, Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson
Fandom: Stranger Things
Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 04, Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, True Love's Kiss, Protective Eddie Munson, Protective Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Henry Creel | One | Vecna Redemption, Supportive Wayne Munson, Protective Dustin Henderson, The Upside Down (Stranger Things)
Summary: After years of grieving Henry and thinking he was dead, Eddie finds himself reunited with him in the Upside Down. Just not in the way he'd been expecting. Now, he has to reconcile who Henry was versus who he is and, more importantly, who he could be again if only given the chance.
Read of AO3
#creelson#creelson fanfic#creelson fanfiction#henry x eddie#eddie x henry#henry creel x eddie munsion#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#my fanfiction#a year later than i wanted to be with this#but here we are#that word count also got away from me 😅#heddie#heddie fanfic
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
💈 barber!mickey & (not so) shaggy!ian💈
here's the 30th installment for this week's @galladrabbles prompt: mickey & tami by @milkovetti
catch up/read in full HERE -- updates weekly!
[ read scene one in its entirety ON AO3 ]
- - - -
Ian shrugs. Says, “I liked him.”
It’s simple and a little shy and Mickey thinks his heart might just shatter into a million fucking pieces.
Then, as if sensing a moment that needs ruining, Mickey’s stomach growls. Loudly, like a goddamn traitor.
“You hungry?”
“You buying?”
“I could be. I gotta know something first though.”
“What’s that?”
“How’d you get my number?”
Well, fuck. Mickey can’t lie—Ian’s not even in the system—and this is clearly a second chance, hand-delivered on a platter. What choice does he have?
He takes a deep breath.
“I asked Tami for it.”
#30!!!!!!!!!#can you believe it??????#ian's pov got 16 weeks & now mickey's just 2 weeks away from that himself sooooo we gotta move things along ok?#also i feel that all 3 words of this week's prompt (mickey and tami) are in this drabble so it counts#hahahah#thank you julissa for once again talking me off a ledge#barber!mickey my sweet#shaggy!ian my pet#shameless#shameless fanfiction#galladrabbles#ian x mickey#bee writes 🐝 ✍🏼
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finally finished my charts for the upcoming translyric projects I want to do and ough... these are going to be so much harder than my first two ;---;
#ive got a few songs ive been dying to chip away at but i kept putting them off because making the syllable/translation chart takes a sec#and sure enough im going through the syllables and they're either impossible for me to count#or i can tell them rhythm wont flow the same if i put english words into the exact same configuration#(there are so many quick syllables that flow into the words or are kinda dropped off/breathed into in japanese im finding)#so im going to need to get creative with some of the lines and make a whole new rhythm for a few and 🙃#i know nothing about music theory#i was just here for the fun poetry fitting into nice neat lines like Triage and Salamander asdcvbn#plus that means ill want to sing them to get my vision across and whyyyy#so we'll see what happens 😅#songs i have prepped (but i wont make any promises on completion/timeliness) are:#tearcdrop - cat - i love you - double from milgram#and deco27's parasite#lovesick by keina suda#comet honeymoon by nayutalien and sou#and eve's namae mo shiranai anata koi wo shita (i fell in love even though i dont know your name)#rose rambles#lyrics
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ah the autistic experience of randomly remembering a situation from your childhood and realizing things
#i asked a teacher once if I could go Over the needed word count and she said something mean in return in front of the class#i used to write essays for fun and I remember that I liked the topic and I definitely wanted to infodump in the essay#i attempted to stay calm and realized I was going to really start crying and excused myself to the bathroom#where a really kind upperclassman immediately noticed my distress and hugged me and helped me calm down#or how about. the first time someone gave me a hug I actually enjoyed. and it was because he hugged me with really tight pressure#whereas all hugs I’d had previous were light and always left me uncomfortable from touching and having to lean over awkwardly#i always felt like i was about to fall over in hugs because I would try to return the favor of light touches and overbalanced myself usually#or how about. or how about. or how about.#so on and so forth. the autism was there at every moment of my life and no one noticed. even now unless I point out specifics#or spoon feed people tidbits of research I’ve done that upends their biases#people tend to immediately refuse to acknowledge or believe me. i don’t have the money for a diagnosis nor do I desire any of the#discrimination that comes from having a formal diagnosis. and the lack of one is almost always a point of contention when I explain things#hell I used to refuse to consider the idea myself because it felt like I was taking away from other peoples experiences#which was stupid because as the great High School Musical once said. We’re all in this together.#did Not help that I had an ex years ago who I did voice my theories to and got shut down rather harshly#idk just feeling nostalgic for the childhood I could have had in a perfect world.#a world where people were kind. a world with better healthcare. a world with better research studies to broaden understanding of diagnoses.#i want to go back in time on multiple trips and give my younger self tight squeezing hugs so often through my childhood that I would never#have had to think that hugs were supposed to be something you just tolerate
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Swallowed up chapter 7
#writing#my writng#this chapter got away from me#But not in the word count way#In a these descriptions are very painty and vague way#Only one more chapter to go
7 notes
·
View notes
Link
when you accidentally break a fundamental part of your contract, your demon takes full advantage.
->a luxuria triplicate story. eirian/reader and darius/reader. explicit; contains non-con, mind control, power imbalance, minor self-inflicted bloodletting, voyeurism, threesome.
#rotpeach writes#luxuria triplicate#eirian#this one really got away from me as you can see by the length and word count lol#if you sent an ask after the first batch please bear with me i'll get to them later or tomorrow!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
today's teafic! this one did NOT go where i was expecting at all, but we are back at the mechanic's shop with dean and cas. today's prompt is watermelon cooler
(i'm doing a month long writing thing where every day i write a short fic based on the name of a flavor of tea i've received as part of a month long tea sampler package)
There is a man watching Dean work. Dean knows this because he has a mirror installed in a discrete corner on his workstation. He’s had … experiences that make him the sort of person who likes to know if someone’s behind him or not. It has the added bonus of letting him know when he’s got a nosy customer.
Normally, Dean finds lookie-loos annoying at best and deeply offensive at worst. He’s pretty, which seems to make people doubt that he knows his stuff, but Dean knows what the fuck he’s doing behind an engine. Or worse, they think he’s pretty and they want to get to know him better, maybe over a nice cold one after work.
Dean’s not proud to admit that he’s said yes to some of the handsomer fellas and prettier ladies who have hit on him on the job. It’s nice to be touched though, sometimes, and Dean’s always found that beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Which brings Dean back to the guy watching him today. He’s surprisingly scruffy, considering the car that he brought in. The sedan’s a tasteful black, likely bought (or leased) within the last year, and fucking expensive. Dean wouldn’t be sorry to have a go around with her, though no one could ever replace Baby in his heart. Still. You get this gal on the flat road and Dean’s sure that he can get her to purr real nice.
Dean makes himself focus. He glances back again at the reflection of the guy standing behind him. He’s cute, despite his scruffiness. He’s tall, with a runner’s build and the amazing thighs that go along with it. His hair’s a mess and he’s lost his suit jacket and the Columbo trench coat that he came in with, but he holds himself well, at ease but still somehow alert and present at all times. His eyes are a bright, piercing blue. Dean wouldn’t mind getting lost in them for a little while.
He’s also staring at Dean like he’d kind of like to eat Dean up with a spoon.
Well. The guy doesn’t seem to have noticed Dean’s little mirror trick, yet, and Dean’s not above a little fun.
It’s stupid fucking hot today, so Dean didn’t even bother putting on his coveralls, so it’s just jeans and a t-shirt on him, sticking to him like a second skin. That was annoying about two seconds ago, but now it makes what Dean’s about to do next much, much easier to pull off. Dean tests his theory by bending over the sedan’s engine block. The guy drinks in the view, so Dean keeps going, first leaning a little further over the open hood of the car and then pulling his shirt up just enough so he can show a smidge of his naked back to the guy.
If the man was a little less in control of himself, Dean thinks there’s a good chance that he’d be drooling.
Dean goes in for the kill and leans fully over, showing off his (frankly great) ass. The other man’s eyes rake down Dean’s back, coming to rest on Dean’s ass after a torturously slow journey down Dean’s overall backside first. Those blue eyes go dark. Suddenly, Dean feels less like he’s messing with an annoying customer and more like he’s caught something he knows he can’t have, but desperately doesn’t want to let go.
He lets the moment linger, watches the way the other man watches him. For a few seconds, he lets the moment spin out in his mind, imagines this man taking him home. Thinks about what it would feel like to have old blue eyes press him against a wall, undress him, mark him up with those pretty, pretty lips, maybe even go three fingers deep in Dean, curling them until all Dean can do is beg and writhe and pray to be filled. Dean lets himself go one step too far and wish for other things, things he should know better than to think about, things that would involve the good kind of morning after bruises and that blue eyed stranger calling Dean “mine”.
That snaps him back to reality. Dean has one night stands and backseat hookups. Those other things aren’t for him.
The guy behind him still hasn’t clocked that Dean is watching him watch Dean. Dean needs to fix this guy’s car and then never fucking think about him again and he needs to it stat.
The other guy finally looks away. He takes a deep drink of the godawful coffee that Sam serves upfront and then stares at the cup in horror.
Dean takes his chance to move. When the guy next looks back over to Dean, Dean’s planted his ass on the front bumper of the guy’s car and plastered a shit eating, but still customer friendly, smile on his face.
“See something you like, hot stuff?” Dean says, means to pour all of his devil may care, fuck you Rich Boy attitude into it, but it comes out flirty as hell. Son of a bitch.
The guy looks mortified at being found out.
And then he surprises Dean.
“Yes,” he says, blue eyes never leaving Dean’s face and voice a low smoky rasp that sets Dean’s blood on fire.
The man seems surprised that he admitted that out loud. Dean waits for him to backtrack, either apologize or demand that Dean back off, maybe go full closet case and try to get Dean fired for being creepy or something.
Instead, he shocks Dean again, and commits. “Yes, you’re incredibly good looking. Forgive me for ogling, though. That was rude of me.” He clears his throat awkwardly, looks around the auto shop, not like he’s planning an escape but more like he’s looking for help. The silence is agonizingly long, but Dean’s brain has turned to static and all he can do is stare at the other man.
“I’m very bad at … socializing,” the other man says at last, sort of looking like he wants to hurl. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable —“
“Ask me out,” Dean’s mouth says before his brain can stop it.
The other man stops short and stares, squinting his eyes and tilting his head to the side. He’s almost bird-like, Dean thinks slightly hysterically, but if a bird were a puppy.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No,” Dean’s mouth again says without his permission. “Ask me out.”
The man stares again at Dean. Nods once, twice, then squares his shoulders like he’s getting his bearings and getting ready for the firing squad, all at the same time.
“I know a good burger joint not far from here. Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?” The man asks, voice somehow impossibly raspier. It’d been a long time since someone was hot enough for Dean that just their voice could make him weak in the knees.
“Yes,” Dean’s traitor mouth whispers.
The guy’s responding smile is blinding.
(The burger joint, a hipster place that Dean had been too chicken shit to try, is good. Castiel is even better, even if he does insist on ordering a drink called a Watermelon Cooler).
#spn#my fic#tea prompts#massive apologies for any typos or weird spelling errors#it's stupid late here because this one REALLY got away from me#like went over the word count by a bit got away from me lolol
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: vent, PTSD, flashback 😩
(I’m fine just irritated and upset)
#read a post that upset but I managed to calm myself down and not be triggered#then saw a second post that caught me off guard but still managed to stay calm but now bad thoughts are amuck#saw a third and fourth post in quick succession with triggers in them#(I need to check my filters or stop using mobile bc I can’t use xkit)#I’m just gonna get off the internet and like do Duolingo or something#but it feels like my brain is floating in bad feeling soup#and like yeah! i managed to calm myself down and ground and not grt triggered or have a flashback or get drowned in awful thoughts#and that’s progress and a lot of work and my therapist would be proud!#but I’m still like 10x more exhausted than I was counting on tonight#and even if I’m not spiraling I’m still THINKING about things I don’t want to have to think about right now#but that’s the sort of thing that doesn’t go away really.#there are some topics I’ll always be stupidly sensitive to that will ruin my day upon encountering them#and these are not safe topics to be sensitive about because people love to take advantage of that sensitivity#and my ESA is over an hour away because my school makes it intentionally difficult to get approval#if anyone is reading my rant (bless you 💕) and knows how to filter words on mobile please let me know how#of course that doesn’t always help because there’s a lot of slang and allusions and images#and feel literally sick to my stomach having to ask people to tag my triggers#(I’ve had some bad experiences with asking people to accommodate my triggers recently)#and I hate doing it in the first place#i hate being in America. my PTSD has been making up for lost time since I got back from Wales.#ah whoop there it goes flashback time 🤪#(I’ll be okay I am fine I just was upset and wanted to rant but that made me more upset :/)#((gonna go suck on a jolly rancher watch Old Enough))
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Like A Fever
Synopsis. What was sweeter - you or the aphrodísiacs that they just so happened to take? Well, only one way to find out.
Pairings. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, aphrodísiacs, cúmplay, needy desperate boys, oral (male + female receiving), spitting, overstimming, Geto is kinda mean, voyeurísm (Choso’s), semi-public (Nanami’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.6k
A/N. Gojo’s came out accidentally a bit fluffy whoopsies.
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Like candy
“Ya better clean your act up, doll.” he chuckles darkly in your ear, lips dragging down your neck. “S’bad manners, y’know?”
Telling you to clean your act up when he was the one making such a mess of you? Oh you could just smack him for that little comment - well, if he didn’t have you folded in half and split apart on his throbbing cock, that is.
And maybe he senses it - you wouldn’t be surprised. Because Toji’s giving a playful bite to your bottom lip, humming into your open mouth, “What? Got something to say to me?” As if to support his point, he pulls out - just enough that his cum dribbles down your shaky legs. “Had me eat that damn chocolate n’ now you’re giving me attitude?”
Only a souvenir from the way he’d gone so feral with just one bite, filling you up over and over until you were left wondering whether it was more the aphrodisiac or that Toji just liked seeing your poor pussy so overfilled and bloated.
“N-no.” you manage to get out.
“Good. Because I’m not done yet.”
It’s all that’s said before he’s pulling out. Completely.
A disappointed little whine leaves your lips before you even realize what’s happening. And you’re left clenching so greedily around nothing, thick globs of cum landing in a pool on the drenched sheets below.
“No- come back-.” If you were in any better state of mind you’d almost be embarrassed about how pathetically you were begging for something- anything. Just anything but for Toji to pull away, kissing down your body until he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt.
But did he listen? Of course not. Because it you were such a fucking vision down there, it was almost hard to look - your pretty pussy all painted white with his cum, seeping into your skin.
And Toji’s so fucking hypnotized that he doesn’t even give you a warning before plunging nose-deep, unable to even think about bringing himself to be disgusted. No, the only thing on his mind was to bully his tongue through your swollen folds, dipping just into your sloppy entrance and ah-
He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you.
Sweet. You were so fucking sweet.
So pretty falling apart on his tongue as he laps up your juices like a man possessed. All your cute, broken little moans going straight to his aching dick. All that cum from before? It wouldn’t go to waste.
“Shit.” you flinch as he hisses out little profanities into your sensitive pussy, “Y’taste so good, so mine.” Words slurred and unfocused, like the chocolate was getting to him - or maybe it was how pussydrunk he was now.
Toji is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his lips around it - clearly having way too much fun with this. And shit you could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue.
“C’mon, doll.” Toji’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. “Give it t’me. Wan’ it all.”
And he was so fucking messy with it too - Toji always was, but right now it was like he couldn’t decide where to go next. Stretching you out, dipping inside your slutty hole, swirling his tongue against your ravaged clit over and over and-
“Yes! Yes yes yes-” your body jerks violently. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Feels so fucking good- don’ stop-.”
“So demanding.” he tuts mockingly around your dripping entrance, the vibrations sending white-hot jolts of electricity up your spine. But he’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. It wasn’t enough - it never might be and fuck Toji wanted more.
To taste it more. To have you like this - big fat tears dripping down your cheeks, pussy trying to suck up his hot tongue so needily, so hard that it was almost difficult to tonguefuck you into insanity. Half-lucidly, you wondered whether his jaw wasn’t tired, tongue cramping up.
And honestly Toji could stay here on his knees for hours, just teasing you with his tongue - but no, there was something else more important.
“Shit- Toji, m’close m’-”
Without another word, he’s pulling away. Disappointment quickly turning into anticipation at the sheer sight of his face glossed so prettily with your juices, messy and dripping all the way down his chin. You gulp as Toji swipes his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you.
“You’re welcome, I cleaned up your act.” His fist wraps around his still-achingly hard cock, eyes locked on you like a predator cornering his prey, “Now s’time f’me to mess it all up again.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Impatient!
“My love,” he whispers against your ear, barely audible above the bustling office party. One hand reaching down oh-so-covertly to cup your ass against that sinfully thin dress. “If I don’t fuck you right now, I think I might just fuckin’ lose it.”
Oh.
Which is how you found yourself shoved against the wall of the nearest bathroom, the tile cool against your skin. Barely even fully inside before Nanami - desperate and already fumbling with his belt - is swiftly locking the door.
“K-Kento- ah-” you gasp, the words dying in your throat as he shoves your dress up. Bothering just enough to pull aside your panties before spitting on your poor pussy from behind. Once. Twice. Missing on purpose to let a steady stream of saliva and slick trail filthily down your quivering thighs. “People are gonna- hah- wonder…”
God, your head was spinning - Nanami was so fucking filthy right now, all sloppy desperation where he was usually suave kisses, playing you like a fine instrument during sex.
“Let them.” he groans against your ear. Smearing his spit all over your pussy, toying with you in a way that was so maddening. “I jus’ need you right- fuck, right now. Jus’ relax f’me, darling.”
You scoff, both as impatient and needy as you were confused. “Kento, you ngh- drag me out here and tell me to relax?” Clenching so desperately around nothing as he drags his swollen tip up and down your folds, sliding it so lewdly in-between. “Why don’t you just fuck me alre-”
Because the words are barely out of your mouth before he’s pushing in, inching inside just slow enough that he wouldn’t hurt his pretty girl.
“Oh! Shit- ah fuck fuck. S’too- ngh” you can barely form coherent sentences at just the stretch.
“Big?” he’s huffing out a laugh as you keen at the stretch, as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. “Y’can take it, I know- you can-”
Thrusting only in quick, shallow little jabs of his hips, like he was trying to stop some utterly depraved part of himself from fucking into your cute pussy until you were screaming his name. Not even wanting to give you time to adjust because shit he needed this- wanted this so bad-
Smack!
A hand comes down on the wall just inches away from your head, like a desperate attempt to collect himself.
“Mmm- Kento.” you groan, drunk off the way he was filling you up so good. Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. wanting more. Veins pulsing against your walls in a dizzying thump! thump! thump! to which your sanity was slowly dancing away from you.
“Y-yes?”
You turn around to bat your lashes at him, “Just fuck me the way I know you want to.”
It’s like something snapped - maybe Nanami’s restraint, maybe his sanity, definitely you by the end of this.
“Well then,” he hums, dangerously low. Looping two strong arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. “What m’girl wants, she’s gonna-” Immediately reeling his hips back all the way till his weeping tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance. “-get.”
And God Nanami might be pussydrunk out of his mind, but whatever was left of that rational part of his mind had him shoving his fingers inside your mouth. Muffling the delicious little moan that rips from your throat as he finally bottoms out.
Stretching you to insanity, heavy balls smacking your ass so hard you were sure it would leave marks.
“Y’know, thank fuck for Higuruma. Didn’t think you’d be taking it like such a little slut in the bathroom if he hadn’t slipped me that chocolate.” Not even giving you the time adjust before he was ramming his cock into you, whispering in your ear in such a mean little tone. “Better be thankful now, since m’going easy on you-”
A shiver runs down your spine - maybe at his words, maybe at the way he was fucking you liked he hated you. Not even letting you breathe with the way he had his hips smacking yours, tip kissing your cervix, fingers poised on your throbbing clit.
Ready to break - to ruin you.
“-because we haven’t even gotten home, yet.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - "Shut up and cum."
“It’s probably not even that bad, right?”
Oh, you shouldn’t have said that - you really, really shouldn’t have said that.
Because now, not only was Geto Suguru reeling from the after-effects of swallowing some damned lust curse - he was also going to make you bear the brunt of it. And the words have barely left your mouth before he’s pushing you onto the nearest flat surface - eyes dazed, hair untied, looking miles away as he all but rips off your shorts and drenched panties with it.
Whispering hotly against your ear, “You’re going to fucking regret that.”
That was over an hour ago. Probably, you were too far gone to keep track of the time at this point.
Because what you certainly didn’t expect was to still have Geto buried in your poor, abused cunt, ramming into you from behind like a fucking animal. So hard you were sure it left marks - your thighs on his, his balls on your ass, fingers on your hips.
So debauched and merciless that all you can do is let out a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! each time his angry tip kisses your cervix. Words cracking as you manage to get out, “S-Sugu-”
“Shut up.” Voice so jagged and hoarse that it takes you a second to realize that it’s your boyfriend. Hips only getting sloppier as he speeds up - his only response.
You were getting fucked by your boyfriend - but it didn’t feel like your boyfriend. Just a madman out to ruin your ravaged pussy. He’s been teasing you this whole time - toying with your pretty pussy like his favorite fucktoy. Always stopping just when you were about to cum. Driving you mad so torturously slow.
“But Sugu~” you yelp, and he gives your ass a sharp smack. A warning - but you still plow on, hoping to speak some sense back into the man. “A-all I said was-”
“Didn’t I fucking tell you to shut up?”
Honestly, Geto doesn’t even know why he’s mad - he loves you. He loves when you talk. He loves when you’re all needy for him. But it’s just that his cock was so hard it felt like he was about to fucking explode - and that there was no better cure for that than seeing you all breathless and crying to cum.
Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make his balls squeeze so painfully hard watching you try and play with your pretty clit? Only for him to smack your hand away? Fuck yeah.
Which is why he can’t take his eyes off the heavenly sight of you spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him. Face scrunched into such an adorable pout while he massages your plushy walls, trying to milk something delicious..
So fucking pretty. It almost makes him wanna play nice.
“A-all ya gotta do- ngh-” you were milking him so good it was almost impossible for Geto to form coherent sentences. “-is shut up and take it. S’that so hard? Hah-” Hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. “Running your mouth for what? Just lemme take care of you, gorgeous.”
It’s all you can do to not sob in desperation, hips grinding down traitorously on his cock in an attempt to meet his merciless cadence. You don’t even have to think about it - just some primal, pathetic part of yourself trying to get off.
Surprisingly, Geto lets you - maybe he’s reached his limit, too.
Because he’s letting you reach out an angle his hips, nails digging into his slutty waist. Just trying to fuck yourself deeper. Harder - the way you knew would have him hitting just the right spots that have you-
He’s stopped.
“Now now, what did I say?” Geto’s tutting mockingly, lips curling into such a cruel little smile. And when he looks down at you, you don’t know whether it’s the aphrodisiac or that sadistic little part of himself taking over. Lips ghosting so gently over yours, “If you’re that impatient then make the both of us cum. Now. Or you’re not cumming at all.”
Oh. He definitely hasn’t reached his limit - and you think he won’t stop until he’s broken yours.
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Not enough (never is)
“Please, baby.” Choso lets out a broken little grunt, milking his base tighter. Back arching off the bed each time his fist flies up and down his swollen cock, “C-can’t hah- cum without you.”
God, fuck you and your secret “special chocolate” stash.
Well, Choso wishes he could fuck you right now, because only one bite of that little pink chocolate that he’d found all the way in the back of the refrigerator and that’s all he could think about.
So here he was - pants thrown across the room, boxers shoved down to his ankles. One hand wrapped around his cock, the other trying to muffle those pathetic moans leaving him each time he came at the thought of you. You, looking so unfairly pretty, flashing him that sultry smile before you left for work. You, how much better you’d look on your knees with that smile wrapped around his cock. Looking up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around him - oh, how badly he just wants to steal you away from your workplace.
Trying so desperately to chase- which orgasm was it this time? He didn’t even know, doesn’t even think his fried brain could count right now.
Ah, who gives a shit - Choso just can’t help himself, okay? It wasn’t enough. Never will be - he could cum at just the thought of you over and over again until he physically couldn’t anymore.
“Shit.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. “Wan’ your ngh- sweet lips w-wrapped around me.”
“Is that so, Cho?”
Your thighs squeeze together at the way Choso twitches so sensitively in his hands just at the sound of your voice. So red and so so angry, hard enough that you wondered whether it was painful. Eyeing everything from the way he was sprawled so pretty across your bed, a delicate flush spreading all over his body. Fist stalling - but still not stopping - at the sight of you.
Your boyfriend manages to grit out, hips stuttering as he fucks his fist faster and faster, chest heaving, eyes locked on you. “Y-you’re early?”
“Mhm. Seems you’ve been busy?” you purr, walking ever-so-slowly into the heady room. Giving him a big, pouty look you knew he’d like. “Without me?”
And oh he lets out a broken moan of your name. Only getting sloppier - precum glistening all the way down his wrist, erratic with no rhythm like he was desperate to fuck something so delicious out. Something you really wanted to see.
“Ngh- didn’t mean to, baby.” But he didn’t mean it, too focused on the way you were walking so agonizingly slowly towards him. “C-couldn’t stop mm- thinking of you.”
Ah, Choso was so pretty - delicate tears streaming down his face, cheeks flushed, hair undone. So overstimulated and needy that you just couldn’t not tease him. Just a little bit.
“Guess you snuck into my secret stash, huh?” You get down on your knees between those thick, muscled thighs, running your hands up and down his milky skin. “What do we say then, Cho?”
He’s letting out a throaty moan of your name, balls squeezing so fucking painfully at the heavenly below him. What he’s wanted for so long.
So pathetically needy the way he inches his aching cock closer, precum dripping down your tongue, sliding all the way down your throat. Drip! Drip! Drip! So sweet and addictive - but still not giving into what he wanted so badly. “S-sorry-”
“Louder.”
“M’sorry- hngh- baby.”
“Then cum, f’me, Cho. All over m’face.”
And with that, Choso’s painting your pretty face white with him cum. Untouched. At the mere sight of you on your knees. So fucking messy with the way he was pumping out thick, hot cum. Rope after rope on your tongue - so hard and violent as if he hadn’t spent the last hour cumming all over his fist.
Because shit nothing was better than seeing you suck him dry, swallowing every drop like you couldn’t get enough. Especially when you’re letting his seed drip all the way down your chin, looking up at him with delirious, cockdrunk eyes as you spit on his length. Once. Twice.
Palms smearing the saliva and cum along his throbbing length. Making him feel so fucking dirty as you give his pretty pink tip a chaste kiss. Swirling your tongue under the slit just the way he’d done before.
Letting out a muffled little, “Started without me n’ I think you gotta pay the price, hm?”
Yeah, it’ll never be enough with you.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Easy girl
“Out.”
At first, everyone froze.
It wasn’t unusual for the king of curses to rasp out a command, let alone tell everyone in his throne room to leave. But it was the way he said it - like he’d fucking snap anyone’s neck if they didn’t. And only one look at you - standing doe-eyed and uncertain at the doorway, thighs quivering ever-so-slightly - had everyone running out the room before Sukuna decided to wipe them out. Or worse.
“Kuna…” you huff, shuffling to sit so prettily on his lap once you two were left alone. Nuzzling the crook of his neck, “Missed you.”
Ah, he loved you like this.
You feel Sukuna’s muscled chest rumble with a laugh, pushing you to rest against his pecs as large hands come to rest on your ass. Squeezing and kneading with no care for any marks. “Is that all, brat?” He hums lazily, rocking your hips lazily right where his twitching cock was. “Cuz I can feel how wet that lil’ pussy is n’ I think she has something to tell me.”
And it was true - God, you were so needy and dripping all over Sukuna’s lap. Grinding your hips deliriously to meet his, not even realizing those broken little whimpers leaving your mouth. Shit, you were so far gone. And he knew that.
“I-” you choke, feeling Sukuna’s cock swelling and hardening beneath your throbbing pussy. “...might’ve snuck into the kitchens. Uraume gave me some chocolate and I’ve been feeling so weird ever since.”
Oh, you were so cute. Big fat tears clinging to your lashes while you humped him like a bitch in heat - Sukuna just can’t stop himself from pulling aside your drenched panties. In awe at the way the flimsy fabric barely did anything to hide your pretty cunt, sticky and glistening so sloppily.
“That explains it.”
Rip!
And it’s all that’s said before Sukuna is just tearing your poor panties off, looping it around your neck to pull you closer with it.
Losing his patience with each pathetic little whine spilling from your lips, the way he could feel your pulse around. So delicate and urgent. The way just one tight pull could have you gasping breathlessly.
“My pretty baby was needy, huh?” he chuckles, breath hot against your skin. Letting out a cruel laugh as he thumbs your swollen folds open, circling ÿour sopping hole, “Tell me.” Biting down your neck, “What do you want to do about it, brat?”
You bat your lashes up at him, fabric tightening around your neck. “Wan’ your cock, Kuna.”
Sukuna didn’t have to be asked twice - because what his cute lil’ human wants, she’ll get. And before you can even react, he’s shifting around his robe just enough for his cock to spring free. Already soaked with precum - or maybe that was your slick.
And shit it doesn’t take him even a second to stuff your tight cunt so full. Have you keening at the sheer stretch as he fucks you in shallow, mindless little grinds to squeeze himself inside your plushy walls. Desperate.
Because Sukuna was big, so big that you never got used to that no matter how many times he played with your pretty pussy. Used to a few tears, a few lil’ whines of “S’too big, Kuna!”.
But, now, you were sucking him up so well. Milking his thick cock so well with no preparation, head thrown back and fucking yourself in mindless little bounces to meet his. Like the perfect little slut that Sukuna knew you were.
Sukuna’s mouth drops into a soft little oh! at how quick he bottoms out - the fastest he ever has. You were taking him so good into your sloppy pussy.
Shit, did you even know what you were doing?
“F-fuck, maybe you should have those chocolates more often, huh?” Sukuna mutters with a strange sort of reverence.
Of course, the only response he gets is an incoherent little babble of something - something that went straight to his heavy balls. Too busy with fucking yourself onto his thick cock, already buried so deep inside you, but still pushing relentlessly.
Hips stuttering and leaking your sweet, sweet so sloppily juices all over his thighs. So good but still not enough - still trying to take him deeper. Faster. Needing this more and more by the second.
“C’mon now.” he muses, fucking his hips to meet your filthy cadence, grip tightening around your panties, a signal to answer. And you gasp - both for air and because you feel like you’re literally burning from the inside.
“Ah- fuck fuck fuck I- wan’” Nails raking down his shoulder, messily kissing his lips. A desperate attempt to try and tell him what you really want - and he understands. Of course, he does. “Please.”
Which is probably why Sukuna’s laughing at your pathetic state. Too cockdrunk to speak, huh? Spreading your thighs even farther, so much so that it burned. Hands so bruisingly tight on your hips.
“Ya did well, brat.” he grins, “Now, let me be the one to take care of you.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Won’t get out alive
“Sweetheart, fuck fuck fuck, please- M’gonna-” Gojo doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before he’s spilling all over you hand. Milking his aching cock as he keeps cumming and cumming so much that you wondered whether he’s okay - whether he’d make it out alive, even.
“This is all because of your own stupidity.” you grumble, but still letting him fuck your first through his high - for the nth time today. Hands much smaller and softer than his - shit, was he glad he teleported to your apartment in the middle of class for this.
And as Gojo blinks back his vision, heaving to regain his breath, his orgasm-addled brain finds it in himself to mutter out a pouty little, “S’not my fault.”
You’re so irritated by him and his stupidity that you pay no mind to the way he’s playing with the hem of your panties, fingers sliding so sneakily underneath. Huffing out a sulky, “I’m serious, Toru. If the elders find out then-”
“Then they can suck my dick.” your boyfriend cuts you off oh-so eloquently. Much more interested in just how sinfully drenched your panties were, all messy and sticking to your swollen folds. “But I’d rather this pretty pussy take care of me before that.”
That’s all that is said before Gojo’s immediately pressing his angry, leaking tip into your sloppy pussy, groaning when you clamp down on him so deliciously. God, he was so sensitive he could cum from just this. Hell, maybe he does, a creamy little ring of white forming at the base as he keeps pushing in. Inch by fucking inch.
And he doesn’t stop - can’t stop - until you’re all the way flush against those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.
Gasping breathlessly at the hands all on your hips - your sensitive clit - your face - just everywhere because Gojo just can’t get enough of you. Especially when he’s so needy and desperate like this.
“Who let himself hah- g-get hit with a fucking aphrodisiac technique? On purpose?”
Your tone makes him flinch - and for his swollen cock to start twitching so dangerously exhaustedly inside you. So addictively that Gojo can’t even wait too long for you to adjust. Starting up quick, jagged thrusts into your snug pussy. Grinning quietly, “Whoopsies.”
“Ah! Hngh- Fuck. Y-you deserve to suffer the consequences alone, you dumbass.” you scold, tightening your legs around him. And you can do nothing but buck up deliriously as he speeds up his pace - thumbing your swollen clit, like a little apology.
“I know.” he hums into your skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of you he could reach. Gasping at the sheer overstimulation. It hurt so good. “Don’ deserve you.”
“That’s not what I-”
Gojo shuts you up with one, harsh thrust. One that knocks all the air out of your lungs and has you worrying whether he’s pushing his massive cock into your organs. You can only take it as his heavy balls smack your ass harder, throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls over and over and-
“Don’t deserve this heavenly pussy-” getting sloppier now, no rhyme or rhythm. Licking long, languid stripes up your neck. “Don’t deserve those cute lil’ moans, either. Or the way you put up with me.”
Fingers getting frenzied on your clit now - the way they did when he was getting close. Moving in sloppy little patterns that were so eager to get you off.
Broken little profanities leaving him every time his hips stutter inside of you. Too much to handle at this point that Gojo thinks he might just explode.
And then finally, he’s pulling away. So fucking sensitive and overstimulated that tears cling to his long lashes, delicately flushed all the way from the tips of his ears down, down, down to where you couldn’t see. Lips so pretty and pink as they say, “But don’t you think for a second that m’gonna let you go, sweetheart.”
“Cum f’me, Toru.”
And Gojo’s so far-gone that he doesn’t realize when he is - pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your poor pussy with a strangled groan of what sounds like your name.
Filling you up to the brim like he’d just been waiting for permission. Too proud, too fucking embarrassed to show off this vulnerable little side of himself that was gasping and clawing breathlessly at you. Eyes screwing shut, head thrown back, holding on for some semblance of sanity as he cums harder than he has his entire life.
Babbling out barely-lucid moans of how he’s gonna “get payback for making him cum early” and “make you cum double next time”.
Promises he well and fully intended to fulfill - if the way his cock was still twitching so ferally inside you was anything to go by. Hips fucking up deliriously - strained, like it hurt but he just had to. Like he couldn’t just not fuck your pretty lil’ pussy. Desperately starting up a pace that made you wonder - yeah, he was going to be the death of you.
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo x reader#geto x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#gojo smut#geto smut#sukuna smut#nanami smut#tonywrites#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso x reader#choso smut#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#toji x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#toji fushiguro smut#nanami x reader smut#choso x reader smut#geto x reader smut
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
Government name vs Military callsign
Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: none
John Price
Government name.
Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.
“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”
Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.
“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”
“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”
He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.
“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”
When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.
Simon Riley
Military callsign.
When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.
“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”
“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”
Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.
“We playin’ games now?”
You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.
“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”
Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.
A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.
Kyle Garrick
Government name.
He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.
“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”
Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.
If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?
“Kyle Ga-”
“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”
You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”
“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”
He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.
“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.
John MacTavish
Military callsign.
He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.
Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.
“SOAP!”
Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.
“JOHNNY!”
“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.
“C’mere, c’mere.”
He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”
You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”
He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”
“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”
“You called me Soap.”
“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”
Posted: 2023 Dec 10
#cod x reader#cod fluff#john price x reader#john price fluff#captain john price fluff#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#ghost fluff#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick fluff#gaz x reader#gaz x fluff#soap x reader#soap fluff#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish fluff#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish fluff#cod mw2 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 fluff#cod mw2 fluff
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡
TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.
there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.
and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.
his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.
inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.
“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.
it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.
“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.
“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.
pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.
maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”
with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.
it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.
your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.
“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”
GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.
when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.
gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.
“you ready to get started?”
your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.
of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.
after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.
“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”
his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.
“thank you,”
he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?
“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”
“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”
gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.
“i think .. i think i need you.”
with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.
it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.
his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.
yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,
“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”
CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.
a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.
he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.
“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.
there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.
the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.
yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.
“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”
oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.
he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.
violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.
“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.
choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.
you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.
it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.
though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.
staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.
from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.
“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”
it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.
GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.
you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.
geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.
“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.
you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”
if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.
“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?
or so you thought.
“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”
you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.
he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”
you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“
“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”
from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.
with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.
you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.
“if you do t-that, i might—“
and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.
“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”
#𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑻 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺 ┆jujutsu kaisen.#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#choso smut#choso x reader#gojo x reader smut#choso x reader smut#choso kamo smut#getou smut#geto smut#suguru geto smut#satoru gojo smut#fushiguro toji smut#kamo choso smut#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#geto x y/n#toji x you#choso x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
9K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
