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problemswithbooks · 11 months

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Nah kill Endeavor midway and introduce new hero to take his role as the hero with new relevant story as No 1 like happened with Hawks and last minute additions like Star Stripe. Because Endeavor remains the only morally bad hero who is an example of what hero should not do in personal life using his job as a cover as Stain warned. His treatment of Inasa, taking on petty cases to increase numbers and being dumber than Iida who cracked the pattern faster magnified his behaviour as a shoddy hero driven by envy and prejudice and personal desires and not enough to call it justice as the subjective praisevsays about his heroics by people who have a personal reason to believe he was good as a hero and not disbelive it even in face of proof. His atonement didn't actually have narrative significance in the end either. If he was pulled out of their story, already Deku then Shoto then self-effort from hidden strength from hope due to Shoto alone was enough. He couldn't give them any actual closure or help. Endeavor in short had little to no big role other than being the cause of this apocalypse from a single video because he took the No 1 spot by default despite being wrong for it. The effect of the video was more positive in the long run by freeing them and making their stories valid by Endeavor's televised confession than how bad Toga or Gentle's families had it from being associated while Shoto seem happier having shared with all. They are also valid for unconditionally loving their son instead of being conflicted by his crimes which is Endeavor's fault to them as Shoto's thoughts went. Overall Endeavor's role is simply as the abuser who prevents his victims from taking heat and criticism from his fans by confessing because they all push him including Hawks and it is possible because the hero association are dead and won't issue a cover up to protect their overall image. But this confession could still be exposed in other ways using new characters or existing information technology known with Garaki Kyuudai had Hori wanted while keeping Endeavor bad which would have resulted in a better catharsis than leaving him sticking on to his victims.

Ok so another long break down.

Killing Enji this way only works if the story becomes fully about Hero corruption, which it just isn't. All of the Heroes which had questionable attitudes toward Heroics changed their ways, or besides Enji just weren't that bad to begin with. Even if we leave Enji as a truly bad guy, he's one out dozens we see who are all good, so it doesn't even help prove the corruption angle much. Could this work--sure, but it'd change the story and it's themes drastically from what Hori's intentions seem to be--at that point it's not even his story.

On top of that we get no evidence Enji is using his job as a Hero as cover. Nor did Stain ever say anything about Heroes using their job to hide actual crimes. I love the guy, but all he cared about was people being Heroes that weren't 100% selfless. On top of that he just didn't even seem to check the Heroes he hunted out first, since we have no evidence Tensei was anything other then a great Hero who cared a lot about saving people. Stain didn't know about Enji's abuse and just hated him because he wasn't All Might.

His treatment of Inasa, taking on petty cases to increase numbers and being dumber than Iida who cracked the pattern faster magnified his behaviour as a shoddy hero driven by envy and prejudice and personal desires and not enough to call it justice as the subjective praisevsays about his heroics by people who have a personal reason to believe he was good as a hero and not disbelive it even in face of proof.

But Enji did crack Stain's pattern--that's why he and Shoto we in the city at all that night. He tells Shoto about it when they leave for Hosu. Shoto even says he only picks Enji's agency because he's a great at his job and despite his hate for him at that point, it'd be stupid to turn down learning from one of the best in the industry.

Enji never shows prejudice in the manga. The spin off made him OOC so he could function as a side antagonist for the later arc in the story, but in the main story he never acts that way. No, he was never great to fans because having fans was never his reason for being a Hero and he didn't understand how important it was to inspire people until he became #1.

I assume what you mean by disbelieving proof, you're talking about Touya's video during the first War. Honestly, people not believing Touya makes perfect sense in context. Enji was never super popular, but when a villain who has killed multiple people and is currently responsible for a major terrorist attack effecting dozens cities suddenly releases a video saying "Hey, this guy trying to stop me from killing everyone is actually bad, trust me, and therefore you should hate everyone who has the same job." it is hard to believe. Plus, people did did believe it, they just were more concerned about Enji failing to stop a massive terrorist attack that probably resulted in hundreds of casualties and displaced thousands of people, then the fact he abused his family--something that in the moment is nothing compared to all the lives lost.

Endeavor in short had little to no big role other than being the cause of this apocalypse from a single video because he took the No 1 spot by default despite being wrong for it.

Enji didn't cause the apocalypse, Shigaraki and the LoV did. Sure, Touya's video didn't help, but because it came out after most of the major damage was done it didn't have as much effect as it could have had if it had been released right after Enji got the #1 spot. People would have been angry at the Heroes and Enji anyway because so many people died and the LoV wasn't captured.

The effect of the video was more positive in the long run by freeing them and making their stories valid by Endeavor's televised confession than how bad Toga or Gentle's families had it from being associated while Shoto seem happier having shared with all.

We don't actually see the family show any positive emotions toward the video. In fact we see them having to hide from the public because they're now blamed for Touya's murders. Shoto can't even go and be with his friends when Izuku walks into U.A, and instead has to hang back with Enji who, I assume had to go in a back way due to all of the hate they were getting because of Touya's video. Shoto might not be upset with his friends knowing, but he was never super quite about his abuse either, given he spilled the beans to Izuku as quick as possible during the sports festival. We don't see if the rest of the family feels similarly at all.

They are also valid for unconditionally loving their son instead of being conflicted by his crimes which is Endeavor's fault to them as Shoto's thoughts went.

But they don't see Touya's crimes as Dabi as 100% Enji's fault. Shoto tells him it was wrong of him to involve other people. Natsuo tells him to stop and that he's being an idiot big brother. Fuyumi just doesn't want him to kill their mom and dad. Even when Shoto thinks "he is me" that implies he does consider Touya's actions his own, since Shoto always held himself responsible for his own poor choices, like being rude to Inasa. Just because they still love Touya doesn't mean they don't hold him responsible for his actions. Enji is at fault, yes, but at the end of the day Touya still decided to murder random people to fulfill his own plans of revenge.

Overall Endeavor's role is simply as the abuser who prevents his victims from taking heat and criticism from his fans by confessing because they all push him including Hawks and it is possible because the hero association are dead and won't issue a cover up to protect their overall image.

The family isn't getting shit on by Enji's fans though, nor does Enji admitting the video is true suddenly make people 100% fine with the other Todoroki's. People didn't hate on the family because they saw them as lying about the abuse because they love Enji to much--they were mad because they view them as extensions of Touya, who killed their loved ones and destroyed their homes. They also don't have to push Enji to do the press conference or admit his abuse. They push him to stay a Hero and help them stop/save Touya. That's why even after he admits to the abuse, Shoto is still shunned.

We also have zero evidence to suggest the Hero Commission ever covered up the abuse. Especially since Shoto has no problem telling Izuku about it.

But this confession could still be exposed in other ways using new characters or existing information technology known with Garaki Kyuudai had Hori wanted while keeping Endeavor bad which would have resulted in a better catharsis than leaving him sticking on to his victims.

Again, this only works if you fundamentally change the story Hori is trying to tell. He wants Enji to change and be a better person. You can not agree with that choice, but if we're taking about stuff an author could have done better you have to try and stick to what they want the story to be. We still don't know 100% what Hori is trying to say because the ending hasn't come out yet, but so far Enji atoning seems to be a big part of the overall message of the story. If that is the case you have to try and find fixes that stick with that vision, otherwise you're just writing your own story, not just making editing suggestions to make the current work better.

#ask #todoroki enji #bnha spoilers #bnha #mha #endeavor #there are times I've said it might have been better to keep Enji an asshole #but that's more out of frustration then because I think it'd actually work #at least for the story Hori wants to tell #that's why my actual suggestions for genuine changes that could help revolve around keeping Enji as is #but letting him have a bit more meaningful progress #while keeping it small so he doesn't change to much #and can still play the same role #I do the same thing for the LoV #part of me does sort of just wish they'd die because of how poorly Hori wrote them #but that's clearly not the story he's trying to write #so my suggestions are generally tweaks that could have the message he wants to send with them work better #and not cause such divides in the fan base #and I'm sure they miss alot given I live in a totally different culture then Hori #so what i think doesn't work might make total sense in Japanese literature

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child-of-the-cosmos · 1 year

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Gracie lives in my head rent free, so I give you this 🤲🤲

Slightly edited version under cut ^^

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losyash · 1 year

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'got dirk tried again got dirk again' oh my godddd idk how the uquiz did it but changing answers slightly out of fear of misrepresenting urself is soooo dirk core and the quiz calling u out on it TWICE is so funny (affectionate)

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I SPENT ALL DAY THINKING ABOUT THIS

I AM JUST TRYING TO FIND SOME HAIR DYE WHILE ALSO TRYING TO DECIDE HOW DO I FEEL ABOUT HOLDING POWER OVER OTHERS SIMULTANEOUSLY REMEMBERING SEVERAL INSTANCES I HAD THAT POWER OR WANTED TO AND HOW IT TIES INTO MY OTHER ISSUES

IT PLAGUES ME

and then I fucking saw this ask and was like ah whatever I'll do it the third time. what's the harm.

and I got vriska

#I thought I would get jade when I first did the quiz you know #fuck it I'll do the quiz THE FORTH time where I will blatantly lie a bit to see if it's the reason I thought so #we are in the science zone now #NO ITS STILL DIRK #IS IT REALLY THE POWER ANIME HOLDS #IS DIRK JUST ANIMEFIED VRISKA #fuck it 5th time #okay I got John and it tells me. to face my problems #now that I think of it trying to tweak your results to see why the fuck quiz is slandering you like that is something dirk would do #okay attempt 6 I am telling lies but keeping the anime #still dirk #either my lies are not lying enough or the anime is that strong #I'm sorry I am doing all that instead of saying haha you're right tumblr user red-elric but I can't calm down #attempt 7: more lies with anime #they're not as much lies as things that are sorta true but they're not like true-teue #like the quiz asks for biggest flaw and you give like idk 4th #anyway yes I got dirk again #fuck it I'll say everything I said first time BUT I will say I like emo music #that might be the key to getting vriska #okay liking emo music alone isn't enough to be vriska #I think I just fucked any opportunity to deny my dirkness with this #but as a final round #I will. simply lie at everything I can to get jade stay by for updates #noo i got roxy #...should I try to see what it takes to go from roxy to jade #okay no I said it's the final round #BUT DOES IT MEAN I DON'T UNDERSTAND JADE ENOUGH #OR IS IT THE QUIZ MAKER WHO IS WRONG #ooooh I have 2 more tags #nya kawaii desu

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erigold13261 · 1 year

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Why does she have to be so difficult to draw? Her colors all seem so wacky

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10power · 5 months

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unfortunately i have decided to make life difficult for myself (changing to a fc who has like 0 content)

#tbd.#ooc.#however she DOES have the penny vibe and that's what counts .#might just have to go iconless lol .#anyway w/ the fc change i'm also gonna tweak some of her bg just a little bit but #that's........ a slow update bc my dad is home and keeps chatting w/ me so no writing lmao .#might post a starter call in a bit anyway !!!!#can you believe s.ilent w.itness is still going i thought that show was over years ago

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

could you do a poly!marauders with fem reader where reader doesn’t swear at all (or like REALLY rarely) and the boys are with her and something happens and she just starts cussing like a sailor and the boys are like O: ??where??did??that??come??from??

Thanks for requesting my love! This is not based at all on anything that's ever happened to me ofc (I've never cursed even once in my life and am a very attentive driver) but it was fun to write!!

cw: near-miss car accident

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 820 words

“I can’t believe you keep the seat so far back,” you say, squinting into the rear view mirror.

“Right?” James backs you up from where he’s gently massaging Remus’ knee in the backseat. “Moony, your height is an injustice to us all.”

Sirius smirks out the passenger window. “I don’t mind it.”

You laugh, glancing into the mirror to assess Remus’ countenance. He’s usually the one to drive the four of you around, but he’d woken up this morning with his knee aching and none of you had wanted to chance him getting a cramp or tweaking a muscle while he had his foot on the gas. He claims the pain isn’t bad and the rest of you are playing along, but his promises do little to reassure you. Remus’ tolerance is crazy high from years of aches, pains, and injuries, so him saying it doesn’t hurt very much is like when Sirius says he’ll be over in five minutes; he probably believes it to be true, but everyone else knows better.

Remus’ lips are twisted slightly upward at your bantering, though, and when you scan his face for signs of tension or discomfort you don’t find any. He starts to lean onto James’ shoulder, then shoots back up, eyes widening.

Sirius’ sharp inhale has you whipping your attention back out the windshield, where another car is trying to butt into the small space between your car and the one in front.

“Fucking fuck!” You hit the brakes and slam the butt of your hand into the horn, letting it blare until the intruding car swerves back into their lane. If you’d hit them, it would have been Sirius’ side colliding with the driver’s door. Your blood pounds in your ears. “What the hell, jackass? Stay in your own fucking lane!” You start to pass them, and the driver hastily puts down his phone, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, how about we stay off our goddamn phones while we’re on the road? Fucking dumbass.”

You blow out a harsh breath, refocusing on the traffic around you now that the danger has passed. The car has gone completely silent. “Oh no, Remus, did it hurt your knee when I braked, honey? I’m so sorry.”

A beat, and then Remus clears his throat. “Uh, no.”

The tension doesn’t break. You wouldn’t blame the boys if they were still in shock from your near-miss, but the quiet is a bit unnerving. You’re fighting the urge to look over at Sirius or glance at Remus and James in the rear view mirror, not wanting to take your eyes off the road again.

You jump when James asks, “What just happened?” at the same time as Sirius shouts “Fucking yeah, baby!” and holds up his hand for you to high-five.

You barely brush it with your fingertips, hesitant and a bit wary. “What?”

“Dove,” Remus says hoarsely, “I’ve never heard that kind of language from you.”

“Oh.” Your ears burn. “Yeah, sorry.”

Sirius makes a sound that’s half startlement, half something else. You chance a look his way, and he’s grinning at you, mouth hanging slightly open. You think those might be stars in his eyes. “Don’t fucking apologize,” he laughs, sounding downright giddy. “That was great! Fantastic! I didn’t know you had this side to you, gorgeous.”

You shrink a bit in your seat, but there’s nowhere to go. You know if you check your mirror, you’ll find two more pairs of eyes staring at you from the backseat. “I don’t usually…well, you guys haven’t been around me while I’m driving before.”

James guffaws. Sirius has begun to shake with silent laughter beside you. “Do you mean to tell me this happens every time you drive?” James asks.

“Not every time,” you say defensively. “They spooked me.”

“They spooked you?” Sirius hoots from beside you, and now you can hear even Remus’ quiet chuckling. “Baby, I didn’t know you knew half those words! If that’s what happens when you drive, I want you behind the wheel every time.”

“Oi,” Remus objects, but there’s no offense to be found in his tone. “It’s not like I don’t cuss.”

“No,” James replies, reaching up to squeeze at your shoulders playfully, “but with you it’s not usually such a performance. That was a spectacle!”

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” you say, but you’re giggling now too, worse when Sirius joins in on James’ teasing, pinching at your side. “You all curse like sailors, you were bound to rub off on me eventually.”

“It’s not like you’re not allowed to curse, dovey,” Remus says. “It’s just that we weren’t expecting it from you.”

“And what, you’re gonna act like it’s our fault?” Sirius scoffs, poking you in the ribs and grinning when you squirm away. “As if any of us would ever say ‘fucking fuck.’ That’s an amateur's work, gorgeous. Can’t blame us for that one.”

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mionemymind · 21 days

Text

Lost in the Universe (Part 2)

Summary: The aftermath of Y/n being rescued from the alternate universe.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Cursing, Jealousy

A/n: @tynix had requested a part two. And I wanted to post something since I JUST TURNED 23 BABES!! So I guess this is a birthday gift for me?? Hope y'all enjoy the fluff. Also, I love all the Candy Montgomery gifs that I keep seeing :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

Part 1

“I appreciate you teaching her how to control her powers, but we cannot have you going through different universes again,” Wanda complained into Y/n’s chest. Today was an off day and the couple decided to spend much-needed quality time together. Y/n slightly chuckled at Wanda’s pouty-ness, ever since they came back to their universe, Wanda had been feeling extra clingy.

“You worry too much my love. There was no doubt in my mind that you would’ve found me.” Y/n tweaked her words a little as she remembered alternate Wanda’s words. “We’re tethered,” Y/n thought. She kissed her girlfriend’s forehead, continuing to run her fingers through Wanda’s hair.

“How can I not worry? You try finding me throughout different universes.” Y/n chuckled more much to Wanda’s dismay. The redhead was more than anxious about the whole situation. She tried her best not to be so angry at America for the obvious accident, but not knowing what universe Y/n was in spiraled her to think the worst.

“Well my love, you’re more powerful than me. So I would have a harder time getting to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes at the compliment but still smiled. “Not only that, I would’ve probably talked to other Wanda’s out there to help me find you.”

“Speaking of, how was my counterpart? Was it freaky to see me in a different universe?” Y/n hummed for a bit, letting herself get lost at the thought of alternate Wanda.

“I was really scared at first. You being the Scarlet Witch, I wasn’t sure if alternate Wanda had the same powers as you. Not only that, I begged in my heart that you were good too. I wouldn’t know how to deal with an evil Wanda - wait if she’s evil, she might be emo too - and your emo phase was pretty hot babe.” Wanda swatted Y/n’s chest as Y/n laughed at the obvious joke she said. Intertwining their hands, Y/n rubbed circles in Wanda’s palm, “But seriously…when I first got there she called me dekta like you. I almost thought it was you, however, something inside me could just feel that it wasn’t you.”

“So what happened?” Y/n sighed as she rubbed Wanda’s back. The redhead enjoyed the constant feeling of Y/n’s touch. “She called me out. Told me that I’m not her Y/n. Rather than giving me a hard time for being in her universe, she let me into her house and kind of relieved my anxiety.”

Wanda smiled at the thought of her counterpart being nice to her girlfriend. Although Wanda could never imagine a world where she would hurt Y/n, she was just extra grateful to know Y/n never landed in that scenario. “Did you like her more than me?” Wanda joked.

Y/n snorted at Wanda’s lame joke, “Well she did make me hot chocolate.” Wanda rolled her eyes again as she lightly hit Y/n’s chest one more time. “Keep hitting me woman, I’ll make America send me there again.”

Wanda lifted her head and flashed her red eyes at Y/n. “Don’t you even dare.” Y/n smiled at her girlfriend’s obvious jealousy and gave her a small kiss. “I wouldn’t - plus the only reason I would want to is to help my counterpart get their shit together.”

“What do you mean?” Y/n kissed Wanda once more before laying her head back onto the pillow. “Alternate Wanda said that alternate Y/n hasn’t confessed her feelings yet, which is annoying because they literally live on a farm together. How platonic can that shit even be?”

“What if your counterpart was just as scared as you?” Y/n lingered back to the time before she confessed her feelings to Wanda. All the yearning and pent-up feelings were enough to compete with any love-struck idiot. “I can imagine that, but at the same time, I hadn’t bought a farm with you yet and she did.”

“You and this farm.” Wanda kissed Y/n's arm. “Should we get a place of our own?”

“Where would you like to live?” Wanda thought about it, no particular location was coming to mind. “Something that doesn’t scream American capitalism.”

“Italy farmlands?” Y/n moved her hand from Wanda’s back up to Wanda’s head, running her fingers through her hair again. “What made you think of that?”

“I forgot the title, but I remember liking this movie that was located in the Italy farmlands.” Y/n kept racking her brain for the title, nothing came up though. “When you were searching for me, did you ever find alternate me’s?”

“I found a couple. One was almost like you but two of them were drastically different in style so that helped a lot.” Wanda recalled the moment she almost mistook one of Y/n’s counterparts for her Y/n. But it all came back to that tethered feeling.

“One of the Y/n’s was actually with their Wanda. It was fun to talk to a different version of myself. She was quick to tell me that I was in the wrong universe and tried to direct me to you.”

“What if she thought you were there to steal the other version of me?” Y/n joked once more. “I wouldn’t want a different version of you. You’re it for me dekta.” Wanda got up once more and kissed Y/n slowly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Never.”

Alternate Universe

“Who’s the slut?” Wanda barely entered her house before the accusations were thrown at her by Y/n. “Excuse me?” Wanda had returned from the edge of their farm where counterpart Y/n was rescued from.

“You heard me. Who. Is. The. Slut.” Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her eyes motioned to the two cups at the coffee table. Wanda rolled her eyes with a devilish smile, “You.”

Making Y/n work for more answers, Wanda walked away to the kitchen. “Very funny Wanda,” Y/n mocked. “I wasn’t being funny,” Wanda batted her eyes innocently which annoyed Y/n even further. “Who the fuck was it?” Y/n was irritated beyond belief. She had come home from a mission hoping to see her crush just to find out that some bitch came over and drank her supply of hot chocolate with “her girl”.

“Well, she’s this very hot girl,” Wanda said as she played dumb, she walked slowly to Y/n and continued, “She’s very charming and kind too - actually, she helped me with the farm today.” This angered Y/n beyond belief. Who the fuck comes to her home and manages to steal her girl within hours? She had a five-year plan that’s been in motion since the day she met Wanda.

With one last step, Wanda was in Y/n’s space, wrapping her arms around her neck and Y/n held her hips. “Do you like her?” Wanda thought about it for a second, before saying, “Something like that.” Wanda enjoyed the feeling of messing with Y/n, especially with something so harmless.

However, Y/n could not take it anymore. Frustrated, Y/n stepped out of Wanda’s grasp. “Well, I hope you live happily ever after,” Y/n said sarcastically. Before she could walk any further, Wanda grabbed her hand and pulled Y/n back into her arms. She rolled her eyes, “You are so oblivious.”

Not wanting to wait any further, Wanda confidently kissed Y/n, feeling the tether that connected them ignite with a new fire, a new love. Y/n reacted swiftly as Wanda jumped and wrapped her legs around Y/n’s waist. “More,” Y/n begged in her head, her knees were growing weak, but she needed more.

Wanda abruptly cut the kiss off, pushing Y/n slightly back as she moved forward, eager for more. “Will you finally admit that you’re in love with me?” Y/n grinned as she kissed Wanda’s cheek, “I had a plan.”

“Oh yeah? It took somebody coming over to finally rile you up.”

“Speaking of, who the fuck was it?” Wanda laughed as Y/n sternly asked.

“You’ll never guess.”

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel #lost in the universe

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charliemwrites · 2 months

Text

Part 10! of SpecGru reader. This is a little short, but I was so excited to post because NOVA.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex - oral, female receiving

Nova is your partner for the day – running drills as guest instructors for recruits, working them so hard they don’t have enough air to make any stupid, sexist remarks. The two of you spend all day flirting like a new lovesick couple, your hand drifting low on her back while she teases you with double entendres. Press her up against the wall outside the dining hall after lunch, licking the taste of apple off her lips while she tangles clever fingers in your hair.

Don’t care about who might be watching, or who cares. Not like your captain does. The opposite really, as he sidles up behind you while you’re spotting Nova in the gym. He slaps your ass so hard it damn near echoes, smirking at your scandalized face while she quickly reracks so that she can laugh.

“How are my girls doin’ today?” he chuckles.

“Right as rain, cap,” Nova answers, beaming when he cups her cheek.

“Can’t be anything but good with our star girl around,” you reply, winking at her. Bark a laugh when she smacks you in the thigh.

“Yeah?” he asks, a note of sincerity in his voice now. “Those shitheads leavin’ you alone?”

You blink, realize that there has been a distinct lack of 141 overtures today. No wonder you’re in such a good mood. An orgasm in the morning, your pretty, hyper-competent girlfriend all day, and no shitty former teammates? That’s practically a vacation lately.

“Do I have you to thank for that, sir?” you ask. Remember him saying something about talking to Price yesterday.

“You can thank me later,” he answers with a little smirk.

“Gladly, sir.” He’s getting more than that at this rate.

“Just wanted to check in on you two,” he continues, tweaking your nose, “and there’s an intel brief at 1600.”

“Yessir,” you and Nova reply together.

He chuckles again, gives you both one last fond look, then takes his leave.

“Finish up in here, shower, and get there a bit early?” Nova suggests.

You turn back to her, wipe a bit of sweat off her forehead with your forearm. She huffs in (only half fake) disgust and lays back on the bench again. She’s still got half a set to finish.

“Yeah, I want to steal Price’s usual seat,” you answer.

“You petty little tart,” she chuckles.

You lean your elbows on the bar and lean over her, arching your eyebrows playfully. “I’m your petty little tart.”

“Have always had a sweet tooth,” she muses.

You laugh and get off the bar so that she can continue. Of course, you’re keeping a close eye on her – but lord, she’s distracting. Thick thighs and solid abdomen, her tank-top is even sticking to the flexing muscles. And her arms. You’re not even being subtle, drinking in each deliberate rise and fall of the metal bar. Following droplets of sweat down her biceps…

“You mind?” she huffs, though not without amusement.

You jolt a bit, flushing as you help her rerack again. She sits up, a mischievous curl to her full lips.

“What’s got into you, huh?” she asks, tilting her head.

You shrug as you switch places, trip up a bit when you realize just how nice the view is. Even thoroughly sweaty, she smells a bit like coconut. Damn.

“Not you, unfortunately,” you reply absently.

She chuckles, tapping a finger against your forehead. “Tell ya what, love – you do five extra reps and we can make that happen.”

You’ve never flown through a workout so fast.

You damn near stumble into the shower stall, lips and tongue tangled with Nova’s. The flimsy curtain flutters haphazardly behind her as you reach blindly for the knob. Ice cold water drenches your back, but it does nothing to cool the desire blazing in your gut. Not when she’s peeling herself out of her compression pants, shimmying out of her damp shirt, and wriggling out of her sports bra.

Don’t even care about your own clothes, dropping to your knees in awe. She’s absolutely gorgeous, your girl. Pretty brown skin interrupted by pale patches like scattered clouds, meeting of earth and sky right there in front of you. Something divine about that, you think vaguely. She certainly looks the part, all strength and confidence, dark eyes smoldering like coals. Interrupted only by slashes of scar tissue and the SpecGru tattoo on her forearm.

You’ll never get tired of looking at her.

“C’mere, love,” you murmur, hooking your fingers behind her thigh and gently urging her closer.

She laughs a bit, though there’s a breathless edge to it that makes you perk up like a dog.

“You’re still dressed, daft thing.”

You shake your head. “That can wait.”

Despite your deal in the gym, there’s nothing you want more right now than to take care of her. Just leave her a shaky, whimpering mess, until your shirt is wet with her rather than water or sweat.

“Let me take care of you, baby?” you breathe, hands skimming up her soft thighs. You caress your thumb over her labia, licking your lips at the stickiness already gathered there. “Please, Nila.”

She shudders hard. You groan softly, trailing kisses over the bundle of tissue protecting her lower tummy. Can feel her twitching a bit from the ticklish sensation of your hair brushing her ribs.

“Y-your sure?” she asks. “I haven’t washed off yet…”

“Don’ care,” you mumble, scraping your teeth over the sharp cut of her hip. Tease eager fingertips over her leaking slit, playing in the trim curls. “I gotta taste you. Stay hydrated ‘n all that.”

She tries to scoff, but it’s overtaken by a wobbly moan when you suck a modest mark into her inner thigh. Keegan’s going to pout when he sees it; that’s his favorite spot to claim on all of you.

“Yeah, babes,” she gasps, “g-go ahead.”

It’s probably pathetic, how quickly you faceplant into her pussy. Can’t bring yourself to care when the taste of her bursts across your desperate tongue. A bit of salt, but all her, earthy. You lap at her with the flat of your tongue, starting at her dripping entrance and working slowly up until you curl the tip over her slippery, swollen clit. Again and again. Until all your thoughts whittle down to this, to her. To the helpless clench of her empty cunt and the involuntary buck of her hips. Nothing to calm your thoughts like taking care of your angel.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, blunt nails scraping over your scalp.

Your eyes roll back as shivers chase down your spine, moaning into her cunt just to return the effect. Love how her head tips back, knees quaking. You scoot in a bit closer, hook her knee over your shoulder to offer some stability. Then focus your attention on that button of nerves, sucking it gently into your hot mouth.

“F-fingers,” she whimpers, “fingers too, love. Please.”

As if you could deny her anything ever. Circle worshipful fingers around her entrance, groaning lustfully when slick begins dripping down your wrist. God, she always gets to fucking wet. When she tilts her hips with a needy whine, you test one finger inside her, rubbing gently against her walls. But she keens, clearly wants more, so you stuff a second finger inside her, curling them as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck!” she cries. “Yeah, just like that. J-Just there, babe.”

And you’re useless to do anything but acquiesce, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her squirming on your mouth and hands. Feel like you could get off on the noises she’s making alone, your own pussy drenched and aching. But you can’t be bothered to spare a single thought or movement for yourself, hands and mind too full of Nila.

Your dedication is quickly rewarded by the telltale squeezing of her pussy, the increasing pitch and volume to her voice. Don’t dare change a single thing, as desperate for her to cum as she is. Could live forever between her thighs, just like this, listening to that voice break for you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… c-cum – fuck!”

You moan as she drenches your chin and neck, quick to support her weak legs so that she can ride out each and every wave of her ecstasy. Suckle at her sensitive clit and circle your fingers around her spongy g-spot until she’s shuddering, gently tugging at your hair. You pull away reluctantly; don’t want to overstimulate her (when she doesn’t want it) but pussy-drunk all the same.

Give her a second to catch her breath, dotting kisses like stars around your pretty Nova.

“That was perfect,” she coos, “come up here for a kiss? I miss you.”

You make sure she’s steady before standing, smiling, stupidly charmed. “I’m right here, sweetheart, nothing to miss.”

“Miss you anytime I’m not kissin’ you,” she replies dreamily, looping her arms around your neck.

You pepper kisses along her jaw until you reach her puffy, bitten lips. Tuts softly at their swollen state before she thoroughly distracts you by licking the taste of herself from your mouth.

“Spoil me,” she sighs against your lips.

“Not spoiling if you deserve it,” you reply, hugging her close.

She giggles brightly, tucking her face against your flushed neck. Stay like that for a moment, gently swaying. Then she nips gently at your collarbone.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #specgru reader #nova cod #Nila “Nova” Brown #Nova x reader #captain daddy cameo

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thornsnvultures · 6 months

Text

heaven can('t) wait

steve harrington x plus size!fem!reader

tweaked a bit from this anon request (sorry it took song long), less angst and more silly because I like writing readers who are secure in their bodies, it's healing for me. I hope you like it!

cw: 18+ nsft, smut, afab!reader, body worship, new relationship insecurities, oral (fem recieving), fingering, p in v sex, spanking, light breath play, Daddy kink, breeding kink, creampie (if there's anything I missed lmk), >2k words

divider by @/saradika

"Get your butt out here before I come in and get'cha."

You could practically hear Steve's hands on his hips through the bathroom door. But you weren't coming out. Not like this. Steve wanted you to try on his old gym shorts before he got rid of them.

You should've listened to your gut; the damn things didn't fit. Well, you were able to get them up and over your ass, but the waistband dug into your tummy making it spill over the top and the material was digging into your thighs. You felt like a can of biscuits about to pop.

Now, it wasn't your body's fault for being built the way it was. You've always been soft around the edges, had plenty of hips and thighs and tummy to spare since you hit puberty and you were fine with that. It was these damn shorts, they just weren't made for you. Obviously, they were men's shorts. And a size too small.

"You overestimated what these shorts were capable of, Harrington," you called as you twisted and turned in the mirror. You had to admit your ass looked good, like those girls at the gym who scrunched their yoga shorts up their entire butt like their ass was having them for dinner.

But you still weren't comfortable with Steve seeing you like this. As much as you were okay with your body, this relationship was...new. You'd been hurt before. Was now the time you wanted to test your relationship? See if Steve was the kinda guy to really hurt you?

"You've got until the count of three, baby," Steve yelled, a playfulness in his voice that made your heart race. You almost wanted to push him, have him bust in here and let him punish you for not listening when he used his "babysitter voice". More like his Daddy voice. A thrill rushed through you, running straight through to your clit. Steve was at two and a half when you shook yourself out of it.

"Two and three quarters..."

Steve was grinning at you when you threw the door open.

"Three. They don't fit, Steve."

"I don't know about that," Steve said as he took a step back. "They look like they fit just right."

You pluck at the waistband, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "They clearly don't. See, they're digging in."

"Lemme see," Steve said, his voice sounding deeper, his eyes narrowed in on your exposed tummy. You watch him drop to his knees in front of you, your breath catching in your throat. Steve's hands travel up your legs, over your thighs and hips until they reach the waistband of the shorts.

Slowly, Steve peels down the elastic, revealing the indents where it dug into your skin.

"You poor thing," Steve whispers as he kisses your skin, feather-light brushes of chapstick smooth lips that soothe where you ache. Well, not everywhere.

"Steve," you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head as he moves across the expanse of your tummy. Yeah, if you were testing him, Steve would be passing with flying colors.

Moving to your hips, Steve pulled the shorts down further, exposing the sides of your panties where they hugged your hips. With the shorts now around your thighs, you found it harder to move. If you wanted to pull away from Steve now, you might fall over. Thankfully his hands were cradling your ass now, kneading and squeezing your supple flesh. How thoughtful of him to keep you upright.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, at being stuck and the wild sight of your big beautiful man worshiping you on his knees.

"What's so funny, baby," Steve stops his tickling kisses to bite at your hip, not too hard but hard enough to make you yelp and to leave a mark. "Got something you wanna tell the class?" Steve punctuates his sentence with a slap to your ass.

"Get me out of these shorts, Harrington," you wriggle around in his hold, your ass stinging and your pussy throbbing from all this love and affection. "They're cutting off my circulation."

Steve all but growls watching you jiggle in his hold. He yanks his shorts off you, your panties too, throwing them across the room.

"S'that better?"

Steve doesn't wait for you to answer before he's pulling you forward and slamming the bathroom door closed behind you. Suddenly you're being turned around and pushed face first into the door. Steve's spreading your legs apart and nudging your lower back down with one hand on your spine until your back is arched and you're spread wide open.

"This is for making me wait."

You shout when Steve slaps your ass again.

"Steve, please," you whine, your ass smarting from Steve's heavy hand.

"Should've came out when I told you to, pretty girl," Steve nips at your cheeks, trailing kisses behind the pain.

He's very pointedly ignoring your pussy, the bastard. You squirm, trying to entice him closer to your core as your head falls to the door with a groan.

"Next time you decide to hide this hot little body from me, you don't get to come at all."

Steve smacks your ass again, the hardest one yet, and dives face first into your pussy. He spreads your ass open with his big fucking hands, locking eyes with you over your shoulder as he tongues your pussy.

Steve sucks your clit and you can't hold back your screams. Not that you would bother if there was. His tongue feels way too good flicking back and forth over your sensitive nub, alternating between that and sucking your soul out.

"Tell Daddy you're sorry," Steve growls when he comes up for air. "Tell him you won't hide from him again if you want this dick."

Steve slides his fingers into your cunt, two thick fingers that make your eyes roll back and your jaw drop before you can say a word. A long, deep whine falls from your lips. Any smart-ass remark you want to make is lost in the way he curls his fingers inside you, immediately finding the spot that turns you to goo.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. Sorry, I'm sorry," you babble. "Won't hide again. Please please please."

"That's it, baby," Steve purrs, his fingers stretching you open. "Beg for it."

You whine and cry and beg for his dick but all he gives you is his fingers. Fucking you deep until you're gushing, drooling down his arm.

Steve reaches around your side to hold your tummy. His fingers dig into soft flesh and he groans, biting the swell of your ass that jiggle by his face.

"So fucking sexy, baby. Love watching you fall apart for me."

"Daddy, please," you cry out as you come on his fingers again. "Need you inside me."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Steve stands, his fingers still filling your cunt like he's stuck. He bends over your arched back to nuzzle into your cheek, his thick cock pressing into your hip. His face is wet with your slick, you can smell yourself all over him and it makes your pussy clench around his fingers.

"Please," you whine. "Need you to fuck me. Daddy."

Steve inhales, his chest expanding against your back. He keeps his fingers in your cunt, stroking you lovingly from the inside, while he pushes his sweatpants down. You hear him step out of them and for a brief moment you're empty, hollow without him.

But the feeling is gone as quickly as it came when Steve taps his dick against your lips.

"Ready, baby?"

You nod, your hands braced against the bathroom door as Steve begins to ease his cock inside. It's a tight fit, Steve's almost too big. Just enough that you're panting and telling yourself to relax so you can take it but not too much that it hurts. He doesn't want to hurt you, he tells you that himself.

"Let me in, sweet girl. God, you're gripping me so tight. Let me all the way in, you feel so good."

Steve noses at your cheek, his chest rubbing against your back. He must've taken off his shirt while he was feeding you his cock because you feel the hair on his chest tickling your skin.

"That's it, baby," Steve says through his teeth once he's all the way in. He only lets you settle for a moment before he's pounding in and out, over and over. The door rattles under your palms with the force of his thrusts and you cry out.

"Fuck, Steve, yes!"

"What's my name?" Steve takes you by the throat, not pressing hard enough to take away your breath but to turn your head so he can capture your lips in a kiss before he asks you again. "What's my name, baby?"

"Daddy!"

Steve's hips hit even harder, drilling into you. He never takes his eyes off you, holding your face to look at him as he gives your neck a squeeze.

"Who's body is this?"

"Yours, it's yours."

"That's right."

Steve pulls out of you with a slick squelch and leads you by the neck to his bed. He pushes you down on it and watches you inch back towards his pillows. He looks so wild. His hair sticking up in places, his chest red and heaving. Steve pumps his wet dick and climbs up after you. He grabs your legs by the backs of your thighs and pushes them up, all the way up to your chest. Your thick thighs frame your belly and squish your tits and Steve is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. The monster between his legs twitches in his grip.

"It's all yours, Daddy. I'm all yours."

"Yes, you are," Steve grins as he slides his cock home, right where it belongs. "Every inch of you. No matter what clothes you wear or what you look like," Steve groans, easing his cock in and out. His arms bracket your head, leaning his big body into your space until he's a breath away and resting his forehead on yours. "You're mine. All mine."

You can't do anything but breath him in and feel. The way his cock bullies that spot in you over and over. How your nails dig into Steve's back and he doesn't even flinch, too focused on making you cum again. You try to meet his thrusts, arching your back, his twisting because it's too much, it feels too good.

"Fuck, Steve. Daddy, I'm cumming, I'm-"

"Yes, yes, that's it. That's it, baby," Steve watches as your mouth drops in a silent scream, your eyes rolling back, all the air getting stuck in your lungs as you shatter. "So perfect, my perfect girl. Fuck, gonna fill you up. Fill my pussy up with cum," Steve grits through his teeth.

Your hands grab his face, forcing him to look at your blissed out face.

"Give me your baby, Daddy."

Steve's eyes roll back in his head and his whole body shudders. He warms your insides, filling you up just like he said he would until he's leaking out, dripping onto the bed.

"God, why did you say that," Steve groans into your neck.

"Cause I knew it would make you cum," you laugh.

"Should've never told you I wanted kids."

You laugh again as Steve rolls off you, getting up to grab a towel.

"Should've never told me I had nice, wide birthing hips either, Daddy."

Steve throws the towel at you cackling on the bed.

"I was drunk!"

"You wanted me so bad it made you stupid," you smile at him and pull him in for a kiss when he reaches for the towel.

"You're right. Those shorts made me stupid. I saw them and I knew they wouldn't fit but I needed to see you in them anyway."

"Steve!"

"Tell me it wasn't worth it!" Steve smiles and you bite your lip watching him wipe his softening dick clean. You should be doing that, not the towel. Next time.

"It was worth it, you're right," you purr, taking Steve into your arms when he crawls back into bed. "Next time can you buy me some sexy lingerie or something instead of tricking me into feeling like a packed can of sardines?"

Steve laughs and kisses you silly. "Keep calling me 'Daddy' and I'll do whatever you want, beautiful."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #daddy!steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fan fiction #tw daddy kink #my fics

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Delicate | Simon “Ghost” Riley x König x AFAB!Wife!Reader (18+)

a/n: do not burn me at the stake this is like the third time i’ve ever written smut LEAVE ME BE (thank you @as-is-above-so-below for beta-ing you’re so awesome) ALSO THIS IS A COMPLETE STAND ALONE HAHA

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY, ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED. AFAB Anatomy. Pregnant sex, oral sex (F receiving), lactation kink.

18+ BELOW THE CUT

“C’mon, Mama, stay still.”

Your hands fisted the sheets below you as both of your husbands lay on top of you - both touching you for the first time in weeks.

König settled in between your thighs, thin brown stubble scratching your soft skin as he sucked on your clit. His arms curled around your legs to keep you in place, one of his large hands settled on the juncture between your hip and leg to hold you down.

Ghost was cradled in your arms, sucking on your leaking nipple as his fingers tweaked the other. You held both of their heads by their hair, your back arched up from the mattress as König’s tongue fell further.

You wanted them to take you again, hold you down as they rammed their cocks into you at an excruciating pace - but your rounded and pregnant belly made everything difficult. This would suffice, though; they had been gone for a few weeks, and your fingers just couldn’t satisfy you like theirs could. Damn your pregnancy hormones, nauseous one minute and horny the next. You were glad you had them both, satisfying both of your needs - your breasts painfully full of milk and the need to be fucked.

König’s tongue was long, yet not as skilled as Ghost’s, and even though he gave you shallow laps with it, you were ready to explode. Your hand curled at the root of his jaw length brown hair, pushing him further into your cunt - feeling his tongue push in. As soon as he shoved the rest of his tongue into you, Ghost’s teeth nibbled at your nipple. Your hand tugged at his short hair, pushing him farther into your breast.

Pressure on the top of your clit came from Ghost’s thumb, and you bucked your hips into König’s face; his tongue dug deeper and he groaned in pleasure. He sucked at your cunt, making your head roll backwards on the pillow.

With a little pop from your nipple, Simon pulled away, taking large breaths in quickly. “Doin’ okay?”

You nodded feverishly, mouth open and panting. “Fuck me already.”

König pulled away from your cunt, “I’m too long for her, might hurt the little one.” He leaned back up, you whined at the missing heat. “Switch me.”

“On your side,” Simon muttered, and you willingly complied feeling like a dog in heat the way you needed them. It would be best for you to be on your side with Simon’s tendency to collapse on top of you or König - and no matter how they would do anything at your request, the child that grew in your womb was theirs to protect. Didn’t matter whose it was biologically, neither man would harm that child. “Tell me if I hurt you,” Simon murmured against your ear as his hand crept between your legs, your breath hitched. Your back curled against his chest as his thicker fingers traced shapes on your clit, your eyes tightly shut.

The bed creaked as König laid in front of you, bringing his now clean fingers to your face, rubbing your cheek as he pressed his forehead into yours. “Breathe, Liebling.”

Your forehead dug into König’s, panting as he moved one of his hands down to your heat, but not touching you where you wanted - his hand held onto your thigh and pulled your leg up just a little bit.

It wasn’t more than a second before Simon pushed himself in, your eyes rolled back into your head as you let out a lewd moan, and König pressed his lips to yours, cutting off the sound and squeezing your thigh. Heat pooled from the middle of your chest all the way down to your core, your walls clenching around Simon’s cock. The man behind you groaned, his face pressing into your shoulder as he kept pushing in.

The soft kisses from König almost kept you distracted as Simon dragged his teeth against your skin when he bottomed out. “Touch me,” you whimpered, “Please.”

The man in front of you pressed another kiss to your lips before you felt Simon’s hand take your leg from him, allowing him to press his fingers into your clit. As soon as you jolted from the pleasure, Simon pulled out a little and thrusted back in - your mouth pulled into a silent scream as he began to pound into you.

König kept his hand on your clit, the other holding your face as you panted, euphoric and hormonal. His thumb rubbed circles into your bundle of nerves, your head moved forward into König’s neck.

“Such a good mama,” the man in front of you whispered into your ear, the head of Simon’s cock hitting the spongy spot in your pussy and making you whimper. “Being so good to us.”

Simon’s forehead still against your shoulder, his grip holding onto your hips as he kept drilling into you - knowing he wasn’t long enough to hurt the baby, but thick enough to make you go stupid.

“Taking him so well, is this what you wanted?” König mumbled to you, and you nodded feverishly in response. “Oh, Liebling. You’re just so needy.”

“Yes,” You panted, nodding into his neck. “Yes yes yes,”

“Did you touch yourself while we were away?” His words made you want to move your hand from his hip and pull his cock out of his pants, stick it in next to Simon’s and let them have at it. But, you just nodded as Simon’s hand shifted your leg up higher so he could thrust at a deeper angle, pulling another yet another groan from you. “Just so needy.”

“Horny, is the word.” Simon muttered from gritted teeth, his forehead sticky against you. “Fuckin’ tight, bloody Hell.”

“So good, let him take whatever he wants, hm? If our little baby was not inside of you right now, I would shove myself in beside him. I’d go so slow, you’d never want to leave,” König’s teeth nipped your chin before he placed wet kissed to your neck, teeth grazed supple skin as the sound of Simon’s hips hitting your ass grew louder. There was a long moment it was only the melody that was your love. König sucking on your throat, your moans into König’s ear as Ghost rutted into you, choked grunts escaping his throat. König lapped at the bites he made before murmuring, “You’ll never leave us, right, princess?” His kisses made it down to your breasts, his long and warm tongue dragging over a leaking nipple. You jolted against Simon, clenching around him and he let out a surprised laugh.

“Tell us princess, tell us what feels so good,” Simon smirked against your skin. “And we’ll do even better for you.”

———

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cinnamonest · 2 months

Note

not too sure if you've already put thought into it, but which yanderes would be/wouldn't be willing to break bones? i feel like for most of them it's a hard yes but depending on the circumstances and their mental fragility.

also sadisim. (COUGHCOUGHCHILDECOUGHCOUGH)

ignore this ask if you've already answered/have a question similar to this (or just don't want to answer/! and if your reqs are closed and my tumblrs just tweaking that's okay too!!

I would say Albedo initially, but he's a practical man, if you're not going to be using the limbs anyway might as well just take them off, so… as for some others…

Kazuha does it for practicality, specifically your ankles. It's a useful risk prevention method.

He still feels bad, and he apologizes… but he doesn't hesitate much. After all, he did give you fair warning, but you ran off yet again. This is just to keep you safe, for your own well-being, and for his peace of mind.

He's sweet about it too. He puts your hand against his arm beforehand, and tells you here, you can squeeze down on my arm, okay? After all, it will help with the initial pain.

He's still sweet when you squirm away and whimper, even though the grip with which he pulls you back is harsh.

I know. But I can't let you be a danger to yourself…

He holds you gently for however long it takes you to stop crying. He'll get you water and food and painkillers/alcohol, tends to your every need, waits on you hand and (broken) foot. Notably, once the initial reaction has died down, he stops really acknowledging it in any meaningful way, talks to you as if everything is normal. Even when addressing your leg, he talks about it as if it were some injury you acquired by other means.

You might be spiteful enough to bring it up and remind him that it's his fault, but he's quick to correct you, keeping a soft voice and gentle smile all the while.

You did have every opportunity to choose otherwise, you know. Ah, but I know you're upset… it's okay if you blame me.

He'll be fully patient for you to heal, too. He’s very cheerful once it's fully healed, says he's glad you're better, helps you walk around a bit to get readjusted, keeping his hands firmly supporting you the entire time. Even for a while after it's healed enough to walk, he checks on it from time to time to ensure the final stages of mending are going well.

He tells you you're fully healed, with a soft voice and ever-pleasant smile, not without adding—

Let’s hope it stays that way.

----

Childe has to be in a more angry mood than usual to get to that point. Usually, his form of sadism is the sort that focuses on a sort of pleasure-pain, the sort he can get off to… but this is a bit different.

It's only because you keep being irritating. He's really tolerant, you know? He's been so lenient, he tells you, he's been so nice, he's been so good to you, and what do you do? You keep being mean. It's cute up to a certain point, but you're being like, really really mean.

It's actually kind of nice, on his end, to see your immediate reaction — you can tell just by the strained smile and clenched teeth as he speaks that you've crossed some sort of line. For once, you actually shrink back, clutch your hands up at your chest defensively, start to take some steps back… but you can't get away fast enough before you're drug forward by the hair or neck.

Come on… it's not that hard to be good, is it?

It's a last chance — he's nice enough to give you that, at least, even if you don't deserve it (which you don't, he thinks). Come on. You can be good, you can apologize and submit and he'll forget all the spiteful shit you've done today and then you can have a nice, happy rest of the day. You can do it. It should be easy. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it with a sort of sincere pleading gesture.

But, even though you should know better, you still remain spiteful through your fear, narrow your eyes and tell him no. You try to jerk your hand away, only to find his grip on it is iron-firm.

His smile twitches.

Aw. That's too bad.

And thus, you process the sound and sight before the pain — you see him take your hand and twist it, hear the snap, and only then does the pain shoot up through your wrist, through your arm and to every nerve in your body. It's bad enough that you fall to your knees, squealing, cradling the now-unnaturally-twisted limb.

Yes, he's very very nice, but admittedly, hearing you wail like that is rather pleasing, all things considered. More so when he grabs you by the jaw, jerks your head up to force you to look at him, and sees the tears in your eyes, the way your face contorts with pain.

Maybe you can be good now…?

This time, you squeeze your eyes shut, frantically nodding your head, a pitiful little sound coming out of your throat. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't very satisfying.

---

There's also a notable difference between willing to break bones and likelihood of breaking bones, actively willing or not.

Some non-humans are particularly unaware of their strength — Xiao fits this well. He genuinely doesn't like hurting you, although you would think so, based on how much he does, it's just that he forgets how fragile you are. For someone of his strength, your body might as well be made of glass.

So it just sort of happens… he grabs you by the arm or leg and pulls in the wrong direction a bit too hard, there's a stomach-churning snapping sound and suddenly you're shrieking and crying. It startles him quite a bit — he lets go and shrinks back, all wide-eyed and head darting from side to side as he looks around in confused panic.

But just as with fragility, he's also not very aware of the durability of the human body. He’s not great at gauging severity of injury — normally, he just attacks creatures until they stop moving, because that's his goal when it comes to his responsibilities.

So he has no real reference for how much damage he's done. Bones are all connected, yes? He probably broke something important, or made some internal organ come apart somehow, and it will kill you. The thought sends him into a full-fledged panic, he's bolting off and dragging help back as fast as physically possible, explaining that you have sustained mortal injury and are on the verge of death.

He's at least comforted to learn that that is in fact not the case, and you have merely broken your arm, which, the innkeeper confirms, is in fact not fatal. He's too relieved to notice the blatant frustration in her voice (this marks the fourth time he's insisted you are about to die over something actually far more trivial), and merely nods when she asks to please be more careful.

He doesn't really know how to handle the matter from there. He feels guilty about it. You're obviously in pain, and it's his fault. He'll sit next to you, hunched over and staring with those big yellow eyes as if trying to make you heal faster with sheer willpower. Makes sure you don't get up and move around (despite your insistence that your legs are just fine — still can't take risks, he says), disappears for a while each day and comes back with mountaintop herbs that are supposed to dull pain.

He doesn't outright say sorry, but you can see the remorse on his face and in his actions, and it's actually kind of pitiful… it reminds you of a little kid that broke a vase sheepishly trying to put it back together… all in all, you can't really bring yourself to be harsh about it.

#.kz #.x #.ch

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