#it's actually for legs back overall pain and heart but do they really need to fucking know all that?

[sag-dab-sar]

Medical professional: *who has no actual reason to know why I'm using my wheelchair* so why are you using a wheelchair?

Me: Legs don't work well 🫤

Medical professional:

#cpunk #cripple punk #mobility aid #wheelchair #void post #result of talking to a friend #about how i get upset when medical professionals who DO NOT NEED TO KNOW #ask me why im in my wheelchair #and i feel obligated to answer because well they are medical professionals #and she called them stupid because ''are they stupid maybe it's because walking can be an issue for you'' #''its like asking me why i wear glasses— well sir because i prefer to see'' #it's actually for legs back overall pain and heart but do they really need to fucking know all that? #and i thought of a better way to answer their dumb question #legs dont work well #not a lie #short simple and probably makes them feel a tad stupid for asking

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself. 

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities. 

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of  needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too. 

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it. 

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you. 

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said. 

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder. 

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest. 

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac. 

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills. 

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case. 

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric. 

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke. 

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you. 

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound. 

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment. 

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound. 

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?" 

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn. 

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again. 

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him. 

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last. 

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again. 

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face." 

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not. 

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.  

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared. 

He trusted you. 

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe. 

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so. 

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded. 

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face. 

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.” 

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.” 

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in. 

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again. 

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though." 

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that." 

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too. 

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…" 

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew. 

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting. 

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself. 

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively. 

"Simon your arm—" 

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it. 

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him. 

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered. 

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight. 

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?" 

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod. 

"Words love, use 'em." 

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You. 

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups. 

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.” 

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that? 

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”  

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket. 

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already. 

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.” 

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead. 

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand. 

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach. 

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke. 

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?” 

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it. 

“Yes Lieutenant!” 

“Good. Good girl.” 

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you. 

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!” 

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand. 

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself. 

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?” 

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand. 

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased. 

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly. 

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess. 

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time. 

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.” 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick. 

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath. 

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while. 

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it. 

“Yeah? You want more?” 

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it. 

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself. 

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries. 

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes. 

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before. 

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.” 

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears. 

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him. 

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too. 

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you. 

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier. 

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke. 

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.” 

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up. 

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently. 

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.” 

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words. 

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley

[alevicke]

NOT-SO-AMAZING HEADCANONS

Life is made out of good and bad things. I love reading amazing positive stuff but, I always wonder about the bad part of them? So I'll write some headcanons I have that might add a bit of realism if you like it! But are not the best part in life

No order in particular for the characters btw and sorry for any mistakes! English isn't my native language and I have no one to proof read this!

Characters: Ashe, Dva, Junker Queen, Junkrat, Cassidy

Also I never did it but I think I can accept requests 💖

ASHE

Despite being so beautiful she does have some skin problems.

She is pretty pale but tries to take care as best as possible of her skin

Your shared bathroom is filled of creams, all kinds, really. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Make Up? Oh hell, yeap, too.

Please, never say anything if she has a pimple, it happens often and she hides them as best as possible with make up

Deep down she's really insecure about her acne problems so please, PLEASE, love her 💖

I hope you don't use black clothes

You have more white hair in your clothes than Brigitte has cat's hair

Her hair is pretty healthy despite being bleached but it's thick af and gets always in your clothes.

DVA

Living with her is... Kinda frustrating sometimes

She is a mess

There are dirty clothes everywhere not to mention she just dislikes vacuuming the place

You love her but sometimes you'd choke her with the chips' bag she just ate messing the JUST CLEANED CARPET

She has 0 idea about cooking. Please don't trust her

Due to her awful eating habits you start to notice some issues on her

She has hiperthyroidism which explains why she stays so slim despite eating so much unhealthy stuff

But she is about to have diabetes

Sorry, you have to properly feed the Gremlin

No food after midnight!!!!

JUNKER QUEEN

Remember when I said Ashe has acne?

Odessa has a HUGE problem of acne

Although she actually doesn't give af

Look, she doesn't give a shit about skin routines, is always dirty and lives in a place full of radiation. What did you expect?

Speaking of being dirty. She doesn't know what taking a bath is

Grab her by the neck and take her to the bath while she screams and complains like an angry dog with rabies

No, she won't shave. Don't try it

Maybe in special occasions she will do all these things for you, of course! She loves you with her whole heart

But in general she is a mess

Hey, at least she brushes her teeth always! There is nothing she dislikes more than meat or mantis' legs between her molars

JUNKRAT

While he is the one with the mantis' legs between his molars, he won't make a fuss if you remind him to brush his teeth and will do it

He even has a golden tooth so he likes it shiny. But he is always distracted and forgets about... Basic needs in general yeah

Sometimes, he is like a puppy. Both in good and bad ways

Yeap, he's super adorable, a dork, always smiling for you and is the happiest person in the world when he's by your side

But he also has a huge lack of education, is distracted by a single fly and is not careful enough

You know how a puppy needs to be trained to pee in the appropriate place? Oops, yeah, you gotta teach that to Jamison

If he is in a hurry he won't even get into home to go to the bathroom, he'll pee in the garden

(He actually peed once on top of your flowers and that was an insta kill. RIP your beautiful flowers)

At least after that he stopped doing it! (Or does it when you aren't looking)

Sometimes he gets distracted and won't listen when you're speaking to him, sorry

Please, put some hydrating cream in his back. That poor back suffers so much from the sun

Take care of your puppy please

CASSIDY

Overall, things with Cassidy are pretty ok??

He's well behaved and while he isn't the cleanest person in the world he listens to you and will do his chores

(sometimes better than others)

But he struggles a lot with pain

Earlier in his years ridding motorcycles he suffered a huge accident that broke a lot of his bones

They healed and while he does have some scars from it, is pretty okaish

But his leg will hurt like thousands of knives into his skin every now and then when the old healed wound decides to get annoying and destroy his day

You know when old people say their bones hurt so it's going to rain?

You know weather more than anyone just seeing if McCree is walking leaning to the side with every step

"Ooh man, looks like it will rain, I won't be able to hang the clothes to dry today" you say

First few times Cassidy didn't understand your joke

But once he does he does chuckle a bit

He loves when you massage his hurting leg a bit, it helps him to calm and sooth the pain ✨

#Overwatch #ashe #overwatch ashe #ashe x reader #overwatch dva #dva #dva x reader #junker queen #overwatch Junker queen #junker queen x reader #odessa stone #odessa x reader #junkrat #junkrat x reader #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch headcanons #jamison fawkes #cole cassidy #cassidy x reader #x reader #reader

[stevenose]

this may be a bit different so don't answer if you're not in the mood! you said before how you've struggled with endo, mine has been making me feel like I'm broken lately and overall awful 👍 I'm just wondering what steve would do with a partner with it?

i am so so sorry. you are absolutely not broken. i’m sure you’re in a lot of pain right now and my heart goes out to you. i’m always here if you need to talk, need distractions, anything like that okay?

i think steve would be really horrified at the idea of you being in pain nearly constantly. and he would do everything he could in trying to mitigate the pain, or help distract you from it. he’ll run errands for you and if he could go to your job for you, he would. he’s there for you to cry to and supports you on calling off of work/not going to school when it gets too much. he would absolutely drive to the next town over to find raspberry leaf tea for you bc one time nancy said it helps with her cramps and he internalized it 🫶🏻 and he’s ALWAYS got a travel size container of advil on him.

he’ll give you little tummy massages, or lower if you need it. massage your leg or back, anywhere else that it hurts. he would buy the most luxurious massage oil so that it feels more like self care and less like your body is sabotaging you. he runs baths for you. gets you the nicest heating pad he can find. holds you when a flare up is keeping you from sleeping.

and when it comes to sexy stuff, he’s SLOW. he’s super gentle and he takes for fucking EVER to get you ready. like, forever. more than you have patience for. but it’s what mitigates the pain and actually lets you have fun, so you endure it. all the teasing and kind words steve feeds you while slipping his fingers in nice and easy. gentle. takes nearly five minutes to fully push himself inside of you - or, as far as he can without you hurting. he would never be rough with his strokes - only his words, if that’s what you want. but he just wants to praise you, to ask if you are okay, to pet your hair and let you finally feel some pleasure. rubs your lower stomach and pubic mound after an orgasm makes you hurt. he would just be the best!!! and if insertion isn’t an option, he’s cool with that too! he is more than happy to service you with fingers and his mouth. MORE THAN HAPPY. he just wants to be close to you 🫶🏻

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #seriously pal. my dms are open if you want to chat about things #i hope this somewhat helped you feel better <3?

[coolcattime]

Home and Free: Chapter Three - That's Not a Nightingale

Characters: Captain Capsize, Sonja Firefox, Skipper Redbeard, Jordan Captainsparklez, Tucker Jericho, Tom Syndicate, Martha the Mystic, Mot Screziato, Alyssa Countybat, Waglington, Farmer Steve, Prince Andor, Jeriah, Lady Ianite (mentioned)

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefox, Captain Capsize/Jordan Captainsparklez (onesided)

AO3 Link

Full Story Tag

There were still a good few hours before the sun was due to set as Redbeard was hooking up their horse, Phillipe, to the cart that he had now safely loaded up. Enough light left that the first leg of the journey would be doable, but also close enough to dark that he knew Capsize would worry. It was silly, he had made the journey enough times to know that it was safe, and she was the one that plotted his route so surely, she knew in her head that it was safe and straightforward, but still every time she worried. Since he couldn’t exactly stop her from doing so, he had taken it as a positive, a sign that she truly would miss him if he disappeared forever, rather than her just thinking he’ll get himself into trouble in even the simplest of situations.

“We’re not going to get into trouble, are we boy?” He said with a laugh to Phillipe. He could swear as the animal snorted, it was actually sighing attempting to respond in opposition. The traitor always agreed with Capsize, and frankly he thinks she bribes him. Though, of course, that was silly. Their horse didn’t really have a complex opinion on the two, but Redbeard spent enough time alone with him that he possibly personified him a little too much. That did pose the question as to why he thought he typically agreed with Capsize rather than himself, but he was going to use his better judgement and not think too deeply about that. “Bit of a bigger load than last time. Shouldn’t be too heavy for you, but we’ll figure out more rest stops if it is.”

He took the whinnying as approval as he tested that the ropes and straps attached to the harness were properly secured. He wanted to figure out a few more rest stops anyway, for when he and Capsize could finally move from this town. There would still be the possibility of her not being able to ride for very long, after all. Her leg had been healing well, she rarely needed the pain relief tinctures anymore and she clearly walked more than she had in the first few months after the accident, but he had some doubt that she’d be able to ride for as long as he typically did between rest stops. So, even if that was just a feeling, he'd need to figure out a few more stops for the route, even if just for a temporary pause rather than a camp. And figuring it out on the next few trips would be far preferable to having to do it while travelling with Capsize.

Thinking of Capsize, he wondered how her task had been going. While retrieving the sellable items from the cellar that they had been using as a workshop, she had been at her worktable tinkering away at the lockbox, occasionally muttering what he was sure were curses under her breath. Of course, he’d tried to assure her she didn’t need to fix it, but she’d batted him away with a playful reassurance of having it handled. And, of course, he had no doubts that she did, but he would need to leave soon. He didn’t want that to be without probably saying goodbye, but he had a half-hearted worry that if she was not finished, she may try and insist he stay until she was. He honestly had no idea if this was a situation where her stubbornness would win out or her logical side of not wanting him to either be late or travel in the dark would, nor if he’d have the heart to argue with either decision. But he couldn’t just stand about waiting for her to possibly emerge.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” He said to Phillipe, who seemed overall neutral about the man walking away. The horse was already paying far more attention to the sparse grass on the road. Redbeard walked off the road onto the small path in their garden that looped around their house to the cellar door. However, he would not actually make it inside before his attention was caught by a call.

“Redbeard! Glad I managed to catch you!” Jordan called out from the bottom of the path. He had cleaned himself up since his late morning meeting with Capsize. Though he still carried his bow, he had sold his prey of the day, no longer carrying them from his belt, and he had also changed most of his clothes. The only thing he was wearing from earlier in the day was his long red coat, which he was rarely seen without. Yes, from his clothes to his hair to his general stance, Jordan had put enough into looking good at this particular moment. He hadn’t fully dressed up, this wasn’t his proposal after all, but he looked far more cleaned up than he typically would in the late afternoon. Redbeard noticed the oddity and was unsure what to make of it as he approached the man. He certainly got along with the champion far better than Capsize, but he couldn’t help but be slightly weary considering his sister’s words about the man earlier in the day.

“Well, you got here just in time,” He said, well-practiced in hiding uncertainty beneath a smile and a good demeanour. For Jordan to want to see him right before he left town, it was unusual but not out of the question. Typically, he would see the man more casually, going to the tavern for a few drinks, but he did on occasion see him before leaving to ask for things from the city. Despite how the champion seemed quite happy within the town, he, like everyone, occasionally wanted things unavailable in such an isolated place and Redbeard was more than happy to bring them up for him. But he didn’t think that was the current reason for him being here. He looked, somewhat uncharacteristically, nervous. “Must be something important, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look nervous.”

“It’s pretty important, yes,” He said, wishing his nerves were not so obvious. He had no reason to think this wasn’t going to go his way, and yet he couldn’t shake them. The siblings were extremely close, that’s the reason he was doing this, but it also meant if this went wrong his chances with Capsize could be snuffed. Though, of course, that wouldn’t happen, he just needed to get the words out. “I’d… I’d like your blessing to marry Capsize.”

“Huh?” He almost thought he was hearing things because the request had come out of absolutely nowhere. And worse, as it dawned on him that he had in fact heard correctly, he had no idea how he was meant to respond to the request. He liked Jordan well-enough, from what he could tell he was nice enough, and he certainly didn’t want to upset the lad, but he also knew his sister couldn’t stand him. She avoided saying so through words, skirting the issue as best she could, but she was not a good liar. Her, what he was going to charitably call annoyance, shone through every time she talked about the man. Yet, somehow, he wanted to marry her. Had he just stepped into another universe? “You want to marry Capsize?”

“Yes! I’ve never met a woman as perfect as she is,” Redbeard barely managed to hold back a laugh, not wanting to disparage the man who seemed to be expressing genuine feelings. But his description of Capsize versus her own of him a few hours earlier was tickling. Of course, it was less funny considering she had occasionally complained of him not seeing her as a person, and his description of her as ‘perfect’, but he tried to quell that concern as each one just misunderstanding the other. Still, he had no idea how exactly he should respond. He could give his blessing, but as soon as Capsize found out she’d be pissed, which was something he didn’t particularly want to deal with or found particularly fair for either party. Jordan could feel his hesitation, setting a worry in him that felt wrong. There was no reason he could see that he would say no. He’d built a friendship with him, not hard when he could get discounted drinks at the tavern, and even he had to be able to see how perfect he and Capsize were for each other. “I’ll treat her as brilliantly as she deserves, she’ll never want for anything. I just, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

“I’m not doubting that I just… Well, I’m not going to stop you. If you can get Capsize to agree, obviously you can marry her,” Redbeard felt like that was a pretty big if given that she barely wanted to talk to him, let alone enter a committed relationship with the man. However, Jordan’s face lit up and he felt a twinge of guilt. Both men had a very different vision of how a proposal to Capsize would go, and though neither knew what the other was thinking, Redbeard could not imagine Jordan was picturing the sort of disaster he was. There was absolutely no way she was going to say yes, that was so clear to him, but he didn’t exactly want to say that. It felt undermining to his sister to say what he thought she would do, even if he was sure he’d get an earful of complaints from her later. Also, he was leaving so he didn’t have time for a half an hour conversation explaining to Jordan that Capsize didn’t like him.

“You won’t regret this! You’ll see when you get back, we’re going to be the perfect couple!” Jordan said, forgetting he had ever been nervous about the situation. He had her brother’s approval, which meant he didn’t need to worry about any sudden rug pull after the man returned that would sour the start of his marriage. He had to start preparing the proposal, make it as great as Capsize would expect from him. So, he rushed off, intending to see how Tucker was coming along with his side of the preparations.

Redbeard, now left alone walking back towards the cellar, contemplated if he had just made a massive mistake. He didn’t want to say no. He both didn’t want to start an argument and didn’t particularly want to act like he could forbid his sister from doing something, but he felt a little like he had taken anyway her scapegoat for whenever she was confronted by the proposal. Maybe, he thought, he should warn her about it, tell her before it was a shock. But what good would that really do? She’d just get annoyed, since she certainly wasn’t going to feel able to confront the man about it, and she was already routinely stressed enough. They certainly weren’t currently in a relationship, so if they weren’t even dating, so he assumed that a proposal had to be a while away. Plenty of time to warn Capsize and get her prepared for that disaster once he got back. He had no idea how wrong that assumption was.

Before he had time to think any more on the situation, the cellar doors opened in front of him, Capsize emerging with a smile. He could only feel relieved that she had not exited half a minute earlier, as he could not imagine how that would’ve gone. Yes, he decided, perhaps against his better judgement, that he was going to keep his conversation with Jordan a secret. No point souring their last few minutes together for the next few weeks. He much preferred leaving on a positive note. And she looked happy, how could he spoil that? The reason for the joy on her features became clear as day as in her left hand she held up, wrapped in a semi-transparent fabric, was the lockbox.

“You fixed it!” He said, not intending to sound so surprised. She fixed trinkets all the time, it was literally her job. However, she had never done it so fast, nor on something quite so explosive, but that wasn’t a reason to doubt her abilities. If she ever got such a notion from him, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not that he would dream of doing such a thing, she was far more competent than him and he was quite okay with that. He knew the moment they were out of this town, she’d be in charge of the market stuff too, and he was honestly just looking forward to her being the captain again. It was not that he particularly minded being in charge, he just felt like it should be Capsize.

“Pretty sure I have! Just leave the fabric on, I think the glyphs are resetting when they’re touched,” She said as she handed it over to him carefully. She couldn’t say for sure that was the problem, magic was mysterious and annoying after all, but it was her best guess as to why the object had decided to once again explode that morning. She almost wished she had more time to figure out the mechanics, almost. Mostly she was glad to see the thing gone. The twinge of sadness as she handed it over was not due to losing the box, but rather the fact that this was it. He was leaving for another three weeks. Obviously, he’d be back, and it would be faster than she expected, but she never quite got used to being alone, to this town where it seemed that no one really understood her nor wanted to.

“Well, I’ll do my best to find someone who wants the devil box,” He said with a laugh, attempting to hide his own sadness about leaving. He didn’t need to show that, it was better to not make her worry anymore than she was already going to. He appreciated her worrying, it meant that she missed him, though she always claimed it was because she didn’t like him being alone with his run of luck. But he knew it was because she missed him, after all she trusted the routes she planned to be safe, she just didn’t want to admit such a thing. Not that he had ever asked, but he could tell these sorts of things, some people just had their feelings written on their face. And yes, he was correct. Capsize knew she was going to miss him dreadfully and the worry was coming in waves with all the possible reasons he might never return circling through her brain.

“Have you got everything?” She asked as the two began to walk towards the cart. She knew she didn’t really need to ask the question. As focused as she had been on the lockbox, she hadn’t missed him carrying the boxed-up trinkets and furniture pieces out of the cellar. And while there was now a tarp covering the loaded-up cart, she knew from a quick look around herself before exiting that he hadn’t missed anything. She just wanted him here a little longer, and that was the only thing she could ask. He didn’t need to change as he had packed his nicer clothes for when he arrived, and he had on a thick enough coat for a journey that would take him through autumn nights, the long green one that he had had for so long yet still didn’t look worn despite everything. And she sincerely doubted he had forgotten to pack the saddle bags currently on Phillipe.

“Of course, but I can check again if you’d like,” He said, knowing that a couple of checks had never done any harm. Capsize, however, quickly shook her head.

“No, I trust you,” She said without any hesitation in the statement, though her words still sounded a little unsure. She wanted him to not leave for as long as possible, but logically she knew such a thing was silly. There wasn’t time to keep him here to recheck everything. While there were still a good couple of hours until sunset, that still meant a good portion of his travel through the woods would be in darkness, she didn’t particularly want to make that longer. Though she hadn’t travelled in them, the most she had done being travelling to them and back on days when she truly couldn’t stand being in the town anymore, she was sure there was something wrong with those woods. She couldn’t exactly investigate that feeling, she was typically walking, and the journey there and back already made her leg burn and complain, and she also guessed that she shouldn’t investigate such a feeling, but it bothered her. It felt like staring into a haunting, being so close to something impossibly and unexplainably dangerous. And, of course, everyone knew about the predators in there. As much as she hated listening to Jordan talk about his hunting, he’d mentioned enough that she knew that there were dangerous animals, even if they typically minded their own business. That, though mundane, was enough a reason itself to want her brother in there for as short a time as possible. “Just make sure to stay on the route. I don’t trust the woods.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of letting the terrifying monster in the woods get me!” He jokingly mocked as he unbuckled and lifted part of the tarp to find a place for the last item. He only chuckled more at Capsize mildly annoyed sigh. She was too superstitious by half, which never failed to amuse him. Superstitions were expected of sailors, and heck he had some of his own like still wearing the amulet bearing Lady Ianite’s symbol meant to bring safe waters despite having been years now since he’d been on them, but in this situation there was really no reason for her to worry. He’d been through the woods enough to know they were perfectly safe. The road was well used, and the predators had little reason to bother people when there was easier prey already in the woods. Honestly, he saw absolutely no reason to fear the journey. As he found a free and secure spot and began resecuring the tarp, he saw in his peripheral vision her approach Phillipe, who of course greeted her with a cheerful whinny, the absolute traitor.

“When my brother gets himself got by a monster, you come and find me, so it doesn’t get you too. Alright Phillipe?” She said with a gentle rub of his neck. Redbeard laughed quietly at her words, wondering how he’d rank compared to the horse. He could almost hear her joking that Phillipe was practically family if he ever asked such a question, but she would be joking at least, he hoped. Well, at least if for whatever reason he was attacked by a bear or something, the horse will miraculously have understood what Capsize was telling him and get her assistance.

“I’ll await your rescue from the bear’s den!” He said, far too loud but neither of them cared and they devolved into laughter. For the briefest moment, they both forgot that they were about to be separated. As he walked around, to her and the horse, and less literally towards leaving, the laughter quieted. When they were next to each other, she gave him a soft smile, pulling him into a hug.

“Come back safe, okay.”

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” He said, softly and without a doubt in his mind. Everything was going to be fine, there was no reason to believe otherwise. As they parted, Capsize looked more stoic, biting her worries down and trying to look like she was focused on business.

“I told Jeriah you’d get him a couple bottles of liquor.”

“Easily done. Any personal requests?” He hoped she’d have a few, though she typically didn’t. He knew there were things she wanted, things that would help quell her boredom, but she never actually asked for any of them. Well, he’d figure out gifts for her even without her direct requests, it would just be nice for his sister to admit she wanted something.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you insist. So just a bit more alcohol than usual and a rose,” He said with a smirk as he saw Capsize’s nose scrunch. Eventually continuous buying her the flower would get old, but that was not today.

“You’re the worst,” She said with an amused shaking of her head, smiling despite her words.

“I know,” Redbeard said with a chuckle as she climbed into the saddle. He was glad, as always, to part with a joke and a smile. “See you in three weeks.”

🌹 🌹 🌹

Hours had passed, night having long since fallen as Redbeard had unexpectedly come to an impasse. Having reached a fork in the road, he held his map close to a lantern, but not as one might suspect to check which way he was supposed to travel, as he knew that perfectly well. It was rather that the way he was meant to travel was blocked by a fallen tree which he had no chance of getting past or moving. So, for the first time he was studying the map beyond his sister’s carefully marked route, hoping that the other direction would, at some point, join back up to his usual route. He didn’t particularly want to have to plan out a full new route, especially as it would most certainly be much more roundabout than Capsize’s, but he was fearing that might be his only choice. It was with a shaky hand that he traced along the map, following the unknown fork to see exactly where it went.

The path he traced didn’t make sense. It appeared to be completely superfluous, just a longer route to the next fork he would hit after this one, with only one branch with the long road itself, where the other path led to a dead end. And it was a much longer route, going far into the woods before returning to the original road. He bet it would take an extra hour, but he couldn’t complain at actually having an accessible route. As much as he was confused by the existence of such a thing, at least he now had a path forward.

“Come on, Phillipe, let’s get going,” He said, folding the map and putting it into his pocket, knowing he’d need to reference it again before he found his way back onto his usual route. As he guided the horse towards the unblocked path, Phillipe hesitated for a moment. He had to admit, he also had some hesitations about the path as it certainly looked in worse repair than the usual one, disregarding the tree of course, but he didn’t exactly have much of a choice. He gently patted his neck. “I know, it looks bad, but the sooner you move, the sooner we’ll be back on the normal path.”

As if understanding, the horse began to move again, turning onto the unfamiliar path. Slowly, but at least they were moving.

It didn’t seem all that bad at first, as it seemed just as a less frequented road through the woods would, bumpy and filled with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding as Redbeard couldn’t quite be sure of the direction being correct. But he had felt the same on his first journey through the woods on the normal route, it was just a fear of getting lost while being none the wiser. And that was how it seemed for the first ten minutes. However, the further in he travelled, the more the pit in his stomach grew.

The trees started to get wilder, none of them blocking the path, but branches hung down and jutted out at odd angles that felt like they were grasping out for him. Without leaves, he almost mistook them for fingers and claws despite how nonsensical such a thing was. A bitter rain had begun to fall, not heavy enough for its impact to hurt, though the cold certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it did obscure his vision. He could barely see beyond the small circle of light illuminated by his lantern. That was a worrying problem as, if it didn’t clear up by the time he reached the turn, he wouldn’t be able to check the map to make sure he headed back to the main road rather than down the dead end.

Worse, as he tried not to dwell on his nerves of possibly heading in the wrong direction, he became acutely aware of just how little he could hear. With the noise of Phillipe, the cart, and now the rain, he could barely hear anything, and if there was one thing you didn’t want while in the woods, it was both limited vision and hearing. He didn’t exactly fear much from the woods normally, he knew them well enough to know the few places he needed to be careful. But here, he felt vulnerable and that was only made worse by having such limited senses. Because, as much as he always mocked the idea of getting into trouble on the journey, he was sure he could hear something moving.

He knew he was being ridiculous, just giving into his fears and that it wasn’t good when he was already on edge, but he could swear there were things moving through the overgrowth of the trees. He felt like he needed to hear, to know what was approaching. And he found himself straining to make out any hint of a noise or sight of what was lurking in the darkness. Because he was hearing something, some movement through the trees, low growls that made his heart race. Even if it was sure to be his imagination, he was hearing something.

A howl pierced through the noise, far too close for comfort, others joining from further away. How many were there? He felt his heart racing as he realised he was in the middle of a pack. Of course, it wasn’t exactly common for them to attack people, but that wasn’t comforting him when they were so close. It was odd, despite all his actual knowledge, it was as if he knew in his gut that he knew that he was not safe this time. A feeling unfortunately proven true when a wolf leapt out towards him, barely missing its mark.

“Shit!” He whipped the reins, Phillipe quickly breaking into a run as he too did not feel like getting torn apart by wolves. Having strained to hear before, Redbeard now felt as though he could hear nothing but the wolves hot on their tail. He needed to stay ahead of them, he didn’t have time to think or second guess. He had no idea how long Phillipe would be able to keep up a full sprint, he just had to hope it would be long enough for the vicious animals to lose interest.

His mind rushed through the ways he could deter the animals, so much so that he barely noticed the fork in the road ahead. He forced a turn quickly muttering apologies as Phillipe barely managed to turn while actually remaining on the road. He had no idea which path he was now travelling down, the one leading back to the usual route or the odd dead end. It was not as if he had the time to check such a thing and it likely didn’t matter anyway. He was still hours away from a rest stop, away from light or other people that might scare off the pack. Unless he could think of something himself to scare them, this was purely a game of stamina. What chance did they really have of winning such a contest?

The further they were chased, the more the path grew unseemly. It felt as though they were travelling over terrain so uneven that the cart could fall or break a wheel at any moment. The trees seemed to become brambles, thorns sticking out of the branches that were stretching ever closer to the road. All the while the rain fell, the intensity increasing and making it ever harder to guide the panicking horse to make sure he didn’t run headfirst into thorns. There should’ve been no way he should be able to outrace the wolves, he knew that even as he desperately tried to flee. But that was not the only impossible thing that happened over the next few moments.

As the plant life suddenly peeled away into a far more open area, the wolves skidded to a stop. They whined, and quickly fled seemingly for no reason. He tugged on the reins, slowing their speed as he tried to calm the still spooked horse. Redbeard looked back to try and figure out what might have caused such a reaction from the wolves, and it was then he realised he had not ridden into a natural clearing. Consumed by some of the brambles were a rusted gate, forever stuck open but apparently still acting as a barrier as none of the wolves’ paw prints passed where it would stand if it were shut. Confused by the oddity, he rode forward a little more, not feeling completely safe to dismount yet. And then, even through the rain, he saw that this was not merely some gated clearing, some overgrown private garden, as ahead of him stood a castle. A castle that for some reason was not marked on his map. Why would such an estate not be marked? What kind of oddity had he stumbled into? He had no idea if he should be weary or grateful for the possible shelter. He settled on the latter, if only since he would prefer not to be out in the rain while waiting out daybreak.

He slipped off Phillipe, taking a hold of the lantern and going to unbuckle him from the cart. He’d come back and put him in a stable if this place had one and the owners let him, assuming this place had owners. It didn’t exactly look occupied, with the state of the overgrown plants and the rusted gate, but it also didn’t look abandoned. The building looked strong, no sign of it being left to disrepair despite that clearly being true of the gardens as large thorny bushes stood overground throughout. He almost hesitated to let Phillipe wander on his own, in case he stumbled into one, but he had at least a little confidence in the animal to not wander into danger.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” He said, as if such reassurance would mean anything to a horse. Yet he did find it necessary to say, as if he was actually reassuring himself that he would re-emerge from the building.

As he wandered closer to the castle’s imposing doors, the lantern illuminated one of the bushes. Unlike what he had assumed, they weren’t just barren brambles. In fact, he almost laughed despite his dire situation as before him was a rosebush. The thorns surrounding him were filled with the flowers that he sought out to annoy Capsize. Honestly, he’d never seen such big flowers this late in autumn, most had wilted by this month. What he was looking at was far nicer than any he would get at the market this time of year, and perhaps for most of the year. He felt for the small knife in his pocket, carefully reaching for one of the flowers while avoiding the thorns. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that he’d need to come up with some excuse if this place wasn’t abandoned, but how could he not want to take such a beautiful flower back home? With the cutting technique he’s learnt from the old flower seller at the market, it should last for months as all the others had, so there wouldn’t be a worry of it wilting before he got home to Capsize. Surely the owners would understand and if they didn’t, he could pay for it.

As the flower separated from the bush, he pulled a handkerchief to wrap the stem, and with the flower now in hand, he walked up the steps towards the entrance. He reached up, knocked as hard as he could to be heard over the storm, only for the door to creak open upon his touch. Had he really hit it that hard? He must’ve done, but it felt odd that his mere knocking could’ve caused such heavy wood to shift. But, not wanting to spend another moment in the rain, he headed inside despite such uncertainty.

The room before him was by far the fanciest he had ever been in. Even with the darkness he could tell such a thing. Though it seemed as though it was not too taken care of, with dust floating in his lantern light, clearly this was a grand place. He felt lost, more so than he had outside, as he stood in the quiet entrance hall, wondering if another person had been in here for years.

“Hello?” He called out into the darkness, his voice travelling through the building. He was acutely aware of how much power someone who resided in such a place would have. Though if there was someone of such power so close to the town, he surely should’ve heard of them, so it seemed more likely that the place was just abandoned. But then he heard it, quiet but most definitely a noise. Someone or something was in this building. But how was he meant to confront such a fact when he was not supposed to be here? He strayed a little closer to the noise, hoping he could figure out if it was being made by people. “I was chased by a pack of wolves through the woods, and I don’t think I’ll be able to find my way back to my normal route through the rain. I was hoping I could have a place to stay until morning.”

There was silence at first. In fact, for long enough that he almost thought he might have imagined the noises originally. Maybe he was just still on edge and imagining things. That wouldn’t be impossible. However, as he stood in the darkened room, he saw a dim light from one of the doorways. That wasn’t there when he walked in. Someone was here. He took a cautious step towards it, hearing hushed conversation as he approached.

“Don’t you dare! The amount of trouble we’ll get into!”

“Oh, come off it, she’ll never know!” He heard a man reply to a woman. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting his presence to cause anyone any problems. He’d be happy to sleep in a stable if staying inside would cause them trouble, but he hesitated to speak when he was eavesdropping. Maybe he should just call out again in general? However, before he could do that, there was a noise that began to approach him, but it was not one he would say it sounded like footsteps. It sounded more akin to Capsize’s cane hitting the ground, a single object hitting the ground as opposed to multiple. He wasn’t quite sure what could be making such a noise without anything else accompanying it, after all he heard voices that should mean people so there should be footsteps. However, when what was making the noise came into view, Redbeard stumbled backwards slightly, dropping his lantern in disbelief that he was seeing something blatantly impossible. “Of course, you can stay here! We’d be more than happy to host you! You’ll never have stayed in a nicer place!”

“Errrr…” What all that could escape from him. In front of him ‘stood’ a candelabra, one beautifully carved from gold to look like a man in finery holding two candles with a third sat on his head. To carve such a design must’ve taken tens of hours, but that was not the focus of his mind. Rather the fact that he moved and spoke. The candelabra spoke. If Redbeard had been a more cautious man, a more logical man, he likely would’ve fled at such a sight. Yet, his mind did not bring him fear, but rather a question he had often found himself asking. “Am I drunk?”

“No! At least not yet! I’d be more than happy to find you a fine vintage while you dry off,” The candelabra answered the rhetorical question, his offer and general welcoming nature putting Redbeard at ease despite how he was literally talking to a piece of furniture. He wondered briefly if he had hit his head at some point, and this was merely some fantasy cooked up by his dreams after such an injury, but he decided that even being able to consider such a thing likely meant it hadn’t happened. And if he was stuck in a dream, hopefully he’d dream up some nice booze. Before he could laugh at his own thought, and accept the offer he really couldn’t refuse, an ornate table clock approached.

“No! Thomas do not give this man any alcohol,” The clock, apparently the woman he had overheard, said. She too looked incredibly well made, with wood he guessed in the dim light to be hawthorn embellished with silver inlaid into spiral engravings. He could see a winding key on her back, though he had little idea what it was for as, while her face had painted features that were looking intensely annoyed at the candelabra that he guessed was Thomas, it lacked any actual clock hands that would need to be wound. And she was annoyed, not that Tom ever knew her to have any other emotion, because letting this man stay was going to end in disaster. She knew it would. How could it go any other way? But Tom didn’t just want to stay quiet and let the man leave, because why on earth would he actually listen for once?

He was not the only person not listening to the clock at that moment, as Redbeard had begun to look in fascination. For one object to talk, that was slightly terrifying, but more than one and he had clearly stumbled into some place enchanted. He wished more than he ever had on any journey that Capsize was with him as this place would give her enough excitement to almost make up for the amount of boredom she'd spent her time in the town experiencing. He only got drawn out of his thoughts when the clock he was staring at started trying, despite clearly lacking the ability, to shove him back towards the door.

“It was very nice to meet you, but you really can’t stay here.”

“If I can’t stay in the castle, could I at least stay in a stable or an outbuilding? Just until the storm clears, so I can drive off the wolves if I need to.”

“Well, I suppose if you’re quiet that—”

“Oh shush, you Mystic busybody,” Tom said, getting her away from the man simply by beginning to shoo as his flames got uncomfortably close to her. This was the first person that had come here in years, he wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity slip out of his hands. What Princess Fluffles didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and what she did know might fix this whole situation if they played their cards right. “Please, right this way sir. No point sending you out into the cold without drying off first.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” He said, deciding not to question the hospitality when he was beginning to realise just how soaked he was. He followed ‘Thomas’ as he gestured towards and then hopped into a room. He didn’t know what he had stumbled into, this place where furniture talked, but that wasn’t any reason to leave. With the way the storm was progressing he was going to lose time on the journey from needing to dry his clothes wherever he rested next, doing so in a castle just seemed like a nice option.

As the two men disappeared into the next room, the clock followed after a slight hesitation. She needed to at least try and stop this. She’d come up with a way to persuade the man to leave, hopefully without returning with a mob. However, as she followed, she didn’t notice, as the two men hadn’t, the figure lurking in the shadows on the landing above. Far bigger than any human, just watching and quietly seething at the trespasser in her castle.

As Tom entered the drawing room, the fireplace roared to life. Redbeard looked in amazement, wondering what it took for a place to have magic to just react to a presence. The small amount he had seen from the trinkets Capsize repaired always needed to at least be touched, but this didn’t even need that. He could’ve never imagined actually seeing such a thing. But he had also never imagined being ushered towards a chair by a talking candelabra so perhaps he needed to stop being surprised by comparatively mundane things. Before sitting, he shrugged off his coat, realising with a little annoyance that the rain had soaked through and into his shirt. What would he have done if he hadn’t found shelter? He grateful took the seat by the fire, the warmth as welcome as it ever could be. With the man clearly relaxing, Tom decided to start work on his master plan.

“See, much better than a musty old stable. Is there anything else you need? Food, drink?”

“My horse is still out in the rain. I’d appreciate him being given shelter.”

“Of course! We’ll give him shelter, get him fed and watered. Martha, make yourself useful will you?”

“Why on earth should I help a trespassing thief?” The clock said, eyes locked onto the rose in the man’s hand.

“Oh, come off it, no one cares about those bushes,” Came a new voice as a small plant pot hopped into the room. She spoke with a younger cadence than the clock and the candelabra, though Redbeard wasn’t sure if that at all made sense, and looked less ornate, just a simple brown clay pot with facial features carved in, but that was more than made up by the number of colourful and beautiful flowers growing within. Much like the roses outside, most of the flowers were certainly not ones currently in season, but that was the least of the oddities about this place. He appreciated being defended, mostly since he couldn’t exactly put the rose back now, he’d already cut it from the bush. The clock glared at the plant pot. How did none of them see that they needed to get this man out? The plant pot thought little of the glare, instead getting as close to the man as possible. “I can get you something nicer if you want, the rose bushes have taken over most of the garden but there’s still some other flowers growing! I bet there’s enough for a bouquet still if you--”

“I know you’re excited, but don’t leap up at the man Alyssa,” A snuffbox said as he came into the room, a little slower than his daughter. Similar to the candelabra, he was crafted from gold, though at least half of him was embellished with green crystals. Much like the other furniture pieces, he had facial features, though they were more hidden among the design than any of the others’ were. On his lid was a coat of arms that Redbeard didn’t recognise, which was not out of the question, he wasn’t exactly the most knowledgeable on such things, but certainly could be of note to the castle he also hadn’t heard of the existence of.

The snuffbox himself was more excited than he was letting on. How could he not be excited about the first person he’d seen in gods knows how many years? But he worried about his daughter jumping up in such a way. She was fragile. He was always scared she might crack or break, and what such a thing could mean if they ever fixed this curse. Tom decided to spin the caution once again towards the obvious end goal here.

“Yeah, Batty, you don’t want to jump up and crush the rose. How can you help him craft a beautiful romantic bouquet if you ruin the first flower?” Tom said, knowing Alyssa would stick her tongue out or shove him if she could. Redbeard almost immediately laughed at his words, not meaning to but unable to hold back the reaction given how far from reality the idea of him wanting a romantic bouquet was. The candelabra smirked. This was a good sign. He hopped forward, thinking about how to phrase his next question without scaring the man off. “Is it really that funny? A handsome guy like you not into romance then?”

“Well, I’m not against it, but the rose is for my sister,” He was pretty used to the questions about if the roses he brought were for a sweetheart back home, though they still made him laugh. He was less used to being called handsome. He didn’t exactly think he was unattractive, but unruly ginger hair and heterochromia with one bright green and one deep red eye hadn’t gained him many compliments. If he weren’t currently talking to a piece of furniture, he’d assume he was being flirted with. He supposed he shouldn’t write that off, but he had no idea how such a relationship would work. If they weren’t made of metal, Tom’s eyes would’ve lit up at the mention of a sister.

“A sister you say? Is she interested in romance?” He asked, being far too forward for the taste of everyone else in the room, but he would not receive an answer. Before Redbeard could question as to why he could possibly want to know about his sister’s relationship status, loud footsteps began to approach the room.

The fire began to flicker and shake as if a great wind was whipping through the room. It made no sense, as the air was still and even if it wasn’t magic fire shouldn’t be affected by such a thing, but that was what made it all the more uneasy. The furniture fell silent, the clock not slipping the ‘I told you so’s that she had on her lips, instead just hoping the Mistress would pass by, that the trouble she had predicted would not come to pass. Redbeard knew something was wrong, obviously anyone would at this moment. He stood cautiously, taking his coat in hand as he did, almost sensing the upcoming need to flee.

By the time the footsteps stood outside the door, the fire had completely blown out, alongside Tom’s candles. There was still some dim light remaining, from the embers and a tiny amount from the outside, but that did little to light up the figure that threw open the door. It was large, large enough to block the entire doorway if it were not currently on all fours. From the size, he would assume he was looking at a bear, grizzly or bigger, but the build was wrong, not to mention it had horns. Whatever he was looking at, it was not a normal animal, and it was growling at him. He didn’t dare move. No one dared to move except the snuffbox.

“Why is a stranger here?” The Beast growled, Redbeard trying not to react to hearing it speak. It spoke with a woman’s voice, though one that sounded as if it had not been used in many a year. The snuffbox approached with caution, knowing how quickly this could go wrong. He could not allow the Beast to be harmed, but at the same time he couldn’t let her harm an innocent traveller.

“He’s just an unlucky traveller, seeking shelter from—” A growl cut him off as he was stepped over by the Beast that he was trying to reassure. How long had it been since she had listened to him? Even before the curse, her doing so had been happening less and less. But who wouldn’t try in such a desperate situation? She approached Redbeard, who tried badly to disguise his nervous steps back. Was it too late to take his chances with the wolves?

“You are not welcome here,” She growled as she stalked closer. He could see a little aside from a basic outline, but he could hear claws scraping against hardwood with every movement of her limbs. He had never felt so vulnerable, been in a situation where it was so clear that he was prey. And he knew he had to flee, to get out of this place while he had the chance. But he wasn’t sure if he even had a chance anymore. She was blocking the doorway, to get out he’d need to pass her. And what chance did he really have of that?

The next to approach the creature was the clock. She was already annoyed that the others had allowed the situation to progress this far, she was not about to let something even worse come to fruition.

“Yes, I told everyone as much, and this is precisely why I was about to escort him out! If you’ll just—” She was cut off by a much louder roar, barely getting out of the way before the Beast batted at her, a giant pawed hand swiping through the space where she had been. Redbeard barely held his nerve at the sight, at seeing the terrible thing that could soon be aimed at him and seeing perhaps his only hope at escape dashed. And now, the attention of the Beast was completely on him.

“Who are you? How did you find your way here?” She was close enough to grasp him now. A single wrong move and she would have him.

“I’m just a merchant, my usual route was blocked so I took another one and it led here,” His usual way with words and excuses were nowhere in such a situation as there was no excuse he could muster. If the truth that this was truly an accident didn’t save him, then what could? He tried to further back away, but he had no way to get away from the Beast now she was so close. Maybe if he tried to run? But he was sure that such a creature would be faster than him. Another step back caused him to stumble slightly, not enough to fall, but enough for his amulet to shift out from his shirt. She growled at the sight of it.

“You came looking for the Beast? She sent you to stare at the great monster?!” She would not believe this to be some accident, not when he wore the symbol of that goddess, of the one who cursed her into this form. No one came here, no one had since the curse had begun. But now one with that symbol came through the doors and she was meant to believe he had just stumbled across the place?

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I swear I just came here looking for shelter!” For once, Redbeard was not lying or exaggerating. He was far too scared for any of that. Yet, it was also this moment where his words were being disbelieved more than any other in his life. His desperate pleads fell on deaf ears, the Beast took a hold of him by the chest. He dropped what he was holding, attempting fruitlessly with both hands to pry to claws off himself.

“You want shelter? I’ll give you shelter!” For a moment, she held him close to her face, and he saw everything. He saw the Beast’s face bared in anger towards him, and he felt more terror than he had before in his life. But there was no way for him to escape. He could only struggle and beg for mercy as the Beast half-carried, half-dragged him out of the room. She would not let him go. She wouldn’t let him escape. As she left with the terrified man in tow, she slammed the door closed, leaving the furniture in the darkness, the only sign of the man’s brief time in that room an abandoned coat and rose.

Outside, still in the rain, the horse heard the roars. As any animal would, it spooked, running out of the rusted open gate and back towards the safety of home.

#mianite #mianite fanfiction #cat's fanfiction #sonja firefox #sonja firefox/captain capsize #captain capsize #mianite batb au #skipper redbeard #jordan captainsparklez #tom syndicate #martha the mystic #alyssa screziato #mot screziato

[ifuckinglovedinosaurssomuchjesus]

GODZILLA MOVIE MARATHON: Ghidorah, the Three- Headed Monster (1964)

The ultimate crossover event! A threat appears so powerful that Toho’s backlog of titular monsters must work together to beat it back! This movie is basically the culmination of the Toho monsters universe, it’s the linchpin of the franchise and the turning point for Godzilla as a character, which is why it’s kind of sad he’s barely in it...

Yeah, obviously the delicate balance of human drama and monster action is one topic that’ll always be a source of contention for fans, but this is really the first time the series goes too far in my eyes. I cannot stress this enough, besides a few scenes lasting a few seconds, the monsters are not a part of this movie till the last 20 minutes. Be ready to sit down for over an hour before you see men in rubber suits getting abused on miniature sets.

That’s not to say the human plot is bad, I actually quite enjoy it! A princess about to be assassinated is visited by a bright light, that possesses her to scream to anyone that’ll listen that the world is about to end. The press and police are on her tail, trying to both investigate if what she’s saying is the truth and to protect her from more assassins, while a mysterious meteorite begins to glow and swell in the rural mountains. It’s all pretty intriguing and never boring, and I think the fact that the focus is on the growing threat of Ghidorah’s awakening keeps the monsters in your mind even if they aren’t on screen. I also love the Mothra Shobijin in this movie, especially the fact that they’re apparently making appearances on late night cable TV nowadays.

The monsters themselves are also great. Rodan vs Godzilla is pretty hilarious with how they seem to only be capable of mildly annoying each other, laughing at the other’s pain and playing catch with a boulder. My favorite part was Rodan lifting Godzilla into the air just to drop him, dick first, into an electrical pole. Then of course there’s the bit where we hear the translated conversation between Mothra, Godzilla, and Rodan where Godzilla calls humans bullies of all things. It’s goofy, it’s stupid, it’s fun.

You can also tell why King Ghidorah is, to this day, still considered the big bad of the Godzilla franchise. The movie spends a long time hyping him up, and you do recognize him as a big threat that needs to be stopped. Unfortunately, you can tell the budget was low, because we don’t get very much scenes of him actually reigning havoc. When you watch these movies in quick succession, it’s pretty clear how much less of a force of nature the three headed alien is compared to the absolute carnage of the very first Godzilla. Likewise he does get trounced pretty easily and flees with his tails between his legs like a little bitch, but somehow he still left this movie seeming pretty cool.

The real importance of this movie is that it’s the first time Godzilla was seen as the good guy, a consistent across the rest of the Showa era and something that becomes a major part of his characterization in later continuities too. The contradictory metaphors of Godzilla being the personification of the atom bomb and the hero of earth is something many people have wrote many essays on, so I won’t really bother, but I do like the extra layers this movie provides and I hold good guy Goji close to my heart.

Overall, an important movie in shaping Godzilla as a character. A solid 7/10.

#Godzilla #kaiju #movie review

[cryptramesses]

Lore Dump - My Revival

This blog is meant to be something a bit more personal to me, this I've expressed already countless times. As such, I figure now is as good of a time as any to share a tale that is often asked about.

How did I come back from the dead?

The answer is quite simple; by magick. This isn't anything that wasn't expected. I think a slug could probably come to this conclusion if given enough water and if put in front of a salt shaker. This salt shaker of course being a very overt threat. But that's besides the point, the fact of the matter is what magick was used is probably what's more of a contending factor, as well as what it was like to be brought back.

I don't think I need to say it, but it's very clear that there is no way in hell that I'd actually share the ritual that brought me back from the Duat. A spell like that would be absolutely detrimental and the fact of the matter is that the gods would not be happy about it. They're probably not happy with me being around to begin with. Can you blame them?

I went through my trial, weighed my heart, passed through the tests and dangers of the Duat and its many gates, and made it to Aaru. I won my paradise and was commended for it. Yet, all of that was reversed over the course of one night. I can't imagine that my embalmers or the gods who went through the trouble of bringing me to the Hall of Judgement were very pleased with the fact that my name was crossed off their registrar.

I especially don't think Lord Asar was pleased to know that one of his children essentially just phased out of his kingdom and reappeared in their body. Can you imagine? This is a human you've provided food, shelter, water, and leisure to for thousands of years, they are someone who is an upstanding citizen (or at least that's how I hope I was perceived) and they just vanished? Just like that? As if they had never died to begin with? I can't imagine that's very appealing in any regard.

Now to say I was the only person to rise from the dead would be a lie. Believe it or not there are thousands of people who have come back from the dead, most, however, were not benevolent. For those who do know this ritual, which I'm sure someone reading this has to know, you can probably attest to the fact that the reason it is used so sparingly is that you never know how the person being brought back will react.

Decomposition is not reversed when you bring someone back. This means if someone died from being shot in the face, they will still be suffering with the damage, and that damage won't really be fixable per say; not without medical aid. It will heal, just take forever, and the damage done is long lasting. That's to say one's mental faculties will definitely be impacted. See the case of Phineas Gage if you want to really witness what it's like to suffer brain damage and be alive for the aftermath, it's not too dissimilar.

This means that if you bring a person back, overall their temperament will be greatly influenced by the damage done to their body. They'll feel the pain of their broken leg, their fractured jaw, their heavy skin, so on and so forth. The most that the revival process does is repair the body enough to house a soul, but you'll soon learn that there is very few requirements for that.

The most that the soul needs to reside in a body is for, what I would guestimate to be, approximately 75% of the body to be there. I don't mean muscles, organs, or skin -- no I mean just bone. Now granted if you brought a spirit back from the afterlife and imbued it into a skeleton you'd probably be executed on the spot by this walking abomination, but it'd still be 'alive' per say. Or... at least alive in the spiritual sense. There would be no brain though, so I doubt it'd be cognitive.

But what do I know? I'm not the most experienced on this front so I'm not fully sure what would happen. I am no necromancer and, moreover, I don't think I would want to take the risk of reviving anyone Jesus style to walk among the living. You ever see a zombie movie? While it wouldn't be contagious, I can't imagine things being all too different. That being said, previous revival spells have had detrimental consequences.

Having once been a Pharaoh, and a pretty long ruling one at that, I got a few perks in Aaru. One of which was a seat at certain Godly functions. These were by invite only, but having the ability to sit among the likes of many other incredible Pharaohs and commune with our Gods is not something that you would raise your nose at. In these conversations the act of necromancy wormed its way in. At the time I couldn't possibly see the allure, especially to revive someone who had a body not so neatly preserved as my own, yet according to Lord Anpu this wasn't an uncommon occurance.

"The dead walking among the living, to think mortals are so foolish to advertise such a practice. Truly, necromancy is among the forbidden arts, and yet I have to send The Jackals to fetch a soul at least once every hundred years. Truly the tedium never ends."

The Jackals. Such a squad I have seen before. In the living world they appeared as dark dogs, eyes that glow with colors based on their temperament, and teeth sharp enough to rend a body into pieces within an instance. In other words they were Hell Hounds, just with taller ears than the traditional Hell Hound imagery seen in other places. In Aaru though they are a lot more intimidating.

They don't look dissimilar to Lord Anpu himself, albeit a bit shorter, yet their prowess with weaponry and their teamwork makes them a sight to behold. Needless to say I could not put into word or glyph what type of terror they could strike into the hearts of any soul. As such I made it a very conscious point to never encounter one on a Retrieval Mission if I had the choice. I did not want to be dragged back by them. The assumption was any corpse was dangerous, regardless of how passive they were when encountered -- unstable and dangerous were the descriptors used by Lord Ra.

I suppose when I came back from the dead I was a bit more lucky. My body was maintained well enough that I was much more predictable and my temperament was not much different from how it was when I was alive or in the Duat, if anything I was much more passive then when I was a ruler of Kemet. I suppose 3000 years of being idle really does change your outlook of the world. But then you may be wondering, if I was dead for 3000 years, how could my body not be dust? No more than the sands of the desert catching the wind?

Well for anyone who isn't super aware of how mummification works, let me give you a run down; a Mummification for Dummies if you will. When you die the first thing that is done is that you're transported to embalmers. Depending on your status and wealth will impact the intricacies of your burial. Your body is then dissected, dehydrated, wrapped, and preserved as best as possible with ornaments, talismans, and herbs. Overall the body is left pretty much intact.

Your bodily fluids are drained, your skin becomes leathery, your bones remain set in place, your organs are put into jars, and the only organ that is damaged is, unfortunately for me, the brain. Thankfully, and I never thought I'd say this, my embalmers did a damn shitty job pulling out my brain from my nasal cavity. Back then the brain wasn't deemed 'important'. If only we knew then what we knew now there would be a much different tune.

Or maybe not. I mean you're not really supposed to come back from the dead. Even when Aaru and Earth were meant to become one and the same, which some legends do say will occur, Lord Asar was just going to give us all new bodies, instead of the ones we died in. With that being the case I can see how it wouldn't really matter. But now I'm walking with the memory of a gold fish -- which isn't as bad as you may assume, but pales in comparison to my actual memory when I was alive.

Nevertheless, if memory is the worst of my experience then I have very little to complain about; but that doesn't mean I was happy when I came back from the dead. You see you'd think that being dead would be a tragedy, you live your afterlife in perpetual sorrow and pain, the woes of your living time is now passed on to your deceased time and you are overall lamenting the life you lost. But that's not really the case. I mean sure you may miss your loved ones for a bit (I sure didn't since I outlived almost all of them -- even my children), but otherwise you are pain free and it doesn't seem as though you died at all.

You still feel hunger, thirst, boredom, all of those human things. You still have a passion to do thing and an agency to go about your time as if you are still alive and have limited time to do the things you need to do, even if you have all the time of the known universes, overall this sort of arrangement is something that makes you forget what it was like to be alive. So when I woke up, in my sarcophagus, wrapped in linens, feeling the empty cavity in my chest, and feeling my swollen shut limbs -- you can almost imagine the pain.

Life is painful. That's to be expected. The first noise to leave my throat was an agonized howl. I came to my senses quickly enough after the fact and forced my body, slowly (and with protest from my cracking and popping joints unlocking for the first time in thousands of years), to an upright position. The linens fell from my eye, as the other one had sadly been lost as I quickly found, and notices the figures standing before me. They were unimaginable in their appearances. I had never kept tabs on the process of human evolution, but these relatively inhuman entities were something of a shock to me.

"Silence! You're annoying!"

The first one spoke. They had a doll like face, smooth and without blemish. Skin as gray as clay and hair a dark black. Golden eyes pierced me, glowing faintly beneath their black shawl, lined with gold embroidery. This black shawl was something not unfamiliar to me. Ears were atop their head, poking out from beneath the shawl with golden insides. Marked inside the gold were writings that were very easy for me to read, for they were in my language. This entity was familiar with my kingdom. The usekh around their neck confirmed this even more.

"Don't say that! He's just waking up. Of course he'd be in pain."

The second entity proclaimed. She was a beautiful woman, with a dark and short gown that fit her perfectly. Pink hair spilled down her back in long waves and curls. The horns were the thing that caught my attention most. Her slender figure, while it looked mostly human, was accented with overall reptilian features. I recognized this form, it is not dissimilar to Apophis. This was a dragon.

"Tsk. I can't believe we are cleaning up after her mess."

The jackal like entity said.

"It's not really fun, I can agree, but at least we can take care of this one easily."

The dragon said.

"You're right."

Terror filled me as I saw the jackal raise their glass bauble up. It was the only source of illumination in the tomb and within its glassy chambers I could see a fire raging inside. I knew they were going to burn me alive.

"Stop!"

I croaked out desperately.

"Can you not send me back more peacefully!?"

They froze, staring at me, silence filling the tomb as the duo stared at me blankly.

"I thought those of the Scarlet Sands destroyed the brains of their dead."

The jackal turned to their companion, raising a brow.

"Did you make a mistake, Ankh?"

They finished.

"No! Genuinely that's what Qinglong told me. This one was supposed to be a mindless corpse too."

Ankh said, she crossed her arms under her chest.

"Do you not believe me, Djed?"

The entity that I now knew to be Djed stood in silence for a moment, contemplation running through their eyes before they finally lowered their bauble.

"Well we can't kill him now. We were tasked to exterminate the mindless brought back by Khesbet. At this point there is no purpose moving forward."

Djed approached the sarcophagus and leaned closer to me, barely phased by my appearance.

"Tell me, which one of the Pharaohs are you?"

I blanked for a moment, trying to decide which name, if any, I wanted to give before finally relenting.

"I am Pharaoh Ramesses II, son of Pharaoh Seti, and beloved by Lord Ra."

Djed smiled, a creepy smile that still chills me to this day.

"Oh how fun. Glad to have our first sane one be a lost 'god' of history."

To this day I still don't know what Manager Djed meant, but that was the start of a very long series of events. I still don't know much about Manager Ankh or Djed, where they come from, why they look the way they do, who sent them to me, and so on. What I do know though is that Manager Djed knows way more about me than I care to admit, and Manager Ankh is more along for the ride than anything.

Over time the Jackals were sent to capture me, but Manager Djed, in all of their endless tricks, manage to trick the Jackal through some... erm... legal loopholes? So now there's far too much red tape preventing me from just hopping through the next available portal to the Duat and stand trial for the crime of resurrections (one that I am one-hundred percent a victim of, not a committer of).

"If he disappears it'll tip off a lot of people, and it'll add more credibility to his tale. If you don't want people trying to break into the Duat, you better leave him for now until you can find a coverup."

That's what Manager Djed said. So I guess I'm here now. No matter what Chatnubis wants. Despite my protests in the beginning though, I'm sort of happy to be back. This world is fun and beautiful, I have much to learn, and I'm excited to be part of it.

#lore #cryptramesses #kemet #kemetism #fiction #ramesses #paganism #pagan #horror #vtuber

[titles-for-tangents]

So like one of the neatest little things I noticed in the 2021 anime movie Belle was the concept of pain detection on your smart phone and just…the medical implications of that.

HOLY SHIT, DUDE

I know it’s fairy tale; so the pain and passion in one’s “heart” is just as real as Suzu tripping and smack-landing on her forehead, making her Belle icon look like a nonplussed, blinking traffic light; I STAN

But like…imagine dealing with chronic pain all your life, like Stage 3 endometriosis, and nobody in your family, school, or doctor’s office takes you seriously, and you go through life SO fucking gaslit, and then you log into U and your icon just starts going berserk with pain notifications.

And other people on the net start noticing your pain notifications and no, you’re not just bitching for attention. GURL YOU NEED A NEW DOCTOR

It’s the kind of thing that seems like it can be hacked, but is integral to linking into the net, so how would you fake it? People would, of course, but how?

I do actually really like in the film how the concept of how the technology actually works gets hand-waved; it’s more about how aesthetically close it is to ours that it implies the story takes place in a very recognizable, very near future. Still, I was wondering how Belle’s leg movements, dancing, turning, and walking in general, are supposed to be done. (We see her having done the concert in bed under the covers, for example, which is a MOOD for the record.) This goes for the Beast as well, who’s a ruthless martial artist. We do see the majority of a person’s movements can be replicated in an avatar from at least the waist up. HOLY SHIT. Depending on a case-by-case situation of course, can you help a disabled person walk by back-feeding that information of walking into them? Could you hack your way past chronic fatigue and move when your brain and immune system don’t want you to? Could you in theory hook this up to a bedridden patient who’s questionably conscious and see how they fare in U? HOLY SHIT, DUDE!

Better still, to take a note from the movie, what if you saw in the silence of your room a friend’s icon just explode with pain notifications? And you’d be like, OMG WERE YOU IN A CAR ACCIDENT?! ARE YOU OKAY?!! How does the technology measure pain? How painful does it have to be before it appears on your phone? Can it detect something you haven’t noticed yet? Like imagine if it keeps blinking and you figure you got hacked, so you change your password and stuff, but then it keeps coming up? And when you’re like UGH FINE I’LL GO TO A DOCTOR and they’re like, “Uhhh ma’am you just narrowly avoided having a stroke.”

Another question for our cyberpunk future: would the devs at U at least partially own the records of you being in pain? Isn’t that private to you alone unless you vouch to share it, like anything else private to you? Can’t that be used in the court of law? (Probably. “I love him, your honor.” “You’re not just lying, you’re hacking, and letting it do the acting for you.”)

But also, bringing it back to the movie, Suzu is clearly suffering a kind of manageable, but terribly isolated pain - the pain of loss. It’s so deeply rooted it takes the entire film to heal. So the technology in the film, at that point in time, can only detect acute pain and passion, not really long-term pain and passion. The kind that overwhelms you, takes you over, makes it the magnet of your focus in that moment, but not your existence overall.

It would also imply, I would think, the ability to detect strong emotions in someone who may not exhibit them easily or well, but holy shit dude that is some Blade Runner Voigt-Kampff test right there, and the subject of a whole other article.

#belle spoilers #sort of #belle 2021 #pain #pain management #chronic pain #technology #long posts #anime movies #anime

[mmollymercury]

For the ask game: 💚💚💚

44. How often do you lie? Is all lying inherently bad? Are you generally truthful?

67. What’s the worst thing a person can be?

93. Do you draw meaning from your dreams, or do you disregard them?

OoOooOOO here we go!

Prepare for a long post with some venting sprinkled in

Okay, first: do I lie? Not much. I know a lot of people say that but I'm actually pretty proud of the fact that I don't lie often; I used to have a big problem with making stuff up about my life as a way to mask and fit in with neurotypicals. I was never my true self with my friends, out of fear of being shamed or bullied. I mostly stayed on tumblr back then (way more than now, if u can believe it) still had this blog, just a 'beta' version of it lol and I was in soooo many fandoms, I didn't interact with ppl tho, I'd be scrolling through fanfic and art all day, reblogging stuff and posting art that got literally ZERO notes lol, daydreaming about living in my hyperfixations and venting to a brick wall (essentially) about what I now know to be OCD. When I was revamping this blog, deleting all my old posts, I found that vent post I made all those years ago, I took a screenshot of it just to keep. It was so insane to see how far I've come but also sad to remember how I was feeling back then.

I actually cried thinking abt how I'd never be able to be my full self around someone and that I'd never have a genuine friend who I could laugh with and feel comfortable with. Whenever friends wanted to hang out or call me, I'd be nervous all day thinking about it, dreading it, basically. It was bad. But then I met @valentineee and she's honestly the first true friend I've ever had, she's my wife and I love her with all my heart‼️‼️‼️😭😭💗💗💗

So, since I met Valentine, I've finally become comfortable being who I am and I vowed to stop lying. Obviously sometimes it's inevitable, like if you have to do it because of circumstances- but other than that, I think I'm very truthful! And I'm really proud of myself for it💗

That kinda branches off to the sub-question, is all lying inherently bad? I don't think so because some people may have genuine, mental blocks or traumas that can make them feel like they need to to protect themselves. However, there are people out there who lie and take advantage of people just because they can, which is different. Overall, I think lying isn't too bad unless you are generally a trustworthy person💖

What's the worst thing a person can be?

A LIAR- no just kidding lol😭😭

Wow glitter... way to hit me with the heavy questions😭

Imo, the worst thing a person can be is immoral, inconsiderate, hurtful and evil, all on purpose. If someone does these things because they find it fun to see people suffer, that's the worst kind of person to me.

💤💤💫💫💫Dreamss💫💫💫💤💤

I used to draw meaning from my dreams to an unhealthy degree. All of you that have OCD would know that intrusions invade your dreams, I had awful dreams like this and every time I woke up, I'd be convinced I was actually a monster, dreaming of disgusting stuff. But that's not true, I was only dreaming about it because I spent EVERY. WAKING. MOMENT thinking about my intrusive thoughts, literally, I was inconsolable, I was constantly rocking back and forth or pacing or shaking my leg, every so often I'd scream and yell and twitch and my face would be pulled down in this awful grimace. It was painful, I literally can't believe I survived that. I couldn't be left alone because I was so scared and I had to sleep with my mam because the thoughts got worse when I was alone. I'm medicated now, so things are good. Intrusive thoughts will always be there but I've gotten so much better at trusting that I'm a good person🥰

Mkay... went on a whole ass vent there and bared my soul, oops-

Point being, I don’t really assign meaning to my dreams, if people do, I'm completely alright with it. I choose not to because of trauma. Also, I dont think it’s really possible to assign a definitive meaning to something as fleeting as a dream (wow am I a poet-) like, I do find it cool that a lot of ppl will dream of the same thing but I think that's just another thing that connects us, we're all human and have similar anxieties and fears.

I think I've written enough now😳😳 sorry for the angst urrrr

💗💗💗

#ask game #tw ocd #tw depression #ask #thank you💗💗💗

[julia-bunncat]

Korekiyo and Shuichi are doing well, buuut what about "Ama"-part in Amashinsai? :D How do you do, avocado boi? can we have some Amasai or Amaguji (it's up to you) headcanons pls??

Ooh, one more question! 💫 How lucky I am owo [and sorry, if I made you wait too long, Anon ;^]

But, yeah!! You asked the right question in the context of my profile! Don’t worry, avocado-boi never leaves my head, he’s doing great – and I’m actually happy to share my headcanons about the pairings with his participation ~ And since I have a choice, I think I’ll start with Amasai o/ Of course, it doesn’t mean that I have nothing to say about Amaguji – I just don’t really want to overload the answer, and plan on talking about them in future posts anyway! (also, in fact, I rarely see text posts with both Amaguji and Amasai – which means it needs to be fixed ✊) Let's get started:

Despite his dislike for cars, Rantaro will soon agree to travel at least in a van with Shuichi! Firstly, because Shuichi is newcomer of traveling the world and Amami doesn't want to constantly subject him to exhausting hikes… And secondly, Rantaro can’t help admitting how hot his boyfriend looks when he’s driving 😳 For the first time, he will most likely just lie somewhere in the back, trying to get used to the sensations (watching Saihara with half-covered eyes)~ But then, he'll be able to sit next to Shuichi and discover a new world!

If we take a Universe separate from Amashinsai, I represent the possibility of Amasai becoming a couple, in many ways, thanks to the initiative of Shuichi to find the sister/sisters of Rantaro. Rantaro's heart, in principle, skipped a bit every time Saihara shows attention to his family. On the one hand, it's a painful subject for him, on the other – the main priority. And it was Shuichi who became the first person in his life who didn't condemn him for such stubbornness and didn't call pathetic. So, I am definitely headcanon that Shuichi will able to help him and thus win his heart forever! 💘

Their relationship, in my opinion, has some spice ~ Not in the sense that they often have conflicts or, even more, so that they hate each other 😯 (at one time, for me this view was a discovery and I still can’t figure out what makes some fans think like that ??) I mean… For example, Shuichi often grumbles that Rantaro, as an Adventurer, has to get involved in dangerous or even not quite legal cases. It sounds like: "that frickin' adventurer… should I give him a flick on his forehead..? or maybe, just give myself…" :D But seriosly, Shuichi is just worried that in one day he will have to arrest his beloved 😞 But in fact, after his sis turned up, Rantaro stopped getting involved in so many shady adventures. Yeah, he repents that sometimes he likes to tease Shuichi in order to look at him – such strict and bold..😅 But overall, Taro himself is obedient and decent guy! In other words, not that bad, you know ~

Here’s a little scenario to make the example clearer:

Shuichi: *just found a random picture of a man tied up in arms and legs with a bomb* Shuichi: *notices Rantaro’s strange gaze* Shuichi: Please, don’t tell me that happened to you too!😩 Rantaro: Aha-ha-hah, well… Things were a little different… Shuichi: *growls* R-r-rantaro..!! Rantaro: Don't be mad, sweetie! I'll change..! 😅 Shuichi: *sighs* You’re still looking for troubles… Rantaro: You know that I don’t get into places where I could get killed. In fact, knowing that you’re waiting for me, it's become even more difficult to carry out my duties… Shuichi: *snorts and turns away* It's not a "duties"… You just like to danger your ass… Rantaro: *smiled and, moving Saihara's bangs aside, kissed on his forehead* I really appreciate your care..~ Shuichi: 😒😳

Continuing the topic I started above, it's clear that many of Shuichi’s grumblings are due to 1) his lack of self-confidence; 2) the fact that Rantaro is still a rather private/secretive person. So, Shuichi very often can't fully believe that such a bisexual icon like Amami, of all the classmates (and especially girls), decided to choose him. Sometimes he inadvertently tries to figure out which girls Rantaro liked and why. Usually, Rantaro answers very briefly and dry, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it at all. But this doesn't mean that Shuichi suspects him of adultery or wants to push him to do it, N O 🙅 In fact, he knows perfectly well that there is no one more reliable than Rantaro in this context. He just really needs A LOT of support. Moreover, Rantaro can be very difficult to express his love with words – he's a man of action. Amasai have certain problems and one negative trait in common – to take over everything alone… But I think it makes them more realistic ~ And, you know, there are no moments more precious than when they both reveal their anxieties to each other and try to calm them together 😌💞

And, okay, I'm rambling a little, hehe ^^" One more soft hc! Rantaro is sometimes so melts to Shuichi that he's start smooch him almost from head to toe 😚😚 Sometimes he does it with SO MUCH pressure that Shuichi starts trying to push him away, very blushing /// But it’s more for decency and to don't let Rantaro get "carried away" ~ In the end, Rantaro will make sure that Shuichi drowns in love and has no more doubts!!

I also have, in fact, many ideas about the Amami's family and how Shuichi will be accepted there..~ But let’s leave it for a separate post о/

Really hope I'm not too late and you’ll like these headcanons 🥰🙏 If you need more, let me know!

#amasai #shuichi saihara #rantaro amami #danganronpa #drv3 #answered ask #thank you for asking! #saimami

[sukirichi]

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

 “I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

#sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna x reader romance #sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x you imagines #sukuna x you fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

[thehoneybeast]

Collide (Silco/fem!Reader 8)

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Okay so, this was going to be the last part of the story, I'm not really happy how I progressed so far, but I rewrote the chapter a bunch so that it is now going into the direction I want it to. Not really happy with the writing, but it isn't my first language so what can you expect?

I won't update as frequently anymore (maybe you noticed already) but I will continue it for now.

The second you returned to consciousness, a groan left your lips. You entire body felt stiff and was throbbing with pain but you still forced your eyes open. There was a dark ceiling above you amd despite your bruised body, you could feel the softness of a mattress against your back, a heavy blanket keeping you warm. Distorted images of what had happened flashed through your mind, making the desire stronger to sit up. You ignored the pain in your chest and, well, everywhere else, forcing yourself onto your elbows in order to be able and take in the place you were in. It didn't take long to remember those heavy curtains and the overall dark and comfortable aura of the place. You were in Silcos bedroom. In his bed, to be exact. Your hands pulled the blanket away, revealing that your entire upper body was wrapped up in bandages. Oh right. You had been beaten. Your fingers softly caressed your chest, feeling a slight sting underneath your ribcage. Someone had saved you from a punctured lung. Sighing, you laid back against the pillow. How was it, that ever since you left the comfort of your little shag, you had been injured more then in ten years before that. It had hardly been three months and you could already show of a new collection of scars and bruises. Whatever. You had to talk to Silco. Actually, just see him. Be sure that he was there. You knew it was an irrational desire, easily tracked back to your growing attachment to the slender man but you decided that right now, it was okay to be irrational. Another memory showed up, it was blurry and more sound than sight but it was still very vibrant. Had.. had you really confessed your love? And had he actually done the same?? Your head started to spin and you pushed yourself back up, turning for your legs to slip over the edge of the mattress, carefully stepping onto the ground. Everything hurt, the muscles tense and the flesh crying out but you needed to make sure that you hadn't been dreaming. It suddenly turned into your highest priority to confirm that, even if you would die right afterwards. You knew that it was irresponsible, had you told so many of your patients that other things could wait, but now that is was you and your aching heart you didn't care anymore. With uncertain steps you made your way to the door that would lead you into his office. You heard voices, more than one but you just couldn't stop now. Silco was all that was in your mind, him and his stupid, attractive voice calling your name, saying those words no one would ever expect from his scarred lips. You didn't even have the decency to knock, your body nearly falling in with the open door, struggling to keep you on your feet.

The voices stopped, your hazy mind took notice of Sevika, leaning on Silcos desk, visible upset but frozen upon hearing the door opening and there, in his fancy chair set the man you had been searching for, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of you. A weak smile grazed your lips as he rose abruptly from his seat, a distant look of anger on his face. "What are you doing here?! Go back to bed!" Sevika rolled his eyes, scoffing at your interruption. Silco made his way over to you and you felt the familiar intensifying of your heartbeat. "Good to see you, too." You joked but he seemed even less amused than usual, grabbing you by your shoulder to stop you from moving any further. "You of all people should know how to treat injuries like yours!" He growled but oh, the way the pain faded when his breath hit your face. "Don't be stupid, he is right." Sevika joined the scolding. "You need to rest." Silco already pushed against you, shoving you back into the hallway. "I need to talk to you, Silco. I'm not laying down until we did that." Silco ignored your weak attempts of resistance, his grip tightening when you stumbled over your own legs. Sevika stayed behind, watching you with crossed arms and a frown, but she seemed to understand that you two had private things to discuss so she closed the door.

Back in his bedroom, he let go of you, locking the door to his office. He sighed, his back turned to you, his shoulders stiff as he ran a hand through his hair. "Lay down, then we will talk." His tone didn't leave room for arguments and so you complied, happy to have him by your side. Your head was still throbbing but the warmth of the blankets was welcoming. Silco sat on the edge of the bed, staring of into the room. He was obviously not excited to talk but he was here and willing to listen so you took your chance. "I love you." Silence. "I meant it. And I still mean it, obviously." You chuckled nervously, a little upset that he didn't react, instead he lowered his head into his hands, forearms resting on his knees, massaging his scalp. You swallowed, suddenly insecure again. "I- ahm.." Okay, come on, you asked for this, don't back down now. "Okay, listen. I know this is weird. Believe me, I feel the same. I didn't expect to fall in love with you of all people, but it happened and I do see why. This is not a, 'Oh god, why him?' More of a 'This is going to be complicated' kind of question, you know?" God, what were you talking about? And why didn't he even look at you?? Fumbling with the end of the blankets, you continued. "I know that we have different views on the wolrd, but I admire what you are trying to do, I really do. You're.. You're a strong headed men and you know what you want, you're willing to accept the consequences of your actions, for better or worse and you are so damn stubborn." You took a deep breath. This could push him away from you, destroy what fragile bond you had formed but you knew you had to risk it.

"But you are just human, Silco. You're no evil monster, your intentions are good, even if morally corrupted. You deserve to be vulnerable once in a while, you deserve to feel save." Heat shot into your cheeks but you kept going, not sure if you could start again if you stopped now. "You know, because that's how I feel with you. In your arms I feel save, I feel protected, I feel like there is a place I belong and it is you, dear god, it's you. You feel like home to me. And I - I want to give you the same. I want to protect you. Make you feel calm, feel loved." Your voice was shaking now, the missing response from him made you doubt everything you had hoped to believe. Were you making a fool of yourself for pouring out your heart? "I.. I want to be with you. Everytime I leave I just want to run right back to you, I wanted so badly to tell you but-"

"Shut up." His words had your mind blanking, your heart seemingly closing in on you. Then he turned around and underneath his harshly furrowed brows were his eyes, silent tears skimming over his cheeks in a bizarre contrast to the anger in his expression. It had you scared. "I thought you were DEAD!" His voice was venomous and shrill and you shrank down against the sheets. "First I thought you had left for good, then I am told that you were probably DYING and you have the fucking nerve to tell me that you feel SAVE?!" Oh dear. The pain inside his eyes was overwhelming and it had your eyes tearing as well. "You are the biggest moron I have met in all my life, running around as if the world is a paradise, spending your time on worthless acts of kindness while it beats you down and you still believe that there is any hope left? And you think I am the one to keep you save, when all you gain from joining my cause is bruises and broken bones?"

He was furious, that much you could certainly tell. But the worry in his words was just as present, sending you into a spiral of chaotic thoughts thas was promptly ended with his hand grabbing your cheek, forcing you to keep eyecontact. "Do you really think I need protection? Do you ever think about what you need?!" His voice was desperate and the next words left your lips without thinking. "I need you, Silco. You are all I want." He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe you were saying this. "You're an idiot, Y/N." His words were soft and any doubt was washed away, when he leaned in, his lips caressing yours in the gentlest manner, as if you would shatter on impact. Without another word, he climbed over you, wrapping you up in his arms and carefully pulled you closer, mindimg every little bruise he might brush. When your head rested on his chest, his chin on top your head, he started speaking again. "I was scared. My, I think I was only ever this scared when Jinx.." he stopped, fear briefly flaming up in his eyes, pressed a kiss to your temple, as if securing that you were with him. "You shouldn't feel save around me." You found sadness in his tone, a melancholy as if he remembered times where it could've been different. He was being vulnerable in oh so delicate ways. "What happened had nothing to do with you. I just happened to have bad luck." He looked down at you, wiping the remains of unshed tears away. "You shouldn't be out there alone." He whispered, his voice so deep and thoughtful that it had you smiling. "You shouldn't be here, at all. It doesn't make sense." As if scared that you would run at his realisation, his grip tightened. "But I want you with me." Hearing him say that had your heart swelling and you leaned up to kiss his chin, before nestling your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He looked down at you with heavy eyes and when he spoke again, his words had your eyes widening. "I thought about having you killed, just this morning." Your throat closed up as you cautiously looked back up, his grip on you was gentle and his eyes were pleading with you to understand when he continued. "But the second I thought you were dead in Sevikas arms, I realised that I was lying to myself. I don't want youti dissappeare." His hand found your cheek and you felt the hesitation in his movements. "I love you, Y/N."

There it was. The words you had wanted to hear. And yet, something inside you clung onto the words before it. 'I thought about having you killed'. That was not what you had expected but it shouldn't suprise you. It made perfect sense for him to terminate a person so involved into his plans and still, it left you with a feeling of despair. Your stomach turned and you sat up, bringing distance between the two of you, looking the other way. "You.. you wanted to.." "Listen, you said it yourself, it is complicated." Silcos voice was insistent, he sat up as well, turned your head towards him, forcing you to see the regret in his eyes. "You should be standing against me, you should want me dead. Instead you saved my life." Both of his hands held your head now, determined to make you believe his words, to focus on what he said now. "Allow me to keep you save. Allow me to prove my intentions with you." He moved in on you his forehead pressed up against yours, his breath grazing your lips, his eyes piercing into yours. Your gaze switched between his good and his bad eye, one a mix of green and blue, gentle and human, the other a black universe with a pulsing sun, a perfect representation of who he was and what people believed him to be. Men and monster. No. You could never run from this torn men, no matter how foolish or dangerous it was and so you exhaled a shuddering breath before reaching your hands to his shoulders and pulling him into you, your head resting on his shoulder as you held him close against your heart. His arms fell to your sides, returning your embrace with less intensity, still aware of the injuries you had already forgotten about. He pulled you down againstthe sheets, never breaking the contact, his voice shaking in your ear. You didn't want to press the matter anymore, enjoying the new found intimacy that left you a little closer, a little less afraid.

"I will keep you save. No one will hurt you ever again." He spoke the promise with a tired voice and despite the irrationality of it, you found utter sincerity in his words. Your arms held onto him a little tighter, clinging onto the warmth he was spreading with his words and body, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. "You don't have to be my hero. Just be with me as the person you are. That is all I ask of you." Your reply was a whisper, the emotions and pain of your body pulling you back down into the desire to sleep for another day or two. He kissed you softly, one hand finding the back of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair in a soothing manner. "You are too generous for your own good." You heard the smile in his voice and it infected you with your own. The feeling of safety he radiated had you relax as you slowly sank deeper into his embrace.

"Sometimes I am mot sure if you are real. No human could ever be so.." soft, deep breaths interrupted him and when he looked down he saw that you had fallen asleep in his arms once more. "Beautiful." He muttered to himself, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. He had just told you, that he had thought about killing you and yet you had found the courage to trust in his words and he was glad because he had meant every word he had spoken. To his own suprise, he felt no desire to push you away anymore, the feeling of comfort finally settling into his bones.

The next weeks, you spend in his bed, following his wish to recover, though the boredom had you tight in its claws but he was resistant to any kind of argument, despite the fact that you knew what you were talking about. In the end you tried to go to your lab im secret, only to find the door to the hallway locked so the only free path would lead through Silcos office and when he wasn't around, he locked that door as well. You were annoyed and a little hurt in your pride that he didn't believe you to know what was best for your health, then again your remembered his unhealthy relationship with Jinx and the way he had nearly lost her once as well and after that it made a little more sense. He would visit you every evening, unless he worked into the night, then he would sleep in his office in order to not disturb your slumber, which in return had you angry at him for not taking care of himself either, though he wouldn't hear any of it. Whenever he would find his way into bed, you would welcome him with open arms and he would tell you about his day after he asked about your condition. He always looked sceptical when you told him it was improving and you would show him the fading bruises to make his doubt dissappear, though you started to believe that he was only searching for excuses to touch your skin, sometimes followed by a monologue about how your body deserved to be treasured. It was sweet and good minded but you always felt a little useless, unable to provide any progress on your work, despite his assurances that the gem was safe and would be waiting for you to recover.

When the last faded rest had disappeared, he was all over you, spending half the day by your side, making sure you could enjoy every little piece of pleasure he put you under, his hunger for you translated into gentle passion that had you shaking and clinging to him for dear life, until both of you were satisfied and happily exhausted.

It was exciting to leave his room and return to your lab for the first time since the almost-abduction and you were excited to continue, motivated and inspired all the same. The small marble was sitting on your desk and as you layed eyes on it, you felt something within you move. Energy. You laughed at that, feeling like your body was just as excited to be back at it as you were. You would have to take someone with you this time, that much was sure, Silco wouldn't just let you head out like nothing had happened. So you packed up, got dressed and returned to his office. He seemed a little more relaxed than usual, most likely thanks to your attention and it made you smile.

"Hey, boss." You winked at him and he rolled his eyes but you saw the amusement glistening in them. "Already up to work again, huh?" He mused, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it seems I was never in better condition than today, thanks to your insistence I suppose." A hint of pride filled his eyes at your words and your smile grew as you walked over to him. "Can I borrow Sevika for today? I don't really like the headless gorillas you keep around besides her." He raised a brow, his scarred lips twitched at that. "Depends. What do I get for lending you my most loyal employee?" The hint of a smile crossed his lips and you scoffed in played annoyance, before leaning over his desk with a teasing smile. "Hmm.. Who knows? Mayyybe we could arrange something after work hours? Perhaps some form of.. favor?" Now he was the one scoffing, before he stood up, took your chin between his fingers and connected your lips. "Take her. I will make sure the payment will be fitting." You chuckled, pressed a short kiss to his nose and turned for the door. "See you later, boss!" You winked again and this time a short chuckle left his lips, a pleasent sound to leave him with.

The idea of taking Sevika with you had sounded great in your head, but when you informed her about it, she didn't seem to happy. "So I have to watch you dance around in field for the entire day? What a blast." She got up from her position at the bar, towering over you. "Jeah, sorry. Silco wouldn't let me leave without any form of protection, so.." You smiled apologetically at her but she just grabbed your bag and threw it over her shoulder instead, motioning for you to lead the way. The walk was quiet and it suddenly accured to you, that she might not even know what it was your job was besides treating wounds. "Did.. Did Silco tell you-" "What you are doing? That magic shit? Jeah, he did. Sounds like crap to me but maybe you will prove me wrong today?" Oh great, no pressure please. You chuckled nervously, watching the ground you were walking. "Jeah.. I'm relearning it currently so it's not the most amazing stuff but I'm getting better." Oh wow, please don't sound to confident. You walked in silence after that and you started to feel uncomfortable so you decided to initiate another topic. "How did you end up working for Silco, by the way? I heard you used to be a gang leader?" The sharp look she gave you had you questioning whether that was a good idea but she answered eventually. "I used to be that, yes. That was when Vander was leading the undercity." You heard an underlying despise in her voice. Vander. That name had reached your ears once in while, back when you had been working alone. If you remembered correctly, he had even reached out to you once or twice, asking you to work with him, something about having the same hopes for the people but you had never answered to any of it. You had been sceptical over what you heard about him, had been too proud to ever consider working underneath someone else. Well, look at you now. "He was weak. He refused to take action against Piltower, he refused to do what was necessary. So I found someone with the same determination like mine and Silco seemed fitting for that role. So far I don't regret that choice." She looked straight ahead and you felt her believe in what she said. Yes, Silco had changed the undercity, that much was certain. You stopped yourself from thinking about it too much, focusing on the task at hand and when you reached your spot by the river, you found yourself relaxing. Work was what you needed. Sevika made an displeased expression, scrunching her nose in disgust. "You come here, of all places?!" Shrugging your shoulders, you took your bag from her, fishing out the small marble. "The river flow is a good teacher. The area is almost always empty and you get used to the smell rather quickly." She rolled her eyes and sat down on one of the ruins pieces, watching you with crossed arms.

It was easy, ignoring her once you focused on the gem and started to feel its power. You started with familiar motions, trying to get a feeling of todays energy and when you caught it, it was overhelming. Your energy resources had been growing over the last months, the training doing its job, but it seems that some rest had been necessary to reach an entire new level of mass. It made you giggle with delight, when the first strike formed in the size of what usually would be your last attempt for the day. You heard a suprised grunt from your bodyguard and winked sheepishly at her, while letting the flow of energy swirl around you before sending it down onto the marble. To your utter shock, a noise like the cracking of ice rang in your ears, a flash of white blinding your sight momentarily and the feeling of heat zipped through your fingers, way stronger than it had on your first experiment. You stumbled backwards and your eyes widened whem you caught glimpse of a small crack in the marbles surface.

"Oh my god.." you stepped cautiously closer, mouth agape with awe at your work. "Finally! I'm coming for you, you little shit!" You exclaimed excitedly, raising your arms to start a second attempt, when the sound of an enormous explosion shook the ground. You caught yourself before falling, fear and horror striking your heart. That was not too far away. And you could smell the fire. Before you could voice your emotions, Sevika was next to you, pushing your bag into your hands. "Get your shit! We go home, NOW!" She sounded erratic, her eyes were wide awake, her movements hectic as she lead you back the way you two had just taken, nearly dragging you after her, her eyes checking every direction before entering the next road. You were busy trying to keep you nerves at bay, your heartbeat a loud and steady beating in your ears. When the last drop came into view, so did Silco. He wore his heavy coat over his shoulders, his usually stoic face a mask of fury but you also found a glimmer of relief in his eyes when he saw you.

"What happened?!" "Go inside! Sevika, you come with me." "Hey, don't ignore me!" You were confused and scared and he noticed that when he grabbed you by your shoulders, making you face him. "It is one of the factories. You need to go inside. Stay in our room until I return, do you understand me?" The anger was shadowing fear and that fuelled your own. But no, you were not being compliant right now. "I'm not a teenager you can send away whenever you feel like it! Where are you going?!" He closed his eyes, trying to keep his anger in check and you felt regret at your words. He was upset, clearly just as overwhelmed as everyone else but had to keep his face in order to be respected. You swallowed. "Sorry, I'm just worried. Don't be gone for too long, okay?" You reached for his face and his stiff shoulders relaxed a little at your touch, leaning his head into you. "Go inside." He repeated one last time, kissing your forehead before letting go if you and walking up to Sevika, most likely informing her of his plans. You watched after him for a moment, before following his order, heading for your lab instead of his bedroom. Had he called it our room? He had also kissed you outside of his private rooms for the first time, now that you thought about it. Despite the fear, the thought made you smile. When you passed the bar, a few men were sitting in the corner, you heard someone say something that made you stop. "-they will die there. Noone is stupid enough to go into that deathtrap to save some brats. The factory is in shambles." What? No one is stupid enough to save whom? You were afraid, that you could prove them wrong. "Excuse me, what were-" "Not now, ask later again." One interrupted you and it left you a little puzzled before another chipped in "Hey, not so fast! How much do you charge? I could use some stress release." He winked at you and your brain made the connection. Ew. "Well too bad for you, I'm not an escort girl so you better shut your mouth." You growled, ccrossing your arms. "Now spit it, who is going to die?" "None of your fucking business, whore." The third one joined in and you were just about ready to loose your temper. "Listen here, boy. I am the medic working for Silco and if you don't want to loose your most precious little friend next time that I have to stitch you back together, you better spill it out." You managed to keep your voice cold and demanding despite the anger itching under your skin.

You were back in your lab as soon as the men had explained. There were children in the factory when it was attacked. Children that were working for Silco. Children that were going to die in there and it seems that you just happened to be the one stupid enough to try and interfere with that.

@liv-victoriano @potato-dragons @sunflowercandie @motherswarrior @yesnessieme @eprilin @imalovernotahater @htmlbitxh @illiniana @silcovinzant @redsakura101 @faerieandfishsticks @stainedpomegranatelips @subbing-for-clones @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sana-within-you @oodanijadeoo @lenaexplorestheinternet @janilovecookies @shameshomalo @creepysupermarvelpaladin @shadow-pancake9 @komatheterrible @ilikemymendarkandfictional @the-not-so-iconic @rosenightwings @vaaalexandra @usualsworld @janesofia7 @ancientbeing10

#arcane x reader #silco #silco x reader

[youryanderedaddy]

Every breath you take

You heard of Corpse husband, now get ready for corpse wife--

tw: female reader, necrophilia so non - con, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dirty talk, overall nasty shit that i needed to get out of my system, pls don't read if such stuff makes u uncomfortable

Jack couldn’t bear to look at you without feeling his stomach crumble and twist sharply and violently. You looked almost normal. Besides the empty stare in your now dark lightless eyes and the dead weight of your arms stilled tightly by your side. Besides the necklace of pretty sky - coloured bruises and purple bite marks around your delicate neck. If your boyfriend was to simply press his lips against yours in a desperate attempt to savour your final cries, he might just be able to feel their silky softness - the smooth edges of your tiny side smile against his cheek, the pure scarlet warmth of your slightly open mouth and the millions pained whispers falling out with each heartbeat of your very soul. And If the man was to hold your hand he could pretend it wasn’t colder than ice itself.

It was an accident. It had to be, otherwise Jack wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Just minutes ago you were safe and sound in his embrace, screaming, thrashing and fighting at every turn, but still safe none the less. Then you had told him you hated him. That you could never love someone as cruel and sick as him. He didn’t remember much from the resulting argument, other than him on top of you with his hand around your throat, your lips turning blue and your eyes closing slowly as you lost consciousness completely. Your boyfriend was ready to give everything for you to shout at him again, for you to squirm around like a battered animal like you used to, insead of watching you lay on the ground, motionless and still, peaceful like an angel. He wanted the old you back, the you who wasn’t quite living (since you always went on about how Jack had stolen your life away from you), but breathing and alive. You were quiet and obedient just like your captor had always wanted, such a good girl for him now that you were dead and unable to protest any of his sick, twisted desires. 

A single tear ran down the man’s black charcoal eyes as he lowered his head and kissed you softly, careful and wary, like you would wake up any moment and push him away in horror. The graze was airy and almost sweet, so different from all the other rough invasive kisses he had forced upon you in the past as a reminder of your place beneath him. Yet this one tasted of nothing, but blood and ice. Your lips were cold, but your body was still warm somewhere under that flimsy blue sundress your boyfriend had helped you put on in the morning. It made you look so innocent, so childlike in your eternal sleep. Jack stared at you for what felt like an infinity, unable to look away, hypnotized. He ran a finger through your exposed collarbone, then laid his head on your chest, listening to the silence. You were dead, but your breasts were still so soft and squishy, the man decided. Jack’s hands were glued to your waist, admiring your curves as he dug his nails deep into the loose fabric, ripping it away from your figure, causing shivers down the delicate skin. Your back hit the ground, sinking into the soil and the mud, a couple of daisies forming a crown above your head. You were so beautiful all vulnerable like that, his sweet Persephone, queen of the underworld and of his heart, too. 

“You’re so lovely, dear.“ The man spoke out as he positioned himself above you, his eyes hungry and sharp as he stroked your cheek, devoid of any colour. “No panties, huh?“ Jack whispered lustfully, his voice raspy and deranged, and cupped your sex. If you were still alive you would have turned red, stuttering as you explained that it was him who ordered you to go bare under the dress, but now you remained quiet like a blushing bride on her wedding day. The lack of protest only managed to stir the maniac up further, and he unbuckled his jeans to free his half - hard member. “LIttle minx.“ He cooed at you and ruffled your hair, fisting your locks to pull your head down, thus arching your back and exposing your neck to his sharp teeth. “I am going to use you, precious. You want to be useful to me, don’t you?“ Your boyfriend muttered against your throat as he covered it in harsh lovebites and hickeys, only growing satisfied when there wasn’t even an inch unmarked. “Because you are mine, baby. You are my good girl.“ He kept going, stroking himself in the process until his cock was practically oozing with pre - cum. Jack smirked when he didn’t hear the typical whimpers and cries of disgust you usually showered him in when he let himself act possessive of you. The man wasn’t sure why you always denied the truth - you were his and his alone, even after death did you part.

Your tormentor spent the next ten minutes squeezing and kneading your breasts, pinching the nipples, covering them in sticky white semen. Jack almost missed the way your chest would rise and fall with each soft breath escaping your rosy lips. When he was done playing with your body like you were nothing more than a rag doll your boyfriend spread your legs wide open, and his mouth watered at the godly sight. “You have such a pretty cunt, dear.” He commented lovingly, his fingers pushing and poking at your pink slit, abusing the nerve ending still functional despite its owner not being able to. “I am doing to force my cock deep inside your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it, baby.” The man laughed manically, high off this new found power and control over your lifeless body. When you were alive you would beg him to stop by this point, crying and whimpering helplessly. Now he could pretend that you actually wanted him to ruin you. That you needed him as much as he needed you. 

Your boyfriend entered your tight hole with a sharp deep thrust, his lenght reaching your cervix with each and every brutal move. In and out, in and out again and again. The man felt like he could fuck into you forever - there was no pressure to stop and your muscles were completely relaxed now so it was up to him to take his own pleasure from your unwilling uncooperative body. “You’re so loose, honey.” He growled, biting your earlobe and moaning into your ear. “Guess I really wore you out the past few months.” Jack suggested playfully, a hint of pride apparent in his thick voice. Soon enough he was groaning loudly and ruthlessly pounding into you, covering your whole body in mud and grass. The pale moonlight lit up your sweaty face, making you look lively and vibrant once again. Your captor claimed your lips hungrily, licking and biting them into a swollen bloody mess. “Fuck, take it, my love.” He commanded as he lifted your body in order to go even deeped into you. “Take all of me inside.” The man added quickly, thrusting one last time before the pleasure overtook his senses and he arched his back in delight. He inhaled deeply as he pulled out of your used up hole, dripping with his seed. 

In that moment the man knew that he had to let go of you eventually. It wouldn’t be too long before your perfect little body decomposed and your beauty faded in the face of death, but there was some time between now and then. And he intended to make good use of it. 

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere smut #yandere oc x reader #tw non con #tw necro

[wearywinchester]

Tender

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When hiding an injury from Dean doesn’t go to plan, he’s there to give you the comfort you need.

Requested by @latenight-daythoughts: “Hey! I have a request for a Dean one shot please, could you do one where she gets hurt on a hunt and tired to play it off until they get back to the bunker and when dean patches her up it hurts more then she thought, so she starts crying and Dean comforts her and is all cute and sweet? I love your writing btw!!”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, fluff, comfort, kissing

Hurt. You got hurt on that hunt and you weren’t quite sure how you talked yourself out of it with Dean. Maybe you actually did, but a part of you told you that was more than likely impossible. Not with the look he gave you or the glance he spared down at your leg. But he seemingly took your word for it at that very moment.

Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you took a breath, trying your hardest to make it to the Impala sitting just a few feet away. Every ounce of pressure on your leg made it ache all the more as you walked, walked like you insisted you could do to a persistent Dean the moment he saw the look on your face. But you told him you were fine, staving his worries with a smile and a witty counter that had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was fine, so long as you kept your weight off of it as much as possible until you could clean yourself up, it’d be fine. At least that’s what you’d told yourself.

You were relieved once you’d slipped in the front seat after Dean suggested you sit up there with him, Sam in the back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you slumped back against the leather seat. The fabric of your jeans over the wound on your thigh had been frayed on the brink of being ripped, but not enough to draw your eye should you be anyone but yourself or Dean Winchester. Stains of crimson hadn’t been visible on the dark denim material, but you were sure it’d be obvious the moment they came off.

As you sat, you felt that ache on your leg begin to lighten some, that pain shooting down it dissipating now that you hadn’t been standing on it.

It shouldn’t be that bad, not really, you’d snagged it along the edge of something sharp when that demon had thrown you with so much as a flick of her hand. You were sore overall, something a hot bath might help with when you make it back to the bunker. But you’d yet to see your leg, to see just what damage lay beneath your jeans.

“You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, pulling your attention from your thoughts.

You looked to your left, Dean’s gaze shifting from the road to look at you for a moment or two before looking ahead.

“‘M fine, De,” you murmur, that aching burn on your thigh threatening to spill over your emotions and give you away in an instant.

He looks at you again in a lingering glance, his lips pursed in disbelief, brows furrowing at the way you looked down at your leg with a frown, or the way you brushed your thumb over that very spot you said was nothing. He saw how your lips twitched downward in a deeper frown for only a mere second, quickly brushing it off with a sigh and a bite to the inside of your cheek before he looked forward once more.

You knew, by the light tension in his jaw and the crease between his brows, you knew he could see there was more to it than that.

After a moment or two you scooted a little closer to him, your hand grabbing his own. He felt the way you brushed your thumb along his knuckles in an absentminded habit, your gaze fixed out the window in an attempt to set your attention on anything other than the burning feeling that simmered on your skin.

It was okay. You were fine.

Your hand hadn’t left Dean’s nearly the entirety of the trip, something he noticed and something he didn’t mind, something that had him smiling softly at the mere thought of it. But something that was just as quick to steal that smile was the very look on your face each and every time he glanced over at you, a slight frown on your lips that you weren’t even aware you had, and that crease between your brows very much there.

You sighed when he parked in the bunker’s garage that night, getting out before he could come and help you do it. The look on his face was evident that he wasn’t happy with that, those dimples appearing by the corners of his mouth as he looked at you over the roof of the car.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, meeting him and Sam at the trunk where you’d grabbed your bags.

“You say that every time, sweetheart,” he counters.

“Maybe this time you’ll take my word for it,” you say, brows raised as you put your bag over your shoulder.

He chuckles then, head shaking as he closes the trunk. You tried your best to be convincing, and so far he hadn’t pried, but that very same feeling was back now that you were up and walking around, pressure back on your leg seemingly worse than before.

You found yourself grateful that Dean had chosen to walk ahead, Sam beside you, making it just a little easier to hide the change in the way you walked. Just enough to get you to your shared room without being terribly obvious. But it hurt, it hurt more and it was becoming increasingly more apparent to you.

You were home, and that’s what made things a bit better for you. You weren’t in some motel anymore, weren’t in the Impala anymore, you were home in the comfort of your familiar place with your room, your bed, and Dean. Despite the nagging pain wearing away at you with every movement of your leg, you tried not to think about it that much, and tried not to think about how it’d feel upon taking your jeans off. How it’d look given that you haven’t even seen it yet.

Dean dimmed the lights in the hall and bid Sam a goodnight like he always did, twisting the knob to your shared room and pushing the door open. Everything was as you’d left it just three days prior, the bed still made and ready to climb in and Dean’s slippers still tucked halfway under the bed, his pajama pants still slung over the back to the small desk chair.

“There’s no place like home,” Dean chuckles, sighing as he drops his duffel bag on the floor at the foot of the bed right next to yours.

You watched as he untied his boots and stepped out of them, unease settling over you as you took your own boots off, fighting the urge to scrunch up your face at the way your jeans pressed into your leg as you bent down.

You couldn’t hide this from him forever, you don’t think that’s possible when you really think about it. But you still weren’t willing to give it up, you could see the look on his face already if he knew. So, you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged off your jacket, eyeing him with a soft sigh.

“I’m gonna go shower before bed,” you say, smiling when he turns to face you.

He simply hums, dipping down to kiss you.

“Don’t be too long,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back with a grin.

“Is it ‘cause you’ll miss me too much, Winchester?” You ask, brow raising in amusement.

You watch as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards, a laugh leaving his lips as he nods to himself, tugging back the blankets on the bed. It very much was the reason and he knew it, no matter how much Sam picks on him for it all in good fun, he just can’t help it.

“That’s exactly why,” he says, tossing a clean flannel of his your way along with a pair of boxers because he knows just how much you love to wear them to bed. Doesn’t even need you to tell him that very fact because he sees you snag a pair from his drawer every night without a care that he’ll see you stealing them either.

You stand there for a moment more as you look at him, your smile soft and fond as you hold the clothes in your hands. After that moment, you find it in yourself to turn on your heel and step into the hall, heading towards the bathroom. Your heart was bursting with the very thought of him sharing his clothes with you, of the very idea that he’d been so thoughtful, but the wound on your leg was making it awfully difficult to think about anything other than that.

You switched the light on and closed the door behind you, setting the clothes down on the counter. You turned the faucet on and stuck your hands under the tap, the water cold as it splashed across your face. It was a little more refreshing than you felt before it, soothing the fatigue that’d been settling over you only temporarily.

Dread simmered in the pit of your stomach at the thought of having to take off your jeans, but it wasn’t doing you any good to keep them on.

You exhaled a sigh, eyes squeezing shut as you hooked your fingers in your belt loops. It was fine until you got about halfway, and you found yourself fighting the urge to let out the cry that’s been sitting in the back of your throat, the feel of the rough material scraping over your thigh making it all the more difficult to stifle it.

It was then that you saw it, the blood smudged over your leg and the scrape that ran across your skin, angry and red as it tapered just above your knee. You ran your hands down your face at the sight of it, having been less than ideal but you knew it couldn’t have been good.

You kicked the dirtied jeans to the side in frustration, sighing as you opened the cabinet below the sink. You snagged the first aid kit and the bottle of peroxide just next to it, grabbing a clean wash rag.

This could have been avoided, maybe, but at that moment you were struggling to figure out just how it could have been. Demons were unpredictable, able to sense a trick with ease, able to tell when someone’s lurking with the intent to leave one less demon in the world. They give ample opportunities to be outsmarted, though, but this didn’t seem to be one of those times. There was no match for a human against the powers they hold save for the weapons that served you no use that day. You were thrown clear across the room without a beat of hesitation, something done with ease.

So maybe, just maybe it wasn’t avoidable this time.

You knew Dean saw it, he had to. It was more than obvious that there’d be repercussions to being thrown a good seven feet into a less than unforgiving cabinet. He knew you better than to believe that you were as fine as you say you were. He knows you like the back of his hand, can see your stubbornness from a mile away because he’s the very same.

You wet the wash rag at the sink, taking a seat on the bench by the showers. You began to blot away the blood, nose scrunching and eyes squinting as the burn of the jagged scrape worsened from it.

It was then that there was a knock on the door, a more than familiar voice on the other side.

“Sweetheart? ‘M coming in, I forgot to—”

Your eyes widen as the door opens, gaze meeting green eyes before his stare shifts downwards to the rag in your hand, splotches of a pale crimson staining it. They bounce to the source, to the irritated and red scrape dragging along the outside of your thigh, nearly classifying as a cut but not quite.

“Y/n.”

“Dean, it’s not—”

“What, ‘it’s not a big deal’?” He says, anger seeping into his tone. Not at you, never. It was when he thought back to that hunt that has him angry.

“Dean,” you sigh.

He’s quick to cross the tiled floor, kneeling in front of you. He nudges your knee with his hand gently, the tips of his fingers brushing along your skin. You saw the crease between his brows deepen, lips parted as his eyes bounced over the entirety of the wound on your leg. You can see the way his jaw tenses, tight and unwavering and if it were possible, steam would be coming out of his ears at that moment.

“Damn it, Y/n,” he says quietly, a frustrated huff leaving his lips. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out,” you reason, brows furrowing as you tilt your head to the side slightly.

His gaze narrows up at you in disapproval, your reasoning something that was near laughable to him, you even knew it was ridiculous too the moment the words fell from your lips.

“You can bet I’ll freak out,” he says, his chuckle humorless as he runs his hand down his face. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us to split up.”

“Well, we did.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you, breathing out a huff through his nose. He was upset more than anything, with himself you could tell, could see the frown on his lips as he grabbed the wash cloth from your hand and picked up where you left off.

He was gentle as he wiped away the dirt and blood smeared around it, more so than you despite the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the tattered cloth. You tried to keep your attention on anything else, anything other than the way your leg had been so sensitive even the most mild of touches as hurt. You tried to keep your gaze on him, distract yourself with the abundance of freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.

They were easy to distract yourself with on any given occasion, on times where you didn’t need to be distracted, when you shouldn’t be. But for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to get lost in counting them this time, not with the numbing pain serving as a painful way of keeping you fixated on just that.

“You should have told me,” he says quietly, residual anger still wrapped around his tone with the softness of his words. But he was more concerned than angry.

You puffed out a humorless laugh through your nose, your grip on the bench you sat on tightening some. “I’m not exactly jumping at the idea of running to my boyfriend every time I get hurt on a hunt.”

Your tone is frustrated, embarrassment simmering in the pit of your stomach over the current situation you were in, not to mention the way it happened. You’d never get taken seriously if you ran and cried to Dean each and every time you got hurt. You barely felt like an adequate hunter as it is, you didn’t want to add to it. You would have been fine if he hadn’t seen it.

“Y/n, this isn’t some puny little paper cut, okay? This is way different than just slapping a bandaid on it and kissin’ it better.”

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” you say, jaw tensing as you look away.

You hated the way your voice was beginning to falter, swallowing thickly in hopes to push down the persistent lump in your throat. Now was not the time to cry, not in front of him. That would only make matters worse and you don’t think you could handle that.

“It doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, not even a little bit. You don’t have to play the tough guy act all the time.”

You stay quiet as you continue to look away from him, the pressure building behind your eyes. When you glance down you see he’s got that dreaded bottle in his hand, popping the cap open with his thumb. He’s hesitant as he tips the bottle, the clear peroxide having poured steadily over every inch of the wound on your leg, bubbling and stinging the moment it touches the damaged skin.

You felt your lip begin to quiver, near uncontrollable as it throbbed and burned, the pain worse than you thought as you bit down on your lip. It was almost unbearable, a numbing kind of pain that brought heat to your cheeks and quickened your heart. That pressure behind your eyes increased then until you just couldn’t handle it, lip free from your teeth as you hid your cry in your shoulder.

But it turns out, you’re not that good at hiding, not from Dean Winchester. Not that it was very hard to notice either.

He stopped immediately, gaze flickering to you, cheeks wet with hot tears and lip quivering in a way that tugged at his heart. His hand settled on your cheek, a gentle nudge to get you to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, the fond nickname something that makes you cry all the more in that moment.

You wrap your arms around him and he settles back a bit as he holds you closer, brows furrowed and jaw tense because seeing you so upset is one thing he can’t handle. Seeing you cry is something that tears him to shreds every time.

His grip on you is tight, his stubble pressing into the side of your neck. He’s cautious of bumping your leg, his throat clearing to try and stave off that pressure constricting around his throat from that very same lump forming as it did you. You could feel the kiss he pressed to your cheek, one to your temple, lingering and sweet. Dean Winchester could be the gruffest man anyone’s ever seen, but he’s got the softest heart, and if there’s one thing he can do without fail it’s comfort.

He finds himself pulling back when you loosen your grip, lip still wobbly as ever as you look at him with glossy eyes. You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, cheeks that burn with embarrassment for crying even though he didn’t mind it in the slightest. He didn’t mind the tears on his shirt, didn’t mind the snot to go with it. That’s the least of his concerns, they all pale in comparison to you.

“It hurts,” you whisper, your gaze shifting to his at the feel of his hand on your cheek, calloused and warm.

“I know it does, baby. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine what that feels like,” he says, smiling softly. “But ‘m almost finished and the ugly part is over, I can promise you that. You just gotta let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod, the patience in his words having set you at ease as you sniff, wiping your tears once more when his hand falls from your face in favor of sorting through bandages. He comes up with a few cotton pads, laying them over the length of the freshly cleaned wound as you sit there, still sniffling from having cried.

He’s more than careful as he takes the roll of gauze and wraps it around your thigh, securing the bandages completely with care to not make it too tight before he tucks in the loose end.

“You’re good as new, sweetheart,” he says, looking up at you.

You flash him a look, biting the inside of your cheek as you laugh softly, not quite humorous. “I’d hardly call it that.”

You’re grumbling, but he takes that hint of a smile as a good thing, standing halfway to press a kiss on your cheek and one to your lips, another to your forehead as his hand brushes over your cheek before he stands fully and swipes the clean clothes from the counter.

You stand with a look of unease, trying your best to keep the pressure on your good leg before that dreadful pain can jolt up your other. You shrug off your shirt in favor of his flannel, the soft material hanging loosely from your shoulders in a heap of warm and fabric softener and a hint of his cologne. It’s a simple thing that amounts to more comfort than you can express, the mere feeling of it putting you at ease.

He helps you with your pajama bottoms, trying not to fuss over you as you did it yourself, instead offering his arm for your balance that you found yourself needing more than you thought.

Your bed was more comfortable than you’d imagined coming home to, leaps and bounds better than that motel mattress. The sheets were soft and they too smelled like Dean, the blankets warm and hefty as they rested over top of you.

Dean brought you close enough to nearly share a pillow, the events transpiring earlier that day on the hunt having sunken deep in the pit of his stomach and simmered there, bringing with it that anger that hadn’t quite left. It made his stomach twist and churn each and every time you got hurt, the blame he put on himself having picked at him every single time without fail. Especially when it brings you to tears, especially when it’s got you so bothered it’s got you crying into his shoulder.

He hates it, he hates that part of hunting.

But regardless, those kind green eyes meet your gaze as he looks at you with a soft smile, his fingertips brushing along your cheek. He’s got that look on his face, one that’s telling of something humorous sitting on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spoken.

“What, De?” You sigh, feeling the residual tension of your tears beginning to dissolve just a little more.

He chuckles, looking down for a moment as he shakes his head. “If I were you, ‘think I might’ve cried way sooner than you did.”

You roll your eyes then, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Dean, that’s a lie and you know it.”

“Is not,” he insists, lips pursed to stifle his smile.

You look at him, tired and amused as you make no effort to hide your smile. He’s got that smile, that one that makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter every time he looks at you like that.

“Whatever you say, Winchester,” you sigh, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

You find yourself lying atop his chest as he turns the tv up a little bit more, his chuckle rumbling against you. He tossed the remote down, the very tip of your finger tracing over his chest. Your legs tangle with his own, your injured one on top as you turn a bit more on your side. He’s got reruns of your favorite show on because he knows you’re too tired to watch the new ones, knows you like to have it on when you fall asleep.

“Goodnight, De,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his chin before sinking back down on his chest.

He smiles in that moment, soft and sweet as his thumb brushes back and forth over your shoulder lightly.

“Night, sweetheart.”

You’re fine. You’ve got him and you’re okay.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Bail Organa #Rexwalker #Jangobi #Captain Rex #Commander Cody #Boba Fett #star wars #the clone wars #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #mpreg tw #phoenix posts

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

I’m not sure if you have ever written smut, but all of your sfw giyuu pieces make me think that he would be such a softie during his first time with his s/o. If you feel comfortable, could I request some nsfw hcs about that 🥺💙 thank you!

I actually haven’t written smut before lolol but I think I’ve read enough to write a decent one lmao

I usually make my fics gender neutral unless otherwise stated but I would prefer knowing the gender specification for smut so I know how to write it lol. But don’t worry too much about it, it’s all good :) and thank you for wishing me a good day! I actually did have a good day :D

Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Reader

⚠️ nsfw headcannons below cut! ⚠️

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image by: @/zenitsu-dandelion　

Giyuu would be so so so nervous his first time with you! What really helped his nerves calm down was that this was also your first time so he didn’t feel much pressure of having to be an “expert”

He constantly keeps asking if you’re doing alright, if he needs to slow down or stop and if you’re feeling good. He always makes sure to ask for permission and consent to continue on further

“Are you okay with this, Y/N?” He’d mumble out gently between soft pants, “Are you alright with me going on further?”

He wanted to get intimate with you, but he was just so nervous to ask. He didn’t want to initiate incase you didn’t want him to. He also couldn’t figure out how to even ask such a question without it being awkward. Luckily, you were able to ask him in such a way you both felt comfortable

Now here you were, in a dim lit room, slowly roaming your hands across each other and holding on to one another as if you’d fall if you dared to let go.

When you guys started, his cheeks were a burning, bright red and his eyes kept darting away, trying to look anywhere but you. He couldn’t get his words out without a nervous stutter. But the way you stroked his cheeks and ran your fingers through his long hair soothes him enough to make nothing but eye contact

Giyuu’s eyes kept scanning all over your body, taking everything in. He stared as if he was trying to remember it all in the case he’d never see such a beautiful sight ever again. His hands grazing over every part of your body, leaving a chilling trail of goosebumps.

“Y/N.. you’re so beautiful... how does someone like me deserve someone as spectacular as you...?” He whispers almost inaudibly as his lips lingered over your. His eyes never leaving your lips until he finally made contact and held your face to deepen the kiss.

He was super nervous at first grabbing any intimate part of your body but you helped guide him telling him it was alright and that you wanted him to. It was Giyuu’s first time feeling breast so he was really shocked by how soft and squishy they were.

But he loves playing with them now. He likes to massage them with his larger, calloused hands while his other grabs every other part of your body and he kisses and sucks at your neck and collarbone. Giyuu also likes to squeeze them when he’s railing you from behind ;)

His hand hesitantly slid down to your clit asking for permission to proceed. You give him the okay and he starts to circle his finger around it, massaging it in the perfect way. You mewl out in relief from the sensation which makes his heart skip a beat. Seeing you so worked up just turned him on even more

He would proceed to finger you, watching your reaction to make sure it was okay to add more fingers. All of this was helping you get aroused enough to get ready for penetration

He also found out that he freaking loves when he’s teasing your entrance and you buck your hips up to feel more of the friction while you cry out, “Giyuu... please... more...” between moans and heavy breathes. This got him super hard in seconds.

Giyuu’s foreplay during your first time was pretty timid. He would bring his hands around you slowly to make sure you were okay with what he was doing. His foreplay consisted with a lot of pillow talk, touching and kissing every part of your body and just staring in amazement he kept whispering everything in your ears which made it even more of a turn on

“Y/N you look so good... God you’re so beautiful.” “You feel really good.” “Your body feels so soft” “Your lips taste so sweet, I can’t get enough of them...”

He would have added in oral for your first time because he really wanted to devour every part of you and taste you but he felt too nervous of messing up since he was a virgin. So you both kept away from oral this time around and decided to try it out another time

After a lot of foreplay because this man grew a liking to teasing you Giyuu lays you down gently and lines himself up to your entrance. He was already hard from just seeing the way you squirmed beneath his touch, breathlessly calling out his name and begging for him to let you orgasm

“Y/N, can I put it in...?” He asks nervously, his full and soft blue eyes not daring to part from yours. Your cheeks were burning up as his cool breath fanned over your face. You could hear him whimpering, waiting for your response so he could finally release himself and feel you warm walls around him

Once you gave him the okay, one of his hands intertwines with yours, sinking deep into the bed as his other guides himself in then proceeds to kneed at your waist once he got the tip in. He lets out a shuddering breath, feeling you around him for the first time. He had to bite his lip to hold back from moaning so loudly and keep himself from ravishing you right then and there.

He feels around your entire body a lot. Giyuu wanted to feel every part of your body when you were losing your virginities together. There were so many loving parts of your body he’d never explored before and this was the perfect time of course. Giyuu could not keep his hands off you!

He goes in slowly to make sure he wasn’t hurting you too much, but thanks to all the foreplay, there wasn’t as much pain due to all the arousal. It still felt tight and weird but him going slowly also was a huge help. Once Giyuu finally was all the way in and you had told him to continue on, he gently pushed his hips back and forth, hand still wrapped around yours. He kept his eyes on your face to make sure he wasn’t hurting you after stretching you out

You guys did missionary for your first time because it wasn’t anything fancy and was a good starter position. When you started to feel really aroused, you wrapped your legs around Giyuu’s waist and pulled him in close. This really made his heart pound and made him moan right next to your ear.

Giyuu also kissed you a lot during your first time and kept his body really close. It just made him feel more intimate and secure with you so close to him. Each time Giyuu would start to shiver from the static feeling of your walls clenching around him, he had to remove his lips off of you to just take in sharp, shaky breathes. He kept nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, panting and moaning right next to your ear, making you feel even more ecstatic.

The more aroused you both became, the rougher it got. You raked your fingers across Giyuu’s back, pulling him in even tighter. His hands gripped your waist as his hips snapped against yours and his forehead laying against yours. His thrust became faster and harder the more he heard you moaning and gasping

His eyes half lidded filled with lust hooked onto yours as he breathed out, “Y/N, I’m... I’m about come...” this sent sparks through your body as you purred back, “I’m gonna come too...”

The rhythm in Giyuu’s thrusts became uneven along with his quickened breath as his eyes shut tight. He was digging deeper into your core at a faster pace. You could feel yourself melting as the shaky feeling of an orgasm began to overtake you.

You felt your whole body clench and hold on to him tight as you succumbed to your orgasm, moaning out his name and he continued to pump into until he came as well.

After you both catch your breaths from your orgasms, he pulls you in for a tight hug, kissing you affectionately and cupping your cheek. He tells you how much he loves you, how much you matter to him and how beautiful you are. Giyuu’s after care is very sensual and cute. This is when he’s most vulnerable with you and does a lot hugging, holding, cuddling, kissing and pillow talk. Giyuu also of course helps you clean up any mess that was made

Overall, Giyuu is a complete softie during your guy’s first time. His cheeks, nose and ears get super duper red and it’s really cute. Giyuu always made sure you were okay, comfortable and excited through the whole experience and made sure you orgasmed first.

The next morning, he got super shy because of how embarrassed he was that he actually had sex with you and said all that sappy stuff. You teased him a little which earned you another blush that spread from ear to ear. Giyuu eventually got braver to start initiating sex and would usually start it off with touch instead of words since he’s not very good at forming his sentences at times.

#overall 10/10 would recommend sex with Giyuu lmao #I actually had a lot of fun writing this lol I feel a little braver to start writing more smut ):3 #tomioka giyu x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka x reader #kny x reader #kny smut #giyuu smut #demon slayer x reader