#in his life up to and including his own wife with whom he had a kid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gyusimp · 2 months

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°•Lord Muzan feels tired after work

Finally the one-shot I promised! I changed the initial idea so I basically rewrote the whole thing again because of a dream I had and it gave me all the inspiration I needed lmao it even gave me an idea for another longer fic with Muzan. I ended up doing it in the canon Taisho Era so enjoy!

Art credits for the creator (not mine)

It wasn't physical fatigue that he felt, after all, the progenitor of demons was tireless. He was rather fed up. Fed up with his employees, his servants, humans in general and how exhausting it was to be the only perfect and intelligent creature among them. His day had been full of problems today.

The current role he had was that of a young and rich businessman, owner of a company importing foreign products whom he murdered in order to carry out his plans and continue increasing his fortune. He forged a few papers, impersonated some people and murdered others and so the company was his now but that included all his stupid and useless employees. He was so fed up with damn humans, sometimes he avoided dismissals, it depends on their mood and how efficient they were at some point then Muzan fired them, otherwise he just called them to his office simply to kill them.

Then a few months later he met you, a young and beautiful woman in the business world with a company dedicated to natural medicine and importing medicinal plants. You were an essential piece in his plan to conquer the sun. He married you when he had the chance to but you eventually found out that he wasn't human. How come you were still alive then? You discovered it on your own, you didn't make a fuss or try to run away from him, you simply let him know that you already knew through small clues or ways of acting, like you were in charge of closing all the curtains in the house during the day but you didn't ask the servants to do it for you. Your loyalty to him remained despite knowing what he was and that was not lost on Muzan.

One night, he told you what this was all about, if you hadn't left despite knowing his condition then you had to stay alive. Muzan gave you the choice if you wanted to become a demon or not but whatever your answer was, you had to serve him for your entire life. The fact of being immortal did not tempt your human weakness but you told him that by having the ability to walk under the sun, you could be his eyes in the light of day and help him do different things so you both ended up accepting. You were legally his wife, so in front of everyone Muzan treated you as such although there were times in private where he was still a little soft on you, plus, he is an attractive looking man which led you to feel some things more for him , taking on mind his demonic nature.

Today had been a terribly long day, the fatigue in Kibutsuji's body caused the veins on his forehead to stand out strongly under his skin, his red eyes appeared and his pupils turned into vertical slits like a cat's. He took off the black trench coat he was wearing and left it on the coat rack at the entrance, his fangs grew to normal size after having hidden them all day, as did his sharp blue nails, making one of his servants tremble who should have already gone home. The man next to him was observed with indifference, his skin was pale and he was sweating coldly having seen the small transformation of his master, then he remembered the stories of those man-eating creatures that the women of his town told the children.

"A monster! This man is not human!! MISS KIBUTSUJI, THERE IS A DEMON IN THE HOUSE!" the man shouted trying to alert you.

His shrill screams tried Muzan's patience and when the man turned to walk up the stairs towards you he was cut into pieces in less than 2 seconds. The reddish and thick liquid splashed Kibutsuji's face making him sigh and wipe it with a handkerchief as well as his hand, the drops dripped on the stairs and when he walked next to him he moved it with too much disgust using his foot and continuing his way towards your room upstairs.

Like a gentleman, he knocked on the door before entering and upon hearing your voice he entered the room. You hadn't heard anything but his murderous look told you that he wasn't in the best of moods so you didn't say anything. You went to the bathroom in the large room and put on a pearl-colored sleeveless sleeping dress with a matching silk robe. Just like your husband, you preferred to dress in a Western style, you left your hair down and went out. You found him sitting on the edge of the bed, with both hands together mumbling some things, noticing how stressed he was and without saying anything you knelt on the bed behind him and started massaging his shoulders. You were involved in the world of medicine since you were little, so you knew the points where stress usually accumulates. Feeling your hands exerting pleasant pressure on his body, Muzan couldn't help but tilt his head to the side and put aside everything he was thinking, he took off his tie and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. You continued caressing his neck, shoulders and back until slowly his muscles relaxed and his veins stopped showing under his skin.

"Can i...?" You asked, bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt.

You unbuttoned the entire garment and got rid of it completely leaving his naked and well-worked torso exposed, you continued massaging his shoulders and back until he felt good enough to close his eyes and lay his head on your chest, feeling your breasts very close to him. Your hands were soft and light, with a sincere and warm touch making his thoughts go elsewhere. While you continued doing your thing, he got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants without you realizing it, then grabbed your wrist with some force and brought you in front of him so that you were sitting astride his lap. As soon as you sat down, he took it upon himself to stare at you and open the robe you were wearing to see your breasts under the thin fabric of the nightgown and how your nipples were beginning to stand out. He took off your robe and then grabbed the hem of your nightgown to pull it up and take it off as well. A few seconds passed, he lightly patted your thigh to make you lift your butt so he could get rid of your panties as well, leaving you completely naked under his gaze. He gently took your hand, still looking at you, and brought it up to his face to caress it against his cheek and kiss your palm elegantly.

"You are a rather attractive woman...worthy of bearing my last name." You felt so lucky when he took the time to compliment you since you knew his disdain for almost everything.

You melted at his touch, at his kisses, but an unusual sensation on the skin of your hand made you look in that direction. You saw how a mouth began to form in Muzan's palm with teeth, tongue and everything. You knew about all the changes and transformations that his body was capable of so it no longer surprised you at all since he also knew how to use those changes to your advantage. Muzan smiled at you with seductive malice and with his free hand he grabbed your waist while the hand with his mouth went straight between your legs, placing his palm just below your pussy. You couldn't help but moan and startled a little when you felt his warm breath hitting you, you felt his tongue come out from his palm and begin to suck and lick all your folds. You looked at Muzan with a huge blush as you grabbed his shoulders. While his palm was in charge of your center, he brought 2 of his fingers to your hole, making you arch your back as you felt him enter and arch his fingers inside you. Both sensations made you begin to moan his name and move your hips on him to increase your own pleasure as he hardened dangerously beneath you. His entire mouth sucked on your pussy, playing with it with his teeth and pressing your clit against his tongue over and over again as he moved his fingers and the mouth on his face kissed and bit your neck and collarbones. You were starting to get very wet, the saliva and your juices between your legs making you feel very hot and slippery. Muzan's free hand took you from behind to bring you closer to him and caressed your back until it went down and reached your butt, then he went to your bust and began to knead one of your breasts between his fingers, causing you endless moans.

"Aa-aah...Muzan! Aah!" You could barely speak properly.

You rubbed your center on the palm of his hand while the mouth beneath you devoured you completely, you listened to the wet sounds that leaked beneath you and imagining the dirty scene aroused you more and more. The simple act of letting the Demon King fuck you as he pleased turned you on no matter what. Muzan was going too fast and every rub on and lick on your folds was killing you, you clung tightly to his shoulders making scratches that regenerated immediately feeling your orgasm getting closer to the point of not even being able to stay upright. Your head leaned down, leaving your left hand on his shoulder while you held on to the bed with your right as if your life depended on it, never stopping moaning or moving.

Muzan watched you from above, proud of the mess he made of you, of how he was able to lower such a prestigious and elegant lady to such a level, making her beg for more as if she were a prostitute. You were close, he knew it by the way you squeezed his fingers tighter than before and he didn't want to let this moment pass him by. Muzan grabbed your chin to make you look into his eyes.

"Look at me...you're about to cum, aren't you? I want you to look at me..."

You tried to raise your face towards him but lust was stronger than your five senses, your body was heavy with pleasure and you could barely open your eyes properly. You didn't heed his request and that might make him angry so this time he held you tighter, digging his nails into your soft flesh making your cheeks sting.

"I told you I want you to look at me when you do it...it's an order." He demanded.

You clung to his shoulders without stopping moving and he increased his speed, you squeezed him again and just when you felt yourself on the edge you looked down but forced yourself to half open your eyes and look up again just as you screamed of pleasure as you feel all your whitish and slippery discharge come out from your core, wetting all of Muzan's hand under you where his mouth did not waste a single drop.

"Your taste is very pleasant, dear. I would never get tired of it." He licked his lips.

You were shaking in his lap, sweating all over your body, and a huge blush came over you again when you looked down and saw the mess you had left in his pants. Muzan smiled evilly at you and pushed you on the bed to change places and position himself over you after having completely gotten rid of all his clothes.

Your hair was a mess on the bed, your chest rose and fell trying to normalize your breathing and you could feel your sensitive folds throbbing after such a strong euphoria. You finished having your orgasm, you were wet and slippery and Muzan wasn't going to waste that.

"It's my turn, precious."

He told you, showing you his fangs in a smile and in less than you expected he opened your legs to position himself in the middle of you, he took one of your legs behind your knee and placed it on his shoulder without letting go and then entered you with a single thrust making you moan intensely. He didn't care that you had not yet adapted to his size, he began to stretch you and move repeatedly inside you until he aroused you again. You could hear his soft moans and grunts in your ear as he moved, you took him by the shoulders again and adjusted your legs so you both felt better.

Even though this was only the second round for you you felt almost dead tired, your legs and waist were starting to hurt and you envied the way your husband wasn't even sweating. A pleasurable sensation formed inside you as you felt the crashes of each of his thrusts against your clit and the pressure you felt on it again and again causing you to stretch your toes and squeeze Muzan very tightly again. He loved feeling you that way, you drove him crazy with pleasure and you noticed how the veins appeared again on his back and arms but this time it was due to the strong arousement he was feeling. He had the nerve to lift his head from your shoulder and moan heavily as he closed his eyes and increased his speed, feeling you suck him deep.

"Fuck...you're perfect nngh, you're even better than those 12 fucking idiots." He moaned, complimenting you.

You loved pleasing your husband and even more so seeing that you were doing a good job. Knowing that you could manage to put the Demon King in such a vulnerable state turned you on more, making you eagerly wait for his orgasm and the second one on your part, but on the other hand it made you nervous. Muzan's arousal was as strong as 10 men combined every time he fucked you and his release was just as intense or even more so, so when he tilted his head back after you cum again, you felt a huge amount of his falling inside you reaching the bottom of your insides, spilling the rest between your legs until forming a whitish stain on the bed, under the two of you.

The way Muzan felt his scent permeate your flesh once again made him feel powerful, it was a way of claiming you as his because no matter how many times you showered or cleaned yourself, how many days went by without him fucking you, Muzan let his cells inside you, so that any creature that knew of his existence would also know that you belonged to him.

#muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan smut #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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absurdthirst · 7 months

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Dirty Secrets {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Suspicions of infidelity, thoughts of murder (It's Dave 🤷🏼‍♀️), invasion of privacy, bondage, derogatory language, thigh slapping, plugs, double penetration, cum play, vaginal sex, anal fingering, mentions of fisting.

Comments: You're hiding something, possibly an affair. Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night and changing your passwords. Your husband, Dave York, is going to get to the bottom of what is going on.

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave’s jaw clenches, nearly breaking from the force as the door creeps open slowly, the urge to speak, to let you know that he is awake and aware of you sneaking back into the bed is strong. This bitch….It’s not a very nice thing to think about you, the woman that is his wife, but it's justified. Instead, he stays still, keeping his breathing even as the covers shuffle and the slight jostle of the mattress indicates that you are climbing back into the bed. Thinking that he is still asleep and you are not bothering him.

You’re cheating on him. It’s the natural conclusion that all of your latest changes in behaviors lead to and it sits in Dave’s craw like a festering wound. He’s never cheated on you. Not once. Not when pretty, fresh faced interns look at him like he’s a fucking God as he walks around the DIA hall, eager to get his coffee or do anything else he would want, including getting on their knees for him. Not when he’s out of town - fuck, out of the country - on business where you would never find out.

His wedding ring has stayed on his finger and his cock has stayed zipped up in his pants. Looking wasn’t a crime, at least not in his opinion and Dave York likes to look. But he never once crossed a line into what would break your heart or his wedding vows.

It’s galling, infuriating, that he would be faithful and attentive, as much as he can be when he has a high pressure job with frequent travel, two little girls who want daddy’s attention when he gets home, and a honey-do list that never ends and you would cheat on him. He had thought that the two of you were building a future, working as a team to have the life that the two of you talked about when you were dating. It seemed as if the stars were finally aligning.

It had started small, something that he had originally overlooked. Your passcode on your phone had changed. Needing to get into the damn thing to look at the dance recital schedule you had forgotten to text him, he had frowned when the code you had for as long as you’ve had a smartphone hadn’t worked. He had almost asked you for the new one, thinking you had just changed it but something had told him to stay quiet.

That was when he started watching you. Carefully observing the body language and your habits that were as well known to him as his own. You don’t live with someone without knowing them and their routines. Not unless you just don’t give shit.

You were on your phone a lot more. Biting your lip to smother your grin as you type away furiously. Phone tilted away from him as the two of you sat on the couch together. Not angled enough to be dramatically noticeable but enough that he couldn’t see what you were writing, or to whom.

Then there was your laptop. Another changed password that he discovered this time when he deliberately went to log in. Making him scowl at the screen for a moment as he contemplates smashing the damn thing in a fit of anger.

When you were on the computer, if he came home or entered the room without alerting you, you would practically slam the lid shut when you noticed him. Jumping guiltily and rushing away from the damning evidence of your infidelity to kiss him.

He’s poured over the cell phone bill. Looking for a pattern of numbers that you have recently started dialing but there’s nothing glaringly obvious. It would take but a moment to crack into your phone if he really wanted to and it’s coming to that now.

You had slipped out of bed nearly an hour ago. One hour downstairs while you communicated with whoever you had met. Who the hell were you cheating on him with? Why were you cheating? What wasn’t he doing to fulfill your needs? No, he didn’t always bring you flowers or chocolates when he was coming home from trips, but he tried to make time for date nights, arranging for the next door neighbors daughter to watch the girls so he could take you out.

He fucked you often. Even if it was a quickie in the shower before the girls got up and the chaos of the morning started. He would never have said that your sex life was lacking, even if it had slipped into the comfortable routine that time brings rather than the thrill of something new. He had assumed that was normal, but apparently it wasn’t good enough for you.

You flip and flop for a moment, your sighs soft and Dave opens his mouth in the dark. Nearly confronting you and demanding to know what the fuck you are doing. He feels you freeze, obviously sensing him ‘stir’ since you thought he was asleep, but Dave just gives a small snuffle and adjusts his position before he falls silent again. Feeling you move again a few moments later after you feel like he would have fallen back into a deep circadian rhythm.

“I love you.” The words are whispered in the dark, not meant for Dave to actually hear them but he wonders exactly who those words are for.

****

He should feel guilty about lying to you. Telling you that he was going to be late coming home from work tonight, but he actually has no plans on going to work today. He’s used a rare sick day, often only taking them if the girls were sick. He would and could video conference from the home office if he needs to, instead of making you take off from work. That way it wasn’t unbalanced since you would have to care for them if he was out of town.

Instead, he leaves like he normally does, guiding the car around the neighborhood and parking down the street where you wouldn’t notice him. Watching for when you and the girls leave for the day so he can go back to the house.

Eyes narrowing as he watches you herd the two children - his children that you had birthed - into the car and climb in. The expensive SUV that you had insisted that you didn’t really need but Dave had wanted you to have. The safety rating was top notch and it had given him peace of mind. There are plenty of unfortunates in the world he lives in, the one that he had hoped you and the girls would never experience, and he hadn’t wanted his wife and children to be in anything but the best.

It’s insulting, he’s decided. He knows you know what he does. It’s unspoken, but it’s there. You know about his time in the military, you met him right before that fucking building came down on him and the team. You helped patch him back together, figuratively and literally. Your beautiful smile and promises of more exciting activities once he had recovered had fueled him through hours of painful physical therapy. He had seen the flash of understanding when he announced he had been offered a position in the DIA. There is a reason you kiss him like it might be the last time every time he goes out of town. You know what he is.

So it’s demeaning that you would believe that you were capable of fooling him. To think that you could outsmart someone who pulled people’s lives apart for a living. He had more experience lying that you could ever imagine but he had never thought he would be lying to you.

Cameras and security systems are already disabled, not wanting to alert you to him coming back home as he pulls into the driveway. His teeth nearly grind to pieces as he shuts the door to his car and tries to look nonchalant as he walks up the walkway. As if he’s forgotten something rather than searching for the trigger to implode his marriage.

He might kill the man. Seriously. He might kill the man who has touched his wife when he learns who it is. He’s morally gray enough to not lose sleep over it and have a sense of pride at ridding the world of the man who had ruined his children’s life. Because while he would never touch you in anger, things between the two of you would be over. No amount of couple’s counseling would ever allow him to trust you again.

Your laptop is sitting in the kitchen, obviously where you had left it last night. He stares at it for a good three minutes, brooding and blood hammering through his veins until he has to take a couple of slow, measured breaths to calm himself down.

Once he sits down and opens the device, it takes less than five minutes to get into it. He wasn’t exactly setting a speed record but there was some hesitancy in his fingers as he poured through the possible passwords you might use. In the end, it is the girl’s birthday and it makes him huff in disbelief as the screen changes into your screensaver - a picture of you and him wrapped up on the couch and smiling. Dave ignores it and opens your browser to check the history. “What have you been up to, baby?” He sneers, eyes hard as he starts to dig through your computer.

****

“Come on girls.” Surprised to find Dave’s car in the driveway, since he had said he would be home late, you pull into the driveway and park. Your plans change with him home now and that makes you huff slightly to yourself. It’s not that you were disappointed that he was home, you would never feel that way, but you had been looking forward to a couple of hours on your computer without interruption once the girls went to bed. It was hard to find time that wasn’t interrupted nowadays.

“Girls!” Dave comes out of the house, smiling widely as they tear off towards him, happily yelling ‘daddy!’ as only they can - at ear splitting volumes. You are slower, taking your time and gathering the backpacks along with your own bag out of the car before you close it up and hit the locks.

He scoops them up, making them laugh and squeal when he kisses their cheeks and necks playfully. Juggling them in his arms in a routine that always makes them happy.

“Well this is a surprise.” You offer, smiling at the scene. “We were expecting to see you in the morning, weren’t we girls?”

It might be your imagination but Dave’s eyes flicker with something dark before he nods. “Plans changed.” He tells you, shrugging slightly as if it’s no big deal. “Now girls, Rebecca is going to watch you two tonight. You’re going to have a sleepover at her house.”

Frowning in confusion, you watch as the girls cheer and hug him before throwing themselves from his arms and practically flying across the manicured lawn towards the neighbors house. You huff when they don’t even look back. “Bye!” you call out sarcastically at them only to receive halfhearted waves from the neighbors porch. They love sleepovers with Rebecca, apparently more than their mom.

“Why is Reb-”

“Inside.” Your eyes widen slightly and your stomach clenches at the way the word is growled at you. Turning to find Dave already marching back up the steps to go into the open front door of your house.

Slightly alarmed, you hurry after him only to have him quickly close the door and the click of the lock sounds louder than it is. Like the proverbial cell slamming shut and you find that your pulse has sped up.

“Dave, what’s going on?” You demand, hanging up the girl’s bags and your purse before you move to take their water bottles into the sink. Feeling him trailing after you like a dark spector. It makes you worry, wondering what the hell has gone wrong that Dave needs to send the kids away and immediately lock the door. Turning, you find him watching you almost like he's trying to figure out what your secrets are.

He doesn’t speak, making you squirm slightly and you feel your skin start to burn under the intensity of his gaze. It’s as if he’s…waiting.

The thing is, you know what Dave does. You’ve never gotten into the specifics of what all his job entails, but there have been bruises, cuts, signs of a skirmish. You know your husband is completely capable of handling his shit. And yet, he’s never once raised a hand to you, or even raised his voice really. Not in anger. Dave is wound tight at times, but he doesn’t take his shit out on you or the girls, but you’ve seen the darkness that lurks around the edge of his eyes. The way they can go flat and emotionless, looking like a stranger for a moment before your Dave comes back to you.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you aren’t sure why. Making you shuffle slightly as you try to remember if you’ve forgotten anything. It’s not your anniversary but maybe he’s told you something was happening tonight that you are supposed to remember. But why wouldn’t he just tell you?

“Everything alright?” Of course you were going to break. Dave arches a brow, his intense look not changing except to take on a challenging edge.

“You tell me.” Okaaaaay, this is slightly suspicious but then he keeps talking. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your stomach plummets and your heart starts to gallop in your chest. Your eyes flickering over to your laptop and Dave hums. “Mmmhmmm.”

“Did you-”

“Did you think you could keep this from me?” He asks quietly, voice dropping down several octaves. Making your eyes widen at the fucking authority in his tone. “Answer me.”

“I can explain…” Except, how do you explain this? How can you possibly tell your husband what you’ve been doing?

“Can you?” He purses his lips at you, folding his arms across his chest as he asks. Almost mocking you. “You can explain?”

“It- it’s just-” Your cheeks could fry an eye and you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes sliding away to look at the laptop again. “They’re just stories.”

****

“Daaaaave.” Your plea is low, practically whimpered and Dave chuckles as he watches you twist against the straps that have you tied to the bed.

After he had wound you up, teased you with the fact that he had read everything that you have written, there had been a frantic urgency to the way that he had dragged you upstairs. An urgency that has been missing from your sex life.

“Shut up.” The slap to your sensitive inside thigh stings and makes you moan, body on fire from anticipation and embarrassment over how wet you are from this. “You asked for this.”

You hadn’t asked for it, not out loud. Unable to voice the desires that swim around in your head and set fire to your cunt, you hadn’t been able to give voice to them to the man who had known your body better than anyone. So you had written them down.

Expressing yourself through sexy stories, made up fantasies and encounters to work through the desires that you often masturbate to. Not because Dave is a bad lover, he’s always been good about making sure that you feel good in bed with him. It just….wasn’t everything you needed.

Now he’s hovering over you, darkness clouding his eyes and that blank expression is focused on you for the first time. It makes your heart race again, this time in a very specific kind of way. The kind that makes your cunt ache and your thighs try to close to get some kind of friction on your clit.

His body prevents that. Thighs spread wide as he keeps you splayed open and his cock bobbing enticingly with a heavy bead of precum pearling up at the tip. Not quite leaking down like the other smears of wetness but getting close and you swear that you’ve not seen him this hard in a long time.

“Slut.” He chuckles darkly, “writing fucking filthy stories and thinking that I wouldn’t notice. You know what I do, what I am. You wanted to get caught. To have me read what you crave and not have to say it out loud. To pretend that you are innocent and good when you’re just a nasty whore.”

Biting your lip, you take the verbal abuse that Dave is spitting at you, ashamed at how good it sounds coming from his raspy baritone. Just like you had always imagined it. Dave could, and would talk dirty in bed but he had never called you names and it’s not something you could ask for despite being able to talk to him about anything.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Dave hums, fingers brushing over your clit again before he slaps your thigh again. Once more in the exact same spot makes you hiss. He wants welts to raise up on your skin, to give you the things that you have written about in your stories in exacting detail.

Giving him an insight into what you wanted in the deepest, darkest parts of your soul. The things you wouldn’t say aloud despite the conversations about ‘spicing things up in the bedroom’.

There is a moment where his eyes soften again, fingers stroking over your thigh as the heat from the three swats starts to set in. He hadn’t been gentle and he can feel the way that your skin prickles with goosebumps.

There is a moment where he thinks you aren’t going to answer him, that you want your thigh slapped again but then you nod. Eyes heavy lidded and already lust blown as you pant. Your tits lift with every heaving breath and he’s barely touched you.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asks, not wanting an answer from you really, it’s all rhetorical because he’s going to do what he wants. “Fist you?”

The way you squirm has him grinning, the skin of your lip between your teeth and you can’t quite meet his eyes. “Oh I read it all.” He hums mockingly, not mentioning that he had to jerk off because of your steamy words. He got turned on reading your dirty little stories. Whoever Jack Daniels or Marcus Pike was, they knew how to fucking having fun. “No need to be shy, I know you get off on the thought of me shoving my fist inside you, or having my cock inside you along with a toy.”

He picks up the toy he had pulled out of your drawer, holding it up to show you what he could potentially do for you. It’s a plug, one that he’s never seen before and it intrigues him. You obviously have some toys that you use for yourself when he’s gone and right now, he’s going to use them on you.

You tug on the restraints, feeling your heartbeat drumming under your skin every time you tug and meeting the resistance. The limited movement and the feeling of being helpless is one that you’ve always wanted and now you have it.

You had shocked him, which was rare for a man like Dave. He has seen so much of the world at its worst and the woman he had imagined to be slightly innocent in some things was anything but. “I’m going to push this inside your tight little ass and then I’m going to fuck you.” He promises. “Later we are going to train that tight little cunt to take my fist in it. Aren’t we, baby? You’re going to be my little slut?”

“Dave-”

“Daaaaavvvve.” He pouts his lips, mocking you with a devilish glint in his eyes. “No? You want to see how many fingers I can get inside you now? Maybe I’ll fuck your ass while I’m working you open.”

Your whimper makes his cock twitch. Watching you pull at the restraints is thrilling in a way that he had never tried to imagine with you. Separating the Dave York for work from the man who came home to his family had been deliberate and yet you want some of the man he had to be to survive.

His fingers trail over your skin, watching as your breathing hitches and he grins before he leans down and presses his lips to yours softly. “Don’t worry, baby.” He coos, “I’m going to give you exactly what you need.”

****

He takes his time. Showing you how methodical he can be as he works his fingers in and out of your grasping, leaking little hole. Every gasp you give when he brushes up against the smaller plug that is nestled inside of you makes him chuckle. Mocking you for being so sensitive, even while his fingers are curling up inside you.

Three, three of his fingers are stretching you out and you don’t know how you will possibly take more. They are thicker than the two that he normally uses, pushed deep just to the edge of being uncomfortable. Making you squirm and bite your lip, watching his eyes as he stares at you. The slightly mocking light in his gaze urging you to take just a bit more.

“Maybe your dildo in your ass, right baby?” Dave grunts as he starts to scissor his fingers, wanting you to be stretched out. His chest is heaving, watching you so wantonly beg for him. Wanting him to fulfill those dirty little fantasies that you had hidden from him. If you had just told him what you were thinking about, he could have done this sooner. Would have done this sooner.

The plug vibrates. He had learned that when he had slid it inside you and felt the little switch underneath the silicone that covers the flared base. Now buzzing away inside you and making you whimper his name while his fingers push as deep as they can go. The wrecked moans pouring out of your throat makes him want to fuck it. Imagining how good it would feel around his cock. You’ve blown him plenty of times, but this time it would be like you had written about. He wouldn’t let you control the pace or how deep you take him. He would.

“Baby please.” Your plea is breathless, gasped out as you tug on the restraints again. Pouting at him like he is torturing you. Dave grunts, leaning down and kissing your jaw, biting your chin.

“I’ve got you, you can take it. I know you can, baby. Such a good slut for me.” He praises, feeling your soaked walls contract around his fingers like a vice. “You just need to cum for me so I can fuck you. Replace these fingers with my cock.”

A fourth finger tries to push inside. Making you wince and whine while your hips jerk back from his touch for the first time since this little game started. Dave’s eyes immediately find your face, watching as he pulls that finger back, making sure that you are comfortable. Your safe word in his mind if you should need to say it, but he wants to make this good. This isn’t about him controlling you as much as you putting your pleasure in his hands.

Once your body relaxes, you start to push down again, your hands flexing around the straps and itching to touch him. To urge him for more, begging him with your eyes to let you cum as the vibrations of the plug and the curling of his fingers draw you close every time he rolls his wrist.

“Fuck.” The noises you make are vastly different from the normal soft moans and gentle cries that you give when your husband is touching you. Some of that is due to not having the kids in the house, not worrying about little ears hearing. The majority of it is from the pure pleasure that is rolling through your body and making you ache.

You are getting what you’ve always wanted, what you’ve secretly needed. Too scared to say it out loud for fear of being rejected, or mocked. Or worse, your husband thinking there was something wrong with you. You had never imagined thinking that he would be into it.

“Come on baby.” He urges you, eyes dark and blown wide as he watches you. “Cum for me. Want that pussy creamy when I fuck you full of me. Stretched out on a dildo and my dick and squealing.”

That pushes you over the edge, arching up into his touch and obeying his command with ease that just seems to shake you apart at the seams. “Dave!” Your scream catches and breaks in your throat, cascading through you and making you shudder.

“That’s it, oh fuck sweetheart, you look so good cumming.” He praises you, nearly cumming himself as he watches you. Enjoying the way your chest rises and falls, your body shakes and your cunt clenches around his fingers.

It’s exquisite when he pushes into you, the feeling of being so full is a sensation that you’ve never imagined you would get. Two toys just doesn’t do it. It doesn’t feel like Dave. Nothing could feel as good as he does, the heat, the throbbing. Making you shiver and moan like the little slut he keeps claiming you are. You are a slut, his slut. You will be anything that he wants you to be as long as he keeps touching you like this. Giving you what you have craved. “I’m- it’s so much.” You whimper, eyes rolling back in your head. “So full, fuck Dave I’m so full.”

His chuckle rolls over you like a dark wave, filling your ears and senses with the pleasure that he is pulling from this. He’s enjoying himself, the smug smirk on his face when you finally open your eyes to find him looking down at you.

“Yes you are.” You are stretched out, the little plug in your ass swapped for a smaller dildo so you aren’t pushed too far, but he could imagine a bigger toy inside you. Pressing against him through the thin skin. “You are going to take everything I give you, baby. You’re gonna take it and you’re gonna love it.”

You will, you trust Dave. He’s your husband, he’s got your best interests in mind and so far he’s been amazing. Completely in control and still giving you what you need. His thrusts start to speed up now that you are slightly relaxed. Groaning as he starts a rhythm that takes your breath and leaves you unable to do anything more than to watch his jaw clench and flex as he fucks you.

Grunting every time he buries himself deep and gasping when he pulls out of your grasping cunt. It feels amazing, every nerve alight with pleasure and you feel like your nipples are hard as diamonds as the scrape against his chest. Heightening the sensations and making it even better as he stuffs you full with the tilt of his hips pushes the toy deeper inside you.

“Dave, oh fuck, Dave.” You moan, unable to do anything but take it since you are still restrained. “Please, baby. Please.”

“Shit.” He hisses as he starts to rock his hips faster, chasing his high and pushing you towards to yours. “You dirty fucking girl, you love this.” He grunts. “If you - fuck - if you weren’t my wife I’d get another guy to fuck you with me.” He bares his teeth. “No one else touches you. You’re mine.”

“Yours.” You pant, nodding as he continues to wreck you. “I’m yours baby, only yours.”

He growls, pleased with your answer. “I’ll give you what you need, I’ll take care of my little slut.” He taunts.

He will, he is. It’s all you can think before your entire body seizes up and you cry out hoarsely. Stars bursting and your entire world exploding on an atomic level and your vision whites out.

Dave groans your name, pushing deep two more times before he is cumming. Filling you with hot spurts of his seed as he pants out your name again and relaxes against your body. Breathless as he tries to catch his breath so he can take care of you. You had kept secrets from him, secrets that he had thought were going to change your marriage. And they have - for the better. He has been very pleased to learn your dirty secrets.

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfic #dave york imagine #dave york fanfiction #dave york equalizer 2

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naughtystiel · 10 months

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DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST II

Here's another list of fics that I've read! They're all amazing, but the first two? They hold a special place in my heart because of how tender they are. If you decide to read them - prepare for an emotional rollercoaster.

You can check out the previous fic rec list here.

Happy reading! ♡

Restless wanderer

Just west of the town Porthgwarra, Cornwall, Robert Singer’s farm lies, a mess of ravaged land gaping out onto a fretting sea. Robert's orphaned godson, Dean Winchester, is named sole beneficiary of the farm - and though he hasn't seen his godfather in fifteen years, he travels across the Atlantic with his brother and half brother to care for Singer in his old age and tend to the farm. All of them hope to leave behind the squalor and famine of their old life.

What Dean meets is the bird-infested home of a widowed eccentric, and a new shepherd whom he can neither stand nor see any use for - stoic, rude and conceited, Dean plans to fire the mysterious and wandering Mr Novak the moment he comes into legal possession of the farm. But upon the shepherd's offer to teach him the trade, in anticipation of Dean replacing the man himself, Dean finds in the wild and roaming man a steadiness and certainty his own life has never yet contained. And one day Dean will have to ask, not tell, the shepherd to stay.

Down by the water

AU, set in 1853 — When Castiel loses everything dear to him due to a botched river crossing, including his supplies, livestock, covered wagon, and even his wife, he has no where to turn, no way to survive stranded in the middle of his journey. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester, who offers him a life saving deal: in exchange for help on his farm, Dean offers to provide much needed room and board. But how will this decision affect Castiel as he moves through his grief, and discovers feelings he never would have expected? Fighting with injury, pain, grief, and even the threat of death, Dean and Castiel find themselves in the one place they would have never expected: down by the water, struggling to accept their unforeseen love.

Dark side of the moon

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

Angel in the iron mask

Finally free of his actual shackles, Castiel finds himself in a situation a lot worse than being locked in the dungeon with an iron mask to conceal his face. The intrigues of the court will make his head ache, but it would all be worth it if he could just find a way to save the omega that had been enslaved to him.

Protect and serve

Sam Winchester is America's newest sweetheart. An in-demand actor and all around Boy Next Door. However, with his fame comes the need for protection. And Sam only trusts his older brother, and former beat cop, Dean, plus his best friend, Castiel Novak, to keep him safe. However, Castiel and Dean share not only a desire to keep Sam safe, but also a lot of friction between them. In an attempt to smooth the edges, Sam pleads with them to find a way to make things work. Castiel thinks Dean needs discipline. Dean thinks Castiel needs to lighten up. Together, they discover a lot more about each other than anticipated.

Playing with fire

When two best friends foray into a supposedly no-strings sexual relationship, someone is bound to catch feelings, someone is bound to fuck up, and someone is bound to beg for forgiveness; because that’s the recipe for a romantic comedy.

But life is not a romantic comedy, no matter how much Dean Winchester secretly wishes it was.

Instead, we present: Boy finds out boy, who has been his best friend for over twenty years, is secretly a Dom. Boy then sorta tricks boy into taking him on as his new sub. Boy discovers a side of himself he never knew existed. Boy is in way over his head.

Quarantension

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.**

*Really not platonic

**Spoiler: They need a lot.

Expectations

For centuries, the Winchester princes have taken omegas from the northern town of New Eden to bear the royal heirs before exiling them to the countryside - a punishment for a past dispute caused by the town's strict beliefs. When Prince John marries Lady Mary of Campbell and puts a Queen on the throne, however, most people assume the tradition has been set aside.

Thus, it's a complete surprise to Dean when he's sent to New Eden to retrieve the girl they've arranged for.

Cas, as a male omega in backward New Eden, has been ostracized and condemned by his town since he presented. To make matters worse? His sister is being given away to the crown prince of Winchester, never to return.

But when the morning before the prince's arrival dawns and Anna is nowhere to be found, the town's council decides there’s only one thing for it:

They’ll simply have to give him Cas instead.

It's the end of the world (as we know it)

The year is 1996, and Dean’s stuck in Kankakee, Illinois while Dad’s on a long-haul hunt. It’s not too bad. He’s even got a friend, now—even if Cas is a weird, gawky loner kid who gets way too intense about his sci-fi novels and doesn’t know how to stop staring. Just business as usual.

Until his dad comes back, and it isn’t.

The year is 2011, and the shadows known as ‘angels’ and ‘demons’ are falling from cracks in the sky, raining death, destruction, and monsters where they pass. When the Joint Task Force asks for their help in stopping the end of the world—John Winchester, his sons, and a ragtag band of hunters—well, that’s just business as usual, too.

Until Dean meets the cold blue eyes of their team liaison—Dr. Castiel Novak.

The meaning on my skin

Castiel Novak never wanted to be a Dominant. Living with the mark on his skin that designates him as one has haunted him every day of his life, and he goes to great lengths to avoid the part of his biology that he hates. When he makes the decision to get a tattoo with the intent of hiding his mark away, he meets Dean Winchester: tattoo artist and confident submissive.

Dean turns Castiel’s world upside down and subverts every expectation Castiel ever had about himself and his designation. Will Dean be able to teach him how to be comfortable in his own skin?

Roll with it

For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print.

That’s the dream, anyway.

Right now, he’s fucking late.

Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country.

‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

Stay in my arms (if you dare)

Grammy award-winning singer/actor Dean Winchester is on top of the world. His latest role has him tipped for an Oscar nomination and his life is damn good, thank you very much. That all comes crashing down after a series of death threats forces his manager, Bobby Singer, to hire a bodyguard. Bobby knows just the man for the job. Castiel Krushnic, former CIA field agent and the only person Bobby would trust to protect Dean.

Tensions are high and personalities clash from the first meeting, with Dean unwilling to change his lifestyle and Cas just wanting to do the job in peace. A series of events turns the pair into reluctant friends while both try to ignore their growing attraction for each other.

Dream house

Castiel Shurley and his best friend Dorothy Baum have decided to move in together. After his aunt assumes they are dating, she offers them money for the house, but only if they apply for a famous reality show ‘Dream House’. Since they could use the money and he doesn’t want to come out to his aunt, Castiel and Dorothy agree to fake date for the show. But things go wrong when Dorothy falls in love with the show’s producer and Castiel starts to develop feelings for one of the hosts.

Dean Winchester is a co-host of ‘Dream House’, along with his brother. Sam, being a realtor, finds a fixer-upper and Dean turns it into a perfect house for their clients. Even though he has what most people only dream about, Dean is incredibly lonely. He had bad experiences with relationships in the past and he doesn’t think he will ever meet anyone who can earn his trust. Until he meets Castiel.

I'll be good

Dean has always been the good guy. He made the hard decisions and rose to the occasion whenever his family needed him. He became a parent way too soon after the deaths of John and Mary Winchester along with Sam’s big oops moment. Resettling his entire life to Beaufort, NC for the sake of those he loves the most.

Now at 25 an opportunity to finally be good to himself has been delivered in the form of one gorgeous Castiel Novak. The new arrival to town is the worst driver Dean has ever seen. As the eldest Winchester strives to overcome several bumps along the road of life can he also help Cas to steer towards a happily ever after with him or will Novak’s turbulent past cause them to crash and burn?

In other words a BDSM love story.

Shatter me

Dean Winchester started his day in seven easy steps.

Step one: Survive attack from a giant drool monster

Step two: Shower and shave

Step three: Suck down a cup of coffee while walking the drool monster to her favorite tree

Step four: Feed and water the drool monster

Step five: Have a balanced breakfast of microwaved egos, six medications, and two more cups of coffee

Step six: Check his email and schedule for the day

Step seven: Pack the pup and himself a hearty lunch and leave for work

In none of these steps did it say: meet your soul mate, hate them on sight and cause bodily harm…. and yet.

Crashing in

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Partnered

Dean didn't think that his life as a detective could get much worse after Castiel was promoted to lieutenant.

Castiel was a stickler for the rules, had no sense of humour, and never seemed to give Dean a break, even though they used to be partners.

But then, despite all of their questionable history, the two are asked to go undercover on a case in the wealthy suburbs of California. . . as a married couple.

Lead by your beating heart

After a night of celebrating (heavy drinking) with his brother surgical intern Dean Winchester discovers that his resident, talented Cardio surgeon Castiel Novak, is...well a huge douche bag...kind of hot but still a huge douche bag. A douche bag that he's stuck with for the rest of the year, that's if he survives the year without Castiel killing him and making it look like an accident. So why is it that an easy friendship forms between the two men that swiftly becomes something Dean never expected to find when he moved to Chicago.

Bold will hold

All Dean Winchester wants is to open his own tattoo shop, which is why he signs up for Tattoo Gods, a tattooing reality show with a $100,000 grand prize. He also wants to avoid making an ass of himself on national TV, and he definitely wants to avoid falling for Cas Novak, another artist who’s not only his direct competitor, but someone he’s had an unspoken rivalry with since before he started apprenticing, and is just as ridiculously talented as he is stunning (and, as Dean comes to find out, kind and funny and passionate and sincere). Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. Yes, it is.

Breathing into you

‘Beware the deep sea, that’s where the monsters come from.’ Dean had heard these words since birth, his father’s warnings shaping him into the man he is today.

That’s not the root of Dean’s hatred for merpeople, though. Twenty years after the day tragedy had touched the Winchesters’ lives forever as well as the end of the Great War between humans and mer, Dean is still haunted by that moment. But loving the sea is just as much a part of him as the dread for the merfolk, so when he isn’t working at the local bar, he is there, underwater, immersed in the vast blue his mother used to speak of in her bedtime stories.

Dean knows, however, that the sea can be as ruthless as it is soothing. When he is caught in the middle of a storm and faces the anger of the waves, the mysterious appearance of a stranger with blue eyes as clear as the waters Dean loves losing himself in forces Dean to question the truth behind his father’s old mantra.

Hot water

Castiel hated public showers.

In which Castiel is forced to use the company shower after hours and ends up doing unspeakable things he never thought himself capable of...

AU-fic containing mystery attractions and a lot of hot water.

I can make you scared

So this is how it goes. Best day of Dean Winchester’s life. Loses his job, finds out he’s been cheated on, gets dumped, all in the course of one fucked up Thursday. Drinking himself into oblivion is the natural response, right? A chance encounter in a dingy dive bar gives Dean a new friend who sees his problems and likes him anyway. Now, as Dean struggles to pick up the pieces of his life, Castiel just might help him put them back together in a way he never expected.

Fear of falling (apart)

In a world where D/s relationships are the norm and Chicago is caught up in a three-way mob war, Russian mob boss Castiel Krushnic makes John Winchester an offer he can't refuse: one that will make Dean Winchester his own.

Cuffed to an angel

Dean Winchester has a lot going for him: he's beloved by his students, he's finished writing his first book, and he's living comfortably in New York City. The only problem is... he's single. That wouldn't bother him much if his family wouldn't be visiting for the holidays. With cuffing season over, Dean has to face his family alone... or will he?

Castiel DiAngelo is a simple detective who hasn't really celebrated Christmas in over 9 years, holidays and family being a sore spot for him. But after taking Dean up on an offer, he finds that you can't really avoid the holidays.

Will these two be able to pull off a seminal holiday trope? Or will certain developments get in the way...

(don't) stop texting me

Castiel Novak is relatively happy living his solitary life as a Starbucks Barista. He lives alone with a cat named Hamburger, and he has one (1) emotional support friend, Gabriel.

Unfortunately, he is plagued by the fact that some guy (see: a random hot dude named 'Dean') is giving out Castiel's phone number as his own. And he's been doing it for months.

So, of course, when Castiel's at work and a hot stranger gives him his own phone number for the Starbucks Rewards Program... well... it doesn't go well.

Sweet boy

NOTE - nothing sexual happens between them until Dean's 18

Dean's sixteen when he meets John's well-to-do boss, Castiel Novak, and he's quick to develop a crush during a time where he's only begun to discover his preferences. He dates the beautiful Lisa and practically raises his younger brother Sam, because it's what John expects. But Castiel appears to see Dean in a way no one else does, and despite him knowing there's no way anything can happen between them, he relishes in the idea that Castiel cares at all for his well-being.

Between mounting pressures from a teenage Sam that no longer wants a caretaker, John's nudging for Dean to follow a career path he doesn't want, and a mysterious check for the exact amount of one semester at the school Dean had been eyeing, Dean finds himself reconnecting with Castiel.

And Castiel has a very interesting proposition for him.

Down time

It’s been said that Dean Winchester is a bit uptight but in his opinion being focused on producing quality work is nothing to be ashamed of. He would grudgingly admit he tends to get too worried about his work and schedule and that it’s beginning to wear him down. In a fit of work induced exhaustion, he decides to indulge in a deeply buried desire of his…

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imagination-mess · 1 year

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Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Todoroki Touya Edition)

Todoroki Touya, his Pro hero's name is Hellfire.

Reference to Aizawa Shota Wife.

There is a reality show where pro heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight which adds mystery and theories to be created about who they were married to.

The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge. Unlike last season, it wasn’t told in the very beginning of this reason already revealed which Pro Heroes Wives will be featured

There are only a few left remaining without being matched which includes some of the well-known and underground pro heroes. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses have interacted on more than one occasion and are disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who did not know had to identify them, but the others did not spill any things that would clue who their spouse was.

The only three people you know who are married are Aizawa, Shinsou, and by default Shouto’s wives. Aizawa and Shinsou's wives have gotten to know you very well and have hung out after this first season show. You were one of the three winners from last season. It was the funniest thing to see people mistake their husbands over and over again.

It was also funny to hear the theories that other house members have for you because everyone is trying to figure out the other spouse in case of the elimination round. If you are able to guess correctly, whoever is on the hot seat, can stay while the other gets sent home.

The Pro Hero Hellfire is unpredictable as far as the public goes. There is a mixture of hate and love toward the hero after an incident years ago. He had to go all out in a life-and-death situation. He had to do what had to do in order to come on top at any cost. He did lose his former hero rank, but remained within the top 10.

Outside of the public eye, he is the private sponsor of those stores he destroyed with his flames back from the incident. He knew insurance would not be able to cover everything those people have lost. He may be an asshole, but he wasn’t heartless.

What made you trend with Shinsou's wife was dressing up similarly to what your husband would do when he is out in public, another event of giving each other hints. It was the fact that Shinsou and Todoroki share similar tastes in dark aesthetics including the chains on the jeans. They both share the same placement of their tattoos whereas you used fake tattoos in the same placement.

It was pure chaos and an argument being made by fans through all platforms. The arguments about who is married to whom.

The Mindjack and Hellfire fans are going at each other.

Earjackfan#01 tweets: It has to be between Mindjack and Hellfire. *attaches pictures of the two pro heroes when they are outside of their hero suits.*

HellfireLeftScar tweets: This is evidence of [Name] being married to Pro Hero Hellfire *attaches pictures of the paparazzi and other pictures to support their claim*

MindjackSpeaker tweets: It is clearly Mindjack married to [Name]! *attach pictures of the two of you multiple times.*

MindSpeak tweets: All of you guys are idiots. Mindjack and Hellfire are friends. *Attached is a picture of Touya and Hitoshi going to a metal concert in disguise and another was taking pictures together at the recent Hero gala.*

HellfireScar tweets: That is not the same cat! All of you are f***king blind! *attaches Shinsou’s cat and yours* This is the identical cat *attaches todoroki's cat and yours*

The social media you own has very little personal information about the expectation of your career and pictures of your cat along with beautiful scenery. The official account of Hellfire was filled with clues about who his spouse was. The picture always has his spouse cut out of the picture at your request. There were more pictures of the two of you have taken pictures that seem like “friendly pictures” where he has his arm around you with others.

The picture that is really circling around was a year-old picture that Touya did not even know existed. It was a picture of a party where in the background Touya is kissing you and the light exactly hit on the outfits. It was blurry, but somehow people are trying to make connections between the outfits the two of you were wearing at that event in particular. It was in your favor that it was a mask theme.

Touya changes his profile account to his cat poking fun at the cat theory. He also posted a picture of the two cats because he was taking care of Shinsou's cat while he was away on a mission. They look identical, but they were small details on their fur you could tell who was who.

Pro Hero Deku Edition

Pro Hero Dynamight Edition

Pro Hero Shoto Edition

Pro Hero Red Riot Edition

Pro Hero Eraserhead Edition

Pro Hero Mindjack Edition

Reality Show: Unmasked Pro Heroes

I can do a different version of having his relationship publicized, enough people wish to see it.

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lina-lovebug · 5 months

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Tumultuous Waters

Ch.1

Orm Marius fanfic

Warnings: allusions to abuse and sexual assault

I have lived my life without love.

I never once felt affection for my husband, nor did I ever think what he held for me was pure.

He looked at me once and claimed me to be his, but my refusal came with denial. I was his from the moment he laid his eyes upon me, and no power on Olympus nor Earth could keep him from me.

Even when he lay with me, I prayed it would be over soon. I would watch above, hoping to be struck so that I wouldn't have to hear his grunts and feel his skin on mine.

This is the life of a wife to a God.

Yet I was able to find some happiness in our marriage.

I bore a son named Triton, who became King of the Seven Seas. He bore my eyes, which I took pride in. Of course I would never blame my son for the actions of his father, but I had sighed in relief when I saw that the only relation he held to Poseidon was his strength and hair color.

Then a daughter came, to whom I named Rhodos. I feared what Poseidon may do to a daughter of our own - which God's he would attempt to pawn her off to.

But she held a fire in her that he had burnt out within me long ago. Rhodos took charge of her love and future, and found happiness and love in Helios, the Sun God. When Aphrodite had cursed him to forget all of his lovers, including her, it was the first time I found myself marching up to her in rage.

And I punched the Goddess of Beauty.

I feared her retaliation, but instead, the Goddess laughed and smiled upon me. “Finally, someone who refuses to take my shit.”

We became great friends after she reversed the curse and Helios spent many centuries honoring my daughter.

But after my children made it clear that they now had their own lives, I was back to square one. I would spend days watching Poseidon drive his ego so far up his ass that he'd be grinning like he created the universe. Centuries seemed to be slow as I stopped fighting him, and became. . .lifeless.

I missed my family.

I missed the ocean.

But I was reminded that I'm not just Poseidon's wife. I'm a daughter of Nereus, and the third of fifty Nereids who created mermaids and sirens. We are shapeshifters and in the myths and legends for assisting sailors in their journeys across the ocean.

My son created Atlantis. He was proud of his kingdom, and was so delighted to show it to me. He had learnt from seeing his father that no one should rule a Kingdom on their own, but he elected a council to help him truly learn how to be a good ruler.

And he had children.

The Tritonides, similar to my sister's. Never once did a son come from his wife but he did not mind at all. I watched with pride as my son adored his daughters and doted on his wife, despite the lack of assistance and care from Poseidon.

Yet I could not stay in this kingdom.

For Poseidon commanded I return home.

For the next eight hundred years, I stayed in Olympus and found myself slipping again.

He was never faithful.

He was never kind.

He was cruel.

But he's a God.

And I can never be free of him.

I would only hear the news that my son's lineage had no longer been on the throne through Poseidon - who bragged about such a thing. He declared that a merman who had slain King Nero and Queen Athena had taken the crown because of corruption, and laughed.

Not only had our son's bloodline been slain, but his father dared to laugh.

I know I stand no chance in fighting him, but he was our son - our baby boy. So just as I had done to Aphrodite, I had punched him in the face and watched as his eyes turned sinister.

He hit me.

He didn't stop hitting me.

My eyes stared up at him as he prepared to take me, “you think this makes you a man? In all our years together, I have seen you as less than a spoiled boy. How disappointed our son would be if he could see this view.”

He left me with his limp excuse of a cock and I allowed my body to heal through the ocean water.

I had even hoped I would be able to drown.

But as the Queen Mother of the Seven Seas, I prepared myself. The puffy eyes and the bruises vanished as quickly as they appeared, and let Atlantis prepare themselves for their guest.

A permanent guest.

Taglist: @nanamiscunt @illegalcerebral @notasadgirlipromise @cozmicwonder

#orm marius #orm marius imagine #aquaman imagine #aquaman the lost kingdom #the lost kingdom #faceclaim is anne hathaway our queen

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cluescorner · 2 months

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Tim Drake has a weird fucking function

The thing about Tim that I find unique is that his life became SO MUCH WORSE after joining the heroing thing. Everybody else had a mid-to-shit life before becoming a hero/living with Bruce and mostly everybody (except Jason who LITERALLY DIED) had their life improved by being a hero/being Bruce's kid (or at least it is typically portrayed as such.

Tim had the exact opposite trajectory. His life wasn't perfect before he became Robin, but like...multi-millionaire/billionaire (canon is unclear, but he's within Gotham's upper-strata) kid with both natural intelligence + charisma and a bright future ahead of him and parents who were emotionally neglectful but nothing really beyond that (which is also a form of trauma, but all of the info we have indicates that the Drakes were no Arthur Brown or David Cain) and he still had other people he could rely on outside of them. He went to boarding school, which could be something horrible OR something amazing depending on your own thoughts/experiences. I grew up having a commute where we'd drive past a really pretty and rich af boarding school that literally everybody in our area DREAMED of going to, so to me the idea of going to boarding school sounds incredible but mileage may vary. Tim seems like the type of kid who would thrive in that though. Based on what we know in canon atm, his pre-robin life was fucking amazing.

And then he starts being the sidekick and working towards becoming Robin. His parents immediately get kidnapped and poison themselves through drinking tainted water; his mom dies and his dad is in a coma. This is not the fault of Robin, but Tim himself muses about the idea that Robin and dead parents are linked: to become Robin completely, you must lose your parents. And with how fate/destiny/canon events can operate in comics universes, maybe he isn't that far off. Once his dad wakes up, their relationship becomes strained as the man grieves the loss of his wife and realizes that his son has been doing vigilantism as a hobby. It is unclear exactly how good of a parent Jack was before the incident, but the results of Tim's involvement with the Robin mantle has definitely made things worse between father and son. Jack will also die within quick succession of 2 of Tim's best friends, his girlfriend, and his other father. He will also effectively lose like 1/2 his loved ones in the fallout of all of that mess including: his older brother, his other friends (both civilian and superhero), and the stepmother with whom he shared what I would argue is his best parent-child relationship (Dana also may have died, but it's left unclear). He has stopped pursuing higher education (the moment he even applied for college he 'died', and it seems he hasn't made another attempt since) and if he wasn’t a major focus of the media before he sure is now. He tries to quit briefly (in fact he initially was planning on quitting once someone more suited came along) and cannot bring himself to do so. Even when he does manage to get away for a while, his superhero life impacts the pre-robin life he is trying to go back to. Leaving is an impossibility, this is all there is for him now. He also isn’t allowed to make mistakes anymore, not when lives hang in the balance. The one who enforces that impossible standard the most (besides Bruce depending on who's writing) is himself. He’s got TRAUMA now and people want to hurt him constantly. He is constantly questioning his own sanity and morality and place in the world. He almost dies like every month. Tim grows colder and less grounded, he is becoming both a better and a worse version of himself at the same time. He’s saving lives in the same few issues as he’s setting up a Saw movie plot for the man who killed his father. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past and the looming figure of his future. His life becomes SO MUCH FUCKING WORSE after he becomes Robin. Some of it is the fault of others, some is the fault of circumstance, and some of it is due to his own actions. But basically all of Tim's worst traumas and life-changing moments are either tied to or caused by Robin. Dick's parents would still be dead, Jason would still be living on the streets, Stephanie would still have Arthur Brown for a father and a lot of other things that deserve their own posts/IDK if they've been retconned, and Damian would still have been raised in the eco-cult where death is a constant. Those are life circumstances that occur without the involvement of Robin, the only one who even needs Bruce involved at all in their series of events is Damian. But Tim? All of what is considered his 'worst' moments occur after he assumes the role.

This idea is what I find the coolest and most fascinating about Tim as a character. Being a hero is usually portrayed as either an outright awesome thing or a righteous duty that one must fulfill or (maybe in a grimmer and/or more grounded story) a sacrifice to your interpersonal relationships/mental health that is made for the greater good. For Tim, being a superhero actively ruined his life (both because of the general circumstances surrounding being a kid vigilante and the choices he made as part of that role). It's never portrayed that way in canon because we need to come out of issues going 'wow being a superhero is so cool! I'm gonna buy the next issue!', but when you just look at Tim's life literally everything really bad that we know of occurred after he became Robin.

#tim drake #batman #batfamily #Red Robin 2009 #Red Robin #idk this is just why I think Tim is a really interesting character. I'm probably not being as articulate as I could be but it's tumblr so #I've had a lot of people say that they think Tim is the most boring robin. And I disagree because I don't think any of them are boring #but it is definitely the hardest to explain what makes Tim interesting to people with only a cursory knowledge #and it doesn't help that a lot of what makes Tim cool relies on his relationships with OTHER characters.#like you can explain why Jason is cool and interesting without even mentioning Batman if you really want to.#with Tim you need a fucking relationship chart and like 11 asterisks whenever anything involving the 'Bruce is dead' era is involved #so I just felt like typing up why I think he can really work as an exploration of somebody who straight up got WORSE after heroing #granted it's never actually stated because DC needs to make money. and tbh the closest we've ever gotten is Red Robin 2009 #which I feel is dubiously canon at best at this rate. was it retconned? did any of it happen in the current universe?

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thebluemoonjune · 27 days

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Home (Richonne One-shot)

Even with Rick's difficulties and trauma, the Grimes family is still going strong after two weeks since Richonne made it back home.

Her life had long been defined by womanhood and motherhood, long before this. Her first was not long for this world, and she had lost her second, but she still had a daughter and son whom she would give and do anything for. She had murdered for them. She battled on their behalf. She could even leave them with a promise to bring their father home. Many things happened and she was on the verge of giving up as well, but heaven had eyes. They were finally back together. As one family. She opened her eyes to discover her hubby still sleeping. He's normally awake before anybody else owing to many bad nights, but he slept better than he has in recent days, forcing a gentle smile on her plump lips. He was so gorgeous while he slept; his steady heart and breaths were enough to make her fall in love with him all over again. After two weeks at home, she had to constantly reassure him that they were safe, that he was doing fine and that they were truly home. They would never recover any of that lost time. Not her year of struggling to recuperate and survive, nor the eight years it utilised to break him. She slid out of bed and put on her bedroom slippers to prepare breakfast before everyone awoke.

In his nightmares, he heard his children's footsteps, laughter, and impromptu singing. He would feel both asleep and awake in his spirit while he experienced the joys of parenting. Then it would be blankness, when he couldn't remember his oldest's face or how he came to terms with the fact that he'd never see his wife or daughter again in this life, let alone see his youngest, but he'd wake. He'd be greeted by his beloved's face, and his children would sometimes be wrapped up in the blankets with them. "Father" is an attribute of a man that comes to life when he is with his kid, and it does so because he adores them, enjoys being with them, and values the connection they share. He was still a father. It was a lengthy dream. One in which his son was dubbed a sacrifice. His son is not a sacrifice. He was his son. He had certain ambitions and goals, but they were cut short. If he were here, he'd see that everything worked out in the end. He would recognise and adore his little brother, and he would realise how much his litter sister had matured. He was his son, and he missed him. He loved his son unconditionally, and there was no price to it. His wife had awakened before him. An unusual occurrence. She must have been preparing breakfast for him and the children. His children. He was still a father. He was still a husband.

...

Placing the plates, knowing it was about time, her family got down. She continued to reflect. Feeling a new person develop within you and raising them to be self-sufficient was both the greatest joy and the greatest challenge. It combined with her previous successes to shape who she is now. Being a parent should be like that—not an extra or an "add-on," but a fundamental topic around which other interests revolve. Now she was pregnant for the third time. Her child, whether a boy or girl, is her child, as are their elder siblings. Her kid had her soul in their heart, and her heart will be theirs forever. Her child is free to live, grow, and love whoever they want, since no regulation can include such a blessed thing. If her child ever needs her help or advice, she will be there for them. She would go through the gates of hell to keep them safe, feeling honoured and grateful for the opportunity. Each child is a precious gift. She was lonely and without any comfort the last time. After all, what comfort could a three-year-old provide a pregnant widow? Her husband missed their son's first step: his initial words. They had lost out on those experiences together, but now they had another chance. Were they both afraid? Yes, but she had everyone she needed with her this time. They'd be okay.

Walking down the stairs, he heard her steady steps. She’ been placing the plates, knowing it was about time, for the family to go down, lost in her thoughts. Her placing her hand on her tummy drew his attention. They were once against expecting. Their child would be born in a few months, ready to seek and receive love, to be part of that lovely protective web of emotions that gives, nurtures, and protects, just like his or her siblings. Once Again. They would once again encourage them to be the greatest versions of themselves, to rewind, to abandon the poisonous cynicism and instead weave the love web that their kid would want. She was the finest mother he'd ever known, the greatest wife, and he aimed to be the ideal husband and father.

“Hey…”

Placing the final plate, she gazed upon her husband’s face. “Hey, baby… Want some eggs?”

“Yeah…” He planted a kiss on her lips, deepening it the first chance he got. The kiss went on for two whole minutes before she managed to break it.

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.” A chuckle escaped his lips before his face grew pensive.

“Rick?”

“I had a dream.”

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping better.”

“I am, darlin’. I am… It was about Carl.”

“Carl?”

Put all unpleasant memories in your left hand and all happy memories in your right. Memories danced on the edge of his thoughts, alternating between cherished times and terrible recollections, walking a fine line between consolation and misery. The world went on, indifferent to the sorrow that enveloped him, like a dark cloud that followed him everywhere, casting a shade on even the okay days. Those were the sentiments he held in the CRM. Then he couldn't recall the faces, which was worse than everything else he'd experienced in that godforsaken place. The weight of loss hung on his shoulders like an unbreakable load. Things were different, however. He was home with his wife and children. He could see his son's face again and had a photo of him his daughter, a little younger than he remembered her when he was taken. The fact that he could see his son's face was incredible. He was at home with his family. It wasn't an awful dream after all.

“He came to say hi.”

“I’m happy for you. Maybe he’ll visit me sometime?”

“Mhmm. Maybe Andre will.”

Her eyes welled and a weary smile came to her lips. “Maybe.” Next thing, Rick wrapped his arms around her and the swayed from side to side, resting his chin atop her head.

“I thought I told you sit, Grimes.”

“I will. For now, I just wanna love on my wife… Our boys, they’re in a better place, watchin’ us, wantin’ us to live life.”

He was, by no means, religious. He grew up a Baptist, and he would go to church every once in a while with Lori and Carl before the new world but his faith had left him long ago, but when it came to their children, he had faith. Faith that they weren't hurting and they were happy. Faith that they would all be together again. Was he hypocritical in his thinking? Yes, he was; regardless, it was how he viewed things.

A pair of heavy footsteps came running. Their children had arrived, ready to start the day. Breakfast consisted of fluffy pancakes, eggs, and berries, all as warm as they would be in the sun, with maple syrup threaded on top. It provided a tranquil sense of comfort, which helped to start the day off well.

“Morning, sleepyheads.”

“Mornin’ Mom! Morning Dad!”

“Morning, Mama! Dad!” Unlike his sister, her son hurried through the morning hug he owed her and rushed to his father’s side. “Oh.”

“Hey, junior.” He beamed, ruffling his son's curly brown hair. How’d you sleep, hmm?”

“I slept great!” Rj proclaimed, pulling the seat next to his father.

“What ‘bout you, Judy? Sleep alright?”

“Kinda.”

“She was doing homework till 10:30.” Michonne poured the three orange juices. “I think they are giving her too much work. I don’t like that they skipped RJ either.”

“I argue about Judith, but skipping grades just means our boy takes after you.”

“Two whole grades? He’s eight, Rick.”

“And he’s brilliant and I’m proud of him.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “I’m just happy they’re living normal lives.”

“I’ll talk to Judith’s teacher.”

“I go with you.” Rick gave her a deep grin, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Four eggs for breakfast, fried in a brushing of olive oil, lightly salted... so perfect. Just the way I like ‘em.”

“So perfect, Mama,” RJ said, obviously following his dad, earning a warm smile from both his parents.

“I’m glad you and your daddy like it, baby…” Michonne placed a bowl of freshly cut tomatoes at the centre of the table and her two special men reached for some. “Judy? Since school is finishing early, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I promised Gracey I’d help her with her assignment.” Reading the disappointment on her parents' faces, she added, “I can’t tell her I can’t.”

"No, sweety, we’ll manage. But you keep your weekend free, okay?”

“Deal!”

“RJ?”

“Mhm?”

“Daddy is taking you out after school. Just the two of you. Behave.”

“I always behave.”

“Yeah, right.” Judith rolled her eyes

“I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Alright, alright… Eat up or you two will be late.” He simply stared at his his then his wife. The joy was apparent.

...

“Once upon a time, there were two children, one boy and one girl. Their parents loved them like a thousand suns, and they grew up to be clever and carin’. The father joined ‘em in the kitchen and danced to insane music; the sillier, the better. He followed ‘em with fingers that could transform them into monsters with a single twitch. The mother encircled ‘em with affection and defended ‘em like no other lioness…”

He smiled softly as he saw his junior yawn. Trying to persuade RJ to sleep in it is like separating an octopus from its prey. There might have been some anger rising in him—frustration—but he had missed too much of his son's life to harbour such feelings. They were both overly obsessed with one another. Even after three bedtime stories, he wasn't ready to leave his kid. His namesake, who was about to be dethroned as the youngest, was all he could have wished for. RJ begrudgingly closed his wide brown eyes and allowed the realm of dreams to take him. He kissed him good night on his forehead, dragging his feet out the door after taking one last look for the night. The couple opted to announce their new addition to their children later, preferring to focus on connecting and reconnecting right now.

…

Entering the bedroom, he smiled. Rick and Michonne gave each other their full attention as they celebrated Rick's good day of connecting with the children, specifically RJ. The temperature outside had dropped to practically freezing, but inside, they had a raging fire, also known as each other, and were soon pretty cosy. Michonne lay in bed across from Rick, her feet resting in his lap.

"I guess RJ is knocked out?"

"Yep." His shoulders slouched. "He put up a good fight, though."

"Don't feel too sad... You have tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that one. We have time."

Rick let out an anguished sigh and was stimulated by her toes moving over his leg. "We do," he explained, his voice gruff yet calm. "I wish he could stop ageing, if even for a few years."

"Okay, don't get carried away over there," she said, smirking.

Chuckling at her words, he tugged on her feet. "Get over here," he stated, suggestively.

And with an amused smile, she sat on his lap, and as she adjusted, she could feel Rick hard beneath her.

"Hard, huh?"

"I am," He threw one arm around her waist and pulled down the strap of her silk pink nightgown. He squeezed her right breast and kissed the back of her neck.

Michonne felt his desire and rolled her hips, tingling from the sensation of his dick against her pussy. She should have become used to him by now, given their frequent screwing, but they had more than eight years to make up for. Her bodily response was still strong, which seemed strange. But every time he touched her, it was distinctive. Addictive even. She let out a small sigh as his left hand moved south, pushing beyond her panties to touch her slit. He didn't waste any time, which made her happy. She adored how much he loved her. How much he longed for her. She relaxed her body against his and extended her legs, granting his wish to explore. His fingers began to work. He pulled her off and stroked her clit as she vibrated softly on him.

"Rick," she forced out softly, his fingers much overpowering her thoughts till she came.

He inhaled sharply as her breasts crushed against him, and his lips brushed against hers. Rick felt his dick buzzing. He really wanted her. She drew him in for a deeper kiss, holding his hair and inviting him to join her on the bed.

On top of her. He was both kind and passionate towards her. He landed another kiss on her lips before moving down her body, delivering several on her stomach, his dick only becoming harder as he returned to her chest. He enjoyed how well the breasts fit in his palms. Her pregnancy with RJ filled them out considerably more than they were eight years ago. It was the first thing he noticed. He sucked and nibbled her hardened nipples.

He licked and lapped at her erect nipples, smiling as she groaned in return. He admired her figure and enjoyed touring it. He'd missed her silky, creamy, dark brown skin and all of her lovely muscles. "Shit," he muttered into her ear, making both of them snicker. But the lightness immediately faded as he resumed their kiss and the top of his dick got cosy with her entrance. They both murmured silently, anticipating the moment to follow as her clit touched his tip. Their lips got chaotic while he sought to find his way inside, and their moans grew louder as he pressed into her.

"Right, ahhh!" Michonne muttered as he pressed on and began thrusting.

"Ahhh!" She gasped with a gentle moan. Filling her to the brim, pressing along her walls. He was great. It was greater once he started pounding. He rolled his hips methodically and sensually, hitting numerous places simultaneously, kissing her neck and grasping her breasts, captivating her entire body. She experienced an upheaval and was unsure if she ever wanted to get off. If she wasn’t already pregnant, he’d surely knock her up tonight.She could feel the impending climax as his dick worked against her clit with each stroke.

"Darlin', I'm gonna come," he declared, breathing against his wife's throat. He could feel the rhythm in his chest and his vision was a swirl of loveliness before him.

He enjoyed how thick and clinging it was actually. They had become soaked during sex. Michonne seemed aware of her actions, despite her suggestions indicating otherwise. The fashion in which her hips met his.

The couple shared unrivalled chemistry, which resulted in an incredible time between the two like all those years ago. The sort of sex that came with wet, sloppy kisses, strong grunts, nicks and scratches, bites, and chaotic, incoherent curses in moments of deep lust.

Rick felt Michonne's limbs weaken and the feeling of her bathing his dick, similar to how his fingers felt before. The taste of his name on her lips motivated him to finish quickly. The smell of sex filled the air as he grunted and halted his grinding. He rested, his forehead brushing hers, and caressed her belly with tenderness. Their thick lungs were filled with love and lust—even before they came.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rick's smile was so vast that you could scarcely see his eyes, and her flush was like flowering blossoms, conveying the love of her heart. They were so fortunate to be able to look directly into each other's eyes at that silent moment when the rest of the world was placed on hold. She put her palm on his chest and felt the tempo of his heartbeat. They had a wordless feeling of joy. Joy was a vital part of the recipe for life, and when they were happy, their lips curled into matching smiles.

“It’s good to be home.” A soft smile played on his lips.

“It is.”

#michonne grimes #the ones who live #twd towl #rj grimes #judith grimes #carl grimes #richonne fandom #richonne #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne

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lxdymoon0357 · 1 year

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WHEN I SAW THE MSSG I THOUGHT I SENT ONE

ok so like, what if after agriche was burned down, you and dion fled somewhere and he started to show emotion?Like u both have a stable life & r set for the rest of your days but what would that be like seeing him being 'normal'

(bby, caring dion> daddy, sadistic dion || also kinda OOC|| Personal headcanons)

Dion X Reader:

But I don't need the comfort of any lies

✟ You were Dion's friend and you were known well in the family for being cruel, ruthless and being the favourite of Lant even though you weren't his, when they found out you both were dating, Lant wanted to have Dion be the next head because he will have you as his wife.

✟ Except, this didn't happen, as you both began dating, Dion began to grow restless and started to be more emotional and merciful, and later on Roxanne fell in love and ran away with her pet, who happened to be Cassiss Pedelian, from the Blue Pedelian family.

✟ As this happened the family fell, when you and Dion also ran away with some of the largest riches in the family, you both were living out on the outskirts of the empire ion a cottage you owned as a result of making your own money in secret.

✟ Sooner or later, you both also fled the cottage upon hearing of the fall of the Black Agriches, you both worried sick of the only people you both cared about; a few certain servants, who became close to you and Dion.

✟ As you both now near a forest, and a bay, living in a minimalist life, though it had been hard you both were doing pretty well, doing work as bookshop owners and bakers and on occasions as assassins for both of your exceptional skills in killing and hiding.

✟ You both ended up three cats and a weird tiny glass frog Dion became emotionally attached to, whom the cats also got emotionally attached. You often have to look after your four kids now, including Dion, as the glass frog named "Blom" by your beloved husband just calmly sits in his glass container watching you scold your husband and three cats.

✟ Oh Yeah! You both got married, by a few families and couples who lived near you both, whom you both made a companionship with. It was a small wedding with you wearing the prettiest dress you had brought with you and amazing desserts and food made by you, Dion and your neighbours.

✟ I personally headcanon that you both live at a place where it would rain often, and so you and your lovely neighbourly ladies would dance with your husbands/ wives in the rain and often sing songs with them too, while making someone will make food and treats for everyone.

✟ You also near a lake btw! You and Dion often play fight and constantly end up swimming away from each-other in the lake, while your cats look at you both with slight concern, until they see you laughing then they join you!

✟ Moving to your cats, you have a grey cat with green eyes, one white with grey eyes and one black with maroonish almost red eyes, whom you think looks a lot like Dion. The grey cat is named moon, the white one Vanilla and the black one is named bamboo, curtsy of your darling husband....

✟ He surprisingly makes good food and his drinks, shakes or anything like that are god-tier, they're absolutely amazing. You'd often find him in the kitchen super early in the morning making you both breakfast, while your three cats are sitting lapping at the pieces of meat he put for them in tiny ceramic dishes he made himself with the help of one of your old neighbours. He's very proud of them.

✟ But you also find him crying his eyes out as well, every since he left the manor, he's been showing more of his emotions than he ever has, and now you actually know what he feels, he is absolutely crushed at the thought of his mother dead, but he always uses one of the cats as his napkin wiping his nose and eyes on their fur while they squeal out for you, their darling mother.

✟ He also smiles a lot, and it's not his blood-thirsty smile he sued to have in front of his toys, but a heart-warming smile and a genuine smile, you wouldn't be able to see if you both were still at the manor. He misses his mother as she would though be kinda mean, Maria loved him in private, when she would often whisper that she finds him the prettiest.

✟ Oh, yeah! You ended up finding Sierra, Maria, Jeremy, Roxanne and her husband, Cassiss. You both were dancing one morning, when you got a knock on your door, thinking it was one of your neighbours asking for something they ran out of, you opened the door just to find everyone smiling with tears in their eyes, as they ran to hug you while Maria immediately ran to Dion to grab him down in a hug while she kissed his forehead, where once Dion realised what happened started crying and sniffling while hiding in his mother's jacket.

✟ As you had a reunion, Sierra explained how she tracked you down and how she helped Jeremy and Maria escape with her to your cabin you showed to her in case she ever got too overwhelmed and wants to escape everything. They explained who everyone was dead, including Lant, Charlotte, Grizelda and Fonataine and many other family members and servants.

✟ Cassiss's family had taken Roxanne as their daughter\sister-in-law and they both were to get married soon and wanted to invite you and Dion to their wedding. As you Maria, Sierra and Cassis were having a conversation while petting your cats, Dion, Roxanne and Jeremy were bickering about somethings and how Jeremy was dating one of your and Dion's trusted friends who used to be both of your servant.

✟ In the end it turned a bit better than you both expected, especially when he Roxanne and Jeremy formed a connection of siblings and Sierra and Maria moved along with Jeremy and his fiancee moved next door to you and Roxanne moved though a bit far from your house, still closer to you both.

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ashdash2417 · 5 months

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K, y’all. Can we talk about the abandonment issues Uzi may have?

(The info I’m about to share is just my thoughts on all this. I could be right on some parts, and I could be wrong. Again, I’m just sharing what I think based on stuff we’ve seen from the series. Anyways.)

What inspired me to make this was this very moment right here.

“Are you like, gonna leave me?”

You can tell by her voice that she was scared. Scared that the only friend she’s ever had, the only friend that she’s made her whole life was going to leave her, and it certainly didn’t help that N and V got along well with the other students. Doing some activities together, having fun, playing around and stuff.

I think seeing this, this was the starting point of that fear in this episode. (I’m a little certain that in general, this may go back as early as the first episode, but I’ll talk about that in a bit.)

Here’s that fear she shows after investigating a little bit in the cabin, watching her closest friend get along and interacting with her classmates, despite having been a literal killing machine. And to add salt to the wound, he did so in such a short time. Something that she herself has never really accomplished the whole time she’s been in school.

Some jealousy may also be shown because of this, as she was talking to V, who was also doing well interacting with her classmates.

“Just.. so glad you guys fit right in. Suuuper cool.”

As we all know, Uzi certainly isn’t the most popular girl in school (which btw… relatable imo). In fact, Rebecca had said that she was “super unpopular” when she (well, the top half of her anyways, hehe) reunited with a few drones, whom I’m assuming are her friends.

Uzi doesn’t fit in. She’s like an outcast to her classmates. The “freak” of the bunch. She stands out from the rest of them.

“… You freak us out.”

“But mostly bite me!”

(I’m sorry, I wanted to include that second part here, whether it was relevant or not pfbt. Anyways.)

And it’s not just her classmates that practically outcasted her. Hell, her own father left her to be murdered by the same kind of drone that took away his wife (well, technically, the same kind of drone that struck her with nanite acid, leading to him putting her out of her misery, according to himself from the pilot, but anyways). Now, he may have been too terrified to take action and save his own daughter, possibly reliving the trauma of what happened to Nori. He probably couldn’t fathom having to do the same thing he did to his wife to Uzi. But it still does not justify leaving her, his own daughter, for dead. That is a really shitty dad move there, Khan.

(Or I could be overthinking on that part, and Khan could just be a really shitty father, but anyways)

The way Uzi may have taken it, was that he prioritized his precious doors over her. Having put up more doors to keep himself, and everyone else in the bunker, safe from drones like N. She wasn’t important enough to be saved at the moment she needed him most. Her father- the one who’s supposed to have her back, no matter what happened, the one who’s supposed to protect her whenever things go from bad to worse- had left her to be killed by a murder drone. (Possibly, I’m just spitballin here)

Once this happened, Uzi now has no one she can really trust to stick with her, no one she can rely on for support. She has no friends, barely has family; her father isn’t much like a father to her at all, let’s be honest.

(I would say Thad is the only one she kinda had, but if I remember correctly, they barely knew each other to be considered close friends in the pilot. The only reason Thad knew Uzi (or knew of Uzi) was because she’s Khan’s daughter. That was it.)

(Another thing I wanna add is how neglectful as a father Khan has been, even before the pilot. Hell, the posters that we see can speak volumes of how their relationship is. Not to mention he’s never really spent much (if any) quality time with her, too busy focusing on his obsession with doors.)

(One more thing to add: remember when Uzi told Thad one of the reasons she made her sick as hell railgun was to earn her father’s respect? …That’s just another point I wanna make about the infamous Doorman and how well he’s raised his daughter.) :)

So yeah, Uzi never really had anyone close to her in her life, meaning that she didn’t have anyone to trust, either.

Until this goober shows up.

(Or more like, he was about to kill her until she blew his head off, but that’s not the point.)

Of course, we all know they didn’t become best friends right away. Because he’s a disassembly drone, and she’s a worker drone, and… yeah.

If it wasn’t for Khan backing away from the fight and closing the door on Uzi, Uzi probably would’ve been dead right then and there. N probably would’ve killed her and everyone else without much of a second thought. However!

Considering how he told Uzi about V and J, he didn’t have the best relationship with either of them. (his crush on V seemed one-sided, at least in that flashback where V’s character was introduced? And J just straight up insulting him while stepping on him, and talking about how she’d kill him if she were allowed to.) He didn’t seem to have anyone to consider a friend either, at least mutually. For the longest time, it was just N, V, and J, doing their jobs, working together on killing the worker drones and such.

Then, what Uzi said to him about how the company treats the drones had created some doubts. N never questioned JCJenson and their motives until Uzi came along. And because of that, he almost died via a virus put in by J.

Then, after Uzi saves him from dying, and after they both stop V and J from killing the worker drones, N still stood by her side. N has never given her a reason not to trust him after that. He’s been with her the whole time after Uzi banished herself, and he’s never left her like the other drones have.

I’m thinking, after Uzi had banished herself from the colony, N could have left her on her own, he could’ve refused to let her go with him and V back to the landing pod, but he didn’t. (Not only because Uzi had encouraged him to look at the bigger picture, so to speak, but it also would’ve been out of character for N of all people (or robots in this case lol) to just deny her of joining the squad. He’s such a goddamn softy, let’s be real here.)

(Also, I wanna point out that from N’s perspective, she was the one who encouraged him to become an “angsty, rebellious disassembly drone” in the first place. If it wasn’t for her, he would never even question why they’re killing worker drones to begin with (other than to consume the oil for survival, of course). If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be out murdering. She was the one who respected him more than V or J ever did combined. (Well, in V’s case, this would be after her memories became messed up anyways. She did seem to like him when they were worker drones themselves.))

So yeah, this whole time, N has been the only one Uzi had ever really had throughout the series. N has been the only one that didn’t treat her like a freak, nor had insulted or threatened her in any way (lookin at you, V!). And most importantly, he was the only one that never left her at all. He stood by her side, he had her back, and she had his, and they stuck together, especially through the scary stuff.

So going back to episode 4, that was the first time since they’ve met that they were really separated. And the one time they weren’t with each other, Uzi had taken her solver form for the first time, and had killed her own classmates as a result.

Had N been with her while she was investigating stuff, chances of Uzi taking her solver form happening probably would’ve been really low.

Hell, this whole thing probably happened because she was alone, because nobody was with her, and she didn’t want to be left alone again, and she was scared that she was going to be left alone again after seeing N interact with the other students!

TLDR: Uzi probably has abandonment issues, and was scared the only friend she has was going to leave her like everyone else had in her life.

I wanted to make a long rant about this because it’s been on my mind off and on for a while, especially after hearing Uzi’s voice when she asks N if he’s going to leave her (god that really hurts!), and as sucky as I am with words, I wanted to try anyways. Hope y’all enjoyed. 😁😅 (and now to end this on a lil lighter note, here’s an image of a robot huggy)

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justforbooks · 1 month

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Who was Lee Miller?

Why the model-turned-war photographer is finally getting her due

A surrealist with an incisive eye, finding the beauty and absurdity of everyday life. A model who posed for Vogue and sat for Pablo Picasso and Man Ray, but whose fashion career was suddenly cut short. A war photographer who embedded with the US military to chronicle the harrowing events of World War II — and posed defiantly in Hitler’s bathtub on the day of his death.

Lee Miller was an American artist who remade herself many times without straying from the principles that guided her life and career. When she died in 1977, her photographic work had largely been forgotten; her own family was unaware of the scope of her practice, and what she witnessed in the war, until they found her cache of negatives. Now, five decades later, she’s the subject of the Kate Winslet-led biopic “Lee,” which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, as well as a recent monograph of her work and an exhibition at mega-gallery Gagosian in New York, where some of her prints were for sale.

Her son, photographer Antony Penrose — whose father was the British surrealist painter Roland Penrose, whom Miller married in 1947 — has made it his life’s work to bring attention to his mother’s legacy. He co-directs her archive with his daughter, Ami Bouhassane, and has authored multiple books about Miller, including the most recent, “Lee Miller: Photographs.” For the past decade, he’s consulted on “Lee” as it came together, and has finally begun its run in both the United Kingdom and Spain.

“There were movies proposed and very nearly made before,” Penrose said. “This is the one that we’ve been waiting for, because I feel it is a brilliant rendition of Lee’s life, values and personality.”

He still recalls how “bewildering” it was when he and his late wife, Suzanna, found some 60,000 of her negatives and prints in their attic shortly after Miller’s death. She had developed a unique surrealist way of looking at the world, capturing everyday eccentricities that play with the viewer’s perception: a scratched-up door at a jewelry store becomes a small explosion of sparks; tar spilled on the street glistens darkly like some deep-sea or cave-bound creature.

But her range was staggering. Here was Elsa Schiaparelli supine among two cheetah sculptures, and Marlene Dietrich posing in dramatic sun in the designer’s ruched house coat. Here was a crowd of people spitting on four women, their heads shaved, as they went to trial for accusations of associating with Nazis. Here were the bodies of concentration camp victims in Dachau, and the liberated prisoners standing over a pile of human bones.

“None of us — and that includes my father — knew the scope of Lee’s work, particularly her war work,” Penrose said of his mother. “She deliberately didn’t tell him what was going on, because she didn’t want him to be worried.”

After the war, Miller struggled with depression and alcohol dependency, decades before post-traumatic stress disorder — and its symptoms — was officially recognized. When the occasional curator or art historian would turn up to better understand the depth of her work, Penrose said Miller would deflect the focus and downplay her career. It’s only been through her archive that he was able to understand the life she lived.

“It was a voyage of discovery,” Penrose added. “It was like finding a person that we had not known before — way beyond our kind of understanding and knowledge.”

Reinventing herself

For many years, Miller was remembered primarily for her modeling work in New York and with the reductive label of “muse” during her time in Paris. She sat for Pablo Picasso as he painted her in lurid yellow and green, illustrating her “extraordinary wit and liveliness… and a very bold, confrontational approach to life,” according to Jason Ysenburg, a director at Gagosian and co-curator of the gallery’s show “Lee Miller and Friends”.

She was also often remembered — but not credited — for her portrait collaborations with Man Ray, with whom she was romantically involved and remained friends throughout her life.

“Those images of Lee were as much by Lee as by Man Ray,” added Richard Calvocoressi, the show’s other co-curator.

Miller has been described by many as a supermodel on the cusp in her early twenties, a period just before she met Man Ray. But she was seemingly blacklisted by fashion clients overnight, after a portrait of her by the photographer Edward Steichen was licensed for a Kotex ad promoting menstrual products.

“She absolutely came to a crash stop. Nobody wanted the Kotex girl modeling their frocks,” Penrose said. “She didn’t even know that the photograph was going to be used for that purpose — it was bought through an agency.”

Though Miller used the setback as a sign to shift her practice, sexist social structures continued to shape her career. Art historians and curators of the 20th century relegated female surrealists — many of whom appear in Miller’s images, like the painter Leonora Carrington and the photographer Dora Maar — to the sidelines of the movement when they were, in actuality, crucial figures; Penrose recalls that his own father referred to them more as “muses” than artists in their own right, despite their prolific outputs.

But despite the imbalances within their group, Miller’s time with her friends ahead of World War II was seemingly idyllic. She’d left Paris in 1932 for New York when her relationship with Man Ray ended, and then unexpectedly married Egyptian businessman Aziz Eloui Bey and moved to Cairo. When she spent the summer of 1937 back in Paris and met Roland, it sparked a two-year affair (and series of love letters when they were apart), that eventually resulted in the dissolution of her marriage.

Some of Miller’s emblematic images of the period show their vacations across the south of France from beach outings with Roland, Picasso and Maar and the model Ady Fidelin, to a picnic that has drawn comparisons to Édouard Manet’s famed painting “Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe” as a topless Fidelin is pictured alongside Man Ray, the poet Paul Éluard and artist Nusch Éluard.

But as Ysenburg points out, the tumult of the era had already begun — Nazism brewed in Germany and the Spanish Civil War broke out, prompting Picasso’s monumental and career-defining work “Guernica” which was painted the same year Miller returned to Paris.

“It was a community that in the sense that they were friends and lovers,” Ysenburg explained. “It seemed a very carefree time for them in a world that was changing very quickly.”

She saw ‘what we’re missing’

Many artists fled Europe in the 1940s, and Miller could have gone back to New York to safety, Penrose said. But she’d settled down with Roland in London and refused to leave, instead becoming a photojournalist for British Vogue, documenting women who were contributing to the war efforts, and taking both fashion and street images during the Blitz.

Later, she was accredited as an official correspondent with the US armed forces — one of just four such female photographers. During this period, in Normandy and in Munich she worked closely with the Life photojournalist David E. Scherman. Together, they entered Hitler’s apartment with soldiers on April 30, 1945, the same day that Hitler shot himself in his bunker in Berlin. Just that morning, Miller and Scherman had taken photographs in Dachau; Miller tracked mud from the concentration camp all over the apartment’s floor before stripping down to pose in the bathtub. She took the same photo of Scherman, who was Jewish, as well.

“Those boots carried her that morning around the concentration camp, and now she’s grinding the filth of that place into Hitler’s nice clean bathroom,” Penrose said. “They prove that she’s not there as a guest in his house. She’s a victor.”

Even as Miller faced the harrowing effects of the war across Europe — sights that would take a toll on her in its aftermath — she still maintained her keen artist’s eye. After all, she believed there was nothing “more surrealist, more mad, more nightmarish” than the war, according to Calvocoressi.

“Even in the most dangerous and demanding circumstances, she’s still looking out for weird, quirky images,” Penrose said. “I find that that so endearing — the hallmark of her artistry is just to see what we’re missing.”

Miller took her last assignment for Vogue in the early 1950s, as Penrose notes that she could no longer meet deadlines because of her declining mental health. But she didn’t stop photographing, taking some 1,000 photographs of Picasso as Roland worked on his biography, which published in 1958.

Penrose said that throughout the course of her career, she was always “looking for the metaphor” in her surroundings. Of the many poetic moments she captured, one took place in front of the Vienna Opera House in Austria’s capital in late 1945 amid the lingering destruction of war. Framed by twisted metal support beams and rubble, the soprano Irmgard Seefried is photographed singing an aria from the Italian opera “Madame Butterfly,” in what Penrose believes to be an image set up by Miller — who captured her with arms outstretched, completely in silhouette.

“In a way, it’s a reversal, because you would have expected the singer to be beautifully lit from all kinds of sources.” Penrose explained.

“Gone is the costume. gone is any kind of glamorization… what we have is this absolute passion, about the triumph of art over destruction.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Lee Miller #Portrait

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saphirafoxgirlspost1 · 1 year

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Open Rp

Long time ago, Saphira just got pregnant with her Husband name "Daniel Eric Cartman" Whom She and him got married for 6 years and She was over the Moon that She's going to have a baby But For Daniel, he was a bit excited which made Saphira very Suspicious...Daniel's family is very wealthy and very kind, they've been working under Saphira's Father's Company..She told his parents and hers about her Pregnancy. Cartmans parents is so happy and thrilled about it...but During the 6 months of her Pregnancy, Daniel Didn't even Lift a Finger to help Poor Saphira on her house work and Cooking as well...She was Furious about it...But not only that, he was acting Like a jerk and Ignored Saphira alot..including leaving her home...until on her 6th months..She came home, her stress is horriblly High...but when she opens the Door...She saw Him and His Mistress in bed making love and she gasp and she screams." DANIEL ERIC CARTMAN!!!!" When he was shocked as he got caught by saph...but then saphira's stress went really high got to the point that she blacked out...her shock made her lost her baby....Then Suddenly Woke up from the Hospital...Saphira asked what happen to her baby...Lets just say the Doctor told her that the baby died from her shock...Her eyes is widen..his parents came in and heard the news...She was crying alot..and then..Daniel showed up with his mistress...and he began to try to explain.

Daniel:"Saph..this isn't what it looks like, Please I'-"

*SMACK*...

Daniel:*Holds his cheeks * S-s-saph?

Saph: *coldly* you....You CUCKER!! You cuck me with that Harlot!!! No thanks to you and your Harlot! "My" baby is gone!"

Mr. Cartman: " Son! Is this true!? Did you Cheated On your Good Wife With this Piece Of trash!?"

Daniel: "Oh come on! Its just a Fling! I tried to have a fun time instead of staying with this Nagging Wife!"

Then His father Punched Him right into the balls and He said,

Mr.Cartman: "Watch your Damn Mouth Boy! This "Nagging" wife is a Good Woman For you! and I heard alot of things of what you Did! You didn't even Help your Poor Precious Once-pregnant Wife!? Are you Serious!? She "Was" carrying YOUR Baby in the First place And this is How you treated her!? The reason why you Married Saphira because Our Company is on the verge Of Bankrupcy! and No thanks to you! We Will be Bankrupt!"

Saphira:" Not quite Sir,...My father knew it wasn't your fault...I told him everything..Except the cheating now..."

Daniel:"Saph..please...I'm sorry,, i'll be a better husband, so please don't divorce me! I can do better ju-"

*SMACK*

Saph:*Slapped daniel with a Divorce paper*..I...want a Divorce..and it's too late, I've had it..you've Drive me crazy to the Point and I can't stand you anymore!...I want you out of my life..and you and that harlot will pay compensation and Never showed your face again! and you'll be publicly humiliated By being "Belted" by your father! And I'm going to make sure you'll never Show your face in this Town again!"

3 Weeks later after being Discharged and the Divorce was finalized, The Cartmans Family Moved out along With daniel and His Side piece, Rumor has it that he and his Mistress was Forced to Work under his fathers Company to pay Compensation every day for the rest of their sorry ass life...But as For heartbroken saphira...She was crying and Missed her beloved baby...But the Doctor came before she was discharged has offered Saphira another chance to be a Wonderful mother...So the Doctor told saphira that there was two abandoned Newborn Neko twins, One boy and one girl who was abandoned by their parents..So he offered if she can take them home as their own mother...Saphira smiles and Accepted the offer...She wrote her paperwork and Finally Adopt her beautiful two New born baby Nekos, She was in tears and smiles with her New babies in her arms...and then 4 weeks later..She saw a new Neighbor, She hears he's a Nice handsome Fellow and all....She decided to Make a welcoming gift and She told Siren( her maid) to babysit the twins as she began to make a welcoming basket of treats and all..She comes to his home and began to knocking on the Door and she smiles..She got excited and she said" hello, I'm your next Door neighbor. I Notice that You've Just got moved here so I made you a welcoming baskets of treats." Then She hears the Door opens and Then...

#Open rp #Romance #Drama #Spring #Single mother and the Bachelor

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michelle-is-writing · 1 year

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Stepping Stones, Spencer Reid

This was a request, and it’s a bit different from what I usually write. The request included flashbacks, and I don’t write them in many of my fics, so I hope they don’t sound too bad.

Word Count: 1.3k~

It’s funny how one room in a house can change so much over the span of two years. What was once grey walls are now painted a light blue, and the area once covered with stacks of books now holds various stuffed animals and baby toys. The desk was probably the hardest to move, but the crib wasn’t much better. Not to mention the best change in the whole house was the new presence of a baby boy - mine and Spencer’s baby boy.

After my brother died, it felt like nothing could bring me happiness. Spencer tried and tried, but even his smiling face seemingly couldn’t bring me out of my funk. Although, his hard work did end up helping me, albeit slowly. Thankfully, Spencer understood where I was coming from, and he always assured me that it was okay when I felt bad about not sharing his happy moments with him.

It was only after Scratch’s death that I could feel the warmth that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. Of course, I was on morphine at the same time as I didn’t come out unscathed when it came to catching Scratch. He managed to get one bullet in me before falling to his death and making me fall back onto the roof of the building with a bullet lodged in my shoulder. I don’t remember much from those moments of terror, but I do remember Spencer’s face appearing above mine with nothing but fear written all over it. What would you do if your wife was bleeding out on a rooftop?

When I woke up in the hospital the next day, a lot of things ran through my head. First was the realization that Prentiss was alive and safe, and the second was that the man who killed my brother was now dead, to which I ended up sobbing in my hospital bed. Spencer, whom I hadn’t even noticed in the corner of the room, immediately rushed over and tried to make sure I was okay, and to his delight, I was. We were both alright after so long of a hell we had to face.

Steven’s funeral was the next step I had to take, and even though I didn’t like the idea of arriving at my older brother’s funeral with a cast and bruises adorning my face, I went. I wouldn’t say it felt good to say goodbye to him, but it was a relief to see him in a more peaceful manner than when I first saw him deceased. When that happened, it ended with me screaming and sobbing while Luke held me back from running to his body in the SUV. I didn’t know what else to do in that situation. I felt numb; it was as if I was losing my mind at the sight of Steven with a broken neck.

Fortunately, I got to see Monica there, and eventually, I got to talk to her as well. I felt the self-guilt gnawing away at my stomach, and even though I didn’t say anything that showed it, Monica knew. Instead of saying words she knew I wouldn’t believe, she pulled me close and held me as we both quietly wept. My sister-in-law and I always had a close relationship like that, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

~~~

“Your auntie Monica has always loved your mommy,” I whisper to the baby boy in my arms as he stares up at me with eyes to mirror his father’s own chocolate orbs. “She used to come over when she was dating your uncle and always spend a few minutes with me to help me feel counted,” I add, “When your daddy and I got married, she helped out a lot. She was mommy’s bridesmaid, and both she and your uncle made me and daddy feel so loved.”

~~~

Two months before Steven’s death was mine and Spencer’s wedding. In retrospect, I couldn’t be more thankful that we chose the date we did as my brother got to not only witness one of the happiest days of my life but he got to walk me down the aisle as well. Not to mention he got to hand me off to a man whom I not only loved, but a man that Stephen and Monica knew would treat me right. Spencer and I had been dating for two years, and we both knew that neither of us ever wanted to be with anybody else. In my heart, I knew I didn’t want to go through any more of life’s moments without him by my side permanently, and at the altar, Spencer confessed the same thing. We wanted everything together, the bad and the good.

~~~

“And so, that’s where you come into the picture, Henry Stephen Reid,” I murmur, smiling as the restless baby starts to close his eyes. As he’s gotten older and hit the six month mark, it’s easier to put him down for a nap, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

~~~

Barely a year had passed after Stephen’s death when I found out I was pregnant. Both Spencer and I were ecstatic, along with the rest of the BAU when we discovered the news. I don’t think anyone stopped smiling for the entire nine months I was pregnant. The person I had the hardest time telling my pregnancy to was my sister-in-law, Monica. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t want to take her away from mourning Stephen or if I was scared of how she would react. Although, I think a majority of my problem was the heartbreaking irony that presented itself to me in this situation: when life was taken away from me, it was given back in another way.

Spencer and I had been married for a year then, and in all honesty, the thought of pregnancy wasn’t a priority. It wasn’t something we were too concerned about - if it happened, it happened, but we would be happy. The only problem was that after a year without protection, we still had no baby to show. Sadly, we both realized the possibility that maybe we weren’t meant to be parents. Now that I think about it, it was kind of ridiculous that we even thought to give up after only a single year.

~~~

“Is he down for the afternoon?” Spencer asks as I walk out into the kitchen, baby-free. Well, kind of.

“Yes, he is,” I murmur, walking up next to Spencer at the counter where he flips through one of my cookbooks. “Did you find something for us to have for dinner?” I ask, looking up at his concentrated face. I could stare at his face all day, and not have a single worry.

Turning toward me with a smile, Spencer wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me to him, kissing the side of my head. “Do you think the littlest one would like stuffed shells tonight?” He asks, one hand moving to caress my non-existent bump.

“Spence,” I say his name with a small laugh, reaching up to hold his face. Still my biggest advocate in life, Spencer smiles down at me, his happiness somehow connected to my own. “I’m only ten weeks along; I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I point out, Spencer’s hold on me never faltering. Despite all of the things we've been through together, the good or bad, we’re still there for each other and always will be.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #bau #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Made for Him I

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: I’m still very sick. I dug this out of my WiPs because I desperately wanna power through it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creator

On July 8th, 1822, Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned just off the coast of Livorno. His wife was famous for the resurrection of the fictional monster and the misguided doctor for whom her penultimate novel was named. Peter cradled the very one in his hand, the spine bent and the pages well worn by his habitual delve into the horror of Victor Frankenstein.

His readings were studious and almost religious in nature as he worshipped the pages alongside the library of textbooks, theses, and medical reports that lined the shelves of his office.

The foamy waters flowed in and wetted the sand around his toes as he sat close in the folding chair he brought out daily to bask in the hot Italian sun. Sometimes he let the book rest in his lap as he closed his eyes to the sun and wondered if it was near that very point that Mary’s husband met his tragic fate. If he lounged on the very sands he was said to have met his rumoured lover and another poet. The fantasy carried Peter away for a time only to send him crashing back down.

One year to the day he left New York and he was growing impatient. He’d waited long enough as his trust only matured on the day he got his final degree, the one with the three vaunted letters below the golden crest. The only remnant of his former mentor, the man who showed him that life could grow in a lab, though he had only ever rendered it in metal and code.

Peter wanted more than the cold armour and robotic voices, he could take Stark’s legacy and give it true life. He knew he could.

More than creation, he wanted love. He wanted a stalwart he could depend on, not the flaky girl he met in high school who broke his heart. He wanted to take the fiction in his grasp and turn it into fact. He wanted the world to know that he was more than Tony Stark’s pity project, he was a reckoning.

He stood and folded up the chair, carrying it by the cloth handle as he kept the book open and walked blindly across the uneven sand. He was at his favourite part, where the monster hid in the barn and the inherent spark of kindness drove him to complete the chores of the overwrought family.

Then there came the reality of a harsh and unloving world, one he swore to never let touch his creation. He would only give them love, give them the perfect life he longed to have. The one he could live, just not alone.

The stone steps led up to the open terrace of the beach house that looked out onto the hot Mediterranean shore. The place was isolated but lively as the songbirds nested in the trees and the sun was ever shining above. It was the perfect retreat for the retired Avenger. The world didn’t need him anymore, he was dispensable. That kid, Miles, took up the mantle and the world forgot about Peter Parker.

He set the wooden chair down against the wall as he entered through the slatted door and closed the book at last. He passed through the curved archways and entered the airy kitchen, the open windows letting in the balmy Italian breezes.

He poured dark grinds into the drip percolator and waited for the strong espresso to seep through. He took his small cup when there was enough to savour and shifted it over to the island at the center of the space.

He kicked aside the rug and bent to hook his fingers in the indent along the hatch and lifted it with a grunt. He reached for his mug and carefully descended. He sipped as he came to the bottom and flipped on the switch to light up the space.

Everything was laid out in eager preparation. Over a year’s worth of planning resided in his secret space. One wall was lined with the endless texts he poured over between spurts of exhaustion-laced sleep, on the other, a vast array of equipment including beakers, microscopes, surgical tools, a tome secreted from Strange’s panoply of mystic fascinations, and several monitors floating from metal arms drilled into the wall.

At the center of the room was a large metal bed, shining and sterile. All he needed was there, a collection started years before he even considered the Italian retreat. He swore that day when he was through the tears and wrenching heartache of abandonment that he would never be left alone again. Not after his parents, or Tony, or May or MJ. He was ready to give his life away; to give life.

He just needed the proper parts to do so.

🧪

The head was the hardest part.

Not harder to find than the other pieces, each kept preserved in a special compartment to keep them from mortification. He harvested them quickly, his first few attempts at the morgue proving too late. So he frequented the hospitals, hiding in vents and other tight spaces, using those tricks from his days of heroics to go unseen in his diligent but grim work.

He found a few women he didn’t mind but they just weren’t right. He needed eyes that made him feel fuzzy and a smile that made his heart flutter. He came this far and wouldn’t settle for anything but perfection.

He knew the moment he saw her; disguised in a set of scrubs and a surgical mask, his reddish brown hair hidden beneath a cap as he watched her wheeled by. He was there when they called it and the machines went silent. There wasn’t time to linger as the doctor and nurses were called to their next patient.

Peter kept to the back and waited for the rest to disperse to the next code and shut the door. He hopped up and pushed in the ceiling tile, wiggling through to grab the cube hidden within and slipping back down.

She looked peaceful as he opened the case, the cool fog rising from the top as he set it on the tray and rolled it around the bed. She died of an aneurysm, so sudden she didn’t have time to look petrified. It made him sad to think of a life extinguished in the bat of an eye. Even if it was to his benefit.

As he sterilized the saw he pulled from his canvas kit, he figured it was meant to be. She was gone too soon and he was in need of a pretty face. He placed the teeth of the blade to her neck and paused. He couldn’t wait much longer, he had to get it done or it would be another one for the bin.

He began the grizzly deed, careful to slice through as cleanly as possible. The blood leaked out into the white sheets and onto the pillow and as he detached her head completely, it turned to an ocean, spurting violently from her neck. He cradled her head as he slipped it into a plastic bag and sealed it before placing it in the refrigerated case.

He closed it and slung the strap over his chest, lifting his arm to string a web to the open ceiling. He hauled himself into the vent and slid the tile back into place. He began the careful crawl, the final piece of the puzzle jostling on his shoulders.

He would burn his gown, cap and mask when he got out, the iron scent of her blood was starting to make him sick.

🧪

Peter felt the cold even through the thermal layer of his suit. His visor allowed for him to pinpoint his focus on the precise merging of nerve ends and tight stitches of his intent assembly. The laboratory was kept below zero for his work to preserve the parts until he could revive them.

He turned up the heat in his suit to keep from shivering as he feared a single mistake.

After several scans, Peter found the brain to be beyond repair. He was disappointed but he found an easy solution. He was reluctant to throw away the pretty face; the face that had come to colour his dreams. So he found a new brain instead, young and fresh, without a flaw.

He found himself distracted by the long lashes as he fit her open skull with its new motor. If he thought of it as just another suit, it wasn’t as repulsive as blood stained the table and his gloves.

He hunched over and worked at connecting the brain stem, switching out his tools and repositioning to keep from damaging the ridges. It was the most important part of the process and he didn’t want to try again. He couldn’t go through it again. This was it. He knew it by the way he just couldn’t stop seeing that face; in his dreams, in his waking thoughts, and in its case, awaiting rebirth.

He would give her a precious gift but she would give him more. How could she not love her creator? Her saviour.

Peter replaced the top of her skull and forged it back into place, the laser singing a line around her scalp. He had a collection of wigs she could wear until it grew back and he could graft on a new set of follicles if needed. He wanted her to feel as beautiful as he saw her.

Done, he stepped back and admired his work, twelve hours of intent and tedious labour over her. The pieces fit together well and he was hardly disappointed. He didn’t care that the stitches would leave scars like spider webs across her flesh. He thought that made her even more gorgeous. He could hardly keep from trembling in excitement.

He placed the metal band around her brow and the transmitter on her chest. Every nerve, every muscle, every part of her was hardwired with delicate attention. He knew he could bring her back. Victor Frankenstein would blush to see it done right.

Peter went to the computer as the hoop connected to the table scanned every inch of her and showed no error in his assembly. Her neural network looked like a roadmap and her body was still untouched by decay or rigor mortis. It was now or never.

He keyed in the final command and a sudden hum went through the lab. He winced as he felt a force flow through his suit in the frigid room and her body twitched as the transmitter pulsed at her chest and the ring around her head vibrated. He checked the screen as he waited for a response. He dragged his finger over the monitor to increase the power.

“Come on, please,” he begged the universe, “I did it. I know I di--”

The heart rate suddenly jumped from the glowing red zero to an orange forty-three, then sixty, peaking at a blue one hundred, and calming to a steady sixty-seven. The computer began to beep in time with her pulse and her brain turned to a sudden rainbow of activity. He glanced over at her but she remained unmoving.

He felt a squeezing pain in his chest. Did he miss something? Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it would always just be fiction, a fantasy. He would always be alone, always a failure. He came around the desk and went to the table and looked her over.

He touched her chest and felt the beating of her heart beneath the sensors and lifted his fingers below her nose. She was breathing. So why then, wouldn’t she wake up?

#made for him #horror au #au #frankenstein #peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #spider-man #avengers

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kalena-henden · 9 months

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(Pandora's) Box provided sage guides in the form of love interests. As I mentioned previously, Hongjo was able to open the box by saying, "Please, can you come?", out loud while thinking about Jaekyung being there to help her. With all of the questioning he's done both to Hongjo and Shinyu regarding their relationship and the preview next week showing that he's been told about the love spell, I realized he is the guide for their relationship to make themselves ask the hard questions, reflect on what they truly feel and lead them to action towards each other. Jaekyung is there to help her just like she magically asked. After she first opened the box, Jaekyung rejected her love confession, even though we learn later that he does indeed like her but feels he's too cold and odd to be good for her. However, Jaekyung's rejection is the very thing that compels her to cast the first spell to begin her journey towards her fate that is entwined with Shinyu. Even in this, Jaekyung was unknowingly her guide to help her do exactly what she needed to do at the right time.

It may be a cruel fate for a sage guide to be a love interest (almost as cruel as it is to be a Second Male Lead) but people need a reason to care for and meddle in someone else's life. If you're not family, a longtime friend or co-worker, or a wise old person sought out for advice then love interest is most reasonable choice. But I did say sage guides, plural, because there is another one.

Kim Wook (forever Imoogi in our hearts) has unwittingly become a sage guide for Shinyu's parents. With the opening of (Pandora's) box, all hell has broken loose and whatever curse was put on their family is in flux. It appears the curse could be temporarily curbed if you truly fall in love as Shinyu's parents did since his mom was an actress and not the normal choice for a respectable rich wife. They noted at the beginning how his dad and grandfather were bucking the trend in not dying young. It was also interesting how his father met with Nayeon separately to convince her to stay by his son's side despite the fact that he broke up with her. I'm sure this was in an attempt to save his son's life by keeping Shinyu's love by his side to curb the curse. Though he doesn't know Shinyu and Nayeon have never truly loved each other.

Which brings us back to Shinyu's parents' marriage falling apart after the box was opened because their love is entwined with the family curse. It is likely that with Shinyu's mom's love wavering for her husband, his health will start to rapidly decline. His stomach being too upset to go stargazing with his wife might have been the start of it. While their fate is tied to the outcome of whether Shinyu and Hongjo's relationship is able to break the curse, they also have their own things to work through in parallel. And like Hongjo, Shinyu's mom called up her own sage guide to help with her issues in lawyer and potential love interest Kim Wook, whom she's now running into coincidentally as well.

The Villainess Trio. Our villains are now emerging. From the beginning we had the horrible Haum Construction CEO Lee Hyunseo, now back and making shady deals with Onju's corrupt mayor, who is also the father of Nayeon, Shinyu's two-faced, vain girlfriend who's in charge of the latest Onju city project they are all working on. Shinyu left his prestigious law firm to fight corporate corruption, especially against Haum. This will now pit him directly against his girlfriend and her father.

Which bring us to their past lives and the origin of the curse. It's safe to say that the past is repeating itself with a chance to change the outcome in the present since this is clearly a reincarnation story. This means many people from the past are together in the present, including the villains who won the first time around. Nayeon joked that she was a princess in a past life. With her father mayor in the present, it would not be shocking if her father was previously a king and his daughter a princess, desperate to get her way and marry a handsome nobleman, Shinyu in his past life. He wasn't interested in her so she had a shaman put a curse on him, that he needed to fall in love to survive. Only to be thwarted by Shinyu falling in love with a court lady, Hongjo in her past life. So Princess Nayeon had her father's loyal henchman, Haum CEO in his past life, kill Court Lady Hongjo, who died in the arms of her love, Nobleman Shinyu, reaching up to caress his cheek with her bloody hand to comfort him with her final breaths. But after Court Lady Hongjo died, he still refused Princess Nayeon and died young. Unfortunately, the curse didn't just apply to him but included his entire family line. Obviously this a speculation, but I've seen enough reincarnation stories to have a rough notion of how this plays out. Facts are that Shinyu has been dreaming about his past life, saw and chased a vision of Hongjo in a court lady hanbok through the Changdeokgung Palace, and has a comforting bloody hand of one whom he killed haunting him because of his family's death curse. The rest we'll find out soon enough.

#destined with you #kdrama #kalenapost #kalenameta #destinedwithyoumeta

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 5 months

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[excerpt from an upcoming Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic]

🎄Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories🎄

(Indulge me, if you will? Not sure if I'll be able to complete this story by Christmas, let alone the New Year ~ but the need to write this part is strong upon me, while my loves for Stephen and for Story compell me...)

genre: angst, catharsis, healing...and above all, love ❤️

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC); established relationship

word count: 1.2k-ish

...Beverly Strange had been a music teacher before she ever became a farmer's wife. And for most of her life--despite how stony her husband grew over the years, grimly implacable in the face of what he found to be frivolous--she had done her best to fill their household with music. It was no fluke that Stephen developed such a great love for music that his prodigious intellect maintained a mental catalog of music trivia encompassing multiple genres.

Beverly had given private piano lessons as much for fulfillment as for the extra money the family had needed in lean years on the farm. Until the birth of Stephen's younger brother Victor, she had volunteered as Choir Director at the community's small Lutheran church. Stephen could remember spending many an afternoon in the weeks leading up to Christmas and Easter in the choir loft, coloring quietly and humming along while Beverly conducted practice. Once her youngest child, Donna, had been old enough to sit in a church pew under Stephen's supervision (for their father rarely attended weekly services) Beverly had resumed a place in the choir and was often featured as a soloist during the holidays. Stephen had been damn proud watching his mother sing her favorite carol, 'Oh, Holy Night'; how straight she had stood, free of his father's angry shadow, and of how flawlessly (to him, anyway) her notes had risen--in his child's mind he had been sure they had reached Heaven itself.

Most of all, though, he had always been proud to see when some parishioner or another was moved to tears by the purity of her rendition. Decades later, he could easily recall that feeling if he allowed himself to remember, could hear her in his mind--but the pain of Donna's death and the toll it wreaked upon his mother usually precluded him from indulging in such sentimental recall. Beverly's music had fallen mute the day his sister had drowned; she had never sung in church again, nor had Stephen ever heard her sing in their own home in the too short years that followed before her grief prematurely aged her into an early grave.

Stephen himself had adopted a stoic mien in the wake of losing Donna, internalizing the blame he felt for failing to save her, and by extension, their mother. Nearly two decades later, it still hurt too damn much to remember the first--and very rare--people who had loved him unconditionally, as both had been lost to him well before their time. And as his most vibrant memories of them included Christmastimes, he had turned his back on all but the most superficial of holiday celebrations.

He kept his painful thoughts and memories buried deep and had only confessed them to Christine (whom he realized in retrospect was the third soul to have loved him unconditionally) one sloppy, drunken night two months after his accident. She had given him what solace she could, gently urging him to not be so hard on himself, reminding him that both Donna and Beverly would wish for him to seek some healing, and staying with him until he drifted into a dreamless sleep. When she returned to check on him the next day, he had closed himself off again, rejecting her concern as unnecessary. Brushing off the incident as impertinent to his current life and goals.

But now...oh now! A wee bit at a time, Hope--who loved him as unconditionally as his past dear ones--had been chipping away at that wall. Reintroducing Christmas into his life by osmosis, without a hint of pressure for him to embrace the season. As she'd promised four weeks ago, she'd gone about her Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother him. With each little Yuletide advance she had made in the Sanctum, he had found himself relaxing and accepting, smiling in concession, happy to play witness to her happiness in the season.

Christmas was still a week away, and Stephen had begun contemplating what sort of gift he might manage for his own Who-girl. He hoped to find a gift that spoke his heart clearly, but each idea that came to him fell flat soon after he thought it up.

Settled comfortably in his study this evening, he was delving into a freshly discovered manuscript that appeared to have been penned by The Ancient One when she had been apprenticed to Merlin, during his tenure as the Londinium Sanctum Master. Though it should have been a fascinating read, Stephen found himself distracted by the question of what to give Hope--and by the carols she was playing in the living room portion of his quarters. Celtic Woman, he told himself with no effort to recall the facts; released October 2006, peak chart position number one on Billboard for US Worldwide Albums. The trilling of the all female group was pleasant enough, but not at all conducive to the study he was attempting.

Meaning to simply ask Hope to lower the volume so he could concentrate, Stephen removed his reading glasses, leaving them to rest atop the open manuscript and then headed the short way to the main room of his suite. The fragrances of cranberry and evergreen greeted him as he drew near, for she'd made a substantial investment in candles for the season, and they were clearly alight as she wrapped presents. Hope was deep in her element and happy to be so.

The music paused between tracks, and when it resumed, it stopped Stephen in his. The opening strains of 'O, Holy Night' filled the air, and in a heartbeat they landed upon him, sending him back to his youth, well before he had known loss and heartbreak. To those crisp, cold Nebraska evenings when his heart had swelled with love and pride to see his mother sing. Unprepared as he was for those powerful images and sounds to fill his senses, Stephen backed away, his eyes prickling with tears of mixed grief and recollection. Tears he'd put off for far too long in his quest to avoid the pain. And yet he knew that just several feet around the corner was the very soul who had given him the exact comfort, love, and strength he'd needed to complete the dreadful journey he had undertaken to save this Universe from Thanos--and that she'd be only too glad to learn this part of his past and help him find healing.

By some remarkable coincidence, or as if she'd heard his thoughts, Hope's answer came unbidden, her voice blending in as though it had been meant to be a message for his ears alone.

'Sweet hymns of joy, in grateful chorus raise we..., ' she sang as his heart seemed to crack open in bittersweet relief. 'Fall on your knees, O hear the angels voices...' Stephen wrapped his arms across his chest while he wept to remember the love and warmth that had been his in the little church and in every moment spent in his mother's company. How had he made himself ignore such a miraculous gift? Surely the joy of it far outweighed the sorrow. How foolish to have gone so long without allowing himself such comfort.

The carol now drew swiftly to it's close, and still his Hope sang sweetly, following the notes faithfully, unaware that she had reawakened a dormant part of his heart. 'O night,' she crooned, in happy harmony with those recorded singers, 'O night divine!' He swiped his tears away with both his palms, deciding he must tell her this part of his story. His reasons for divorcing Christmas from his life. And that he understood at last that every day of this beautiful season, she'd been patiently showing him that love was stronger than even grief...

[to be completed - once I finish the beginning as well!]

tagging: @aeterna-auroral-avenger @strangelock221b @stewardofningishzida @icytrickster17 @ben-locked @lorelei-lee @mousedetective @darsynia @bakerstreethound @hithertoundreamtof23 @rmoonstoner @mckiwi @doctorstrangeaskblog

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