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thisapplepielife · 1 month

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Written for a @astrangersummer.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Letting himself inside, Eddie looks around, and the house seems empty, even if Steve's car is in the driveway. He pauses, and he's pretty sure he hears the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.

"Hey! Steve?!" Eddie screams, and waits. Nothing.

So, he climbs the staircase, and that's when he hears that the music is coming from the bathroom. He can also hear Steve and Robin talking, arguing, laughing.

When he gets to the doorway, he's very confused.

Very, very confused.

"What exactly is going on here?" Eddie asks, looking back and forth between Steve and Robin, both standing in the bathroom, wearing short shorts, white lotion slathered all over their legs, "And what's that smell?"

Eddie pulls his shirt up over his nose. It smells like some of the chemicals that Wayne sometimes comes home smelling like after a shift at the plant.

It's caustic. Burning his eyes and nose.

Robin wiggles her leg in his direction, "Nair."

"Hold still!" Steve chides her, trying to get her to stop moving without messing up the application.

"Nair," Eddie repeats.

"Nair," Steve confirms.

"And…"

"Who wears short shorts? We wear short shorts! If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!" Robin and Steve both sing-song together, loudly, over the already loud music, waving their arms, legs kicking up together into a kickline, the idea of not moving around, obviously long forgotten.

And, oh. Steve's limber.

Flexible, and Eddie has thoughts he's not supposed to be having right now.

He feels insane as he reaches over and turns the music down, maybe a first, in his whole lifetime. He's not supposed to be the normal one in any situation. This is wrong. So wrong.

Like, he gets it. He watches TV. He knows what Nair is. Sort of. In theory. He definitely knows the commercial jingle. But he doesn't understand why this is happening right now. He thought they were going swimming. Not, whatever this is.

"You're using Nair? Why?" Eddie asks, because it smells like something that shouldn't be used by humans without proper ventilation. Maybe gas masks.

"Robin was curious, so I'm showing her how to do it," Steve says, like that's a normal thing for him to say.

"Okay, sure. Of course. New question, why do you know how to do it?" Eddie asks, as he mourns the loss of Steve's leg hair, that Steve is currently in the process of burning off with that eye-wateringly stinky cream.

"Swim team," Steve says, like that's an explanation. It's not. It's really, really not.

"Swim team," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, for like, all that aerodynamic shit," Steve says, and Eddie can't help it. He smiles.

The kitchen timer dings, loud and shrill, in the small room.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, leaning against the door jam, watching as Steve wipes the cream off of Robin's legs with a washcloth. Then forces her legs into the tub, one at a time, as he rinses them off. And Eddie can't tell if it worked or not, it's not like Robin's legs were all that hairy to begin with, at least not as far as he's ever noticed.

But, Steve. Steve's legs are hairy, just like the rest of him, and Eddie's curious. Morbidly, so.

Robin is running her hand over her legs, and Eddie watches as Steve just stands there, grinning at her.

"See?!" Steve says, excited.

Then she coughs.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Robin declares, and Eddie wishes she'd bring a little in for the rest of them, honestly. This bathroom needs a window, desperately.

After she goes, Eddie looks back at Steve, "What about yours?"

"Takes a little longer, my hair is way more thick and coarse than hers," Steve says.

And, yeah it is.

Eddie doesn't want to admit, even to himself, what he thinks about all that body hair Steve has. But he definitely has thoughts about it. Lots and lots of thoughts.

"I'll do you next," Steve teases.

"The hell you will. I like my leg hair right where it is, Harrington."

"Suit yourself then," Steve says dryly, and he finally starts wiping down his own legs.

And yeah, he's losing hair up to his knee. Well, some of the hair. A little of it. Honestly, it seems very hit and miss as he wipes it away. Most of his leg hair just looks a little melted, singed, curled.

Damaged, not removed.

"Is it not working?" Eddie asks, curious what the plan is here.

"Well, it's not perfect," Steve laughs, and it looks pretty bad, but Steve doesn't seem to care, as he adds onto his thought with a breezy, "Oh well."

"Are you just gonna leave it like that?" Eddie asks. Because, honestly. No.

Steve just shrugs, "I guess I could shave them."

And Eddie is pretty sure his brain short circuits, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is totally against his will, "Can I shave them for you?"

Steve stops, looks at him, then laughs, shrugging his shoulders, "Sure. Okay."

Eddie isn't sure why he asked that, and he feels like his cheeks are on fire. Steve reaches into the medicine cabinet, producing a razor and a can of shaving cream, handing them both to Eddie. Then he plugs the tub, runs some water, and wets his legs with a washcloth, before sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

Oh shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

"You want me to…?" Eddie asks, trailing off, waving his hand holding the shaving cream towards Steve's legs.

"You're the one that asked," Steve says, teasing him.

Eddie swallows, kneeling in front of Steve, squeezing some of the shaving foam onto his palm, and then runs it up Steve's leg, applying it, stopping when he gets to the knee.

Steve pulls up on his shorts, his already very short shorts, making them even more indecent, "Might as well go on up."

Eddie's dick twitches at the idea, but he nods, getting some more shaving cream and rubbing it up onto Steve's thighs.

Then he holds the razor in a slightly shaky hand, "You sure you want me to do this?"

Steve shrugs, "It'll grow back."

Eddie nods. That's not exactly what he was asking, but he grips Steve's foot in his hand, and starts running the razor upwards, gently. Trying to be careful. One stripe in, he leans over and rinses the blade off in the tub, looking back up at Steve's face.

And then keeps shaving, getting everything off his lower legs, before pausing, then just forges ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He puts Steve's heel on his shoulder, giving him access to the underside of his thigh, and he's fully hard in his own shorts now, and he really hopes Steve won't notice. He's sure this isn't supposed to be that. He's not supposed to be getting off on this.

But he is. He really, really is.

He's such a goddamn pervert.

Then he sees it. The hard line of Steve's cock, pressing against his shorts. His tight shorts.

Eddie drops the razor. It clatters to the tile, and he laughs nervously as he reaches to pick it up.

What is he doing? What are they doing right now? It's madness. It's the fumes. They've gone to their heads. They've lost critical brain function, the both of them. That must be it. It's the only explanation.

Robin turns back up in the doorway, and they both turn and look at her. It must look crazy, Eddie between Steve's thighs, his leg hoisted up, covered in shaving cream.

"Oh, ew. No," she says, and disappears just as fast as she'd arrived, slamming the door behind her as she goes.

Steve chuckles, and Eddie gets back to work. Shaving, rinsing. Over and over, until Steve's legs are both bare.

It's weird, but Eddie can't help himself, and he runs his hand up Steve's calf, slow. Exploring.

And Steve moans.

Oh, goddamn.

Eddie suddenly raises up on his knees, sending Steve backwards, off-balance, falling against the toilet tank.

"Am I reading this wrong?" Eddie asks, chest heaving. Both of his hands clutching Steve's wet, smooth thighs.

Steve shakes his head, pupils blown wide, and Eddie runs his hand up, cupping Steve through his short shorts. Leaning forward, pressing against Steve, contorting Steve's body, as Eddie leans close enough to kiss him.

And he does, lips barely brushing, lightly, and it isn't lost on Eddie that he put his hand on Steve's dick before they even kissed.

Steve leans forward, surging into him, kissing back. Hand coming up to press against the back of Eddie's head, pulling him closer.

And Eddie's sure he'll die right here, for real this time.

If not from the lingering toxic fumes, definitely from Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: There are lots of different versions of the Nair "short shorts" commercials, but here's one from the 70s, if you're unfamiliar.

#a stranger summer #week one #prompt: short shorts #stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer

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eywamygoddesswrites · 1 year

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— 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽 — (sully family x fem!sully!reader)

pairing: sully family x fem!omatikaya!sully!reader

tags: mourning, getting therapy

warnings: lowercase intended, implied character death, angst

a/n: characters are aged up! this is inspired by that one tiktok audio and then my curiosity got the better of me and turns out, it was a whole youtube series and i was hooked on it. i've been wanting to make a fic based on that audio for a while but didn't know what characters to use. hope you guys enjoy despite it being angst ㅠㅠ

a/n 2: do you want a longer version of this oneshot? look no further because i will be making a short series based on the youtube series called "LUCIDS" and the masterlist can be found here!

word count: 1.1k

+ gif not mine. ctto.

y/n had been keeping herself busy for the past 3 months. she did everything to keep her mind off of everything. weaving baskets and nets like it was a project to give everyone in the clan, fishing for meals that can have her family full for 5 whole months, collecting and discarding every foraged stuff she could get from her endless walks, riding her ilu further and further beyond the reef just to feel something.

being the oldest of the sully kids was tiring but even being a sister wasn't able to make her feel anything. it was much more numbing than it should be. it made her distant from them.

lo'ak couldn't meet y/n in her eyes. it was like if they looked at each other, the walls they both built would crumble the second their gazes meet. it was like strangers being forced to get to know each other after knowing the horrible crimes they both did.

kiri was very concerned for her older sister. y/n exerts her energy beyond her capacity, does dangerous explorations beyond the reef, and sometimes come back with cuts and bruises, and how she would skip meals to finish all the projects she 'needs' to weave. she was overworking herself and in the 3 months y/n was busy, she had fainted countless times eventually norm and max were called when it kept happening.

tuk missed her big sister so much. she missed collecting pearls by the shore and being carried around while exploring the forest. she was scared at how y/n looked now. from once being a bubbly young adult who was curious and eager to learn something new to a drained-out, almost dead-looking na'vi who would kill people if she saw them looking at her weirdly.

if the three were concerned, imagine how her parents feel. it hurt jake and neytiri to see their oldest overwork herself to distract whatever she was feeling. jake knew how it felt like and he wanted to help his daughter badly. but each time he tried to talk to her, y/n would push him away further and further. she even hissed at him to make her point.

neytiri was angry and concerned. why was her daughter pushing her own mother away when all she wanted to do was help? y/n shouldn't push her away because as her mother, neytiri understands her more than y/n knows, or at least that's what she likes to think.

it was like y/n became a stranger that the sully's just allowed to stay in their home.

when y/n was fishing for dinner, her mind had been wandering elsewhere. her eyes stared down at the net she held as dread slowly filled her mind. it was like her sight was enlarging in front of her until she hears a distorted voice call out her name. "y/n."

she pulled away from her trance, eyes widening as her breathing became slightly erratic. y/n breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth before her attention went to ao'nung, or what looked like ao'nung by the shore.

"hey there! just a quick update. tsireya is still swimming with the ikrans, who were gliding through the mountains on their bellies, then they ate an eye of a seaweed. now, the ilus and tulkans are fighting for some reason." ao'nung said, he was far away from y/n but somehow she heard everything clearly.

"oh… wow…" y/n says, clearly not understanding a single thing from what the metkayina had just said.

"how's your existential crisis coming along?" he asked so nonchalantly.

y/n was bewildered to say the least. this was the longest time she had held a conversation for how many months now.

"uh… fine?" she answered back but it sounded more like a question. "good!" ao'nung exclaimed back before turning around to leave when,

"ao'nung!" y/n immediately called for him, who turned back around to look. "can… can dreams also have memories?" that sounded wrong. "i mean, can you still have dreams even when you're dreaming?"

"oh, y/n. what else are memories if not dreams themselves?" ao'nung replies, not making as much sense as the question she asked.

"what–" "alright then, more soon!" ao'nung cuts her off before running off to eywa knows where.

y/n was left once again with her thoughts. she turns back to the net she was holding, only for it to be gone. this confused her and when she turned back to where the shore was, the next thing she knew, she was sitting on a giant rock.

"do you blame yourself?" the same distorted voice that called out her name earlier asked. distress filled her veins as she looked to where she heard the voice.

y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" she asked. she saw herself, an exact copy of herself wearing human clothes that norm and max wear with a pen and paper held in her hands.

"well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a kind of guilt." her copy said, voice distorting more and more.

y/n's mind was in turmoil. "what situation?" she asked. the same dread she was feeling came into full force. her chest became heavy as it caused her to not breathe well.

her copy had this concerned look but the smallest of a smirk appeared on her lips, the following words leaving the copy's mouth. "the accident."

that's when y/n was transported back to the day neteyam had died.

she was there when he was shot through the chest. she knew the bullet was meant for her but he pushed her away and in turn, the faith of death fell upon him.

while the rest of her family had cried, she didn't. instead, she felt numb and angry. no other emotions filled her body except these two. it had helped her kill some sky people and some avatars when she came back to save kiri with her parents but after that, all y/n felt was numbness.

the heavy routine she placed upon herself became the only thing that made her feel something through the numbness she felt. it wasn't enough but at least it was something.

the same distorted voice came back. "it's very common for people to invent blame or create a causality" then the voice became normal in an abrupt manner, and her surroundings turned to norm's lab where he used his avatar and where they were able to breathe normally. "when in reality, it was completely out of your control." norm's voice was soft as he talked to the young na'vi in front of him, who in turn was staring off through the distance.

the forest where she and neteyam grew up, only for her brother to never come back home.

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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months

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Some headcanons about Mc who suddenly leaves hell without anyone knowing (no notice (?) too, i mean not saying anything about their leaving).

I imagine that the kings have separation anxiety (hohoho love some angst stuff here 😈), but kinda wonder what's gonna happen when MC returned?

I feel allowed, and even encouraged, for some yummy angst~ We will switch order a little this time. And I *may* be a *little* biased, don't mind me.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Leviathan tries to live without you as he did before he met you, but it's not the same. When you finally show up, he wants to hang you. But what if you leave again? No. He won't allow it. From now on, you are under constant surveillance. You're not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone (no, there's no negotiation.) He's lost too much to lose you too.

Beelzebub won't even know you're gone. You would have to literally disappear from under his nose during sex, well, a date too. In such a scenario, he would be furious. You wouldn't come back because he would find you; he has a whole army of clones, a lot of time, willingness and knowledge of the whole world geography. He would even snatch you back from heaven. Afterward, when he had you in his arms, he would think it was quite a lot of fun. But don't do that again.

Mammon has already ordered mourning in Tartaros, a huge site has been built for the construction of your own mausoleum. Have you seen the Taj Mahal? This is a dollhouse in comparison to the plans for your posthumous palace. But you're back, and you're alive! Or at least you're still alive, because Mammon is hugging you so much that nothing is certain. Now that you're back, maybe you want a huge palace to live in? He will do anything you want. Just don't leave, Master. Of course, you can do whatever you want, but... he will do anything to make you *not* want to leave.

Satan

It feels... so quiet here. So alone. His beautiful country shambles in ruin, his strong people lose their heart. He, as a king, must stay strong, but with every soldier bleeding out on the pavement, every devil loosing their limbs, every child losing parents his own will crush slowly. All he wanted to do was to help them. To make their lives easier. To take their pain and bear it himself.

"...prise, Your Majesty?"

Satan lowered the bazooka from his shoulder. His gaze was as empty as the sky beneath them. All the angels disappeared in a powerful explosion.

There was a ray of hope for Gehenna, for him, or rather... have been. But Descendant of Solomon disappeared. He looked for you everywhere. Trashed half of Mammon's palace, tore down Leviathan's ropes, damn it, he even found Beelzebub wandering around the pubs and shook all the information out of him. But nobody knew anything. He almost started a war with other countries and didn't care at all. This helplessness weighed was heavy inside him like a boulder.

"Your Majesty?"

Slowly, day by day, hour after hour, he was losing his strength. His will. Not to fight, but to live. This made him become quieter and angrier. Except for Sitri, all the nobles began to move out of his way. This only fueled his spiral of madness. He didn't sleep at night. Just fight, work and drink. If he didn't keep his mind occupied, the black void would fuel his wrath, and they had had to deal with his outbursts often enough. They were so strong that sometimes the entire castle lost consciousness.

Nothing helped anyway.

He was the king, he couldn't just leave it all behind and die. Even if he wanted to.

"Satan!"

"What."

Satan. His name. Nobody but you called his name here... He looked around frantically, but they were alone. Sitri tried to wake him up, it seems. His henchman looked concerned. It's annoying. So annoying. And he didn't mean Sitri's concern, but his own ridiculous behavior. Was it so obvious that he was worried again? He gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, heading to the hospital to assess the damage.

"Listen to me, won't you? I have significant information."

"If it doesn't concern them, I don't care."

"It does."

Satan stopped in his tracks and wanted to punch him. But this time with a hint of hope.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier!"

He did, but that wasn't the point now.

"They are waiting for you at the hospital. At least freshen up a bit before you…"

But Satan wasn't listening anymore. He ran towards the tents and tore the curtains, looking around like crazy. Only the touch of a hand on his shoulder stopped his hectic search. The voice that came poured into his emptiness, sweet and thick as honey. A familiar, beloved voice.

"It's okay, I'm back. I missed you too."

He couldn't answer, physically he just wasn't able to do it. There was a lump stuck in his throat. Stiff as a rock, he didn't want to turn around. What if this is a dream? A sweet delusion? But someone hugged him from behind, and hugged him tightly. Illusion couldn't do it.

He turned and hugged you, sliding to his knees. Kisses, caresses, love, he wanted to give you everything so that you wouldn't disappear. He needed you. His eyes were dry, but he felt like he was going to melt himself.

"Never do that again." Hoarse voice sounded like a threat, but both of you knew that it was out of love. "Never. Leave. Me. Again."

"I'm sorry." Your heart broke seeing him on his knees. "I won't."

"Promise."

You crouched down and grabbed his chin to finally look into his red eyes. For the first time since you left, hope sparked in them.

"I promise that I will never leave you, and if I do, I will always come back to you."

From now on, he won't let you out of his sight even for a moment. Not after you made him a promise that finally ignited his will to live.

PS. Try to disappear from him for a second, and he will shove Zagan's talisman up your ass.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #skye's little talk #whb mammon #what can i do #it just flashed in my mind #love his depressed ass #I got permission for angst so now suffer~

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daddy-suguru · 1 year

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- ʜᴇ’s ᴀ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ, ʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ;

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 ✑ corruption/virgin kink - true form!Sukuna Ryomen

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs | monster fucking, virgin!collage student!reader (has a vague idea of the parts and that they make babies but not how do), heavy virgin & corruption kink, begging, teaching, rough degrading praise, heavy hints at sukuna's jealousy/possessiveness, oral, needing to prep you for both his cocks, fingering you in front of the mirror, grinding, heavy size kink, sukuna is eight feet tall in his true form, sukuna has two dicks, Sukuna's stomach mouth is hungry for your pussy, extreme manhandling/holding you in the air to fuck you, begging, one slap, sukuna makes out with you a little

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ | 2.4k

Pouting at your screen and huffing, placing it face down and planting your face into the pillow. Only to pick your head back up when you hear,

“What’s all this shit?” Sukuna’s crimson eyes are zeroed in on the valentine's card, candies, and flowers on your desk. As he stands in the doorway of your balcony. The long curtains softly flutter next to him, hiding his half-naked body for moments at a time.

Avoiding the question, “Are you allergic to shirts?" It's hard to take your eyes off Sukuna's tanned thick pecs. When you do it's to ogle his six deeply outlined abs. And the v that vanishes into his pants.

He crosses your bedroom while suggesting, "Maybe I should start being allergic to pants too, let my cocks hang out since I don't wear underwear." Grabbing the bundle of roses by the bottom of the stem to hold them upside down.

Sniffing at them while wrinkling up his nose and furrowing his brows. Before dropping them roughly, making some petals fall off the buds. Sukuna eyes up the boxes of candy, and the card on your desk.

Quickly picking up the flowers, holding them to your chest. "Hey! They are still pretty flowers, I just need to get a vase for them." He rolls his eyes and grabs the card reiterating,

"What is this shit?" Closing the balcony door, and locking it. While sliding the thick, sun-blocking curtain shut. As you throw at him,

"Why does it matter?" Setting the flowers in front of the lamp, on your bedside table. As Sukuna drops the glamor hiding his true body. Causing you to blink a few times letting your eyes adjust to the drastic shift in appearence.

Pressing your thighs together, ignoring the wet, warm pulsing throb growing between your legs. As he grunts, "It's that persistent asshole scent lingering on the card. Pathetic gifts." He glances over at you and the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk. As he slams the card into the trash. Which you can't bring yourself to mourn the loss of.

Sukuna walks up to the edge of your bed. His large shadow falls over where you sit leaning against your large fluffy stuffed bear. And when he stretches out all four of his thick muscular arms. While his stomach's tongue drags along its bottom lip.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight of it. It had to be the cause of whatever effect Sukuna posses, like his glamor. To make humans easier to approach for them to consume.

There is nothing wrong with admiring Sukuna. Something clearly inhuman, yet you hadn't dug into what he is. Figuring you shouldn't annoy him with the questions. Instead, you accepted that he will come around like your orange formerly feral stray cat.

Who you managed to get to warm up to you by using food. And now Mr.Cheese is a cuddly house cat. Only with Sukuna, you don't know what he wants just yet. If he wanted to eat you, he could have done so long ago.

Unless he likes playing with his food. Even so what type of fucking around is he doing with you?

Reaching across the bed, with his top left hand, grabbing your ankle. Yanking you down to the bottom of your bed, which Sukuna replaced the frame of after he broke it. When he sat down on it the first time.

His gaze is intense and unreadable as he snaps, "You're lost in your head. Don't tell me you're thinking about the little shit and his pathetic gifts." Furrowing your brows, and rolling onto your stomach.

Crawling away grumbling, "Doesn't matter." Sukuna loosely grabs your throat. While splaying his fingers on your lower back, pressing you into the bed. He groans,

"I can smell you soaking through your panties. Every time I come over your pussy starts dripping. That's why it matters, you're mine princess." Your pussy quivers at the nickname. As you whine,

"Please Sukuna. I want you, please. Don't get jealous, I'm your princess." You don't know what you're begging for. Only that a persistent frustrating desperate aching need for him is fueling you.

"Do you like that one? Do you want to be my pampered pretty princess? Who is guarded and fucked by her big scary monster?" Slipping his hand underneath your baggy shirt. Massaging your cheeks, as his fingers brush close to your clothed pussy.

Shifting your hips rubbing his fingers on your pussy. Grinding your hips back as Sukuna keeps his hand still. While you whimper out, "Fucked?!" You can't stop moving your hips. The friction is better than anything you've felt from touching yourself.

Bringing up to Sukuna, "I know that a man goes in a woman. And it makes a baby with the two parts touch. Why would you want to-" You stop as Sukuna's laughter gets louder as he drops his hand from your throat.

Your cheeks burn Sukuna flips you onto your back. Fixing you back underneath him while admitting, "You have my cocks rock hard desperately rubbing your pussy on my fingers." Pressing his palm on your pussy. His hand is large enough to cover everything.

Urging you to mimic your earlier actions, "Are you sure you want to stop?" His fingertips are just below your belly button. You couldn't get over the size difference. Especially when you were pressed against him cuddling in close during a scary movie.

Squeezing your legs around his hand while grinding your hips. The tingling pleasure from the friction builds a familiar tension in your gut. Which never seems to break no matter how much you try.

Sukuna's smile stretches into a smirk as he tells you, "We won't be making a crotch goblin. Princess, are you a virgin? Tell me I'm the first one to touch your pussy and I might go a little crazy." Sukuna is caging you in with his top arms, as he holds a fist full of your blanket.

Huffing, "So what of it?" Trying to act more attention than you are. As you keep rubbing your clit on his palm. He snickers,

"Defensive little princess aren't you? There is nothing wrong with how I'm going to be the only one to kiss, touch and fill your dripping pussy up." He pins your hips, keeping you from rubbing your clit on his palm.

"Hmm you don't know properly beg how-to for it just yet. Or even what it is, it seems. There are so many pleasurable depraved things I want to do to you, princess. And I want to hear you beg for every one of them." Your eyes widen as you plead,

"Please Sukuna. Whatever it is about you that is making me so wet. Maybe it's part of the glamor but it stays even while you're gone. And touching myself doesn't help." Slipping his fingers underneath your shorts and panties, ripping them off with ease.

"Wrong, that's all you princess. You're my sexy little monster who needs me to help her cum. Aren't you? " Dragging the tip of his stomach's thick tongue along your lips. The hot wet softness of his tongue has you loudly groaning,

"I'm your sexy little monster fucker. Please I want all of you, please! Fuck don't stop that feels so wonderful. Please. Please. I'll learn whatever you want me to, to keep you going." He flicks his tongue faster. As your moans become incoherent pleas.

Sukuna groans, "Mm you're a natural slut aren't you, good girl, keep begging like that. Telling how good I'm making my pretty little virgin pussy feel." Rubbing your clit faster as the tension builds mind spinningly quick.

Unable to handle the mounting pleasure you jerk your hips away. While whimpering, "Don't stop!" Depriving yourself of the pleasure you're craving. As Sukuna drags you back while crooning,

"So fucking hot that your virgin pussy is too sensitive to handle me. You want it so bad even though you can barely handle it. If that isn't the hottest thing. Your pussy must be as greed as you are." Ripping your shirt and dropping the scraps of your t-shirt onto the floor. Sliding one of his hands up your side, massaging your breasts. While the tongue of his hand flicks your nipple.

The soft suckling of the mouth on his hand, lazily rubbing your nipple. Sending sweet pleasure down into your clit. Stroking the tense coil winding inside your gut, tempting it to finally snap.

Reaching out, dragging your fingers over his hard pecs. Only to dig your nails into his chest. In all the times you rubbed your clit after Sukuna left you've never been this close before.

Rambling to Sukuna, "I have a greedy pussy who needs your monster cocks! Hold me down and make my pussy take it. Please I need you to ruin my pussy! Nng!" This warm slick gushes from your pussy soaking his stomach's tongue.

Sukuna wonders, "I wonder how many times you can cum before you're begging for me to stop. Or if you'll let me fuck you to sleep. I'll clean your body up and put an ice pack between your legs. Since your pussy is going to be sore after this." He pulls his stomach's large tongue away.

He grabs your phone off the bed, and takes a picture of your pleasure-drunk face. With his hand around your throat, posting it without a caption to your insta. Before showing you the picture, ""s pretty princess cum drunk wearing my hand like a collar."

Lost in the hazy high of your first time cumming you can't bring yourself to care about the picture. While Sukuna crouches in front of you, spreading your pussy lips apart to look inside of you. As he expresses,

"Your little pussy is going to look so hot painted white with my cum. Fuck she's spasming, squeezing 'round nothing, aching for me." Sukuna kisses your pussy before he stands up.

Stripping himself of his jeans and underwear. When you beg, "Need more of you, I want you to be my first everything." Sitting up, shifting closer to the edge of your bed. As your clit twitches from the sudden lack of stimulation after such intense attention.

Sukuna says, "I'm going to be your first and only princess. You're all mine princess, and I know you are going to be a good girl and learn how to take care of my cock. Aren't you?"

Dangling your legs off the bed as your eyes go wide. His cocks are at eye level when you're sitting down, glancing up at Sukuna only heightens your sense of how small you are in front of the nine-foot-tall beast that Sukuna is. Without his glamor concealing his form.

Dropping your gaze back down, his top cock is standing up. With its pointed tip, which thickens till it reaches a ridged part. Dragging your fingers tips along bumps along the bottom.

Leaning forward and softly kissing the bottom of his top head. "I'll take care of both your monster cocks with my pussy the best I can." Wrapping your hand around his top one, your fingertips don't touch. And Sukuna groans,

"My cock is already big but with your tiny hand around it, it's massive. Nng Princess, I love how you get wetter when I call you that. Nnng!" He grabs the back of your head, pushing you forward. While nudging his tip against your lips, as you open your mouth.

Instructing you, "Stick your tongue out, focusing on breathing through your nose, and don't let your teeth snag me." While pushing his cock deeper into his mouth. You barely fit his tip into your mouth. He is too thick.

Your eyes widen and tears start to blur your sight. Pulling away, dragging his cock along your stuck-out tongue. If not for the smallest point like a tip he wouldn't be able to fit into your mouth at all.

Grabbing his bottom cock with both hands as he groans, "That's it use both your hands to massage my monster cock princess." The bottom head is rounder, with a mushroom-like head.

Trailing your fingers down the veiny but otherwise smooth cock, till you meet a swelling knot at the base. Quickly thrusting his hips forward as he pushes your head. While fat tears roll down your cheeks as he sneers,

"Crybaby, your barely taking the tip. I guess your mouth is useless. Unless I-" He slips his cock out of your mouth. While grabbing your throat, cutting off any protests you have.

Letting go of Sukuna as he lifts you off the bed, holding you close to his face. Your feet dangle off the ground.

Sukuna leans in roughly bitting your bottom lip before kissing you. Slapping your ass roughly to make you gasp. So he can slip his tongue into your mouth. While he grabs your legs, folding and spreading your legs apart.

The tip of his stomach's thick tongue flicks your clit. Causing you to groan into Sukuna's mouth. As you follow along with how his soft tongue rubs yours.

Sukuna pulls away and reiterates, "Your mouth is too small to do much. Unless I'm trying to break your little neck with my cock my time ruining your little virgin pussy and ass, so no human shit could ever get you off the way I can." Whining at the loss of his tongue flicking your clit.

Begging Sukuna, "Ruin my pussy please teddy bear." You picked up the name since he turned into a cuddle monster during movies. With his massive body, you could easily lay on top of him. As he stretches out and hangs off your bed. Which is easily too small for him.

Turning your body around to face the heart-shaped mirror on your wall. Holding your legs open, displaying your wet pussy. While he tightens his grasp around your throat. A third hand cupping one of your breasts.

The teeth sink in as you try to cry and writhe. His three large hands holding you in place to render you to meer trembles. He moans while spreading your pussy open to get one last look at your virgin pussy he says,

"I'm about to make your dripping, sexy little pussy as fucked up as you are in the head. Am I your cuddly teddy bear, making you feel warm between your legs princess? I wonder what you'll call me after I make you watch yourself get fucked." Pushing one thick finger past your lips. As he loosens his grasp around your throat to hear you moaning.

tagging | @love-me-satoru @kanekisfavoritegf @deputy-videogamer @kimbo-army @killzenin @sillyalo @whatelsecouldgowrong @xxkay15xx @sherlockzss @im-a-killer-queen @watyousayin @stevelacyismyhusband

m.list | 31 days of kink

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryoumen #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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princessbrunette · 5 months

Note

imagine reader didn’t tell john b she was a virgin when they started going out and he takes her virginity unknowingly. after he does she confesses that that was her first time and boy is he mad. he’s all like “what the hell why did you let me do that” he’s just mad he took his poor girls innocence away :(

-🦭

ohhhhh my god this.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

tracing your fingertips along his chest afterwards as you lay with him, the man completely satisfied at your side, warm smile permanently etched onto his face.

“y’wanna know something john b?” you smile, tilting your head up to look at him. his brows jump up a little with interest, still smiling down at you.

“shoot.” his hand drops down to draw shapes on your bare shoulder with his finger.

“that um… what we just did… i haven’t done it before.” you admit shyly. he blinks at you a few times in confusion, smile not faltering.

“like, what… the position?” he sounds more curious than anything, and you clear your throat, dropping your eyes down to your own hand where it’s splayed on his tanned skin.

“no, like… sex. i haven’t done it before ‘til now.” you voice quietly, and when you look back up at him his smile has dropped, drained from his face almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“…what?” he asks, slowly sitting up and you slide off him. your own smile drops too, thinking you were somewhat in trouble. did guys find that gross? was there some unspoken rule you didn’t know?

“y—yeah, john b you were my first time…” you try to reassure him and he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his head in his hands for a moment.

“i really wish you would have told me that, babe.” he chides gently and you shuffle on the spot, tangled in the duvet as you turn a little more to look at him, bringing your knees to your chin in embarrassment.

“i’m… i’m sorry. i didn’t know…” he senses some upset in your tone so he looks up, not wanting to ruin the moment with his own dramatics.

“no, hey it’s…” he sighs, like it pains him. “its fine. i just… why’d you let me do that to you, huh?” he gently nudges your arm with his own as he comes to sit beside you. “i just took your virginity, like it’s nothing. i—i wasn’t even that gentle! did it hurt?” his brow is all creased as he turns his head to look at you.

“you were gentle, i think… it didn’t really hurt, just a bit of a stretch and obviously the feeling was kind of new to me so i had to get used to it… but it was nice. it felt good!” you explain, eyes wide and guilty. he sighs once more out of his nose, cupping your jaw with his hand softly and stroking along it with his thumb, just looking at you for a moment with those big brown puppy dog eyes.

“i just…i would have made it special, if i knew. like, would have taken you out to eat, got you flowers, lit candles or whatever. sex is… a special thing to me.” he mourns and you shrug, offering him a small smile.

“this was still pretty special, john b. i don’t need flowers or candles, i like things the way they are here.”

“…yeah?”

“mhm.”

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

#🦭 anon #john b prompt

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 11 months

Note

Speaking of getting bent over a table by Jason...

"Mine."

Teeth sank into the delicate skin of your breast. Sharp teeth. Not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make you squeal and squirm under him.

"Say it," he taunted. "Say you're mine and I'll-"

Shit

Jason sat up, still sweating and still panting. His face burning.

He'd not had dreams like that since he was 14. He'd thought he was over it. But, apparently not. He got up and tried not to think about the shame cooling on his thigh as he lumbered into the bathroom.

And he tried not to think about you.

He shouldn't think about you like that. It wasn't fair. Even if the beast in his chest decided otherwise. He started the tap and threw his boxers into the hamper with a groan.

The memory of your scent tickled his nose and he rubbed it against the washcloth before he ran it under the warm water. Hoping the scent of detergent and the chemicals would drown it out but it didn't.

Your eyes were barely open. You still needed help to eat. And the last full moon had nearly destroyed any progress you had made. The change and it's violence leaving you in a heap on the floor, unable to answer the call of the hunt. To revel in the freedom of running wild.

Weak and weary, your howl answering his had been feeble and mournful.

He's never seen you in your full glory. Fierce and feral. The way he'd gotten to feel the last two moons. Even in the city. Scaring the scum out of their skin and leaving them cowering. It was satisfying. Men like Jeff. Like the captors who'd caged you. You'd like that.

He cleaned himself up and threw the cloth back into the sink. Snatching a clean pair of boxers off the laundry basket and pulling them on before flopping back down on his bed.

He should not be thinking of you that way. He should not. Not now. Not ever. Whatever they'd tried to tell him about your duty to produce more of your kind. You weren't chattel. Or breeding stock. You were a woman. A kindergarten teacher who missed Rocky Road ice cream and kayaking. You wanted an Irish Wolf Hound and to learn to rock climb.

They'd taken your life away. From you. From all of you. And he needed you to better. He needed to go back to your life.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #werewolf!jason

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hollowtakami · 5 months

Text

THE WORDS YOU GAVE ME

Keigo Takami x GN reader

CONTENT; pure fluff, waking up with my fav birb, pet names (duckie, baby bird, dove), comfort w/ some reverse comfort too.

WORD COUNT; 732

AUTHOR NOTE; im so sorry I’ve been gone so long!! :( life really got in the way and i’ve been unable to write from lack of motivation and stuff. i wrote this little drabble to try and get back into the swing of things, i’m quite proud of it but i’m still a little rusty. i hope you’re all doing well during the run up to the new year! remember to drink water and take care of yourself, you’re so loved <3

Mourning doves cooed out their quiet songs as the sun stretched out into the sky, wrapped in blankets of clouds. Its light slithered under your curtains and ran its warm ray of fingers over your face. You stirred, your face scrunching up as you reluctantly greeted a new day and turned to your side to be met with a comforting, red warmth; the fiery plumage of Keigo’s wings, his primaries spread over the thickness of your duck-feather duvet. You rub your eyes as you feel a hand stroke the hair from your face. Those hands trail down to rub your shoulders, massaging gentle circles of comfort into your skin.

“Morning, dove,” A voice croaks out.

“Good morning,” You reply, opening your heavy eyes to a sleepy Keigo, shirtless with the rising sun highlighting him like a halo through your curtains.

He smiles at the sound of your voice, amber suns pinning as the dark holes of his eyes dilate to twice their size. He stretches his wings out again as he shuffles closer to you, his hand on your shoulder raising to your face again, the pad of his thumb making circles on your cheek.

You feel yourself melt into the warmth of his touch, leaning in slightly. The comfort of the blankets and duvet were one thing, but when Keigo was under them with you, it was like the stars had aligned so perfectly. You knew that if he could, Keigo would align the stars for you, paint a sky full of the stars he knew you loved so much.

“How’d you sleep?” Keigo asked, never taking his eyes off you.

You shrugged, your throat still a little hoarse. You only leaned Keigo’s chest, the heat of his skin setting your cheeks on fire. You couldn’t tell if it was that or the brush of red that bloomed over your face, but Keigo was happy to still have that effect on you, after all this time.

He planted a kiss on the crown of your head, resting his chin. You hummed to yourself happily, half asleep. The two of you laid in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of each other breathing like a lifeline. Keigo ran his hands through your hair and draped a wing over the two of you like a blanket of red plumage - warm and cosy, with his safe, familiar scent.

Your eyes failed you, growing heavy again. You yawned, face scrunching up. Keigo would always laugh and tell you how cute he thought you were, kiss your nose softly and leave you a melting mess to resume whatever he was doing. This time was no different.

“Still tired, baby bird?” Keigo chirped, cupping your face and pecking your nose with a gentle kiss, smiling to himself as your soft blush only grew in intensity. “You’re so adorable.”

However many times he’d kiss you, it always felt like the first time. There was something about the love Keigo gave you that was so familiar yet so fresh. It set your weary heart at ease, it made everything okay.

You look up at him, your eyes like stars as they refracted the morning light. Keigo felt himself melting, choking back a stray chirp that dared to jump up his throat. His plumage fluffed up slightly, the perking of his primaries ruffling the duvet a little. You cupped his face with one hand, using your free hand to haul yourself upwards slightly as you kissed Keigo's nose, your cheek scratching against his stubble slightly as you sank back down into the sheets.

His eyes pinned, the gold of his irises almost completely taken over by black. He nervously smiled, his face redder than his wings. He was the one who gave affection, he was never one to be good at receiving it. The Commission had almost completely trained that out of him, oiling his heart with apathy instead of love. So, you always made sure to remind Keigo that he was loved, that he was worthy of love; after all, he did the same for you.

“I love you, Kei,” you cooed, beaming.

That repressed chirp regurgitated up from Keigo’s throat, a nervous laugh not far behind. You smiled, tracing his jawline with your thumb. Nicknames were the man’s weakness. Call him Kei, and he’ll melt.

Keigo beamed back, shining like a star.

“I love you too, duckie,”

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thatfuckinjester · 2 months

Text

The Countdown

TW: self hate, slef isolation, harmful thoughts, believing that one's gonna die

there's always been a countdown in his head, since he could remember himself, at first phantom thought that it was the countdown until he would get on someone's nerves too much and wouldn't be able to protect himself.

then he got summoned.

phantom was so sure that that's it, he got released from the timeless countdown. until the first sibling told him about the plans to send him back.

the thing about the topside is, time is different, it isn't liquidy, every second counts. and every second did in fact, was counted.

and then it got to 354600 seconds.

or 5760 minutes.

or 96 hours.

just 4 days.

that was when they got back to the ministry, that's when phantom knew that this time, this countdown is final for him.

his room was empty, it only had a bed that he barely had time to sleep in and a half empty closet, the blinds in the window above his bed were wide open, through which orange rays of sunlight came in and he could see the sunset in all its beauty.

phantom hated how much he loved it.

he left his bag next to his already locked shut door and looked at the sunset a bit more. It was so disgustingly beautiful.

he slammed the blinds closed, couldn't bare the sight of the sky anymore.

he sat down on his bed and sighed before he fell on his back and looked at the celling tiredly.

the tour is over. his life topside ended with it.

at least it seemed like papa would give him a few days to mourn the stars he won't see again.

'would they even miss me?' he thought as he sat up on the bed. 'no, of course not. aether will be back soon, why would they need me?' he, or maybe it was just that little voice in his mind, said back.

and he sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to imagine how it would feel like to be nothing again.

his dreams were full of stars, and maybe that's why he missed the bearly heard knock on his door.

or maybe phantom lost himself between the stars.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

when he woke up, panic possessing his every sense, he didn't know what the time was, just the sense of a new day.

and in those last 259,200 seconds,

those last 4,320 minutes,

those last 72 hours,

those last 3 days, it started to drip, like two clouds that the wind had carried towards each other. like blood from nose.

like phantom's own tears.

it's not like he wasn't already panicked about that, phantom remembers how draining it was to be summoned, he knows how horrible it was. he knows that he won't survive being sent back, that it'll kill him.

he has had way too many panic attacks about it, curled into the tiniest, tightest, saddest little ball in his bunk, his tail wrapped around his middle in some sort of self soothing and the blanket swallowing him whole, sobbing onto his fist, the tears staining his face while the pack sat together, doing whatever, either actually not hearing him or pretending not to.

but that was while he was on tour. while the countdown didn't feel that close, didn't really had a set date, just time that always changed. but now... now it was different. now he only has four more days.

the numbers are so vivid in his mind, phantom thinks it's nicer to count in seconds, four days are way too little, in hours the numbers are double-digit, in minutes they're double of that.

but the seconds are much more, even if they ran down faster. it gives some sort of comfort, like it gives him more time.

not like it helps really, he still paincks, especially when he opens his phone.

he hates it, that little stupid device, the light always annoys him, he never really understood how to use it, nobody truly cared to teach him, they didn't want to talk to him face to face, why would they bother to even send a text?

his hands trembling while he held his phone, it could have been just because he's cold, he's always cold lately it already became comforting, or maybe it's the pain in his, well everything, he doesn't really know, or cares enough about it, he's already doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he suffers a bit too.

tapping twice on the screen to light it up, squinting at the too bright light, phantom doesn't even know why he's doing it.

it didn't matter, nothing really matters anymore. nobody cares about him, aether is coming back, he isn't needed. and aurora...

aurora.

maybe it's just stupid, maybe it's just for his own comfort, maybe it was because she asked him to say goodbye, maybe it was for a whole nother reason. maybe.

he still opened her chat, few messages that she sent him, unread for unknown time, the time didn't truly have any more meaning, just those last few days.

'please'

'phantom'

'?'

'be okay'

'you promised.'

he doesn't even know what she's asking, he isn't okay, she knows he doesn't like this stupid phone... maybe she grew tired of him too, maybe she sent them all just to feel better about staying when he can't.

just as he was about to turn it off another message popped up.

'you know how much you mean to us, talk to me? please'

and it all rushed to the front, he typed, regreted it, threw the phone away, his heart beating way too fast, his breathing stuttering until the sob forced itself out of his throat.

phantom cried himself to sleep, not knowing, or caring ,if he actually pressed send to those two words.

it has felt like they were burnt to his skin now, just two simple words that hold way too much weight, just 'i don't'.

he didn't hear the knock that night too, maybe he never will.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

phantom woke up because he couldn't breathe.

all he had left are 172800 seconds,

2880 minutes,

48 hours,

just 2 days.

phantom was on the floor, his head hurts, his chest rising and falling way too fast, legs tangled in his blanket, everything felt upside down.

his face felt dirty, skin itching, hair falling onto his eyes, he could feel his blood in his veins, hear his heartbeat in his ears. maybe he's going crazy, maybe it's just panic that he never truly felt until now, that his time is almost up.

phantom kept laying on the floor.

there's no reason to get up, no reason to even open his eyes, he is doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he opens his eyes or no.

and maybe, if he won't move, won't blink, won't breath he will die before they'll drag him out, before he'll be sent back, just to be a little more productive, papa always was nice to him, he shouldn't waste energy for sending him back if phantom can just... be gone by his own body.

and maybe, if he dies on the topside he will turn into stardust. maybe he will be great if that will be his fate.

so he just lays thete, swallowing any and all sobs that threaten to escape. his heartbeat never actually slowing down, his tears always reappearing, his panic is now engraved in his bones.

this night he doesn't miss the first knock, not the second or the third, one after the other.

he just ignores them, it's just his brain playing tricks on him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

he hasn't slept.

86400 seemed like a big number, but it was just seconds, they pass faster than a blink.

1440 was also a big number, if it wasn't minutes phantom would have felt better with it.

24 wasn't a big number, it was also the age that he died as a human, he didn't like that number at all.

just 1 last day.

phantom's face felt sticky, or maybe he was still crying, he couldn't really tell when he was crying or not anymore.

his legs hurt, like he was walking on shuttered glass, even though he wasn't walking at all.

his hands were shaking, he looked at them, holding them up to his face before letting them fall back to his sides, letting them shake.

phantom doesn't remember much from his time as a human being, and maybe it's better this way, but he wished that human him didn't feel the same way he does on the day he died.

61200 seconds,

1020 minutes,

just 17 hours.

maybe he shouldn't do nothing today, but he couldn't bring himself to get up, his body was aching, it knew that this is it, that's the end, there isn't much time at all.

maybe he should cry some more, sob, yell, he only has 54000 seconds,

900 minutes,

15 hours left.

maybe he should panic, he's going to die, he knows for a fact that he won't survive being sent back, he bearly survived being summoned.

phantom doesn't feel anything, just letting the pain in his body embrace him completely.

the floor was warm beneath him, maybe all of his body heat sipped onto it, he closed his eyes. not sleeping, but not awake. just letting his last seconds, minutes, hours, his last fucking day, slip away from him.

7200 seconds,

120 minutes,

2 hours.

it doesn't feel real.

maybe he's scared, he's pretty sure he let go of all of his feelings though, as a defense mechanism against, well, death.

the seconds ticked by, taking away minutes with them and phantom stood up. slowly, using the wall to support him as his whole body shaked from he doesn't even know or cares to know. his head felt like it was floating before he blinked a few times, clearing his vision a bit.

stumbling out of his room in the dead of night, while everyone else is asleep feels like a crime, something that he'll be punished for, but he's already getting punished for existing so it's okay.

the cold air hit his face like a slap, or maybe getting iced water thrown at him, and suddenly he felt awake, not quite alive but halfway there, he won't allow himself to feel alive so close to his death.

just 3600 seconds,

60 minutes,

one last hour.

he was walking slowly, he knew that, but it was raining and his body, legs especially, were aching and screaming at him to not walk at all, he was scared that he'll fall.

he only had more 3120 seconds, 52 minutes, when he reached the old tree that he saw from his (not his anymore) bedroom window, he doesn't know why he was looking for this tree specifically, there was just something comforting about it.

phantom leaned against the tree, letting his quintessence sip into it until he could feel every branch, every leaf, every one of the tree's roots.

he felt like his body was melting into it before he slowly say down, letting his head lay against the wet tree.

oh, he let out a sad, unaudible, laugh as he realized how little he actually had left.

1320 seconds, 22 minutes.

he doesn't truly knows what's going to happen when the time's up. maybe they're looking for him right now, maybe that's when they'll find him. maybe that's when his body and quintessence will give up on him.

maybe.

he just looks at the stars for now, silent tears falling down his face, a laugh bubbling in his chest, it's not a funny situation but he just wants to laugh at it all.

and as he looks at the stars, he can see the pack's faces in between them, he blinks and they're gone.

and maybe it's okay, he realizes, maybe it's okay if he'll never see the pack again.

if he and aurora will never cross paths again.

if he and swiss won't ever make eye contact again.

if he and dewdrop won't ever look at the same star again.

if he and rain won't ever be in the same room again.

if he and mountain won't ever breath at the same time again.

if he and cumulus won't ever sit at the same table again.

if he and cirrus won't ever look at the same thing again.

if papa won't ever smile at him again.

if he will never meet sunshine, aether and omega.

it's okay if he was never part of the pack, he isn't so sure that he wants to be part of it anymore.

three,

two,

one,

phantom loses himself between the stars.

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aris-ink · 1 year

Note

more ddlg jk please im so obsessed

ily <3

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: manipulation, big corruption kink, dd/lg, hints of size and spit kink, lots of kissing, slight dub con, allusions to con noncon, intoxication, drugs (marijuanna), dirty talk, groping, bondage (ropes), praise, free use kink, loving humiliation (verbal), possessiveness, creampie, aftercare

Coming back from work, Jungkook found your sleepy form curled up on the bed, the nightlight setting a faint glow over the room. He crouched down on the floor and leaned in to kiss you, the affectionate greeting making your eyes flutter open. You tried to blink the drowsiness in them away, but it didn't seem to be quite working, and Jungkook felt his heart melt in his chest.

"Are you okay, princess?"

You breathed out slowly, your answer coming out mellow.

"I feel so weird, daddy."

He examined you with concern, the dull glaze of your eyes the first thing to catch his attention. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat, and he found himself stroking your cheek with his thumb. You looked so small like this; barely holding on to consciousness, gazing into his eyes with all the love and trust your precious heart had to offer. It stirred something in his soul, something primal and sinister, instantly triggering its protective instincts.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He coaxed gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. "Did you eat properly?"

"Dinner," you nodded, sighing, "and some snacks."

Your answer was just as expected, but the innocence of it further provoked that thing in the shadows of his mind, and a pierced eyebrow raised at you cluelessly.

"What snacks? We ran out last night, baby. I got you some on the way home today."

You frowned at that, confusion seeping into your expression.

"No, we... still had some left... they- they were in the shelf... in the kitchen."

"Oh baby..." Jungkook sighed then, and lowered his lips to your forehead. "There's a reason daddy keeps those hidden. You probably shouldn't have touched that."

For a split second, when your eyes raised to meet his, he thought you had realized what happened, what he did, and his heart reacted in tandem with his cock, jumping. But then your small hand moved to reach for him. You couldn't have been cuter if you tried. Even now, seeking his protection, whether it was the drugs muddling your brain; or just love.

Because hidden wasn't exactly the most accurate word here... not since a while, at least, but there was a sadistic need rising up in Jungkook to slip further into his role, murmur reassurances that would have made angels weep for you, had they ever existed and mourned for lost souls.

"It's okay. Just rest, baby... The feeling will pass soon. Just..." he brushed his nose against yours, "close your eyes and let go. Daddy will take care of you. Yeah?"

You followed his instructions flawlessly, letting your eyes fall shut, your body relaxing as he spoke. But your hand still squeezed at his bigger one, like you were nervous that he'd disappear. There didn't really seem to be many coherent thoughts left in that pretty, little head of yours. No wonder the weed hit you hard; it wasn't something you've tried before. You've always rejected any blunts Jungkook offered, trembling and stilling his hands when he whispered all the depraved things he knew would make your cunt leak as he touched you. Now, after the drug has entered your system - and in large amounts, too - you were left so... vulnerable, in every way. Helpless against the warmth flooding your senses, making your nerves tingle as Jungkook climbed on top of you. Helpless against him; his wicked hands soothing you, exploring your waist, their touch your only connection to your earthly existence in the warm, fuzzy haze pulling you under; stripping you off your inhibitions.

"Relax, sweetheart. Just like that."

There was a repressed desire lurking in the softness of his palms sneaking under your shirt. When his lips inched towards yours, something almost innocent laced the action; a soft peck, testing the waters. Too lightheaded to think straight, you let Jungkook do the thinking for you, because that was what daddy was there for, wasn't it? To catch you when you fall. To look after his little girl, kiss her and hold her. And he did just that, throbbing at the whine that slipped past your lips as soon as his touched your neck.

"Sensitive, angel?"

His hands explored your tummy, butterflies erupting while the rough pads of his fingers inched upwards. His voice was as soft as any devil's leading their prey astray, a seduction too great to resist with your guard lowered and brain muddled. Sweet, little thing, so putty in his hands; an adoring kiss warmed your cheek, followed by a sigh, a sound of feigned sympathy. Poor, little baby, so dazed under him; back arching softly when he began to rub your nipple, eliciting a gasp. Good thing daddy knew exactly what you needed. He was going to make it all better, he whispered. Daddy would never hurt you, he promised. And then he slid down your underwear.

He was sure that even with how high you were, his brain was running on the same kind of adrenaline, releasing endorphins, heart beating fast and blood rushing, his kisses sloppy and slow. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you, or rather, like he wanted to pour himself and his love into every nook and crevice of you, body and soul; a suspicion he made far too easy to confirm when he pulled away, dark gaze immediately drawn to the string of saliva connecting you for a second too long. It was enough for his thumb to reach upwards and rub the remains of the wetness into your bottom lip, hypnotized by how swollen and shiny it looked.

There was no other sound in the room besides the mingling of your labored breathing and the soft moans his touches encouraged, igniting a kind of fire within you that, had your mind and heart been sober, would have been considered humiliating. The willingness to be defiled, the trust that this was your caretaker just doing his job. And in a twisted way, he was. Fueling all the forbidden desires and needs you kept locked up, deemed too dark to ever leave the twilight zone of your soul. And once again, whose job was it if not Jungkook's to show his little one that not all dark things were frightful?

Floating, you briefly felt your arms being raised, cool air hitting your skin as he slipped your shirt off. The bed dipped then, and more kisses were lovingly left on your shoulders, the silky heat of his lips lazily trailing up to your neck. Time seemed to be passing by in a blur; you could feel Jungkook trapping your wrists above your head, slight shuffling coming from somewhere beside you.

Another kiss. More shuffling. You were disoriented up to the very moment you registered the fact that the noise stopped, and something was being wrapped around your hands.

No, not wrapped; tied. You whimpered, akin to a little fawn that realized it was ensnared.

Jungkook cooed at you, his lips brushing your collarbone, leaving your skin on fire.

"Such a good girl..."

He made his way down your stomach, presumably to continue to comfort you. Yet his deft fingers landed on your foot, the caress sending your heart jumping to your throat. Because even though it lasted only for a moment, you could hear more rustling, the final kiss landing on your ankle; right before the loving gesture was replaced with the lewd intentions he has had all along. His hands were gentle as they secured the knots, tying both of your ankles to the bed posts; leaving you spread open and defenseless, just the way he wanted.

Even without the restraints, even if your pussy wasn't dripping for him, it wasn't like you would have been able to fight back. Not after the edibles. And in the moment, not many things made sense besides the ache that built up inside you, the smell of Jungkook's skin, invading all your senses and making your thighs start to tremble. But one fact was pretty clear; you were nothing but a toy for him. He wasn't even bothered holding your legs open.

"All good?" He asked sweetly, his arms on either side of your head as he hovered above you again.

Your breath came out uneven, head spinning, but you nodded, lost in the darkness of his eyes staring into yours, giving into its entrancing depths, a bottomless pit that seemed to be asking: There, isn't this so much better? Doesn't it feel good to let daddy make the decisions for you? And he didn't need you to say a word, because your body provided all the answers, keening as you heard him undo his zipper. There was another layer of vulnerability attached to the fact that he was still fully dressed while your skin burned bare underneath him. Another layer of power Jungkook clearly relished in, if the way he twitched against you was anything to go by.

"You're so wet," it was a breathless statement, his eyes threatening to close when his heavy cock finally pressed in between your thighs. "So fucking wet."

Perhaps it was twisted, how lovingly he took advantage of you, degraded you, like you didn't quite belong to yourself; only to him. But your hole was clenching around nothing, trying to suck his cock right in any time he nudged the tip against it. And just like that, all the self control he had exercised so far was beginning to crumble. He could feel himself slipping, the words weighing on his tongue getting harder to hold back.

"So good for me... Just stay like this. Let daddy take care of you."

You moaned weakly, hips trying to seek more friction. Jungkook's cock twitched at that, spurting more precum in between the soft folds of your cunt. You were so divine. His little girl, his property, waiting to be used, craving it. And Jungkook could never deny you. This was all you've ever needed; to be stripped of your identity, no daunting responsibilities, no thoughts. All you had to do was lie there and take his cock like a good girl, your head fuzzy and cunt well fucked.

He rocked into you slowly, pushing an inch forward only to slide out again, the stretch combined with the pressure quickly making your stomach knot up. You didn't realize you were begging until you felt Jungkook's tongue over yours, his lips cutting off your soft whines.

"Fuck," he breathed out weakly, his hips arching into you off their own accord. "Doing so good for daddy." A kiss. "Gonna take care of you." A whisper. "Gonna give you all you need." A dip of his head, soft lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Little miss free use slut."

His tummy clenched at how sharply you inhaled, at the warm pulse beating around his cock as he sank deeper inside you. You were so tight, moaning into his ear, but too out of it to move, too out of it to do anything but feel the thrill of the pleasure he forced into your body. It was intoxicating, how perfect you were, all his to taint and love, his marks so deep no holy water could scrub them off your soul. He groaned, at this point running on pure instinct, fucking you harder as your cunt clenched around him, struggling to accommodate all of his girth and yet aching to be filled up with more. It was too much to handle; the combination of you, the rush of power, and the heavenly heat he was rutting into tipping him dangerously close to the edge.

"Yeah..." His voice came out as a needy, shaky whisper, an inked hand tightening around your breast. "Fuck." His forehead rested against yours, eyes hooded. "Feel good?"

A hiss escaped him when you clenched in response.

"Oh yeah? Little, slutty hole feels good?"

Jungkook's lips were on yours again before you could process it, muffling the loud moan you let out. You were already falling apart, and there were so many ways he wanted to ruin you and leave you shaking for more. All he could focus now on, though, was the vice grip of your wet, abused cunt, and the obscene sounds it made.

"Oh baby, you gonna come? Look what a pretty, little fucktoy I have here. Only good for one thing, hm?"

His hips stuttered at the shiver that ran through you. He gripped your jaw, the mattress protesting under the force of his thrusts. But the noise was nothing compared to the way you cried out for him, your walls spasming around his cock and drawing a loud, desperate moan out of his pretty mouth. Just like that, he followed you right over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside you, and shamelessly fucking it in even deeper. Eyes scrunched, he let his head rest in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"Ohh fuck-" His groan broke into a drawn out, raspy whimper. "Yeees."

He came so hard, white spots dancing behind his eyelids, unwilling to stop grinding until his knees felt weak. He tried to catch his breath, his head swimming. You were limp beneath him, your heart still pounding hard against his. Despite the dreamy exhaustion weighing down his bones, he lifted himself up to check up on you, press tender kisses into your lips.

"Are you okay, baby?"

A nod was all you could manage.

"Such a good girl. You did so well."

His fingers reached to work on untying the knots binding your wrists, his dick twitching at the sight of you before him. The spit still shining on your lips, the glow of your flushed skin, the cum dripping out of your sensitive hole. So blissed out, ruined and pretty. All his. But rather than acting on the shivers of arousal that still haven't died down, flowing through his body, Jungkook focused on sitting you up and getting you to the bathroom.

He sat you in a tub filled with warm water, then discarded his own clothes to join you. The snacks he bought you earlier were placed on a tray, within arm's reach. He held you against his chest, fed you a little. He knew you were tired; you needed rest, you needed time to sober up, because you couldn't keep your eyes opened nor move as he washed you.

He rested his wet cheek on the crown of your head, taking a moment to just feel you close, immerse himself in the warmth.

"Baby," he whispered, his arms tightening around your waist, though he wasn't sure if you were still conscious enough to hear or understand him. "What have you done to me? I love you so much all of my soul is gone."

Gone where? Lost in yours, perhaps, the only heaven that actually mattered.

A moment passed in silence, your breathing soft, until an almost incoherent whisper broke him out of his stupor.

"Love you too, daddy."

Jungkook glanced down at you, a fond smile lighting up his face. It was time to go to bed. Tomorrow, he was off work, and he couldn't wait to spend the day with you. Cooking, kissing, watching movies, then rolling a joint. He had a feeling you wouldn't resist this time; you tended to like the games Jungkook chose. He was good at it. He had to be; that was also a part of his job, wasn't it? Making sure playtime with daddy was fun.

And how could he ever do anything but his best for his little girl?

💌 taglist: @baalsgurl1913 @kooktrash @glowunderthemoon @era-genius @sweetempathprunetree @bucketofhiros @iceprincessviviane @imnotlauriane @silv3rswirls @httpsbts @osakis-gf

#yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader

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deathbecomesthem · 1 month

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Eddie Munson x GN!Reader blurb (wc 790)

Summary: You have a depression induced crying jag. Eddie comforts you. Based on my own experience.

Warnings: This is how my depression feels for me sometimes. It's not a universal thing. I just wanted Eddie to comfort the reader, and meet them where they are.

*Not proofread.

** This is something that was published on a different blog sometime last year. It's going here tonight because I need it.

The wrongness was weighing on you, it had been for the last few days. It’s second nature, hiding behind the jokes. You learned a long time ago how to move through your days while your mind is in its darkest corners. You have the script memorized, your hands do the work that’s required without you making the decision to do it.

So you did. You did and did and did. You accomplished. You ate food. You drank water. You relieved yourself. You even managed the expected small talk with your coworkers. No one noticed that the corner of your smile never quite sat right on your face. And now, as you and Eddie sit on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, you can’t do it anymore.

“Hey, Ed, I’m really tired,” you give his knee a little shake to draw his attention away from whatever show he was watching on the television. A cartoon, you don’t know, you’re not actually here with him at the moment. You make sure to keep your voice light and steady, “I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You give him your smile, and you know it must look wrong, but you hope it’s enough to satisfy him. You kiss his cheek, his lips are downturned missing the warmth of your body next to him. He says something to you, and you just nod and say goodnight, hoping you remembered the correct words, mentally checking your script.

You don’t stop in the kitchen and get a glass of water. You don’t go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. You don’t even stop to take an allergy pill. You float along the carpet with one thought in your mind. So close. You can close the door and finally be alone and let the dark move to the front of your mind in privacy.

You do not put your clothes in the hamper. You let them fall to the ground. You do not put your soft night clothes on. You pad to the bed, climb under the covers, and the dam breaks. Sobs wrack your body, wailing like a child into your pillow to muffle the sound. The soft darkness wraps around you and pulls you deep into a feeling of loss and pain. The release of everything you’ve held onto for the last few days – weeks – years all comes crashing through you in a violent way. It feels like grief, like mourning. A loss of something you can’t quite remember.

It goes on like this. On and on. Snot and tears covering your pillow while you howl. You care less and less about the noise the further you sink into the darkness. The last time you cried like this (wept, really) was years ago. Tears do not come easily for you, and at this moment, you know they won’t stop until you fall asleep – resting in the dark, face puffy and stained.

You don’t hear Eddie come into the room. You don’t feel him get into the bed next to you. You’re gone, lost to anything but feeling the pain and letting it surge through you physically. You do feel the warmth of his arm around your center. Firm and pulling you into him. He doesn’t quiet your wails, he just wraps his arms and legs around your body. His weight grounding you and keeping you from getting lost more than you already are.

Minutes, hours, days, months, years pass in that bed. You weave in and out of consciousness, every time you find yourself in bed with Eddie’s body enveloping you. His mouth pressed against your neck, his warm and steady breath releasing from his nose and into your hair. Sleep finally takes you under when your own breathing matches the rhythm of his lungs. You rest in those strong arms, comforting. They are your home.

In the morning when your alarm rings, Eddie’s arms and legs are still holding you, relaxed with sleep but you still feel held. Your eyes are swollen and it’s difficult to open them. Despite sleeping, your body is more exhausted then before you came into the bedroom last night.

His arms pull you into him as he’s roused, nose back in your neck. “Baby. I’m here.” The choked sob that comes from you is not as hopeless as the grief you felt in the night. Not with his voice, breath, heartbeat, and arms so close to you.

You both stay in bed while you make the phone calls. You’re both sick today and can’t go to work, you tell your bosses. You ate something bad yesterday, maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow. Today, though, you need to rest and Eddie needs to be with you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn #angst #eddie munson fluff

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corinthianism · 5 months

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everything has changed | dean winchester (1)

pairing: dean winchester/f!reader additional tags: reverse isekai, fluff, crack, meet cute, slight angst

summary: once again, dean lands in the reality where he’s just a fictional character played by jensen ackles. it’s annoying the hell out of him and he just wants to go back home, until he doesn’t.

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE NAME

Today was supposed to be a normal day. It was your day off and you were on your way to check out a new shop that had opened downtown. They sold a bunch of fandom merchandise, which wasn’t special or anything, but you were hoping they had a nice keychain that you could clip onto your bag. The paint on your old green lightsaber keychain had flaked off, leaving behind an ugly gray rod of steel instead of Luke Skywalker’s iconic weapon.

The shop wasn’t far; in fact, you could’ve walked it, so you did. It was nice out today, and it was one of the rare opportunities you had to actually get out and get some sun, what with work eating up all of your hours. You’d barely made it a few blocks when you noticed a man lying face-down on the ground, his cheek smushed directly against the hot concrete.

You panicked, not sure if you should rush in and help or run away. Very far away. While you were busy in your own head, the guy in question rolled to his side, revealing a very familiar face.

No fucking way.

“Jensen Ackles?”

Jensen groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, “What’d you say, lady?”

You swallowed and repeated what you said, “You’re Jensen Ackles, right? The actor?”

The man in front of you was no doubt Jensen Ackles, from the green eyes to the freckles that were dusted all over his nose and cheeks. It’d been years since the media last heard about him; him and Jared Padalecki basically shut down Supernatural when they quit out of the blue, after Misha Collins was murdered. Their representatives all said the same thing: that they were just having a hard time mourning their friend and that they needed to take some time away from the limelight.

But neither of them came back or at least, no one had heard from them since. Until now, that is. And for some reason, Jensen was all dressed up as Dean.

“No, I’m… Goddamn,” he winced as he tried to stand up, clutching his side with one hand. When you approached him to help him get up, you saw the crimson liquid that oozed from underneath his clothes and all over his hand. “I’m… I’m fine, lady, don’t worry about it.”

“Jesus Christ!” you staggered back at the sight of blood, the starstruck feeling suddenly replaced by shock. “You are not fine, dude, you need to go to a hospital!”

“No, I don’t,” his voice was gruff, more so than when you heard him in person the last time there was a Supernatural convention. That was years ago, back when you were still in braces and listening to Panic! at the Disco. Now, he sported a somewhat-noticeable Midwestern accent and asked you question after question that you weren’t really processing, all while keeping a mostly straight face despite his heavily bleeding wound. He spoke again, “What year is it?”

The question was odd enough to finally snap you out of staring at the bloodied patch on his jacket and out of your inevitable freak-out, “What?”

“I said,” he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “What year is it?”

“It’s… 2024?” you raised a brow, but your primary concern was getting him somewhere safe so he could be patched up. “Sir, I think you need to get some help.”

He fully ignored you, opting to instead frantically look around and march away to God-knows-where. You weren’t sure what to do except follow him, worried that the wound on his side was much worse than it looked. Judging from how much blood there was, it had to be deep. Probably a stab wound.

You really didn’t wanna think about it.

Following Jensen led you to a newspaper and tabloid stand, with him haphazardly flicking through today’s newspaper to find whatever it was he needed to find. You debated on whether or not you were gonna call 911 because of the wound, but he seemed entirely unaffected, or if he was, he did a good job of not showing it.

You both just stood there for a few minutes, and you couldn’t help but notice how he became more aggravated the more he read through the papers.

“Um, sir?” you cleared your throat, trying desperately to calm the panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t listen.

“Mr. Ackles… can—” you took a deep breath, “—can you please calm down and tell me what’s going on? Sir?”

He only frowned even more, clenching his jaw as he tried to absorb the words on the pages, instead of listening to you. Christ, this man was stubborn. Not at all what you thought he’d be. Then again, celebrities weren’t your friends.

You were getting frustrated, too. Then, an idea struck. You weren’t sure if it was going to work, it was stupid as hell, but you had to try.

“Dean?” you said the name softly.

He finally looked at you, though in all honesty, it was more like a side-eye. But it was something, so you kept going.

“Dean,” the name felt weird on your tongue as you repeated it. You were calling an actor by his character’s name. Who does that? “Can you please tell me what’s going on? I only want to help.”

“Sweetheart,” he gave you this big charming smile which you could only assume was a bit mocking.

“Dean…” you returned the favor, saying his name as sweetly as you could but the pettiness in your tone vanished as soon as you saw him wince again in pain. It would’ve been easier to let him go and to just go home, but you couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t seem to have a car or even a working phone. “You’re clearly hurt. Please, just let me help.”

He let out a sigh of defeat, accepting that yes, maybe he needed some help, “If you want to help… where’s the nearest burger joint? And do you have a first aid kit?”

So there you were, sharing a burger with Jensen Ackles, except he only answered to the name Dean. You led him to a small diner, which was becoming increasingly rare in the area. The sign outside spelled out SMITH’S BREAKFAST DINER in a retro font, though the lights didn’t work anymore. The place had been operating since the late 80s, and never really got around to keeping up with the trends. Regardless, you kept coming back. They had good food, good music, and Suzanne always called you “darlin’” in a sweet Southern accent every time you came in for a quick bite.

You chewed your burger slowly, your mind wandering to the crazy possibility that you were actually sitting in front of Dean Winchester, not Jensen Ackles. If that was the case, you hoped the diner would bring him some comfort. From what you saw in the show, him and Sam always frequented places like these. The thought that he might actually be the character and not the actor was still so insane, to the point where you couldn’t even really enjoy your food like you normally would.

He was also munching on his burger, shamelessly groaning in delight. His eyes were even closed… which was definitely a good thing because you’d been staring at him the whole time. It took him less than two minutes to chow the whole thing down.

You knew some people who’d met Jensen at conventions, back when those were still a thing. They always said he was nice and considerate, and all that. Or that he smelled nice. Sitting here in front of him, there was only one thing that was stuck in your head.

This man, whoever he was, Jensen or Dean… he was incredibly attractive. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he looked like he needed help and honestly? You didn’t really know why you wanted to help. Perhaps you just had nothing better to do. Maybe it was something deeper than that. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have “saved a celebrity” on your resumé.

“Dean” took a big gulp of the Coca-Cola in front of him, letting out a refreshed sigh. Then, without warning, he pulled out whatever was lodged in his side. The suddenness of his movement, combined with his pained groan, startled you. A few of the other patrons of the diner cast confused looks your way, which you tried to play off with a nervous smile.

A sharp clunk caught your attention and when you looked back at the table, there was a bloody shard of glass right next to your iced tea.

“What the fuck?!” you whisper-yelled, quickly covering up the glass with some napkins before someone else could see it. You turned your attention back to “Dean”, who was taking a few breaths to calm himself down as he began discretely disinfecting his wound. You wanted to be mad, you really wanted to, but your fourteen year old self would scream at you if you did not help this man. And the way he flinched every now and then as the hydrogen peroxide pricked at his wound certainly earned him some pity points.

“So… uh, do I really call you Dean?” you started lamely instead of reprimanding him for his callousness, still trying to wrap your head around the possibility that this might really be Dean Winchester. “Like the guy from Supernatural?”

He groaned at the mention of Supernatural, briefly stopping his movements to cast an unimpressed look at you, “Yes, you call me Dean, ‘cause it’s my name, lady.”

You steeled yourself as he went back to treating his wound, “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Dean stopped again, his brows relaxing into a more neutral yet somber expression, as if you’d just hit him with a sobering truth, “...Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

The two of you simmered in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“I just want to help,” you spoke first, trying your best to convey your sincerity to him, “but if you are who I think you are then I understand why you might be hesitant to clue me in on what’s going on.”

“And who do you think I am, exactly?” he spared you an intrigued glance, unflinching as the needle pierced his skin.

You popped a fry in your month, chewing slowly as you eyed him up and down, “Well, I doubt Jensen Ackles would get himself injured like that and walk around in broad daylight where the paparazzi could see him and say all sorts of things. Dean Winchester, on the other hand…”

He shifted in his seat to fully face you, a smirk playing across his lips.

“So what? You’re just gonna believe that I'm Dean Winchester?” he raised a brow, squinting his eyes at you accusingly as if to test you. You had to give it to him, it made you waver in your belief, but you stayed firm.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” you offered with a small smile, feeling that the quote described your thought process pretty well. It made you feel smart in the moment, even if you knew full well that it was your teenage self’s delusions resurfacing.

He nodded in understanding and laughed, “Ha! Nice Velma quote.”

You were the one to raise a brow this time, “It’s a Sherlock quote.”

“Oh,” his smile faltered. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment, “...Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Totally.”

You held in your laughter, biting your lip as you watched the faintest blush spread across his freckled cheeks. The moment sizzled out after a while, leaving you two in a semi-comfortable silence. You noticed how guarded he was, sneaking a glance at you every now and then as he patched up his wound. You understood why; he didn’t wanna be vulnerable in a room where it was only the two of you, so as weird as it was to have a man bleeding out in a breakfast diner, it was still much safer.

It wasn’t like he was the only one with doubts. For all you know, Jensen Ackles had just gone crazy after Misha Collins died. Same thing might’ve happened to Jared Padalecki. You still wondered what on Earth happened to them, but there was something about the man in front of you that made you feel safe. Your first instinct was to trust him, and that had never happened before. It scared you.

Whatever it was, you just had to give this a shot. Maybe it was the feeling that this whole thing was a lot bigger than you could’ve ever imagined.

“What will you do after this?” you asked him, eyeing the needle in his hand.

The question seemed to upset him, even if he was trying his best to hide it. Something shifted in his gaze, his resolve seemingly faltering for a split second. It only intrigued you even more, getting caught up in his every little move like he was a movie you’ve never seen before.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he offered you a tight-lipped smile, finishing off the stitch with a secured knot, “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

That answer didn’t make you feel any better. Then, something clicked into place.

When Misha Collins was murdered a few years ago, a “script” for Supernatural was leaked by someone on Tumblr. It spread like wildfire then and you remembered the amount of hate comments the poster got. People assumed it was a weird fanfic to explain how Misha died since the case was never solved and for the longest time, people just stuck with that. A chill ran down your spine as you tried to recall what was in that leaked script.

Sam and Dean were sent to the “real” world by Balthazar using a spell. They were being chased by some angel whose name you couldn’t remember. Misha was killed while the brothers ran away from the angel. You racked your brain to figure out the last piece of the puzzle.

“Wait…” you started, doubt blocking you from saying the rest of the sentence. It was crazy, fucking insane, but if your Supernatural knowledge was as solid as you thought it was, then there was only one explanation for his sudden but subtle change in demeanor. “Please don’t tell me you’re stuck here.”

The frown on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was stuck here until someone from his home universe managed to bring him back.

“Oh my fucking god.”

He chuckled, “Right on the money there, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t be believing you just like that. Why am I believing you? You’re not real. I’m going crazy,” you said out loud, half of it going towards yourself and the other half going towards him. “Monsters aren’t real. Hunters aren’t a thing—”

He frowned, “Hey, I know we got off to a bad start but you can’t just be saying that I’m not real.”

“Prove it to me, then,” you hardened your gaze. “Prove to me that you’re Dean Winchester.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“Dean” sighed, shifting in his seat so that he was sitting a bit more upright and was fully facing you. Then, he tugged down on the collar of his shirt, revealing a very real anti-possession tattoo on his chest. It was blurred around the edges a little bit, having faded with time. A small gasp left your lips as you took it all in.

“That’s…” you looked back up at “Dean” and for the first time, you noticed how much older he was compared to the last time you saw him. Or the last time you saw Jensen Ackles. His wrinkles were deeper, his eyes more tired. There were a few tiny scars littered across his face, nearly invisible if you weren’t watching them so closely. His mousy brown hair had a few grey strands that poked out, as well as some grey peppered around his clean five ‘o clock shadow.

He chuckled once he saw your shocked expression, tapping on the tattoo, “Yeah. Got this bad boy in 2007. Probably saved my ass more times than I can count.”

“What do I even say to that?” you stared at him dumbly.

He realized that you were right. As weird as it was for him to be in a world without monsters and magic, it was probably weirder for you to find out that the world from a TV show was real. He smacked his lips and avoided your gaze, “Um. Yeah. Weird, I know.”

“Weirder than weird, dude,” you sighed, wiping your face with your hands. “I mean, I wanna help, but how the hell am I supposed to help you? You fight like… demons and vampires and stuff. I work from home! On my laptop!”

He looked back at you, smiling awkwardly as you had a mini-existential crisis, “I just, um… Do you have some cash? I got like, twenty bucks in my wallet right now. I just need to get to a motel and you’re never gonna have to see me again.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to console a woman in the middle of an existential crisis, but to be fair, the sooner he was gone, the sooner you could get back to your life.

He put back all of the stuff he used from your first aid kit back into its bag, pushing it towards you as he wiped his hands clean with a tissue. He called for Suzanne with a smile, his charm dialed up to a hundred, “Hey, sweetheart, can you pack this up for me? Thanks.”

“Oh, sure thing, sugar,” she beamed at him, before leaning towards you to not-so-quietly whisper, “You done good, hon. Your date right here is such a looker!”

Dean only chuckled lightheartedly at her comment. Suzanne sashayed away with a satisfied giggle, and you had to fight the urge to explode right then and there. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you right now.

You mustered up the courage to speak again, “He shot you a curious look, “What?”

“I…” you deflated. “You can stay at my place. I’m sure I have some clothes there that can fit you.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate the offer but it’s not safe. Something could’ve come back with me, for all I know,” he leaned back against the faux leather. “I don’t wanna lead it right to you.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you affirmed, moreso to yourself than to him. “And I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re comfortable and fed and not in a motel in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have your brother with you.”

He nearly forgot that you knew a lot about him because of Supernatural, scoffing a bit at your words, “What am I? A child?”

“No, you’re a hunter and I’m not,” you reminded him. “I can’t fight against anything that decides to break into my home, but you can. It’s not just about you, I already shot myself in the foot by staying with you this long. Granted, I thought you were some actor who’d gone crazy but—”

“I get it, I get it,” he took a deep breath in, cutting you off. He processed your words, feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was still risky, yeah, but he couldn’t think of a counterargument. You were right, you were a civilian and if there was something that came after you, it was unlikely you’d survive. “Okay then. You got a deal then, lady.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “Well then, I guess we’re roommates, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

author's note: and that concludes the first chapter of everything has changed! unlike last kiss, i won't be publishing all the chapters all in one go (since i'm still writing them), so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! of course, reblogs are much always appreciated. see y'all for chapter two <3 p.s. should i start a taglist? let me know as well!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fem reader #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles

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reagi-df · 4 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 13: You weren’t supposed to get hurt

Old sketch design for my forgive me au but I’m gonna use it anyway

Donnie stares down at the screen as he types away, he's surrounded by the quietness of the lab. He's exhausted but he needs to finish what he started. It's been a rare few quiet days from having to go against any major Kraang players and he's taking this time to really get things sorted for when the time comes and he wakes up properly.

His fingers slow down on his keypad, eyes automatically looking up to his monitor showing the vital signs. Everything is stable for the moment and Donnie is grateful for that.

“Knock knock” jolting, Donnie shoots his head around and sees Raph standing there. Even though his body doesn't have any eyes, he knows from how his head is tilted he assesses Donnie.

And he doesn't like it.

“Raphael, what can I do for you at this hour” he's glad his mask hides the bags under his eyes.

“Raph could ask you the same thing” the sounds of Raphs metal feet hitting his floor as he walks closer, Donnie lets his ninpō ripple under his skin as he subtly swipes away the taps connected to the chamber.

Raph cant see.

“Why are you still up?”

“Have a lot of things to do. Projects to finish. I need to make sure our defences are up and running frantically, even if the Kraang are being strangely quiet it won't last forever and I need to make sure we're ready” Donnies hands are flying about his keypad as he speaks.

A heavy hand rests on top of his own, stilling him. Donnie looks down at the metal digits, observes the grooves and scratches that litter his brother's metal casing. A sharp prain runs through him at the thought of not seeing his oldest brother's flesh hand again but he knows it's too late now. Even if he tried it wouldn't work.

And he doesn't want to go through that again.

“You need to let me buffer out your hand again” he says absently.

Dragging his tiered eye up to these dimmed lit eyes of his brothers he hears Raph sigh. “Don, please go to sleep. I know its been hard on you but I don't want you to burn yourself out again. I can't go through watching you die right in front of my eyes. Not again.”

Looking away Donnie swallows. “That wasn't my intention.”

“I know” Raph’s hand leaves Donnie’s and he secretly mourns the loss. “But you mean a lot to us Don, we don't want you to keep hurting.”

He stubbornly refuses to look up, “I’m fine, Raph.”

“Please donnie, Le-”

“Dont!” Donnie grits out, cutting off whatever Raph was going to say.

Silence hangs in the air, tension heavy.

Closing his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose, “I'm sorry” he exhales.

Raphs gently places his hand back on Donnies broad shoulder and he leans into the touch. “I know I nag a lot, but I just don't want you to hurt”

Patting Raphs hand “I know big brother” looking up he turns to face Raph, metal hand falling from his shoulder. “Look I promise i'll go to sleep, I just need another 10 minutes”

They both stand there staring at each other, it feels like an eternity before Raph sighs again and steps back. “Okay, I know a losing battle when I see one. Im making the rounds and when I come back and you're not asleep i'm dragging your ass to bed”

Snorting, Donnie bobs his head. “Sure” a small smile forms on his face.

Head shaking fondly, Raph walks to the door but pauses before he leaves. “I meant what I said Don” turning his head around he continues “you mean a lot to us, your family and we do anything for the family.

“Yeah” his voice catches in his throat.

They’ll do anything for their family.

Nodding Raph bids him farewell, “g’night don”

“Night” he whispers.

He stands there for a few seconds before he shuts all of his projects down, he pauses with his hand hovering in the air, he feels his ninpo running through his body, he brings up the tabs containing the chamber again and walks away as he transfers them to his gauntlet.

With a quick few strides to one side of the room, Donnie presses his palm to a hidden compartment, there's a hiss as the doors open. He's glad he never told anyone about this hidden room. It's become very useful for stuff he doesn't want others to see.

The doors close firmly behind him with the lights flickering on, with a flick of his fingers the tabs are transferred to the machine connected to the chamber. “I'll be quick, then you can go back to sleep. Donnie passes his time by making sure everything is working correctly, it usually takes about 10 minutes or so, but he's dragging his feet. He talks about anything that comes to mind, about the time Mikey ended up sleepwalking into a wall, or that time he ended up floating to the ceiling and unable to get down,.

“He’s exhausted, Mikes been doing too much lately”. Donnie muses.

Donnie goes on, speaking about the time when April and he had found a stash of booze, that was strangely still in date, and got drunk. “April was cursing me out, she should've known that my metabolism is superior than hers.” he absently rubs his head from where she smacked him when he did tell her.

His feet bring him closer to the chamber, “Jr is becoming a terror, coming more and more like his mother everyday” Donnie checks the systems and the vitals. “He's learning so fast, it was enjoyable watching him talk cheekily back to April” he pauses and looks down.

“You'd like him,” he whispers.

A dull scratches his attention, turning his head Donnie sees a green hand with an IV cannula strapped to the back, tubing floating around his body. The hand drags down and his claws leave sharp grooves into the glass.

Walking up, Donnie places his own pawl onto the thick glass. Leo stares back at him with dull unseeing eyes, a mask firmly placed onto his mouth while his body is submerged in water.

“I'm sorry,” Donnie whispers as he watches those unseeing eyes flutter and shut.

“Please forgive me” he murmurs to the dead.

---------

Dropping this here for @febuwhump I was hoping id find something

Im hoping to get close to the juicy bits in Forgive Me, id love it if you'd vote for these boys in the @tmntaucompetition it'll be fun show what ive got planned 😈, as well as going up against other peoples

Again excuse my dyslexic unbetaed

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday13 #forgive me #future donatello #future leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rise leo #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #fanart #my art

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

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For day five of @steddie-week for the prompt ‘established relationship’ / 715 words of Eddie goofing off at bedtime / rated G or T

After I wrote this, I thought it could be fun as part of a 5+1 established relationship kind of thing where either one or both of them are annoying/bratty/goofy but ran out of time, so here’s this one for now! Maybe one day I’ll do some more and compile them

“Okay, time for bed.” Steve stands, stretching his arms above his head, spine popping.

Eddie mourns his warmth, resenting the cold space beside him on the couch. But, still he says, “Ugh, no.”

“You can stay up if you want.”

“Noooo.” Eddie slumps over, face-first into the couch cushions. They’re still warm from Steve, but it’s a poor substitute. “I’m too tired to go to bed.”

There’s a great sigh from above Eddie and Steve says, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“Fine, see you in the morning then.”

“You’re not going to just leave me! I thought you were a gentleman.” Eddie turns his head to look up at Steve. He’s got his hands on his hips, his shirt is riding up revealing a very appealing strip of stomach, and his hair is all mussed. “Carry me,” Eddie adds.

“Carry yourself.”

Eddie makes an unhappy noise and rolls off the couch, flopping onto the floor and holding out one hand.

“Oh my god,” Steve says, “you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, tugging, but Eddie doesn’t stand. “Do you want me to carry you or drag you?”

“Mm.”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve huffs and tugs again, dragging Eddie a few inches. “You’re gonna get rug burn.” He stoops down, hooking his arms under Eddie’s—“That tickles” “Shut up”—and then he groans and says, “Nope, I’m too old for this,” dropping his grip on Eddie and turning away.

But Eddie says, “Okay, okay, I’ll get up,” and Steve turns back. He raises a brow at Eddie’s outstretched hand, but he takes it, shaking his head with a small smile when Eddie lets himself be pulled to his feet.

Eddie immediately leans forward, draping himself over Steve, almost dead weight.

“Dude,” Steve says, even as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, breathing in deeply. “I had an easier time getting the neighbors’ kids to bed when we looked after them that time.”

“You promised to tuck them in and tell them a bedtime story.”

“Is that what I need to do with you?”

“Well,” Eddie says, “it wouldn’t hurt,” gently biting Steve’s jaw.

“Okay, if you’re a good boy and stop messing around, I’ll tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story.” Steve bumps their noses together. “Deal?”

“Throw in a piggyback?”

“Fine.” Steve turns in Eddie’s arms, grunting as he hoists Eddie up onto his back. “We’d get to bed a lot quicker if you walked.”

“This is more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve says, but there’s fond amusement beneath his griping. When they get to the bedroom, Steve turns and deposits Eddie on the bed, groaning when Eddie pulls him down with him. He rolls off of Eddie and lies beside him. “Okay,” he says, “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Not yet.” Eddie hooks his leg over Steve’s, stopping him from getting up.

“Come on.”

“Kiss me first,” Eddie says, moving over Steve and pressing kisses all over his face.

Steve squirms, but he’s smiling, and he kisses Eddie back, which only encourages Eddie, until Steve pushes a hand in Eddie’s face and says, “Oh, you definitely need to brush your teeth.”

“Hey, my breath is like a spring breeze!”

“Yeah, downwind from a dump.” Steve grins, tongue between his teeth.

Eddie frowns, pulling back to check his breath. “Smells fine to me.” He pokes Steve in the side. “And your breath doesn’t exactly smell like a rose garden right now.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying, oral hygiene is important, okay?”

“That might be the dorkiest thing you’ve ever said. Like, it’s so dorky I can’t even make any of the obvious jokes.”

“I literally don’t care.” Steve wriggles out from under Eddie. “And brush your teeth, or don’t, but when they fall out, don’t come crying to me.” He starts to move away but Eddie grabs him again. “What now?”

“I promise I’ll brush my teeth if you cuddle with me first.”

“We can cuddle after.”

“C’mon,” Eddie says, “just five minutes.”

Steve’s lips twitch. “Just five minutes,” he says, lying down again, “but you’ve forfeited the bedtime story.”

“You know what,” Eddie says, pulling Steve close, and wrapping his arm around his waist, “I think I can live without it.”

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddieweek2023 #Eddie flosses and brushes at least twice a day and Steve (obviously) knows it btw #probably didn't need to say that but just in case haha #(...i'm very tired i don't know what i'm saying rn)#pizzaqueenfic

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ircn-mvn · 4 months

Text

tw: omegaverse (omega!naruto, alpha!shikamaru), canon disability

The War was over.

Shikamaru had it on good authority that Naruto and Sasuke had made up, and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn the pair had bonded. They were meant to be after all. Or at least, many of their peers thought so.

It was the reason Shikamaru had yet to go looking for Naruto. He wasn’t certain he could handle another heartache so soon. Mourning Shikaku was hard enough. He didn’t have it in him to mourn what could have been. What Naruto and him had shared and what they could have had together.

Thankfully, Tsunade and Kakashi kept him busy.

Shikamaru managed to avoid facing the truth for a little under 24 hours before Tsunade was summoned to the hospital. The message said Naruto wasn’t doing as well as they had thought. His recovery had slowed significantly.

It made sense if they had locked up his mate right after they bonded.

Still, Shikamaru followed Tsunade to Naruto’s hospital room.

The scent of an omega in distress hit them immediately. Yet Naruto wasn’t acting like one. He was sitting with crossed legs on his bed, listening to whatever Sakura had been telling him with a soft smile on his lips.

He wasn’t hiding in a nest — an instinctual response to trauma. He wasn’t crying or dissociating as Shikamaru had hypothesized.

“Baachan —!” Naruto started.

However, he promptly interrupted himself as he noticed Shikamaru behind Tsunade. His blue eyes widened, and his face did something complicated, his emotions unclear to Shikamaru.

“Shikamaru,” Naruto said at last.

It was barely a whisper, but it still caught Shikamaru off guard. As did Naruto’s next move. The omega got up from his bed, and the alpha took a step forward on instinct.

Was he even supposed to be standing?

Naruto swiftly crossed the distance between them, his exhaustion betrayed by nothing, but a faint blush. Shikamaru briefly thought about pressing his lips to the overheated skin.

But that was before all his thoughts came to a halt as Naruto put his only arm around him. The omega brought their bodies together, leaving no space whatsoever between them. Naruto’s face found itself pressed against Shikamaru’s neck — his nose rubbing his scent patch — and Shikamaru’s breath hitched.

This wasn’t mated-omega’s behavior. Naruto hadn’t received a thorough education on Secondary Genders — Shikamaru knew as much from their shared childhood — but he couldn’t imagine him disrespecting his mate like this. That and the fact Shikamaru couldn’t smell Sasuke on him at all.

He also had a pretty good view of Naruto’s neck. His scent patch was missing, but so was any trace of a mating bite. Had Kurama healed it already? Or was Naruto truly unbonded?

Did it matter?

Naruto was in distress and seeking comfort from Shikamaru, and truthfully, it was all that really mattered to him at that moment.

He took off his scent patch, having completely forgotten about Tsunade and Sakura’s presence.

If he believed Temari, Shikamaru smelled of the forest and something akin to a campfire. Naruto smelled of sunshine, as ridiculous as it might sound. A warm summer breeze, red peppers — the ones used to spice up ramens — and something else he never could put his finger on but was what made Naruto’s scent unique, and the best Shikamaru had ever encountered.

Shikamaru’s arms closed around Naruto and the omega immediately relaxed further against him. His scent was turning from obvious distress to… Was it happiness? In any case, it soothed Shikamaru’s pain. At least partially.

His head fell to Naruto’s shoulder before he tentatively imitated the omega and brushed his nose against Naruto’s scent gland. The omega jumped slightly before clinging to him even harder. His scent got sweeter. It was intoxicating.

“Well, I suppose I’m not needed after all,” Tsunade said.

Shikamaru tensed but didn’t move. Naruto mumbled something against his neck, his lips brushing Shikamaru’s skin in the process and distracting him from trying to make sense of any of it.

“What was that brat?” Tsunade asked.

“I said I’m fine,” Naruto said. Or more like exclaimed a little too close to Shikamaru’s ear but he still couldn’t bring himself to break their embrace.

“Hmhm… You know, we would have understood if you had told us you two were pre-bonded, Shikamaru. Kakashi is actually more capable than he likes Iruka-Sensei and you to think.” Tsunade added.

“We are not —” he started.

There was a slight tremor in Naruto’s hold on his jacket. He needed to choose his next words carefully.

“There hadn’t been any time for anything of the sort,” he said in the end. “Also now the war is over, I was hoping to ask him — you, Naruto — out, on a dat —?”

“Yes!”

They moved just enough to be able to look each other in the eyes. Naruto’s flushed face matched his own.

“But we already went on dates, no?” Naruto asked. He sounded uncertain. “I mean, you invited me to eat every time I got back to the village and I thought… Iruka and Kakashi said you were courting me?”

Iruka and Kakashi, uh? The latest was lucky he was Hokage.

“I was,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure you were aware of it… or if it was something you wanted.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to date you? You are… you! And you were my first friend!”

“Yeah, and you are you, Naruto,” Shikamaru replied. “Usually, omega bond to alphas who match their strength or are even stronger, I’m not —”

“You are strong!” Naruto protested. “And even if you weren’t, I don’t need protection, I need…”

Shikamaru wished they weren’t having this conversation in front of an audience but here they were. (What a drag, ah.)

“I love you,” he said as Naruto trailed off.

There was a squeaky sound in the background that Shikamaru suspected to be Sakura’s reaction while Naruto didn’t outwardly react at first. However, because he had been paying attention to it previously, Shikamaru noticed the way Naruto’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh,” Naruto said. The brightest of smiles suddenly appeared on his face, his blue eyes watering slightly as they never left Shikamaru’s. “I love you too. A lot.”

And well, maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all.

#shikanaru #naruto x shikamaru #naruto #shikamaru nara #omegaverse #omega naruto #alpha shikamaru

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

No More | [3] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: i think i have a storyline. i’m winging the SHIT out of this y’all it’s not even funny. (…maybe a top gun-ish au but we’ll see) I LITERALLY CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP THIS GOING BUT I KEEP FINESSING??? WHAT IS HAPPENING. this sucks too but whatever. i love it. messy is messy and i love it

warnings: angst, cussing, MEDICAL ATTENTION/INACCURACIES, cerby being both useless and useful but we love him, MENTIONS/ALLUSIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE (NOT ABOUT ANYONE FROM 141), cussing, violence, trauma, Top Gun ;)

summary: It takes time heal a wound that big. Alejandro and Soap are big oafs, you have unwanted conversations in person and in text, one with Keegan and one with your elusive best friend back home.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Against Simon’s best protests, you found yourself sitting at your desk on base, already gone over files you meant to before the mission. Your pen hadn’t stopped writing as you signed off on patient notes, confirming what you had put down when you examined them.

It was nearing ten in the morning when your personal phone began to buzz. You glanced up from your notes, grabbing it and looking at the notifications.

ROOS: Alive?

It was your best friend. He texted you every few months to make sure you were, indeed, alive. He fought you tooth and nail about you joining the 141, that’s why you don’t talk as often as you used to.

YOU: Maybe. What’s up?

ROOS: Just checking

YOU: You okay?

ROOS: Had a bad dream.

ROOS: Are you okay? Are you safe?

It wasn’t often that Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw asked if you were safe. It wasn’t often that he texted you at all. Your nightmares were about surviving a plane crash, eating dinner next to frozen and rotting corpses in a town in Ukraine - his nightmares were of flying back day after you crashed to explode your plane so the enemy had no access to the technology, his nightmares were of the weeks of mourning he did of you because your rescue was a classified Special Forces op. That and sometimes, it was of the night you two don’t speak about anymore. He’s protective of you.

YOU: Yes, I’m safe. And at work. I’ve got like 10 guard dogs.

ROOS: Okay

YOU: One of them’s a real dog

YOU: Are you okay? Do you need me to call you?

ROOS: No

YOU: Was it about Ukraine or about Nevada?

ROOS: Nevada

Well, there goes the not talking about that specific traumatic night.

YOU: Do you want to talk about it?

A knock sounded at your door, you glanced up from your phone to let out a calm, “Come in.”

The door opened quickly as you heard the clack of claws on the concrete, you pushed your chair away - a smile invaded your face. Cerberus yapped like a puppy, his front paws coming to set on your thighs as you took his face in one hand, scratching his head with the other while still holding your phone. “Hi, baby.”

The German Shepherd shoved himself forwards, his wet tongue licking your nose and cheek - you pushed him down and laughed, “No kisses, honey, we’re working.”

“He likes you a lot more than he ever will me.” You looked up to see the familiar cloth skull mask of Keegan, his hands shoved in his pockets. You smiled at him.

“How’s your chest? Doing okay?”

Keegan nodded, moving forwards to place Cerberus’s blue leash on your desk. He shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Just came to say thank you.”

Your eyes widened a fraction, hands stopped petting Cerberus - who whined in annoyance. His wet snout pushed underneath your hand, trying to get you to continue to pet him. “I just did my job.”

He sighed, going to pull the chair opposite of you out. He sat down quickly, hands wringing each other. “You didn’t-“ He paused. “You almost died.”

“Part of the job.” Your eyes glanced at your files on your desk before you set your phone on your desk.

“I remember how bad your nightmares were when you first joined us.” He recalled, hands settling on his thighs before he finally locked eyes with you. “Just wanted to make sure you’re gonna be okay before we leave.”

“So soon?” Your eyes widened with surprise. “I thought Price was keeping you guys here for a couple more months.”

“That plant they’re building is something big. Caught the eyes of the US Navy, which means-“

“Top Gun.” You finished for your friend, he gave you a knowing look. The only thing he knew was that something bad happened to you on a mission in Top Gun, he knew about the nightmares.

“Look on the bright side,” Keegan’s voice pulled you from almost jumping off the precipice into what could happen. Your hands clenched into fists. “You’re a very important medical Captain, and you’re not under their jurisdiction anymore.”

You would think. You wanted to say that Laswell kept you as a standby pilot, even though she promised you she’d never make you fly. So, in the eyes of the US Government, you were still a Top Gun asset. A damn good one at that, to the point you knew that Top Gun was pestering Laswell for you back. You wouldn’t tell Keegan that though - he’d rip someone’s throat out with his teeth.

Keegan cleared his throat. “You don’t ever have to fly again, Mercy.”

Before Ghost, there was Keegan who woke you from nightmares. Sure, he wouldn’t hold you but he’d sit next to you and quietly talk about something random, something informational - like the design and sinking of ships. If you put thought to those talks, you would be able to talk about his favorite ships. He was a good friend, incredibly loyal. You were the same.

You nodded, hands going back to pet Cerberus, whose head had settled on your thigh, eyes gazing up at you. You looked at him and smiled, scratching behind his ear. He let out a happy little yap before you looked back at Keegan, a solemn nod came from him.

“You know my number, Mercy.”

“Rest up, Sergeant.” You commented, he stood then.

He walked towards the door, opening it before he took a brief pause, looking back at you. “Be careful with Ghost.” And with that, he was out the door and had shut it behind him. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Keegan had known you two had been together since… you got together. What does that mean?

Cerberus whined, making you look back at him. He raised his paw and smacked your leg, you pet him with one hand as you grabbed your phone again, seeing more messages from Rooster.

ROOS: Trying to wake you up in your apartment. Then it was me running to the ER with you in my arms.

ROOS: I hated that feeling

ROOS: I still hate it

ROOS: I’m sorry I’m bothering you

ROOS: Please don’t tell me if you have a boyfriend again

You internally groaned, knowing how incredibly protective he got of you because of your last relationship - which was almost five years ago. You kept scratching behind Cerberus’ ear, his leg thumped against the floor.

YOU: …Surprise?

ROOS: I think I’m going to have a heart attack

ROOS: I’m gonna throw up

YOU: If it makes you feel any better, we’ve been together for a year and a half and he hasn’t done anything to me other than make me overthink things. He loves me and I know he does

ROOS: It does not make me feel better you ass. YEAR AND A HALF AND YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME

ROOS: And stop fucking saying shit like ‘oh he loves me, he loves me not’ . That’s exactly what happened last time, you’re starting to fucking freak me out

YOU: I don’t know what else to tell you. He’s a good man.

ROOS: Last time you said that I broke my entire hand in a man’s face. Please tell me you’re safe

You wouldn’t have taken that shit from anyone else. If anyone snapped at you like that in person, they’d be on their back with a knife on their throat. By you or your guard dogs - Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro; Rudy, if you asked nicely. All the men you’ve grown to cherish their companies.

You began to type to Rooster again when there was another knock on your door, three in rapid succession. Your eyebrows furrowed, slightly annoyed. “Yes?”

The door flung open, Cerberus whined when you stopped scratching his ear as you stood, seeing Soap stumble in with a hand on his head. You flung your phone onto your desk, eyes widened. Right behind him was Alejandro and, unsurprisingly, Ghost. You were immediately around Cerberus and your desk, reaching for Soap as he groaned in pain. “What the Hell happened?!”

“Muppets got too involved in their trainin’.” Ghost growled, Alejandro gave you a smile to which you noticed the bloody gash on his forehead.

“You’re both idiots.” You grabbed Soap’s arm and pulled him towards your cot, motioning Alejandro to follow. Cerberus weaved through your patients effortlessly, immediately going straight for Ghost. He pawed at Ghost’s leg while you forced and Sergeant and Colonel to sit on your makeshift examination table. Both of them stared at you, Soap looked like he was out of it. You grabbed a pair of medical gloves, pulling them on quickly.

“Also might be nursin’ a hangover.” Soap mumbled, you rolled your eyes. Of course he had gone out last night. You would have smacked him upside the head had he not been cradling it. You forced him to move his head, seeing the bloody gash on the back of his head near his mohawk.

“Christ, how hard did you headbutt each other?” You mumbled, going to grab your med kit.

“Was his fault.” Alejandro murmured, closing his eyes. “Feels like he cracked my head open like a coconut.” You pulled out your pocket flashlight from your vest, making Soap face you again.

“Keep your eyes open and look at my nose.” The Scot blinked a few times before staring at your nose, you flashed the light into his eyes - they were both reactive, so there wasn’t brain damage. You held up your finger. “Follow my finger.” His eyes followed your finger back and forth, he was responsive so you weren’t worried. You put the flashlight back in your vest before moving Soap’s head again to look at the gash. “Helluva hit, fellas.”

“Thanks.” Both Soap and Alejandro said, the Colonel laughed.

“Didn’t mean to hitcha that hard, hermano.” Soap mumbled as you moved to Alejandro, instructing him the same way. Look at my nose, follow my finger - his coffee like eyes were sinkholes, he did as you told him. If you had taken a moment to set back, you would’ve said that he was your new version of Rooster. A Special Op Limited Edition, with better maintained hair and great jawline.

If you weren’t so enraptured by Simon, you would’ve dove for Alejandro the second he gave you any sort of glare. But no, you’d choose your ice cold boyfriend over a cowboy casanova. Maybe in another life.

You moved the Colonel’s head towards you. It was a thin cut on his forehead, jagged but nothing a small bandage can’t fix. You turned around, peeling off your gloves before grabbing your phone. You opened it, amazed at how many texts Rooster had sent.

ROOS: Please don’t ignore me right now I will get Ice on the phone this instant

ROOS: I mean it

ROOS: Sorry you’re probably busy

ROOS: Just stay safe please.

ROOS: I can’t have a repeat of that shit .I’ll lose my mind

ROOS: Call me when you’re free

ROOS: Please

ROOS: I really don’t want to have to go detective on you and show up at your doorstep like a dog

ROOS: Cause I will

ROOS: You’re worrying me, please don’t make me have to call Mav. If I have to call Mav you will never hear the end of it I SWEAR IT. YOU’LL HEAR ABOUT IT UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD

YOU: I’m working, I’ll text you later

“Dramatic bitch,” You mumbled to yourself before turning your phone off. You moved across the room to your sink. You began to wash your hands as Cerberus poked you with his nose. You glanced down at him. “Go play with Dumb and Dumber, buddy. I’ll be a minute.”

The dog whined, pawing at your leg and poking you with his snout again. He wasn’t alerting, he was trying to get your attention. A search and rescue dog like Cerberus had no job right now since he was on base, except to sometimes get in your way. You gave him a sharp glare. “Now.”

Cerberus let out a loud whine of annoyance before he huffed, walking away towards Alejandro.

“Don’t have to be mean to the poor dog, lass.” Soap commented, you shot him a glare when you dried your hands with a paper towel. He threw his hands up.

“He knows I’ve got stuff going on, he likes to be bothersome.” You pulled on new gloves and grabbed the equipment you needed, moving your chair over to the cot with your foot. You sat down gracelessly, setting bandages and hydrogen peroxide on your lap. You pulled a cotton swab from your vest, opening it and then dousing it in the peroxide.

You took Soap’s head in your hand and moved it again, letting the light shine into it as you dabbed on the peroxide - the man flinched.

“You’re usually chatty, hermana - what’s wrong?”

You glanced at Alejandro, tossing the swab into the garage can behind you. “Friend texted me. Chatted for a while.”

“You not like her or somethin’?” Soap asked, you settled the small adhesive bandage over his injury, sticking it to his shaved head with firm pressure. “You mind not pressin’ that hard?”

You smirked, waving him off. “You’re done.” The Sergeant smiled and stood, walking away from the cot while you faced Alejandro. “Bit of an argument, nothin’ new. Happens when you’ve known them your whole life.”

“Oh?” Alejandro smiled. “Like me and Rudy.”

You shrugged. “When I say my whole life, I mean as soon as I was brought home, I had a best friend.”

“Ah, not like me and Rudy.” He chuckled then, you cleaned the wound with another cotton swab and some peroxide - he didn’t even react.

“Not even close. I didn’t get a choice.” You threw away the swab, opening another bandage.

“You always have a choice in the people you keep company with.” Alejandro closed his eyes as you opened the bandage.

“Not when you’ve both put your lives on the line for each other without question, like I would all of you.” You mumbled, securing the bandage a lot softer than Soap. “Maybe not to the length I would for Roos, but it might be near it.”

“Roos?” Soap echoed, suddenly right next to you as you turned the opposite way to toss the trash into the bin.

“Nickname.” You shrugged, pulling off your gloves and standing. You gestured to the door. “You can leave now, just take some Tylenol if the pain persists.”

Cerberus whined as Alejandro stood, saying a quick farewell as he darted out the door - Soap lingered as you pushed your chair back to your desk. “You’re always so mean.”

“It’s,” You glanced at the digital clock on your desk. “almost eleven. I might just want to go get something to eat,” You sat down, throwing your feet up on your desk as you glared at the Scot. “Maybe I want to sit in silence like I was for the past five hours.”

“Aww, lass, you just wanna get railed by-“

“That’ll do.” Ghost’s voice boomed, making you jump a little as Soap whipped his head to look at his Lieutenant.

Cerberus found his way to you again, pawing at your leg. You reached forwards and scratched behind his ear as you watched Soap and Ghost have a small stare down. Soap backed down after a few seconds, glancing at you and then Ghost. “I’m going to take my leave.”

“As you should.” Ghost’s voice was low, both of you watched as he scurried out of the room, almost slamming the door behind him. You looked to Ghost, who visibly decompressed as he moved towards your cot in sluggish motions. He collapsed onto it, the cot let out a groan under his weight and his mask went straight into the white pillow you kept at the head of it.

You cocked your head to one side. “You hurt too?”

“No.” His voice was muffled.

“You’re just gonna sleep in here?”

“Yup.”

“Well,” You grabbed your phone again, hand leaving Cerberus as you pointed to Ghost. “Go lay down with Dad.”

The German Shepherd would never not take the opportunity to jump onto Ghost, even in a position like that. The dog sprinted the two feet away and jumped onto the Lieutenant’s back, he groaned loudly in pain. Cerberus’s tail wagged with a quick pace as he laid his head on Ghost’s shoulder blades. You quickly took a picture of it before sending it to Rooster.

YOU: oh no! my guard dog killed my guard dog :(

ROOS: THAT MAN IS HUGE .

YOU: Thanks! he’s mine :)

ROOS: I CANT KILL A MAN THAT BIG

YOU: Won’t need to. Pretty sure he’d die before he even raised his voice to me he’d be so ashamed.

YOU: I love him.

ROOS: you have got to stop having boyfriends. my heart can’t take it

YOU: You’re a clingy bitch.

ROOS: well at least someone cares for your well-being 🤍

YOU: My boyfriend does.

ROOS: Don’t fucking say that shit. I’m not getting traumatized again cause that guy is not a man, he is 100% a demon

YOU: LMAO

ROOS: HOW IS HE SO BIG

YOU: Idk. Go to bed idiot

ROOS: Fuck off

YOU: Love you too, clingy bitch.

ROOS: You’re a bitch too

YOU: All day, everyday.

“You’re not paying attention to me.”

You looked up from your phone, seeing now that he moved his head to look at you. Cerberus’s head rested where his nose settled right next to where Ghost’s ear would be. You put your phone down on your desk, putting your feet on the floor as you gazed at him. “I have never heard you say that before.”

“Maybe fuckin’ you would put your attention back on me.”

You rolled your eyes, setting back in your seat. “You’ll always have my attention. I’ve got to keep Roos updated before I get a search party sent on my ass.”

“Sounds clingy.” He murmured, you could barely see as his eyes closed.

“Sounds like what you would do if I didn’t answer your text right away.” You commented, looking at the files you had stared at all morning before stretching your arms above your head. “I’m probably gonna take a half day.”

Ghost hummed from the cot, Cerberus whined from above him. “Take the mutt with you.”

“Always.”

The man moved his body, making Cerberus jump from his back - Ghost groaned in pain. He rolled over like an oaf, since he was bigger than the cot itself. You smiled at him as he looked back to you. “C’mon.”

It was often that he would waltz into your office unannounced and collapse onto your cot, beckoning you to come lay on him. And you did, every time. You gracelessly climbed onto him, settling your head under his chin and stretching your legs out over his.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

Your sort-of-happy mood completely fizzled out like a flame doused in water. You could’ve sworn he was asleep when you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, holding yourself in the bathtub until you felt like you could breathe again.

“Where’d do go?”

“Tub.” You murmured, hand crawling up his side and settling on his shoulder. “Had a bad nightmare.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you about it.” You spoke immediately, the phantom feeling of flames licking your skin made you bury your face into his clothed neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, uh…” His gloved hand went to your hair, petting you gently. “You know where I am.”

“Not really, not all the time.” You whispered, hand clutching his sleeve.

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “I guess not.”

“Is this your way of trying to make it up to me?”

He stilled a little, it wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t laying on his entire body. You drank in the fading smell of his musky cologne he wore sometimes, pressing the top of your head into the bottom of his jaw.

“It’s hard.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to.”

You moved your head up, raising it so you could see his eyes. “At least you’re trying.” You leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, then rolled off of him with a groan. “Alright, I’m going home. Need my key?”

He shrugged as you walked over to your small rucksack, checking what you had in it. “No, got the spare. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

You looked over your shoulder him, seeing his arm over his eyes. You shook your head before grabbing Cerberus’a leash from your desk and walking back to him. You placed a kiss on the exposed skin of his arm and spoke, “I’ll see you at home.”

“Mmhmm.”

_________________

Simon always made you take the car, the nice SUV he bought for himself yet will not drive - always makes up an excuse to have you drive, and you were grateful. You weren’t even sure he had a driver’s license, let alone any knowledge of driving. He was always keen to walk home anyway.

Cerby dove into the apartment as soon as you opened the door, he immediately sprinted his way to the living room. It wasn’t long before you heard a couple of glass bottles hit the rug and you groaned.

“Cerby, come here.” You called, dropping your rucksack on the floor and shutting the door behind you. You would have taken your boots off, but you had no idea what he had knocked over in the living room. You walked into it, seeing that your dog laid on the couch, tongue hanging out from his mouth and his ears perked. You rolled your eyes, looking down at the rug. There was three empty bottles of the bourbon you knew was Simon’s favorite, your eyebrows furrowed. You kneeled, taking a bottle in one hand and seeing how there was no alcohol left in it. Placing it on the table, you pulled the two other bottles onto the table before noticing a small folded piece of paper under where the bottles had lied.

A knot in your stomach began to tug as you grasped the piece of paper, pulling the piece of paper open and recognizing Simon’s handwriting.

My love,

I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it but, I do trust you. I trust you a whole hell of a lot.

But what we have isn’t worth the pain, I am not worth the pain. If you wanted me to leave, I would. No one has stuck around this long anyway, you won’t hurt me.

But I hate that I’m hurting you. I think the best choice is for me to leave. I’ll always be here for you, you have my number. I’ll send you where I’ll be. I’d rather you be happy without me than miserable with me.

I love you.

That felt like a punch to the gut.

It felt like a knife wedged in between two of your ribs, digging and twisting.

No one has stuck around this long anyway.

Is this the pain he felt, waiting for you? Drowning in his sorrows, going to leave you to save you pain? It made a part of you angry, yet all of you felt ashamed. You had hurt him too.

But he hadn’t left. He had to have written it before you came home because he did not spend one moment without you since you arrived home.

It hurt your heart that he thought his best decision was to run. It hurt to know that he probably felt scared, that he ducked back into that dark place in his head. He was drunk last night, he might not even remember himself writing it - but in case he did, you folded the note again. You placed it on the floor, placing the empty bottles how they were after Cerberus made them fall. You stood, feeling as if you had held a gun to Simon’s heart and pulled the trigger.

Even as you walked back towards your bathroom to shower, you could still feel the gunpowder residue on your hands.

———————

(comment for part 4! it will get better from here, i promise (aka more fucking angst HAHHA))

taglist! (some i wasn’t able to tag, i’m sorry!)

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