#Cat Pee Has Blood In It

[sillysadduck]

where are you are you okay are you safe I miss you mr italian ethan

I am in my house (instructions on how to get here not included)

I am safe-ish I guess?

I am nooot okay but I am trying

thank you for checking on me anon who still calls me ethan even tho I can't remember who decided that was my name

I wish I had more stuff to post 🤧 ahh but that's life

[strawberrymothteeth]

ahahaha oh boooooy.

[depresseddepot]

me: hey so one of the three cats has diarrhea but I need to figure out who. can you keep an eye on your cat, because he only really comes down here to use the litter box so I can't watch how he's acting like I can the others

my mother: wh.......huh........... .? "keep an eye on him"...........i mean............ill try.......how am i expected to do that......................do i just "look" at him.....?. "pay attention to him..?"......i don't think i can do that.......... .you're being so fucking dramatic actually. this fork becoming dirty after i ate using it is your fault too

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long. 

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh. 

The dreams weren’t uncommon. 

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten. 

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake. 

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom. 

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley. 

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy. 

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter. 

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?” 

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance. 

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.” 

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.” 

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!” 

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords. 

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him. 

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold. 

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin. 

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more. 

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him. 

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift. 

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you. 

“Call me Ember.” 

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter. 

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you. 

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing. 

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.” 

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now. 

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort. 

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him. 

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf. 

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories. 

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock. 

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace. 

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted. 

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine. 

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight. 

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt. 

“Ember…” 

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper. 

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right. 

He left. 

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough. 

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears. 

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways. 

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall. 

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing. 

The same boy you still loved. 

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny. 

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment. 

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down. 

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you. 

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned. 

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life. 

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free. 

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see. 

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast. 

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle. 

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.” 

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist. 

He was shaking slightly. 

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you. 

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths. 

But something went wrong on one of his deployments. 

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet. 

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months. 

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance. 

He didn’t let you touch him. 

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words. 

‘Don’t look for me.’ 

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together. 

All of those years. 

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided. 

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs. 

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages. 

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend. 

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness. 

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.” 

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock. 

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders. 

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.” 

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank. 

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it. 

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t. 

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.” 

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again. 

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes. 

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours. 

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes. 

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!” 

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen. 

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!” 

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly. 

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.” 

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.” 

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe. 

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor. 

A pact of loyalty. 

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life. 

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet. 

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself. 

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?” 

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath. 

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.” 

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon. 

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he? 

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through? 

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even. 

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth. 

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—” 

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip. 

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.” 

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid. 

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern. 

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.  

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters. 

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath. 

“Need you t’know it.” 

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment. 

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy. 

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain. 

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up. 

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks. 

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head. 

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself. 

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.” 

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax. 

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly. 

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you. 

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it. 

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way. 

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence. 

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist. 

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name. 

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long.  Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not. 

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?” 

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?” 

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you. 

With you survival became secondary. 

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years. 

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin. 

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.” 

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill. 

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist. 

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.” 

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth. 

And he’d give you it. All of it. 

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time. 

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[kathrynmhahn]

please help me save my cats life

today my 8 month old cat started peeing blood, like...straight up blood. it's in his urine, but there's very little urine, so its mostly just dark red blood. he's very lethargic, constantly throwing up, and not acting like his hyper weirdo self and i'm so scared he's dying or going to die if i cant get him immediate help. anyone who has had, or has, pets know that vets will charge you thousands of dollars to keep your pet alive and won't really do anything to help you UNTIL you can pay. unfortunately, i have no money. i've been homeless and moving around the east coast for the last few years and i'm just now living in a house and trying desperately to get on my feet. (i have $4 to my name)

i know there are other causes out there that need the money and deserve the money, but i really can not handle another tragedy in my life right now. i hate asking for money, but if you can spare absolutely anything and share this post, i would really appreciate it.

right now i'm looking to raise at least $800.

i'm going to have to be annoying and constantly reblog this so i want to apologize in advance.

if you can't donate anything, i completely understand, please just boost this post in hopes that more people can see it. ❤️‍🩹

TLDR: my cat is very sick, peeing blood, throwing up, and is very lethargic and not his usual self. i need $800+ to get him to the vet asap.

i'm not using gofundme or anything similar bc i've heard horror stories of not getting the money released in time or at all, so i'm sticking with regular money apps. i promise anything sent to me is going directly towards my cats vet bill. c/ashapp: $airikahj v/enmo: airikah-j p/aypal: @/airikah

please feel free to send me an ask or direct message with any questions you may have. ❣️

[leeknow-thoughts]

piss kink fic w chan.....!!!!! 😍😍😍😍

oh absolutely.

୨୧ DRINK UP!

𝝑𝝔 cw : piss duh, petnames, daddy kink bc it's Chan duh, piss drinking (idk what to call that), this is so short, all porn no plot, kinda clit play, mentions of blood

𝝑𝝔 a/n : sorry I have been inactive asf as of lately coming back from the grave to finally post this!

"Aww kitty cat, I know tch tch tch I know," Chan coos as he holds the vibrator to your clit.

You squirm, the pleasure becomes too much. "Daddy please, please need it-" you whimper.

You bite your lip so hard you feel blood in your mouth. "I know I know, precious girl," he uses that condescending voice when he talks to you, "feels too good doesn't it yeah?"

You nod, your vision going white as you feel the knot in your stomach break, cumming before you can stop yourself. "Atta girl, c'mere daddy has a treat for you kitty cat," Chris smiles watching you writhe on the bed.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth, you suck on it tenderly. "Your gonna drink all of daddy's piss, open your mouth for me c'mon," he coos.

You keep your mouth open as Chan takes his fat cock out of his boxers. Slipping his tip past your lips, "drink up."

His head falls back and you taste him in your mouth. You had never drank his pee before, you thought it would be gross, but here you are chugging it like it's the nectar of the gods.

"There you go, fuck such a good fucking girl for me," he moans.

[sirenreputation]

Goddess

Goddess: Chapter One

— feat. Sun Wukong & Six Eared Macaque x reader

ɞ ݁ †⠀꒡ ͝

Goddess

Chapter one

Chapter Note: This is the backstory of our reader.

The backstory is connected with Encantadia, but more so back in ancient China.

The sounds of swords clashing, the sounds of brave soldiers shouting and chanting encouragement for the others to not feel fear or worry; the surrounding battlefields are filled with corpses, weapons, and soldiers mourning their dead friends, comrades, brothers, and lovers. The swords clashing and yelling filled the air; the sky, that once was blue and filled with life, is now red, dead; there’s nothing around you but death and the smell of rotting corpses. White hair, tanned skin, and calloused hands gripped her large claymore sword; her white eyes filled with exhaustion and anger. She gritted her teeth; her armor is stained with the blood of the enemy soldiers; she is getting desperate to end this stupid war that her brother started; she is tired; her men are tired; they are hungry, sleepless, and mentally and physically tired from all of this; this wasn’t supposed to be her job; this isn’t her job to clean up after her brother’s mess. Why is she here? She is starting to lose hope in this battle; the battle has lasted for one and a half weeks. She was supposed to be in the castle; she was supposed to be there, hanging out with her friends and playing with her cats; in fact, she was supposed to be at home, where she is safe from this; she was supposed to find lo—

“General?”

She snapped out of her deep thoughts and looked at the lieutenant across the table as the others were now looking at her, making her adrenaline rise up a bit. She coughed, indicating to continue, not wanting to use verbal communication at the moment.

“Okay. The Hikani army is slowly entering our border, stealing food, kidnapping women and children, and burning the village to ashes as they are done raiding it.”

“They are looking for something, but what?”

The other one said as he looked at the lieutenant in the eyes as his fist curled up and his brows furrowed.

“That’s the problem; we don’t know. As you can see, last month, we were trying our best to communicate with them, asking what they wanted, but they didn’t seem to care to reply to us. And to this day, we don’t know what or who they are trying to find.”

She finally spoke up with a voice tone that is cold as ice, her eyes darting at the lieutenant’s eyes and her teeth gritting in anger.

“Who? What do you mean by ‘Who’?”

She asked, looking at the person across the room with stares that could kill a person or make them pee their pants.

“Are you trying to say that they raided our village, killed my subjects, and kidnapped women and children because they were looking for someone?”

She clenched her fist; the man across the room gulped and remained steady and calculated.

“Princess—” “General Lieutenant Jing.”

“Yes! General.”

The man corrected himself as he looked at the empire princess, who was young and sweet; now she is a cruel, brutal, cold-blooded killer. The war really changed her so much.

“From what I gather from our spy, they said they were looking for someone; they specified that this person is the direct descendant of Amihan; they say that the direct descendant of Amihan would have the power to control air.”

The lieutenant said; he looked down at his notebook where the letter is placed for safekeeping.

She looked at her soldiers and gritted her teeth; her grip on her claymore got bigger and heavier.

The sound of a book closing; the child lets out a huff of frustration as she looks up to see bright yellow eyes glowing and hair so white; her skin is tanned as she looks down at the child who lets out the sound of frustration.

“Now, now, my dear, you know the rules: 20 minutes of story reading. It’s time for you to go to sleep; it’s past your bedtime; remember you have to visit your aunt tomorrow and you have to wake up.”

From far away, down to southeast Asia, where there was a country filled with beautiful beings called Diwata’s; they were the most beautiful creatures that roamed the land; their kingdom was prosperous and peaceful under the rule of the queen named ‘Maraya,’ the one who is currently reading a story for her firstborn, ‘Name’; she is the firstborn daughter of her first husband; the child really took after her father, but her unimaginable beauty is from her mother, making the princess hold the title as the darling of the realm.

“But Mother! We are getting to the good part!”

The child huffs again as she spins her body to face her mother as she pouts, making the queen look at her child and laugh and pat her on the head.

“Then it wouldn’t give the thrill? Now, that would be so boring, my little pearl.”

The queen pinches her daughter’s cheek before letting it go. The child groans as she rubs her red cheek and looks at her mother, pouting and crossing her arms.

“But it doesn’t like that!! I want to know what happened!!”

The child complains as she looks down at her bedsheet, avoiding her mother’s eyes of amusement.

“Patience, my little pearl; consider this your training of patience.”

The queen smiles as she looks at her daughter before sighing and looking at the balcony, revealing that the stars have shown their brightest stars.

“Look, my dear; the night has shown their little prince in the sky tonight.”

Once the princess heard that, she quickly looked out the balcony; she saw many stars, and this made the princess giddy. For some reason, the little princess has taken an interest in the stars and night, making the queen sometimes call her her little starlight because of the princess’s little obsession with the night sky and stars. “Oh my! Mother, look how bright that star is!! Mother!!”

The princess yelled out loud, making the queen shush her daughter, which the princess did.

“I know, my dear; please keep your voice low, okay? Your siblings will wake up.”

As the queen says that, a loud crying of the baby makes the queen flinch; with ‘Name,’ the queen stands up and runs out of the room before coming back and kissing the princess on the forehead before smiling at her and again leaving the room and attending to the baby.

The princess is now in her room, which was once noisy but is now silent; only the sounds of crickets and the wind blowing and birds chirping. But that didn’t make the princess worried at all because she is fully aware that her baby sister is desperate to feel her mother’s touch and affection, which makes her understand her mother’s perspective.

The princess looks up to see the brightest star is still shining brightly, making the princess stare at it in awe. She has observed and studied the stars thanks to her mother’s library and the kingdom’s library. Despite having two grand libraries filled with knowledge and history of this kingdom, she cannot help but feel she needs more knowledge about stars. The princess yawns as she silently agrees with herself that she really needs to sleep for tomorrow because her aunt is coming to take her beyond the borders. The princess climbs down from the chair as she closes the curtains and blows out the candles and goes to her bed, comfortably laying down and closing her eyes.

Outside the palace, a little song was hummed by one Diwata; her eyes are green as emerald; her skin is tanned the same as the queen; her hair is brown as the rich soil of the ground; she is humming a song as she walked around the area; green grass and flowers followed her every step. This Diwata was humming as she walked towards the palace, near the princess’s room building. The humming made by the Diwata woke the princess, who woke up from the lovely dream she had in her mind. The humming made the princess curious; being a curious princess, she stood up and hopped off the bed gently, grabbing her small blanket from the side of the chair where the queen was; opening the curtain, she looked down and saw the beautiful Diwata with emerald eyes; with the help of the moonlight, she saw what this beautiful Diwata looked like, and she couldn’t help but be awed by her beauty. The green-eyed Diwata looked up and saw the princess looking down at her, and that made her smile; she gestured for the princess to come down; at first, the princess was skeptical, but for some reason, she wanted to trust this beautiful maiden, and without thinking, she opened the balcony door and walked out of her room; the princess shivered from the cold wind, but she rubbed both her shoulders and wrapped the small blanket around her and looked down to see the Diwata; she was still there, smiling softly and opening her arms for the princess; is… is she telling her to jump? What was she thinking, wanting the firstborn child of the queen to jump down that high? But again, for some reason, the princess couldn’t help but stand on the edge of the balcony, not facing how high she was; her gut told her to just trust that maiden, so looking up at the stars and admiring how beautiful they are, without hesitation, she took a step. Falling. She felt her hair swishing around violently; she closed her eyes with a deep breath; she opened her hands to the smiling maiden; she felt the air wrapped around her waist and green essence and vine wrapped around her waist, catching the princess from a fall she wouldn’t survive; she felt the hands wrapped around her waist as the air and vine vanished; a chuckle was heard from the Diwata.

“My little Hadia, you really trust me, do you?”

She asked as she giggled, making the princess nod.

“Of course! I trust you, Auntie!!!”

The brown-haired and emerald-eyed woman looked at the child with a little bewildered expression on her face as she put down her niece and caressed her cheek and chuckled.

“Strange child you are, ‘Name’; most kids were practically crying falling from that height, and here you are just smiling at me. Truly gifted you are; your mother must be proud to have a child like you, my dearest Hadia.”

She fully stood up and went to the deep forest of the kingdom with the princess’s hand wrapped around her finger. The emerald-eyed Diwata raised her free hand and chanted a spell, and the portal opened. The princess gasped at what she had witnessed, a small portion of her aunt’s powers.

“Oh my… that is incredible, Auntie!!”

The princess looked up at her aunt, which made the woman chuckle and walk through the portal, and the princess followed.

First perspective (Name|Reader): I saw my Auntie Maria walking through the portal that she made seconds ago; so, without a second thought, I walked through it. I felt weird when I was inside the portal; it felt super weird; it gave me goosebumps on my arms.

“You can open your eyes now, my little Hadia.”

I heard Auntie Maria say, and I opened my eyes. I couldn’t help but gasp in awe when I saw the beautiful place I was currently standing on. I heard the portal disappear from behind, and I heard lots of footsteps coming into the room. I looked around and saw tons of guards… I don’t know. I’ve never seen a guard that wears emerald armor; this made me feel shy and somehow more alert. My aunt looked down at me and beamed; she looked at the guards and spoke something that I didn’t understand. Again, my aunt looked at me and grinned a little and lowered herself down to my height. She took a biscuit from the tray that the beautiful lady brought in. “Here, my little Hadia, you have to eat this so you can understand.”

With my chubby little finger, I grabbed the biscuit and looked at my aunt with a suspicious look, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, my little Hadia, this biscuit is not spicy.”

She giggled as she informed me of that. And so, with that, I smiled and took the biscuit and ate it. In a matter of seconds, I knew what they were all whispering and talking about.

“Is that what Queen Maraya’s first daughter looks like?”

“She looks so beautiful as a child; I wonder what she will look like when she grows up.”

More and more talking filled my ears about my mother and my beauty. One particular comment caught my interest:

“She looks like a female version of her father.”

They know my father? I looked at them curiously, wanting to learn more about my father. They saw and quickly gave me a warm smile and avoided my gaze, which made me pout a little. I felt my aunt’s hand tugging me gently as I looked at her. I saw that she was about to follow that woman who was walking forward, seemingly guiding us, and I just followed with my hand wrapped around my aunt’s hands. She glanced at me, and she gave me a smile of reassurance, which calmed my nerves.

[bomberqueen17]

looks like i picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines

no no that's a quote from the movie airplane. i tried amphetamines, by prescription, and i know i didn't find them particularly helpful, but i don't remember why. i've spent the last couple of weeks aggressively checked out of reality almost completely lost in my attempts to write a novel about solarpunk tall ships and the hot bisexuals who sail them, and that has been hella fun (i should share a snippet sometime. i will.) but it also means my car is still overdue for inspection and i need to figure out how to pay my physical therapy bill and i have several other urgent tasks piled up plus i still have an enormous quantity of luggage and things i removed from my cabin to winterize it piled in my house's entryway etc. so.

so anyway i've resumed amphetamines, since i had a two-week supply and only took one of them. and we'll see how that goes.

(yeah other friends of mine who've gotten diagnoses have had doctors insist on them monitoring their like, cardiac health or blood pressure with these, and it is slightly surprising to me that nobody has asked me about those things, but on the other hand, i seem to have been fine, so i guess this is ok. i found this guy through my insurance company so this isn't like. well. i don't know. it's the finest supervision i can get through my shitty insurance i guess.)

anyway. tall ships bisexuals is actually going pretty well but extremely disorganizedly. i need to get that under some kind of control.

i bought a stand mixer but haven't gotten it yet.

I also just forgot what i was going to write here, so this is going really well, score another one for the vyvanse. yes yes i'm keeping a comprehensive journal.

wow no really i don't remember where i was going with this. heck! welp. oh yeah no, i've been queueing enormous numbers of political posts and then going back and deleting them as unhelpful, so you're welcome. facebook memories helpfully showed me my post from eight years ago on this topic and mostly i'm like oh wow i was on facebook eight years ago? but if i look, mostly i was not. lol i signed up for facebook almost twenty years ago and decided it was Not For Me almost fifteen years ago and it still sends me twenty emails a day about my friends it's holding hostage, this is kind of amazing. anyway.

well i've been sitting here trying to lure my agitated cat to sit down and kick me out of the recliner, and after literally half an hour it has finally worked. so, off i go to drink like three gallons of water because that is the one thing i remember about being on meth that was really really important. you think "ah i need some more water" and you pour yourself a cup of it and it's gone and you're like "where did that go" so you drink three more cups and then you're like "wow i'm thirsty did i forget to drink water" and you wind up drinking incredible amounts of water and never peeing so. anyway that's a lot easier now that it's winter and i'm living someplace with running water, so. thumbs up.

woof i took a multivitamin and a fish oil capsule at the same time and i can taste that fish oil capsule, well done me =_=

[apollodeath]

MORE KÖNIG HEADCANNONS!

I loved writing them last time so I thought I’d drop some more!

Here’s my other hc’s

MDNI

NSFW and SFW mixed together

Warnings: mentions of slapping, rough, blood and, of course sexual topics.

König loves hearing you say his name, but even more when you attempt to say German words

You usually ask “how do you say _” and he’ll repeat it until you get it.

König gets embarrassed if someone makes fun of his accent when he speaks English

He has favorite English words “cat” is one lol

If you ever accidentally get a cut on your finger and it begins to bleed he will lick the blood off and give your cut a kiss

If you raise an attitude and say something out of line expect a slightly harsh slap from him. He doesn’t do it to hurt you but for you to understand what you’re doing is being bratty plus he knows it makes you hot and bothered.

König loves Halloween purely to start scaring you randomly throughout the day

Once hid in the bathtub for 20 minutes to scare you while you peed but, he didn’t realize you didn’t have to pee for awhile lol

When you are on top, riding him he loves having a pillow under his head to help him stay up and watch you fully submerge his thick length deep in you over and over again.

He loves the sound of the lube slapping sound while the both of your hips collide together

Sometimes when he’s close to cumming he loves edging himself in you by staying completely still and letting himself pulse in you, he usually has his back curled forward holding your hips so tight holding on to the burning release in his core. Just to wait enough to start thrusting fully again and repeating the process as long as he wants

When he is ready for the release he’s a moaning mess slurring every word he’s trying to get out and starts oozing the first stream of seed his eyes roll back and his mouth gapes open quite literally drooling as his toes curl and hips lock stuck to yours and his cock unloads massive amounts.

Notes: got carried away on that one my bad

He doesn’t mind sitting in silence all day, non-verbal days or moments are completely fine for him

When you aren’t tired he’ll always suggest three things: warm milk, orgasming or a warm shower before bed (which will probably lead to the second thing)

He loves offering you his food even if you have your own

If you’re out in public he doesn’t enjoy a lot of pda but he enjoys hand holding soft touch of his leg under the table or in the car

If he can manage to squish himself into your clothes he’ll accidentally put it on (even if it’s a crop top)

He has a preference on lube so he’ll go to the store himself and read every bottle/tube until he finds a perfect one

Once he went into a sex toy shop and read the back of a “heated and tingly” one and his skin crawled thinking ‘who would want it to be hotter’

Left the shop with a bag. Bag contents: dildo, lube, condoms, flavored condoms, silk rope and a lolli pop shaped like a penis (a gift for you)

He is a soup girly

König will break something accidentally in a glass shop (he’ll buy it after)

He loves when you ask before pulling off his mask “May I take off your mask, my love?” He’ll think if he’s okay with that before answering “I’d like to keep it on just for a little longer” he blushes “of course, köni~”

When he’s away on deployment he lays in his bed and misses your arms around him

He always awaits the moment of getting to hear your voice over the phone when he’s away

If randomly he begins to think of your body while trying to sleep he’ll surely get hard and try ignoring it at first but if it persist he’ll make his way out of the sleeping quarters to the bathroom, bringing his Polaroid of you with him.

Once he was sitting on the lid of the toilet in a stall late at night. His legs outstretched, one hand on his balls and base holding his cock up while the other stroked fast enough to hear the precum slap in his hand with every stroke, he let himself moan your pet names and heavy breathing knowing everyone was asleep down the halls and couldn’t hear him

He once was caught and boy did the others hold it over his head. Some teasing jokes and Soap even mimicking his moans which lead to the group laughing.

It stopped when soap walked in and saw König’s cock while getting out of the shower

Ghost and König def don’t like each other. I feel like they get competitive

That’s it for now! I got super carried away on some but I hope y’all like them💗

[sillysadduck]

I never wanted it to get to this point, but I don't have a choice. I finally made a paypal and I'm trying to set up a ko-fi.

Please read to the bottom and reblog, for the first time I seriously need your help, I mean it.

Hi again, context for my desperate behavior:

For those who know me from my dhmis or fnaf fanart, you know I have been around for years, and I was always happy to bring you free requests. I have never asked for money, it didn't feel right for me even when you were willing to donate to help me escape my living situation, but I am eternally thankful with those who offered ♡ having said this, you know I would never ask unless I absolutely HAVE to.

I'm studying -and pretty much living- with the money of a scholarship, but with the costs of food and books I cannot afford to live. I'm not being dramatic, I have spent more than one day without eating in the last few weeks.

I'm off my meds because I cannot afford them either.

I can't work because I'm the only one who takes care of my disabled sister at home, my mom isn't strong enough to pick her up and change her on her own anymore even if she tries. The days when I'm not home, I'm at college all day trying to survive while my elderly aunt helps take care of my sister.

Recently, what made me hit rock bottom was that my cat, Chimu, started peeing blood. My parents refused to help me pay for his vet bills, even when they're the ones who adopted him. He cries in pain everyday, he's a cat from the streets with a mental disability and I'm the only one who cares about him. The cat food for cats with urinary issues is $70, it may not seem like a lot but I'm surviving with $20 a month (in my country's currency, minimum wage is around $200) and I didn't care about suffering on my own but I won't drag him down with me.

Plus, this month, the government website has been glitching and I didn't receive the money I had been receiving so far. I need your help, if you can't buy then please reblog. I'm currently trying to set up a ko-fi too. I need you more than ever, even if I'm not as active as I used to be, as you can see now there is good reason for my absence.

TLDR: I can't afford to eat, study, or save my family cat, and my parents are pretending I don't exist. Please help me.

Thank you if you read this far <3

[lomagiffing]

hi hi folks, i do realized that i just recently bugged everyone with a commission post, but my dear cat (nolan), had to be taken to the vet today again. unlike the last time, around 30 days ago, in which he had a gall bladder inflammation (that is being treated with medicine currently, and he is much better), he is now refusing to drink water and pee. so far it doesnt seem something severe, but the vet is being cautious and ordered exams again (blood test, ultrasound and a urine sample). we collected the blood today, and he will get the ultrasound and sample on monday morning. the problem is i haven't finished paying the last round of exams yet on my credit card, so bills are getting a bit out of hand. nolan, my cat, has a local insurance (for pets), that does make stuff cheaper (consults, exams and surgery), so the most expensive part ends up being his meds.

i do realize everyone is going through a rough time at the beginning of the year normally, so i was hoping to make a sale to gather some money and cover the bills. as i announced yesterday, all commissions have a current 15% discount, but that will be raised to 20% for the entire month. that being said, if you commission a pack over 500 gifs, that will be up to 25% discount!! any help is appreciated, just fill the form or send a message, and thank you for the attention.

[fox-daddy]

The arcana as stolen memes again, again

Julian; the desire to disappear vs the desire to be held and wanted

~~~

Mc: what is the most complicated way to cook an egg?

Nadia without missing a beat: Atmospheric re-entry

Mc holding an egg:...well shit

~~~

Muriel: What if instead of stepping out of my comfort zone I step into an even comfier zone?

~~~

Lucio: huge fan of when my speech patterns rub off on people enjoy when that happens

Lucio: NEVERMIND, my mum just said skill issue to me

~~~

Mc: I wish I had the ability

Muriel:...to do what?

Mc:yeah

Muriel:...

Mc:...

~~~

Asra: I think we should have glowstick juice injected in our bones when we're born so if we break em there's a fun little surprise

Mc: whats the surpise?

Julian cutting in: blood poisoning

~~~

Lucio: if you step on a person's foot they open their mouths, just like trash cans.

Mc: trying not to encourage him by laughing*

~~~

Mc: one time Asra put a glass of milk on the table in front of me and I meant to ask them 'who's milk is this?' because I wasn't sure if it was for me or if they were putting it down on the table to go grab something else and I just stared down at the milk and said 'who's this?' and they turned around and without missing a beat said 'that's your new friend mr.milk' then we stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds before they asked if I was high.

~~~///~~~

(modern day arcana *not the au faking it*)

Nadia: the worst part about parallel parking is the witnesses

Mc: you know their are no witnesses if you're bad enough at parallel parking

~~~

Mc; those moments when straight people assume you're one of them and you feel like a gay secret agent

Nadia: lebionage

Portia:bi spy

Julian: it's an ace case

Asra: secret gaygent

~~~

Nadia: 'kobe' is for accuracy and precision while 'yeet' is for power and distance

Mc: I can turn this into dnd stats

Nadia:???

Mc:Kobe is dexterity, yeet is strength, oof is constitution, tea is intelligence, yolo is wisdom, and wig is charisma

~~~

Mc; You want to know one of my favorite facts? If you leave a hamster wheel out in the forest wild mice will come and run on it. That is one of my favourite facts.

Muriel:... bobcats and lynx's will sit in cardboard boxes abandoned in the forest. I asked Asra about it and they said 'cat's' while shrugging.

~~~

Mc; George Washington died in 1799, 15 years before the first dinosaur was classified. So therefore, Gorge Washington never knew about dinosaurs

Portia: Why does this make me so sad?

~~~

Nadia: if you add two pounds of sugar to literally one ton of concrete it will ruin the concrete and make it unable to set properly. Which is good to know if you want to resist something being built, French anarchists used this to resist prison construction in the 80's.

Portia: I'm just going to go ahead and take a note about this for purely educational purposes.

~~~

Julian: you got to be dunkin my doughnuts

Asra: you gotta be hutting my pizza

Portia: you gotta be mackin my donalds

Nadia: you're really innin my outs here, buddy. You're fivein my guys.

Lucio: ya whiting my castle. Ya darying my queen. Ya steaking my shake.

Mc: but are you belling my taco?

~~~///~~~

(ones with my oc's because why not)

Hunter: stuck in an elevator because Portia decided to jump?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: fucken mint

Hunter: Julian's had three panic attacks in ten minutes?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

Hunter:Muriel hasn't said a thing since we got stuck?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

Hunter: Lucio being immature and yelling the whole time?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

Hunter: Asra has just been listening to music and trying to call Nadia to come get us?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

Hunter: Kyle has to pee so bad he might get a bladder infection?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

Hunter: Lucio's going to be the one we blame because we all hate his fucking guts

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: Fucken mint

~~~

Hunter: I've got some kind of allergic reaction going on and my face is breaking out in a bad rash and Julian is freaking out and wants to take me to the hospital. Portia was like 'let's not make any rash decisions' and we high-fived and now Julian is yelling at both of us.

~~~

Hunter: someone will be like 'coca cola can remove rust from metal imagine what it's doing to your body' like psssh removing the rust obviously

Nadia: that's not how that works

Hunter: Yeah? while I don't have rust in my body so check mate

Nadia:

[compassionatereminders]

Lord. Today has been such a day. I hope it's ok to just rant about it here, if not obviously feel free to delete!!

Got woken up at 1am because my mom needed to go to the ER for excruciating pain. So we load up and I take her. It takes an HOUR for them to even pay her any mind- and it's not because it was busy. We live in a small town, and there was literally nobody there waiting to be seen. We think they were ignoring her because she looked like she was having drug withdrawals (shaking, pale, she couldn't stop moving/fidgeting). They only came out to see her when I brought my little brother in, and they realized that she wasn't just there to try and get meds from the hospital (this is all speculation ofc, but I really can't imagine any other reason that 'nobody saw her'). I'm still so mad because she sat there for so long, crying in pain (my mom NEVER cries, so that's how I could tell it was really bad) and nobody even bothered to check on her for over an hour. It took another hour for her to get any pain relief and while the nurses were all really nice, I'm still incredibly upset that she had to endure it for so long.

Anyways. Mom's going to be fine, she's getting flown to a better hospital a couple hours away to get the problem dealt with. That's all good. I'm staying home with my brother, and my aunt is going to pick her up later today (hopefully; it might take a few more days). The only issue is that I'll need to meet with my little brothers father (not my dad) to drop him off for the weekend, and I hate the guy, but I can easily ignore him so it's fine.

I think it's the stress of coordinating 4 different people's schedules that put me so on edge (my aunt needs to know when my mom is leaving, my sister is coming 1400 miles to Nevada from Texas, my little brother needs to do his homework/get ready to go/be dropped off). Family keeps calling me because I'm the one who lives with my mom, but I don't have any updates, because I'm home looking after my brother. I feel terrible that I can't tell them anything else, but it's still frustrating when I'm trying to get the house cleaned up, take care of a worried 7-year-old, and answer calls just to repeat the same thing.

The final straw though was one of my cats. When my brother and I finally got home around 8am, we were having breakfast. I look over, and my cat is peeing on my moms lunchbox. I freaked out, because that's disgusting, and he had NO reason to do that- their box is perfectly clean, he's not a serial pee monster, he's never been in competition with the other cats. I don't understand why today, of all days, he would choose to make a mess.

I've spent the past hour and a half trying to clean it by hand because I can't just throw it in the washing machine (it has a cloth outside, but its not removable). He ALSO managed to pee on my brother's homework tower (a short, plastic 'filing cabinet' with drawers we keep his stuff in), and of course, it got inside some of the drawers. Luckily the only stuff I had to throw away was some construction paper and white printer paper, and the rest was untouched, but I still had to clean up a MASSIVE puddle of cat pee on the floor, and empty + wipe out four of the drawers.

So. Anyways. I'm not feeling solution-oriented right now, I'm just really angry that this is all happening at once and there's not really anything within my control besides making sure my brother keeps to his schedule. At least he's not too worried, but I've kind of been avoiding talking to him at the moment because I feel like I might snap at him when it's not his fault at all. I'm also avoiding the cat because, while I would never hurt an animal for doing something dumb, I'm still so mad about it. I'd much rather he'd have peed on something of mine.

Now I just feel super on edge, and I keep waiting for ANOTHER bad thing to happen, because at this point it just feels like the universe is out for blood. It's not even noon yet. It's barely 10am

I'm so sorry about all of this. Anti addict ableism is completely unacceptable and literally kills people. It's not like an addict can't ALSO be in excruciating pain/genuinely need urgent care. I'm glad your mom will be okay, but it makes me furious that she was neglected for hours because of prejudices against a potential addiction. And I completely understand that you're not in a good place right now. I'm sorry about the pee situation also, though it's important for me to note that the cat didn't CHOOSE to "make a mess" just to bother you - either he was a bit ill or it was simply an unfortunate accident.

[withlovefromsimtown]

Lifa's Life Update (+Sims Progress)

Well it's been a minute, but We're still here & I don't mind.

Things roughly in order:

I fully remapped onto a custom SC4 terrain & rebuilt an entire Sims 2 BG neighborhood to update it to UC (any guesses?), started working on clothing defaults for the aforementioned neighborhood.

Started 2 huge TS2 projects that I may someday finish, completely unrelated to all of that, because I was in Milkshape & I can't control myself.

Had my partner's friends over A LOT, like it seemed like every couple weeks for awhile someone would be crashing in the guest room. (They're my friends too they just... started off as partner's friends lol.)

Barbecued & grilled a lot, because friends & food.

Went to a VNV Nation show with my friend (things that are on the Elder Goth Bucket List lol), made a whole Yeet Weekend outta it & also went to Ikea, Fivebelow, Spirit Halloween, a local outdoor market, & a snowcone stand.

The fucking holidays.

Got sick, part 1.

Surprise, my cat has diabetes & needs 2x daily insulin shots!

More of the fucking holidays.

Got sick, part 2.

2x/month cat checkups to check blood sugar & adjust the dose, for like 3 months.

TX freezes, local friend doesn't have sufficient insulation or central heating in their home to deal with the temps, because TX, & comes to stay with me (with their cat) for a week because I have central heating.

During that week that my friend was here, Mr Diabetes Cat decided to a) eat all the dry kibble out of every bowl, b) refuse wet food at shots time because he was full of dry kibble, & then c) throw up kibble & turn around & pee all over my carpet right after throwing up, which resulted in him not getting his shots that night--they have to be given with food---& getting scheduled an urgent vet visit in the morning. (He's fine, just expensive.)

On the day it actually warmed up outside before it went back to 20 degrees, friend & I did a mini-hike together. We also had food from the Generic Asian Cuisine place (yeah I know, it's Texas though) where we got Pho, Lumpia, & a tofu stir-fry.

I regret having to work during the freezy times, unfortunately.

Partner obtained me a uhh... knockoff Steamdeck handheld? Rog Ally? so I can keep Win7 on my monster computer & also play my dumb ancient murder-aliens 4x RTS game on Steam that I like, but I haven't fixed my mods for it to play it, because I...

Got sick, part 3.

While sick, took Mr Diabetes Cat to his very last 2-week checkup; we're on 3-month checkup schedules now! Because he's stable! Yay!

The entire house is a disaster & I'm still not 100% but I'm back to cooking/cleaning a bit between work at least.

Working on more of the necessary clothing defaults for the TS2 neighborhood I redid.

Planning for March when the entire zoo needs to be vetted again for vaxxing, just gonna wrap the diabetes checkup into that & do everyone's bloodwork at that time also unless something drastic happens. (We do like 2-3 cats at a time over the course of 2 weeks, & then the dog on her own, we're not like... hauling a van of animals to the vet all at once...)

Need to get some of the soft mesh transportation prisons for the cats before then, because the big crate with the lid is about to disintegrate.

[zuzsenpai]

tw for pet medical stuff

So last week the vet tried to do a blood draw from Zuko so we could check some stuff (something's going on, since he's been drinking and peeing more after the surgery back in August). They brought him in another room to draw blood and apparently he was WAY too angry about it for them to get anything. When they brought him back to me, he was hissing loudly, which... I've had this cat for 6 years and have NEVER heard him hiss.

Vet asked me to come back the following week (today), and to give Zuko gabapentin the night before and morning of. It chilled him out pretty well, was able to get him in the carrier without a fight.

So they brought him back to get a blood draw and HOLY SHIT I could hear him yelling from the waiting room. When they brought him back out they told me he was so uncooperative (and wildly strong), they could only get half of the blood they needed 🫠

Not only that, he refused to give me a urine sample in the special litter yesterday. I had the box out for 14 hours (5 of those he was locked in a room with it) and he refused to use it. Probably didn't help that they gave me like 1/1000 a cup of the special litter and it doesn't fill even a quarter of the bottom of the box. He already has urinary issues as it is, so I gave him his regular box back and he used it immediately. I asked the vet what to do and they said to put the litter in a baking pan??? He's bigger than any baking pan I've ever seen, so I have no idea if that will work. They also said I could board him at the vet and have him locked in a cage with the litter until he gives a sample. That's ALSO out because there's no way in hell I have the funds to pay for that on top of the bloodwork and urinalysis.

Why, Zuko? Why are you so powerful and so stubborn?? 😭😭😭

[canalstreetbaker]

This is my boy Leland. Stream of consciousness below the cut; I wanted to get my thoughts somewhere while I still had them.

He came to me via Humane Society about sixteen years ago. He and his shelter brother Shadow were about two years and 18 months (respectively) and found a loving home with my ex and I.

I got them both in the divorce, she got $750. I was the clear winner.

He's seventeen or eighteen now. He's been treated for diabetes for the last six years, we've had three significant insulin shock scares, two bouts of fleas and more vet visits for blood sugar checks than I know how to count. He's a lap cat with a diesel motor purr, a food motivated brain and a spite fueled bladder. He drinks a quart a day of water, turns any litterbox to concrete in an hour, and is cantankerous. He doesn't want to be bothered by cats, but always has time for chin scritches.

He broke into a bag of brewing grains and got three or four good mouthfuls in the time it took for me to turn around and back. I called that batch That Damn Cat, one of the only recipes I have with a story attached.

He's at the hospital today, perhaps for the last time. I'm half a country away, worried sick.

I know by rote the diagnosis that was explained to me. Low core temperature, slow heart rate, dehydration. Fatigue. These are known.

Kidney failure is when the dread really set in. The phrase "quality of life" drives me to tears every time I think about it. The doctor said it to me while explaining the treatment plan.

I get it. I understand. I've been preparing for this when my housemate and my daughter said he wasn't eating anything, only drinking. Finally only peeing on the floor, curled around a water bowl he didn't have the strength to reach.

He's responding to treatment. How well I don't yet know. I'll see him tomorrow.

In retrospect I know these aren't just thoughts. They're his eulogy. Sixteen years of love, memories, and companionship. Everyone loves him, especially me.

I've been preparing, but I'm not prepared at all. How can I be? He's been a mainstay of a third of my life.

I love you, my boy Leland. I want you to be comfortable, and I want to be there. I want every moment I can get.

I just hope that I get to bring you home from the vet with your shaved booties and manicured paws.

And if I don't ill still treasure every moment I've had.