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deanbrainrotwritings · 8 months ago

Text

— seven

SUMMARY : dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, donna handscum

WARNINGS : smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, losers), fluff, the plot is abandoned :’(

WORD COUNT : 5.2k

A/N : yes, seven by jungkook. this fills the square for new position on my @jacklesversebingo card. this position is called ‘rocking horse’, lmao, very hot

She was staring at the screen of her laptop, every link was now purple instead of blue from having explored them all on her journey to research all there was to know about the Egyptian goddess Taweret. Still, she found nothing on how to weaken, stop, or kill the hippo. Taweret’s distorted usage of her abilities was getting too out of hand.

Too many pregnant people. Too many old people getting young again. Especially couples. For now, at least, that’s all that’s happened.

Typically Sam, Dean, and Y/N dealt with the killing, the death, and the blood, but Donna managed to pick this up on her own and called the brothers for backup because it was starting to get way too ridiculous—terrifying, really. Reapers were overwhelmed and while the Winchesters and Y/N didn’t really care about how they were feeling, it was a major problem—when speaking about the universal rules: what is, what should be, what was, what should never be, etcetera.

Unfortunately, the research has led to no real or useful information for how to stop the Goddess, not even how to kill her. And once Dean started to hum Travelling Riverside Blues while shaking his leg impatiently in the fourth hour, she couldn’t focus on anything else anymore.

Now that same song was stuck in her head and she glared at her laptop while trying to get a different song to replace Led Zeppelin’s in her mind. It wasn’t a bad song, but it got irritating, and every song somehow morphed right back to Travelling Riverside Blues. Her and Dean had been so good about focusing on the research, but sometimes one of them always made it impossible for the other to maintain that amount of silence and focus around each other.

It usually started with some small conversations: How’s the research going? Have you found anything yet? Hey, remember when…? Are you hungry? I’m kinda hungry. Aren’t you tired? And so on.

Then there were glances. From a distance, they’d stare at each other when the other isn’t looking, wondering if enough time has passed to not feel guilty for wanting to take a break. They’d smile to themselves, catching cute little habits in body language or facial expressions.

Sometimes—most of the time—there was some sexualisation. If she’s wearing a skirt or a dress, he’d stare at the curve of her legs in some really sexy heels. He’d wish to have them wrapped around his waist as he fucks her or thrown over his shoulders with his face buried between her legs. He’d have to subtly place a hand over his crotch and hope his erection would go away or stop getting harder.

If the neck of her clothes was low enough to show some cleavage, he’d spend his time analysing the size of them, the roundness and perkiness of them in the clothes she wore. Or remembering the way they felt in his hands, warm and soft, and the way she looked so hot when he’d tease her sensitive nipples with his fingers, the noises she made playing in his head until he was hot and red in the face.

And his mind would drift endlessly to the memory of her naked body. The perfect dip of her waist when he holds her there and the way she squirms when he does it. The softness of her skin when his hands and his mouth are exploring, sucking, licking, biting, tasting her as his mouth waters hungrily; touching, squeezing, scraping, possibly bruising her body so she could always remember him. So she could always feel him and where he had been.

He’d stare at her hands as she typed away at the laptop, expertly pressing the keys with those swift and elegant fingers of her. She’d keep her nails relatively short and occasionally did them nicely. Currently, they were painted a mossy green colour that matched the gem of the silver ring she wore, one he’d picked out for her. Both of them knew the nail polish wouldn’t last, but he liked when she felt beautiful, it somehow made her a billion times more beautiful.

It was the memory of them slowly moving across his body, worshipping while soft and sometimes cold, smaller than his, that made him bite his lip. Even the gentle caresses to his face when he was on the brink of breaking apart into dust in grief and despair. Her hand in his whenever they went somewhere, while they slept, in the Bunker, in the Impala, during sex.

If he’s rolled up the sleeves of a white dress shirt, she’ll stare at the way the material stretches over his chest and broad shoulders, tightening around his arms when he flexes his hands and arms as a result of a cramp or the like. With that tiny fucking waist of his accentuated by the shirt tucked into his slacks, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fuck him senseless or hold him gently in her arms.

If he walked around to get a beer, she’d stare at the tightness of the black slacks over his ass, over his strong thighs when he’d bend over to reach down for the bottle. She’d have to hold back a moan and squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from jumping his bones or actually moaning out loud.

Even his fucking fingers turned her on. It was fucking annoying, when he’d brush his thumb across his plump bottom lip to swipe away droplets of beer. It was embarrassing the way her walls clenched around nothing just at the memory of having his thick fingers inside her, pushing and stroking, quick and steadfast. Her panties soaked through with arousal with every bit of motion from his hands. Even when he’s cleaning their weapons.

But the one thing that truly made her lose her mind were his lips. They were so distracting. All the time. Whenever he speaks, her eyes are glued on his lips, but he doesn’t think much of it because she does it often with everyone in order to focus on what they’re saying. He just doesn’t understand how much that doesn’t work for her when it’s his lips she’s looking at.

All she can think about is how kissable they look, how soft they’d feel against hers, and how funny it would be if she just kissed him mid-sentence. He’d have that cute, bewildered, but pleased look on his face. He bit them often when he was deep in thought, slowly releasing it, turning it red and swollen, just slightly covered in his spit.

He had the cutest habits with his mouth. Puckering them when he’s eating, pouting all the time, sometimes he said certain words they’d pout even more, and when he was pissed or focused. And then he did that model thing with his lips, leaving them slightly parted as he stared at nothing or was considering something seriously.

He was fucking delicious. And that mouth of his was ridiculously talented. Really, very yummy…

It was unfair that he looked as sinful and as fuckable as he did without having to try. Even after waking up, with his soft hair spiked up in some places and flat in others. When his voice was thick and hot with sleep and he’d murmur half-irritated words if he was woken too early, or hot and loving things being mumbled against her ear when he was in a mood.

After all that staring and longing, there would be trips to the fridge, when either one of them grabbed snacks for the other. Hands and fingers brushing against each other when passing over the snacks or drinks. Little smiles were exchanged and yearning sparkled in their eyes, but neither of them did or said anything about it, so the tension grew and grew.

Maybe one of them might get closer to the other, pretending to curiously look at the work they were doing. Slowly, their eyes would drift innocently to each other and there would be an exchange of teasing and amused smiles. And then they’d bring their laptop or books closer and stay there, slowly legs would start to touch each other.

It was like a circuit of lust. The endless tensions and the electricity that made them shiver, skin prickling, hair sticking up; for her: nipples tightening and tingly cunt dampening her panties; for him: cock stirring, slowly hardening and straining in his boxers. Their breaths became noticeably heavier and their eyes would be heavy with desire, and their arms and hands would touch to increase the voltage on each other’s skin until they just couldn’t take it and had to do something about it.

They weren’t quite there yet, but they were both thinking about it. They already knew themselves and how things progressed from years of being together. It was nice.

“This is so fucking boring!” Dean whined abruptly, throwing his head back and running his hands down his face. “We shoulda stayed with Sammy and Donna to talk to witnesses.” He slumped down in his chair with a pout and then turned to look at his girlfriend who pursed her lips to stop a smile from spreading across her tinted lips.

“You told Sam your knee was still hurting from the last hunt and wanted to come back here,” she reminded him with a laugh, moving the laptop off her lap to twist her torso left and right until the crack of her spine made her sigh happily.

“Yeah, well now my ass hurts, too,” he complained, arching his back in the chair and flattening his hands down his backside as it became numb.

“Then stop sitting and walk around for a bit,” she suggested, stretching her legs underneath the table so their feet knocked against each other.

“Ugh, fine,” he grunted petulantly, tapping his foot against hers in retaliation before getting up. He shut his laptop, taking the now-warm beer on the table with him. He squatted for a few seconds and she laughed through her nose, stretching in the chair while she watched him try to ease the pain on his butt from sitting.

“Fuck, this feels so good… and painful, all at once,” he chuckled, pursing his lips so his little dimples appeared above his lips. He hissed when he strained his sore knee and then sighed when he was satisfied. When he stood up straight, he scrunched up his cute nose when something popped pleasantly, and slapped his own ass with both hands—at the same time.

“Better?” She asked with a grin.

“Not really,” he frowned dramatically, hunching his back.

“Aw, come ‘ere then, sweetheart.” She mimicked his pout, moved her chair back from the table and patted her lap. “Come sit on daddy’s lap,” she said with a grin, then snorted. He let out a loud laugh and stood up straight again, placing his beer back on the table to make his way onto her lap. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you’re heavy,” she whispered playfully when he sat on her legs.

“Shudup,” he said with a soft laugh, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to play with her hair and resting his over hand on her waist, his thumb brushing back and forth distractedly.

“So, how’s it going?” She asked, a soft smile growing on her lips as she looked up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, intertwining her fingers to keep her hands from slipping away.

“I’m bored,” he mumbled, lifting his hand from her waist to play with the thin strap of her red dress.

“Yeah, you said that.” She stared at him for a moment, watching the way his eyes drifted from her hair, to her shoulder, and finally her breasts.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanna fuck you?” Dean asked unexpectedly, his eyes snapping back up to hers to capture her reaction. She blinked at him in astonishment, a smile slowly growing on her face. “How much I’ve wanted to bend you over every counter we’ve come across?” He murmured, cupping the back of her head to gently tilt her head back, her lips parting and her heartbeat rising in response. She tightened her entwined fingers, staring into both of his eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers. “How badly I wanna taste you? Kiss your lips? And touch every inch of your sexy body?”

“Dean,” she uttered breathily.

He smirked, teasing her by keeping his face inches away from hers, refusing her the pleasure of a kiss. His fingers slipped away from the strap of her dress to sneak into the top, but as his hands turned downward to cup her breasts, his fingers brushed against coarse material.

“Fucking boobtape,” he whispered and she laughed.

“My tits have to stay up somehow and not slip out if I have to fight,” she reasoned, feeling his fingers start to pick at the sticky tape. “Plus, a bra won’t make this dress look very nice. I mean… it’s got you this needy and hard...” She bit her lip and untangled her fingers to slide a hand between his legs. He became stiff and his breath hitched when she patted his hardening dick. “Get off me,” she murmured lightheartedly, letting him go completely.

“Y-yeah, okay,” he stammered, swiftly standing up off her lap.

He’d barely straightened up in front of her when she was starting to pull at the dark green tie to bring his lips down to hers in a rough kiss. He all but moaned against her mouth, grasping her hips desperately to pull the thin and silky cloth up so it bunched up at her waist, exposing some seamless, red panties that nearly matched the softness of the blood-red dress.

“Bed,” she murmured airily against his lips.

Dean nodded and quickly pressed his lips against hers again, moving with her as she made her way backwards, his hands groping and touching her body, hers pulling and tugging at his hair, their teeth clashing and tongues licking into each other's mouths. Lost in eachother, she ended up pressed against the wall with his knee shoved between her legs.

He pulled away, just to keep teasing her, “think I can make you cum on my thigh again?” He kissed down her jawline, his stubble tickling her soft skin, setting her nerves alight when he got to her neck, kissing softly and gently nipping at her pulse.

“I don’t doubt it,” she moaned, tilting her head back for him to stay there longer. He began rocking his knee back and forth, wrapped his arm around her waist and jutted her hips out slightly to position her perfectly on the tensing muscle of his thigh.

She grabbed at his hips with both hands and gasped at the friction on her clit. She started to roll her hips to match his movements, fumbling with his belt, struggling only because he wouldn’t keep still and her hands were shaking with desire, but she got it off eventually.

He pulled away from her before she could unbutton his pants and she pouted at him.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap,” he mocked her words from earlier with a laugh, sitting down on the bed. He patted his thigh for her to continue riding, and while the thought of that was hot, she was hung up on him calling himself daddy, even if it was a joke.

“Ewww,” she complained, holding back laughter. Still, she made her way between his legs and straddled one of his thighs, kissing his cheeks and forehead rather than plopping down and riding his thigh.

“Can I take the titty tape off?” He asked, lowering the neck of her dress to peek at the tape that matched her skin tone. She nodded, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, and settled onto his thigh, busying herself with loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

“What if I tattoo your name on my body?” She murmured. Dean shifted his gaze away from her chest to look at her inquisitively, blindly and carefully peeling off the tape from the skin of her breast. “Not a tacky tattoo, maybe Times New Roman, font size 10,” she replied playfully, dropping a chaste kiss to his parted lips.

“Oh,” he uttered shyly, and stayed quiet for a couple of moments. “Where?” He finally asked, giving her time to think before moving to her other breast to remove the tape there. She pondered for a while and then shrugged.

“Maybe… my finger,” she answered, wiggling her middle finger mischievously at him—as if flipping him off. He laughed at her, balled up the tape now that he was done, and threw it on the floor.

“No….” He disagreed gently, grabbing her hand to close her fist, then kissed her knuckles. She bit her lip, smiling shyly when he looked up at her through his thick lashes.

“No?” She questioned, rolling her hips against his thigh, her knee gently brushing against his erection. He shook his head and moaned, leaning forward to press hot and wet kisses along her neck.

“Maybe here,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. She gasped and squirmed against his thigh, fisting his white t-shirt in one hand and burying her fingers into his hair with the other. “Or here,” he suggested, squeezing her breast, “maybe here would be better,” he added, then slapped her ass hard enough for her to yelp and jump.

“All three of those places, then?” She teased breathlessly, rolling her hips slowly and sensually. He sucked softly at her clavicle, then dropped a few kisses onto her breasts.

“Definitely,” he approved, dragging his lips up to her shoulders, letting his mouth push away the thin straps of her dress. “My favourite places.” She chuckled, squirming impatiently on his thigh. She guided his lips back up to hers by tugging at the short strands of his hair, choosing to nibble on his lip teasingly until he crashed his mouth against hers. “Need you…” he whispered between needy kisses, and slowly started to lift her dress upwards.

While she removed the dress, he shrugged off the white dress shirt, struggled a little when the sleeve got caught around his watch. “Fucken…” he grunted, unbuttoning the cuff with irritation.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love taking my time with you,” she laughed, pulling the t-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“Well, me personally? I don’t wanna have to pull out halfway through sex because Sammy’s on his way back. Not again,” he said seriously, lifting his arms to help her remove his shirt. She gave him an empathetic smile which quickly turned into an amused one when she remembered how uncomfortable and sensitive he had been the rest of the day. “It’s not funny, I was about to come, but fucken Sam had to text…” he pouted, then smiled when she started to laugh.

“Yeah… as funny as that was, I really need to come right now,” she conceded and climbed off his lap to remove her underwear. Dean reached out excitedly for them, playfully brushing her hands out of the way to pull her underwear down swiftly.

“I want you to come, too,” he said, licking his lips. She laughed quietly, holding his shoulders for balance, lifting her knee up so he could take her underwear off completely. “On my dick, though, not in my thigh,” he clarified, immediately pulling her back into him.

He dropped impatient kisses along her waist, forcing her to climb onto the bed on her knees, before moving his mouth upwards, his hands exploring her smooth body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to steady her breath. She held him close to her, let him slowly pull her down onto his lap until their hips met.

“Dean, you gotta get your pants off,” she sighed.

“Stay,” he breathed, rolling his hips up into hers as a promise of what he’d give her. She moaned in surprise, whining when he pulled away and spread his legs, forcing her to do the same. Cool air passed between her soaked folds and she gasped.

Awkwardly, he fumbled with his slacks’ button between their bodies, careful not to make her shift or fall back with his brisk and eager movements. He shoved the pants down his legs, boxers sliding down right along with them, and kicked them off his feet.

He didn’t care about doing it properly and immediately drew her close to him when he heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. She laughed against his mouth, reached down between their bodies to wrap her hand around his cock.

He cursed softly against her mouth, grabbed her hips roughly and moved her hastily onto her back. It didn’t stop her from playing with him, teasing him by rubbing the hot and hard length of him through her folds. When she made a ring with her forefinger and thumb, he roughly sank his teeth into her shoulder and groaned loudly, freezing at the overwhelming pleasure of her fingers tightening around him and moving upwards in precise twists.

“Goddamnit,” he hissed, “shouldn’t have… told you I like—ah, shit!” He jolted, bucking his hips involuntarily when she started to massage underneath the head of his cock, nearly losing himself and nearly giving into the threat of his orgasm. “No.. wait,” he whined, weakly stopping her with his hands around her wrist.

“You sound so fucking hot when I do that,” she chuckled, “you know I can’t help myself, Dean.” Still, she let go of him and licked her fingers clean of the precum that coated them.

“I have something in mind,” he started suggestively, placing a rough kiss on her lips. She hummed softly and sucked on his lip, watching him move down her body with his lips and hands. He pulled away from her completely and positioned himself in the centre of the bed, patting the spot between his legs.

“You and your slutty little imagination,” she teased, crawling up to him. She parted his thighs, kissed along the inside of his soft—slightly scarred—skin and licked up a stripe of the underside of his cock. He groaned, reaching out for her arm when she twirled her tongue around the leaking tip, sucking gently on the soft head.

“Enough of that, beautiful,” he murmured, tugging her upwards by her arm and away from his dick. She pouted, letting go of his cock with a loud and obscenely wet pop that made him groan. “Lean back,” he instructed delicately, licking his lips when she brushed her wet lips against his teasingly.

With a small ‘okay’, she complied, leaning back with her hands flat behind her on the bed, her two thighs resting on either side of him. “Now, what?” Dean wrapped his hands around her knees instead of replying, and started to bend them upwards. She wiggled around slightly, moving with him and bit her lip when he slid his hands beneath her knees to hold her waist.

One of his hands migrated from her waist to wrap around his cock, guiding himself slowly and teasingly through her folds. She became flustered, staring at him with her knees bent over his forearms.

“This is…” she trailed off, cheeks red and heart beating wildly behind the cage of her ribs.

“Very hot,” Dean finished for her. He let go of his cock just to reach over to the bedside table where his phone was resting. She looked curious at him, thinking maybe he’d check on Sam before they got started, but instead he opened the camera and swiped until he was on the video recording section. “Is this okay, babe?” He asked, gazing back into her eyes, his thumb hovering over the red button.

“Yeah, D.” She nodded, chewing shyly on her lips. “Do you have way more videos of us fucking than of us doing.. ya know, cute romantic shit?” She asked, not caring that he was already recording. He scoffed, positioning the camera to capture her dripping folds, her breasts, and the bottom half of her face rather than his body.

“This is romantic,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Mm, yeah.. right,” she snickered and lifted herself up using the strength of her arms so she could then lower herself on his cock.

“You don’t think so?” He grunted, watching lewdly as he stretched her pussy open, slowly disappearing inside her warmth. “I think it’s pretty romantic, watchin’ videos of how I fucked you… jerking off to them when I miss you. Listening to how needy and desperate you get for me when you’re about to come…” He explained explicitly, holding her waist tightly, when their hips met completely.

“It’s not just about the sex, baby,” he added, gazing into her eyes. She bit her lip and slowly started to lift herself back up again. “It’s about how it makes me feel. How you make me feel. It’s about time. Makin’ you mine, givin’ myself to you, lovin’ you, you lovin’ me in return, us.. being vulnerable.” She squeezed around him tightly and sank back down, her gaze soft. “It’s romantic that there’s no adios afterward, nothin’ for us to hide from each other during, just you and me barin’ our souls to one another… it’s about us.” He pulled her even closer just to kiss her passionately. Her thighs were practically pressed against the front of her body, somehow he managed to sink deeper into her, and he rocked his hips upwards so her clit brushed against his pelvic bone.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, moving one arm to wrap her arm around his neck instead. He smiled against her mouth, and blindly set the phone down on the nightstand, skilfully getting enough in the shot without much fumbling.

“C’mon, baby, you said you needed to come…” he whispered against her jawline, “so make yourself cum.” Dutifully, she began moving a little faster, trying to find a perfect cadence in this new position.

He mouthed at the skin of her neck and chest that he could reach, careful to leave very light marks so she could wear that sexy little dress again, and let her take control of everything. Almost immediately, she was able to move at the perfect pace, towards her orgasm and his.

Gasps and grunts, moaning and groaning, they held onto each other trying to bring each other toward their orgasms unhurriedly. She tipped her head back and tried to pull him impossibly close. With the impact of their hips, her clit was stimulated with a pleasant grind of his hips moving upwards, and this time, rather than doing what they always did—slowing down when they were close to extend the proximity of their organs, increasing the intensity of it—he breathily encouraged her to keep going.

He mindlessly praised her and confessed his love like he always did when he was close, meeting her thrusts far gentler than she was. Still, with one hand behind her and the other in his hair, she tugged on the hairs at the top of his head hard enough to make him moan loudly. His bruising grip on her waist didn’t let up, and his blunt nails dug into her back, waiting for her to cum before he could.

A few more strokes of his cock against her g-spot had her walls pulsing around him, gasping and panting his name, and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as her orgasm finally crashed over her.

She dropped kisses along his shoulder and neck, shuddering from her orgasm, and with a loud grunt of her name, Dean came inside of her. Slowly, they stopped moving and tried to catch their breaths while holding each other closely. She played with his hair and he soothed her bruised waist with calloused palms, then leaned forward all the way until she was laying on her back to kiss her face lovingly.

“Porn worthy?” She teased quietly, resting her hands on his waist waiting as he made a cute path along her face with kisses to reach her lips.

“I could go a second round,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, still buried deep inside her. She groaned softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to keep moving, and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss anything vulgar he was about to say.

Dean froze above her when he heard footsteps from outside their hotel room, pleading internally that it was random people passing by, but deflated when he heard Sam speak to Donna. “…I hope they found something.”

“Shit!” Y/n whispered, trying to push Dean off her when the doorknob began to rattle, but Dean didn’t budge, knowing it was no use and wanting to use his body as a shield.

“Well, the jig is up,” he joked, watching her throw her arms over her chest instead, glaring at him half-heartedly.

“Dean, your phone!” She reminded him, but Dean shrugged just as Sam swung the door open and stopped mid-sentence with Donna exclaiming some sort of phrase in surprise. Y/n would have laughed at whatever it was she said—Donna’s refusal to actually say a swear word—but she just groaned in annoyance.

“Seriously, guys? Every time!” Sam shouted, apologising to Donna quietly who brushed it off with a quiet ‘it’s okay’.

Donna sneaked one tiny glimpse at the naked couple just as Sam turned around for them to get dressed. Dean smirked smugly and winked at Donna, then looked away to watch as he pulled out of his girlfriend, their cum spilling out of her. His cock was hard again and Y/n shook her head, waiting for Dean to get the phone and get moving.

“You do realise that it could've been Taweret making you guys…” Sam scolded, filling the silence up as Dean gathered their clothes. Donna blushed and turned around as well, grateful that Sam didn’t mention her hesitation in turning around sooner.

“Uh,” Y/n stammered, pulling her clothes on when Dean handed it to her.

“You have a point, Sammy, but we usually do this, anyway, so…” Dean spoke up, giving Y/n a hand so she could stand on slightly shaky legs beside him. “‘sides, I did find something…” Dean announced, pointing to his laptop on the table. With a hard slap on Y/n’s ass, Dean walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up, grasping her small hand with his to bring her with him.

“Sorry,” Y/n laughed, apologetically bowing her head before following Dean to get herself cleaned up as well. As she walked, she could feel Dean’s cum drip out of her, her panties wet and cool between her legs made her uncomfortable but she kept them on, washing her hands with Dean standing next to her doing the same.

“Well, they’re still cute,” Donna said brightly, trying to brighten Sam’s sour mood, but it only worsened when he opened Dean’s laptop and the open tab was a sex page with a list of positions to try.

“Seriously, Dean? Close the damn tabs!”

“Whoops,” Dean snickered, gazing at Y/n who only rolled her eyes at him, affectionately smiling. “Gonna play this video real loud tonight,” he whispered with a grin, shaking his phone in his hand, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

“That’s really funny, but no,” she chuckled, bringing him down for a soft kiss when he pouted at her childishly.

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fear-is-truth · 2 months ago

Note

how would patrick react if you decided to get back with him because you missed him?

https://www.tumblr.com/fear-is-truth/769447057976115200/how-do-you-think-patrick-will-react-when-you-try?source=share

breaking up then getting back together with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; violent fantasies, allusions to sex & murder

part one here | • a/n: sorry if it’s ooc; i rlly tried

when patrick bateman opens the door, he is already bracing for his downstairs neighbor—the insufferable bitch who always complains about his morning jump rope routine. he has the same rehearsed excuse lined up, something about “the physics of soundproofing in luxury buildings” followed by a swift door slam in her face. even as his mouth is ready to deliver it, part of him is fantasising about cutting off those ears with a serrated blade and sending them as a gift, maybe with a tasteful balenciaga ribbon.

but it’s not her.

it’s you.

patrick blinks, his entire body stiffening, like his brain short-circuits for a seconds. you’re standing there, in the hall, and he doesn’t know what to say. for weeks, he’s been trying to erase your absence—or at least dull it—by throwing himself into other pursuits (fucking prostitutes who vaguely resemble you, at least in the right light) and nightly excursions into back alleys with a knife. but now, you’re here, standing in front of him, and he feels… blindsided.

his eyes sweep over you instinctively, taking in every detail of your outfit. the shoes you’re wearing are gucci—acceptable. still well-kept but with a slight scuff on the side. he notices the faint wear on the soles and thinks about how he’d replace them for you if he could. the dress—valentino, tailored well, though the stitching at the hem could have been tighter, sexier. your body deserves better, patrick thinks with a slight pang in his chest, prettier than you give yourself credit for, prettier than the way you dress.

then his gaze catches on the necklace. cartier. an elegant piece with a single pendant that rests at your collarbone.

before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “that necklace… it’s a good look on you.”

your hand immediately drifts up to the pendant. you touch it lightly, almost shyly,

“patrick… you bought me this. remember?”

he does.

the memory hits him like blunt force trauma, dragging him back to valentine’s day. he’d spent months securing a reservation at dorsia—screaming matches with disinterested reservation mangers over the phone, begging, bribery. it had all paid off when you walked in wearing that pink chanel dress—soft, romantic, a shade that reminded him of fresh roses. it fit you like a glove, like you’d stepped straight out of a vogue magazine. you’d squealed when he handed you the tiny cartier box across the table, your eyes wide, so bright. even patrick believed that day was perfect.

and, of course, the night. he remembers that, too. vividly. the way you were both tangled in his egyptian sheets, the way your perfume and sweat lingered on his skin after.

his mouth opens slightly, then closes. the silence stretches between you, thick and awkward, until patrick finally steps aside and motions for you to come in.

for the first time in weeks, patrick bateman feels… something. he’s not sure what “something” is, though. relief? hope? pathetic gratitude? he doesn’t know, and he hates not knowing. what he does know is this: whatever void you left behind, nothing—not the women, not even the killings—ever came close to filling it.

𝜗ϱ ┆ shock & silence

patrick wouldn’t know how to react at first. when you show up at his door, he’d open it, expecting another downstairs neighbor—bitching about the noises he makes when working out—but seeing you there would render him momentarily speechless. there’d be no theatrical display of relief or joy. instead, he’d stare at you in silence, until..

“you’re here,”

𝜗ϱ ┆ letting you in back into his world

patrick would step aside, letting you into his pristine apartment. the act of letting you back into his space would be his version of an emotional response—a silent acknowledgment of your importance to him.

he wouldn’t ask why you came back, at least not immediately. part of him would be terrified that questioning your return might push you away again. instead, he’d default to his usual routines, offering you a drink (with a coaster, of course) as though nothing had happened.

“do you want a perrier? or… something stronger?”

𝜗ϱ ┆ processing your return

while he wouldn’t outwardly express much, patrick would be reeling internally. your absence would have deeply shaken him, even if he didn’t fully understand why. in your time apart, he’d tried to fill the void with meaningless hookups and violence—screwing sex workers who vaguely resembled you, killing homeless people—but nothing could satisfy him. your return would force him to confront feelings he doesn’t have the tools to process... patrick doesn’t feel love in the traditional sense, but he’s capable of obsession and fixation, and you are irreplaceable in his world.

𝜗ϱ ┆ a shift in his behaviour

despite his relief at your return, patrick would remain on edge. deep down, he knows he’s incapable of forming a normal, healthy relationship, and the fear of losing you again would eat at him. you’d notice him becoming even more meticulous and controlling than before, as he’s trying to construct a perfect version of reality where you never leave again.

#american psycho #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman fanfic #patrick bateman imagine #slasher x reader #slasher fanfic #slasher headcanons #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

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nataliasquote · 9 months ago

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Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #midas touch

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inkykeiji · 1 year ago

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character: rafayel warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, rough sex, hair pulling, marking words: 622

everything rafayel does is art—from the way he moves through the world, graceful as a sea breeze or reckless as a white cap wave, to the way he speaks, words flowing from his lips in a seamless drawl, sharp with snark or soft with sincerity, to the way he fucks, spontaneous yet scrupulous.

doggy is his favourite, with one of his feet planted firmly on the bed and your knees spread wide and low, delicate little quivers rippling the muscles of your inner thighs as they strain beneath the stretch. he keeps one of his palms curled around the crown of your head, using it as leverage as he shoves your face further and further into the pillow, hips snapping with unparalleled ruthlessness. it’s so cute, he’s telling you, the way your moans and cries are still so loud, even when they’re being soaked up and devoured by the mattress. it’s absolutely adorable, actually—pathetically precious, he’s sure—and he savours it for a little before he, predictably, gets bored.

the palm crushed to the back of your head isn’t just for leverage, though. oh no, it has another purpose, a very important purpose, rafayel’s nails carving deep crescents in your scalp, scraping against your skin and leaving behind raw, ragged gouges as his knuckles curl, tangling slender fingers in your strands. giving a precursory tug, he makes sure his hand is rooted deeply enough, stable and secure before he gives a true yank, pulling you up in one swift, sharp motion.

for a moment, he allows himself to admire the pretty little masterpieces you leave staining his sheets: shimmering webs of drool, viscous cords stretched in abstract patterns across egyptian cotton; the smears your tears leave, drying all hard and crusty and full of salt that glitters almost daintily across the creases and crevices; your sweat, leaving almost a perfect imprint of your jaw and cheek etched so beautifully into the fabric.

but the yelp he always, without fail, tears from your chest is one of his favourite sounds in the entire world.

because while he loves the muffled little sounds—sometimes can feel them shivering through the mattress when he stills his hips and grinds cock into your cervix, when everything is still for just a single moment before your body shudders from the pain—he loves the unhindered ones even more.

because they’re so pretty, they’re so precious, sweet little fragments he fucks from your chest and your throat, that splinter on your tongue or drip, like sugary syrup, from your lips, sloppy and melted in the heat of your mouth after you’ve gone dumb from his cock. it’s the most beautiful symphony he’s ever heard, and together the pieces form a mosaic of music, something he swears he can almost see glimmering in the air just before he crests, something that builds and grows and finally crescendos just as your cunt clenches and spasms and gushes all over him.

rafayel fucks roughly; like he owns you, like he’s creating you, like he’s trying to consume you and spit you back out, his newest masterpiece.

rafayel shatters you, melts the pieces in the blaze of his ardor until they’re nothing but pliable clay in his skilled palms, and recreates you from scratch, his way.

rafayel splatters art across your body every single time he fucks you—swirling little galaxies that bloom in violets and navy beneath his tongue and touch; deep craters in the shape of his teeth sketched and sculpted into the flesh of your neck and your thighs and your ass; brilliant strokes of crimson and glazes of saliva and smatters of ivory, smudged along all your curves and edges—always impermanent, always ever-changing, always there.

#rafayel x you #rafayel smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel x y/n #rafayel headcanons #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #this was meant to be an answer to an ask about the three of them but i have no desire to finish answering the ask LMAO #but i liked how raf's turned out so!!! here #inky.rafayel

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rustyarcade · 22 days ago

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✨A Dream?✨

My first fishbride fic!!! So excited to share more of this ship with you guys cuz I love it sooo much!!!!

Summary: Khalis revives Nina! Her and the Bride have a long talk.

Read it on Ao3 or below the cut!

…

And suddenly there was light.

Nina sat up quickly in the bed she was placed in. Her vision was blurry as the bright fluorescent lights reflected greatly against the white walls. Her body plugged in with several wires.

The lab… she was back in that damn lab… In a panic, she thrashed about the bed. “DADDY!” She called out. To her this was a flashback. Some sick cruel nightmare about the night she became her slimy aquatic self. “DADDY!” She yelled out again violently. She was about to rip the wires off of her body and run before a gentle bandaged hand stopped her. And a voice, “Whoa…! Easy there…”

This bandaged hand was connected to a bandaged man. Underneath the bandages was a corpse, much like the bride, but dried out, with a golden Egyptian crown on his head. He smiled warmly at the girl. “Ha! I’ve still got it!” He laughed quietly to himself.

Nina looked around the room. Several doctors in stark white lab coats stared in awe. But for once, not at her jarring appearance. It was a different kind of awe. Like they had discovered something grand.

“What… What am I doing here? Who are you? Where am I?” Nina began her barrage of questions.

“Ms. Mazursky,” a doctor spoke out and walked towards her. “My name is Doctor Alandy. You were attacked during you and your comrades’ mission in Pokolistan-“

“Don’t sugarcoat it, doc,” the mummy interrupted. “She died.”

Nina’s eyes widened. “What…?”

“Do you remember what happened to you when you ambushed Princess Ilana?” The doctor continued.

Nina did remember slightly. It felt like a blur. She remembered the princess’s swift evasion of her attack. She remembered the blade slashing into her stomach repeatedly. She remembered the world fading to black.

She simply nodded.

“You were killed, Ms. Mazursky. But, with Khalis’s magical powers, we were able to bring you back.”

Nina didn’t know what to say. She… died? And now she’s back? With the power of this mummy’s magic? She touched her face with her hand. But something was missing. She hastily searched for her water suit. She began to hyperventilate which caused her to panic even more.

“No worries, Ms. Mazursky. For whatever reason, Khalis’s powers took away your need to breathe oxygen through water,” Doctor Alandy assured her.

Nina took a deep breath. And breathed out. She couldn’t believe it.

“I’ve… I’ve been cured,” she squeaked out. Tears stung her eyes. If only her father could see her… breathing without the need for a suit.

“Cured as much as possible, my girl. There’s no cure for that fish face of yours!” Khalis chuckled. Alandy gave him a dirty look. She turned to her fellow medical staff. “Please give Ms. Mazursky some clothing and food. Khalis, follow me. She needs to be well rested for her visitors later today,” Alandy said as she marched out of the room. “An honor to finally meet you, Ms. Nina. Our comrades told me a lot about you. They will be overjoyed to see you again,” Khalis bowed to Nina. Nina bowed her head to him, “Thank you.” He slowly walked out of the room as the nurses and doctors began to feel and clothe Nina.

———

Nina sat nervously in her bed. She ran her hands across her arms, amazed at the sensation of dry skin touching her own dry skin. She was given some bread and water. Bread tasted so much better dry. And drinking water felt strange to her. It’d have to take some getting used to.

The door clicked open and she whipped her head. Alandy peeked her head in. “Ms. Mazursky, you have visitors,” she announced as she opened the door. Weasel was the first to scurry in. He quickly ran up to her and began sniffing her. Nina giggled at the sight of her old friend. Weasel licked her face in greeting which caused her to laugh harder. “Hi Weasel!!! How’ve you been, buddy?” She smiled as she held his face in her hands. He panted and wagged in his tail in response.

“Down, boy,” a familiar voice chimed in. Weasel obliged, still ever so happy. A limping Rick Flag with a cane and Phosphorus walked in. Phosphorus got close to her bedside and looked deeply into her eyes in awe. “You’re… you’re here… you’re really here… you’re back…” he whispered softly. “Are you smiling because you’re happy to see me again or because you always just look like you’re smiling?” Nina responded playfully. Phosphorus chuckled. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you again, kid,” he muttered as his voice cracked. He quickly turned away and coughed to try to cover up his emotion.

“Nina,” Rick caught her attention. “The team told me about your excursion. Great job, soldier.” He saluted. She saluted back.

A large clanking came from the door. A, now huge, GI robot marched into the room. Nina gasped. “GI!!!” She cheered. “Friend Nina!!!” GI Robot called back. Nina reached her hand to him. GI stared her hand and grabbed it awkwardly. “Hello!” He replied. “He was easy to rebuild, it just took a while for his upgrades. Unlike you, young lady,” Flag chimed in. “Now instead of being able to kill 120 nazis in one battle, the scientists say I may be able to kill up to 598 nazis in one battle! Perhaps even 599,” GI informed. “Oh, friend Nina, will you accompany me again to kill Nazis once again? As we did in Pokolistan?” Nina nodded. “I’d love to, GI.”

The slow clacking of heels emerged. Everyone turned to see who had arrived. The Bride stood with her eyes widened in shock at Nina in the bed. Her legs, visibly trembling. “Bride!” Nina called out. Tears instantly streamed down Nina’s face. The Bride remained still. “It’s so glad to see you again!” The Bride slowly walked to her. Nina felt a wave of guilt creep into her. “I’m… really sorry I messed up the mission… I tried to kill the princess. I really did try… I just-“ The Bride finally arrived at the side of her bed. She reached a hand out to cup Nina’s face. Her touch was… soft. She rubbed her thumb against her cheek. Nina leaned into her hand. “You’re… here…” was all the Bride was able to mutter out. Nina nodded with a soft smile. “I missed you most of all, scarecrow,” Nina whispered playfully. Suddenly, the Bride pulled her into a tight hug. Loud messy sobs slowly erupted from the Bride. Nina could feel her shaking.

“Oh, my Nina… I’m so sorry…” The bride whined out in between cries. Tears sprinkled into Nina’s neck. “I should have never made you try to kill her. You weren’t prepared…” Nina didn’t know what to say, but she hugged her back. “Bride… it’s ok… I forgive you-“

“NO!” The bride yelled which startled everyone around her. “I sent you out to die… I killed you.” Nina replied sternly, “No, you didn’t, Bride. Ilana did. You were just doing what was best for the mission.”

“You didn’t deserve to die. You’re the kindest one out of all of us. The kindest being in the universe,” the Bride mumbled. “Guess it’s good I’m back then, huh softie?” Nina replied. The Bride chuckled ever so softly. “My friend…” Bride breathed out. “My best friend…” Nina answered as she held her even tighter.

———

The commandos stayed in that hospital room chatting for hours, that to them passed like minutes.

Soon enough, Dr. Alandy asked the Commandos to leave. Nina pleaded that they’d stay longer, but they all assured her that they needed to rest.

“Wait!” Nina grabbed the Bride’s arm. “Can the Bride at least stay?” She asked Alandy. “I'd rather not be alone here.”

“As long as the Bride agrees and promises not to become violent, then she may stay,” Alandy affirmed. The Bride nodded in agreement which made Nina giddy.

The Bride sat in a chair next to Nina as they continued their talk.

“Wait, so you killed the princess?”

“Yeah, it's a bit complicated though. We thought she was evil. Then they called off the attack too late. Then it turns out she was evil. It’s really weird,” the Bride explained.

“I’ll say… But why did you kill her? I mean you saw the tapes and caught her with Clayface, but… if Waller didn’t have a directive to eliminate her anymore, why did you do it? Surely, you didn’t have some kind of moral shift.”

The Bride smiled at her comment, but quickly changed her expression to one that was serious.

“No… not exactly a moral shift, I suppose. After my father’s death, I never cared for much. I wanted to be alone. Away from that filthy creature that claimed I was his to own. Away from the entire world around me. I never held onto anything… anyone… I could care less if the princess was going to destroy the world. But… she took you away from me. My only friend. The one thing I’ve cared about in hundreds of years. It enraged me. I had to do something. Not just because of our relationship, but because you truly didn’t deserve to die. I meant it when I said you were the kindest being in the universe. I didn’t care for justice. I just wanted vengeance.”

Nina’s heart tugged at the Bride’s words. “Oh Bride… you…” The Bride wiped tears away from her eyes. “Goodness me, I haven’t cried like this since you… since you left.”

“What… What did I look like? When I died?”

“A body floated up to the surface and with blood leaking all around. I ran to see who it was. I… I have no words to describe the emotion I felt when I saw it was you. Shock, horror, despair… Those words can’t even begin to explain how I felt when I saw your lifeless body. I was the one that carried you out of the water. You were limp in my arms. Blood gushing out of your stomach. I’ve carried much heavier things in my times, but… when I held onto you… it felt like I couldn’t move. There was a weight holding me down inside of you.”

Bride’s voice trembled. Nina grabbed her hand, reminding her she was here again.

“We held a service for you in Pokolistan. The princess’s ‘gift’ as an apology for killing you. I wanted to tear the place apart, kill everyone there, rip you from your coffin, and wake you up.”

Nina leaned onto the Bride’s shoulder. “That’s so sweet of you, Bride.” The Bride leaned into her as well. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

“”I’m glad to be back too. What’s the new team like?”

“They’re all a bunch of brutish, morally gray losers. Like us.” Nina giggled at her response.

“You’ve met Khalis. He’s an old geezer, but a solid magic user. Then there’s Nosferata. That bitch who knocked your food out of your plate with that stupid ape friend we broke the jaw of. I still haven’t fully forgiven her, but she’s fine for the most part. And then there’s Nanawe. I have a feeling you’re gonna like him.”

“They all sound nice,” Nina yawned as she rubbed her tired eyes. “Someone looks sleepy,” The Bride smirked as she stood up from her chair. “I’ll leave you to rest, Nina. Being alive takes a lot of energy.” Nina’s hand grabbed her arm again. “Wait! Stay!” She cried.

The Bride stopped.

“I… I don’t like being in hospitals. Can you stay the night with me? Please?” Her voice littered with desperation.

The Bride shrugged. “Why not? Not like I got anything better to do. I’ll ask the nurses if they got an extra chair around here somewhere so I can prop my feet up.”

“You can stay in my bed… if you’d like. You’ll fit!” Nina chimed.

The Bride hesitated. “Are you sure? I want you to sleep well.”

“Cmon, Bride! It’ll be like a sleepover! I’ve never been to one, but I heard they’re fun.” Nina smiled. The Bride still looked hesitant.

“Please… I don’t want to be alone again,” Nina pleaded. She trembled slightly. She remembered the long lonely nights at hospitals from her childhood.

The Bride signed softly, “Alright. But just because it’s been a while since I didn’t sleep in those shitty cardboard beds at Belle Reve.”

Nina squealed in excitement. She scooted over to allow space for the Bride, who took off her shoes and jacket.

They nestled into the bed, fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. They positioned themselves facing away from each other.

“Rest well, Nina,” the Bride whispered as she turned the lights off from the bedside control.

Several minutes had passed. There was still an air of restlessness. Nina kept staring at the clock on the wall. 11:54 pm. They turned off the lights twenty minutes ago. But as tired as her body was, her brain kept racing, unable to let her rest. She squirmed and moved around. She nudged at the Bride who grumbled in response.

“Mmmm… what’s going on? Are you okay?” She mumbled annoyed.

“I don’t want to fall asleep,” she whispered in response:

“Oh for fucks sake-“ she moaned.

“I just… I’m worried this is all a dream. A sick beautiful dream. Or worse, I’m still dead… And I’m in heaven and I’ll never see you or the rest of the commandos again. What if I fall asleep and never wake up?” Nina’s voice shook which caused the Bride to go full alert.

“Nina… shhhhh…” she shushed, wrapping her arm around her and pulling her in close. “I promise you’re not dreaming. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere else.”

“Can we keep talking? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Sure,” The bride shrugged.

“So we’re both zombies now?”

“I beg your damn pardon?”

Nina elaborated, “Well you know… we’re both reanimated corpses. Doomed to walk this Earth for the rest of time and space. An affront to God and humanity.”

The Bride scoffed sarcastically. “Ok drama queen, if anything is an ‘affront’ to God, it’s Weasel’s existence. This life is not as existential as you might think it is. You’re just sort of… there. Your heart beats but almost too rhythmically.

“Like someone else is pumping it, not you,” Nina finished.

“Exactly.”

A pregnant pause filled the air.

“Can we be zombies together?” Nina suggested.

“Is that not what we’re doing currently?”

“You know what I mean…” Nina gently elbowed the Bride’s side. “forever. I want to be your best friend forever. I want to be with you forever. Kicking bad guy butts and taking Weasel out for walks and making fun of Flag…” Nina yawned yet again. She rested her head on the Bride.

“I hope you know I have a stalker that has been following me around for hundreds of years now and he’s shown no signs of stopping,” she reminded her.

“And I’ll fight him. I’ll kick his ass every time. He’ll scurry away like a dog with a tail between his legs. And I’ll be just as ready for him the next time he rears his ugly head.”

The Bride laughed at Nina’s offer. “No, no… remember the last time we tried making you fight?”

“I’d do it again,” she sleepily assured her. “If it meant saving my friends, I’d die a million times to make sure you’re ok.”

“You’re too good for this world, Nina,” she sighed.

“You’re good too. You just don’t realize it yet,” Nina replied, barely making any coherent words as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Nina picked herself up for a brief second and placed a quick kiss on the Bride’s cheek. She then settled back into her sleeping position up against her. “Goodnight, softie,” she murmured.

The Bride felt taken aback by her friend’s action for a second. For once, her heartbeat felt like her own, as it picked up its speed exponentially. She stared at Nina, who was fast asleep. The last time she saw her close her eyes, she believed she’d never see them open ever again. But here she was. Back with her. The Bride placed a soft and tender kiss on Nina’s head. She pulled her even closer.

“Goodnight, fish,” she whispered.

———

Nina woke up. She quickly looked around.

The sunrise shone beautifully into the hospital room. It cast beams illuminating her freed, dry skin. She turned to find the Bride slowly waking up as well. The light shone magnificently onto the Bride’s face, casting shadows from the hard edges of her chiseled face. Her black hair, messy from sleep with strands of her white stripes peeking around. She gave a big stretch and yawned as she sat up. She too looked at the sunrise and gave a faint smile as she noticed Nina sitting up in front of her.

“So it wasn’t a dream…” they said at the same time. They laughed at themselves for it.

Nina leaned into the Bride as they watched the sunrise. Together. Again. For good.

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incorrect-soc · 6 months ago

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The crows as random stuff I've written on my notes app:

Kaz: "I love writing in caps mid-sentence- It really adds that psychopathic spark into my life"

Inej: "Permanently listening to Taylor Swift because murder is "illegal" or whatever"

Jesper: "I'm sorry but, in all honesty, how hard is it truly to dress up according to the MG theme? Are celebrities really that stupid?"

Wylan: "Love how ppl would rather believe in aliens than in slavery (yes, this is very much abt the egyptian pyramids)"

Nina: "There's something abt the clean version of a song that just gives me the absolute ick- Like, ffs, god forbid a raging woman swears-"

Matthias: "Being pale and having a cold usually means looking like a victorian child dying from the plague and begging their mother to take them outside so they can see the garden one last time-"

#these were way too good to just stay there #six of crows #shadow and bone #soc #the crows #crow club #sab #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar

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writelikeurruninoutoftime · 1 year ago

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random riordanverse head canons

Rachel and Will are besties and love making fun of Apollo behind his back. Will helps Rachel with her anatomy because anatomy is rough and lets her braid his hair. They have gotten matching neon highlights before.

Thalia and Rachel call Annabeth “Beth” as a nickname

At one point Reyna asks how Rachel took out a titan with a hairbrush, queue Rachel and Percy telling her about the events of the battle of the labyrinth, with Grover and Annabeth occasionally interjecting to add something

Leo hosts karaoke nights in Hephaestus cabin whenever Lester visits, everyone gets really into it

Leo also always sings What Makes You Beautiful to Calypso at said karaoke nights

Meg and Lester iris message on a weekly basis

Estelle comes to camp for a couple of weeks every summer, and stays in Poseidon cabin with Percy

Zoë’s spirit watches over Percy & Co. from her constellation

The Seven + Nico, Will, Coach Hedge, Reyna, Rachel, and the entire Apollo Cabin are hard core swiftes

Sadie and Carter randomly visit Camp Half-Blood one day and Sadie starts spewing some random Egyptian VoodooTM when Leo says Egyptian magicians don’t exist, and to get back at her he pretends to be on fire and they end up becoming besties afterward.

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ap-kinda-lit · 6 days ago

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Silly Atem headcanons

He’s always loved wearing dark clothing. He didn’t get to in Egypt because wearing black in Egypt? Not the best idea.

The first upside he discovers when he gets his own body: piercings & tattoos.

He and Yugi have a duel to decide who gets the top bunk bed.

He likes seeing depictions of Ancient Egypt in media. Of course he points out a LOT of the inaccuracies, but he enjoys the stuff. He laughs at old mummy horror flicks and thinks the pyramids in Sonic the Hedgehog are fun. He also really likes Raiders of the Lost Ark (he doesn't know if there was a real Staff of Ra, but he really wishes he had one) and LOVES The Prince of Egypt (he tears up every time he rewatches it).

But he's not the least bit amused by the conspiracy theories about aliens and Ancient Egypt. It's one of his worst triggers. The first time he heard about it was when Jonouchi showed him Ancient Aliens for fun. At first, he thought it was funny. Until he found out some people actually believed in it. Let's just say don't ever bring it up, unless you want to send Atem into a two hour long rant.

Museums are an interesting experience. To give you an idea of what he would be like visiting a museum featuring Egyptian artifacts:

He’s a Disney princess. He loves animals and is friends with them. He will stop and admire a beetle or a lizard he comes across, he feeds the birds at the park, and he's basically the King of Games AND Cats. And he's the same with animals that most people wouldn't consider 'pet friendly'. He will gladly give a lion scritches on the head and snuggle a python.

However, he doesn't love all of them. If there's one thing Atem's really afraid of, like have an actual phobia of, it's crocodiles (and gators by extension). He's from Ancient Egypt, after all. He would be kinda like FX'S Archer:

Atem can easily hold his own in a fight, even kill a man himself. Being a prince of Egypt, he was trained in combat and warfare, from hand-to-hand to sword fighting. Even when he’s lost his memories, he still can fight from muscle memory (“Where did you learn how to do that!?” “I don’t know!”).

HATES the cold. He bundles himself up as much as possible during the winter and prefers to stay inside under a heated blanket or near a space heater with a cup of cocoa.

His first time visiting a Christian church is...interesting, to say the least. He likes how it reminds him of the Ancient Egyptian religion because of the hymns, incense, wine and bread, and processions. It does get awkward: like when the plagues of Egypt come up, or every time Atem asks questions about ANYTHING, or when he learns about Jesus Christ ("He sacrificed himself and was resurrected to save humanity." "Hey, me too.")

The photo album on his phone is a lot like a middle aged dad’s. It’s mostly cats, scenery, or Yugi and the gang, and a bunch of them are out of focus or aimed wrong. He almost never takes selfies and he looks surprised or confused in a lot of the ones Yugi takes with him.

He likes watching old movies or listening to records from Grandpa Muto’s collections. This is how he becomes a Rolling Stones fan. Yugi and Anzu are also able to find modern music he would be into, like Seal and David Bowie. He also likes listening to Taylor Swift with Anzu. Jonouchi introduces him to Nickelback as a joke, but Atem ends up liking them.

#I am obsessed with this guy #I just wish we saw more to him y’know #yugioh #yugioh duel monsters #ygo dm #pharaoh atem #atem #yami yugi #headcanons #archer fx

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creativewaygrace · 10 months ago

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Bible Verses About Witchcraft

1 Chronicles 10:13- Saul died for his unfaithfulness to the Lord because he did not keep the Lord's word He even consulted a medium for guidance.

1 Samuel 15:23- For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and defiance is like wickedness and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has rejected you as king.

1 Samuel 22:23- Stay with me. Don't be afraid, for the one who wants to take my life wants to take your life. You will be safe with me.

2 Chronicles 33:6- He passed his sons through the fire in Ben Hinnom Valley. He practiced witchcraft, divination, and sorcery, and consulted mediums and spiritists. He did a huge amount of evil in the Lord's sight, angering him.

Leviticus 19:31- Do not turn to mediums, or consult spiritists, or you will be defiled by them, I am the Lord your God.

Leviticus 20:6- Whoever turns to mediums or spiritists and prostitutes' himself with them, I will turn against that person and cut him off from his people.

Leviticus 20:27- A man or a woman who is a medium or a spiritists must be put to death. They are to be stoned; their death is their own fault.

Revelation 18:23- The light of a lamp will never shine in you again and the voice of a groom and bride will never be heard in you again. All this will happen because your merchants were the nobility of the earth, because all the nations were deceived by your sorcery.

Revelation 21:8- But the cowards, faithless, detestable, murderers, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their share will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

Galatians 5:19-20- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions.

Galatians 5:19-21- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing and anything similar. I am warning you about these things, as I warned you before, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Micha 5:10-12- In that day, this is the Lord's declaration, I will remove your horses from you and wreck your chariots. I will remove the cities of your land and tear down all your fortresses. I will remove sorceries from your hands, and you will not have any more fortune tellers.

Acts 19:17-20- When this became known to everyone who lived in Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks, they became afraid, and the name of the Lord Jesus was held in high esteem. And many who had become believers came confessing and disclosing their practices, while many of those who had practiced magic collected their books and burned them in front of everyone. So they calculated their value and found it to be fifty thousand pieces of silver, in this way the word of the Lord flourished and prevailed.

Isaiah 8:19-22- When they say to you, "Inquire of the mediums and the spiritists who chirp and mutter, shouldn't a people inquire of their God? Should they inquire of the dead, on behalf of the living? Go to God's instruction and testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, there will be no dawn for them. They will wander through the land, dejected and hungry. When they are famished, they will become enraged, and looking upward, will curse their king and their God. They will look toward the earth and see only distress, darkness, and the gloom of affliction, and they will be driven into thick darkness.

Isaiah 19: 1-4- A pronouncement concerning Egypt: Look, the Lord rides on a swift cloud and is coming to Egypt. Egypt's idols will tremble before him, and Egypt will loose heart. I will provoke Egyptians against Egyptians, each will fight against his brother and each against his friend, city against city, kingdom against kingdom. Egypt's spirit will be disturbed within it, and I will frustrate it's plans. Then they will inquire of idols, ghosts, and spiritists. I will hand over Egypt to harsh masters, and a strong king will rule it. This is the declaration of the Lord of Armies.

Acts 8:9-13- A man named Simon had previously practiced sorcery in that city and amazed the Samaritan people, while calming to be somebody great. They all paid attention to him, from the least to the greatest and they said, "This man is called the Great Power of God". They were attentive to him because he had amazed them with his sorceries for a long time, but when they believed Philip, as he proclaimed

Deuteronomy 18:10-14- No one among you is to sacrifice his son or daughter in the fire, practice divination, tell fortunes, interpret omens, practice sorcery, cast spells, consult a medium or spiritists, or inquire of the dead. Everyone who does these acts is detestable to the Lord, and the Lord your God is driving out the nations before you because of these detestable acts. You must be blameless before the Lord your God. Though these nations you are about to drive out listen to fortune-tellers and diviners, the Lord your God has not permitted you to do this.

Isaiah 47: 8-14- So now hear this, lover of luxury, who sits securely, who says to herself, I am, and there is no one else. I will never be a widow or know the loss of children. These two things will happen to you suddenly, in one day, loss of children and widowhood. They will happen to you in their entirety, in spite of your many sorceries and potency of your spells. You were secure in your wickedness, you said No one sees me. Your wisdom and knowledge led astray. You said it yourself, I am, and there is no one else. But disaster will happen to you, you will not know how to avert it. And it will fall on you, but you will be unable to ward it off . Devastation will happen to you suddenly and unexpectedly. So take your stand with your spells and your many sorceries, which you have wearied yourself with from your youth. Perhaps you will be able to succeed, perhaps you will inspire terror! You are worn out with your many consultations. So let the astrologers stand and save you, those who observe the stars, those predict monthly what will happen to you. Look, they are like stubble, fire burns them. They cannot rescue themselves from the power of the flame. This is not a coal for warming themselves, or a fire to sit beside!

#christianity #bible verses #warning of God #jesus christ #false preachers #false idols

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