#before i rip my brain from my eye sockets

[angelbvn]

i expect one of you to be awake so i can eat you tmr morning okis?

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

TRANSFORMERS ONE X READER

Old Title was "Three Birds on a Wire" then got change for general (just letting you guys know)

Not really a fic I'm planning to do anytime soon but it's something that was cooking in my head after the 5th(?) time I've watch Transformers one and I just need to put it somewhere before I lose my mind.

Warnings: few headcannons, angst, Out of Characters moments, Panic attack, mentions of death, torture and familial loss, Bad English/Typos (We die like real AutoBots), sudden change of POV from 3rd to You (Watch out when the sentences either says You or Me/I).

Note: Long ass fic, Implied Reader is a Cybertronian Femme Bot, There's few weird plot holes but Reader is born from a Carrier while some are born from Forging (Transformers lore is fucking up my brain and it shows) and some dialogue might not be accurate since I'm writing this in like 1-2am and lots of cuts basing on the movie.

Pairings: (Main) D-16/Megatron x Reader, (Slight possibly maybe) Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x Reader, (Mentions) Megatronus Prime x Solus Prime and (Jokingly put for plot but like only a pinch) Sentinel Prime x Reader

--

From the Beginning it was always the three of you together, D-16 the stick to protocol one but always finds himself yielding to the shenanigans of Orion Pax, who was the more taking risk bot and the one who always makes trouble and get to be scolded by You, you who was the one looking out for the two bot everyday and takes care of them when the two of them both get caught together.

Everyday in the mines was tiresome and Dangerous frequently taking life or cause more harm to the miners from unstable minings, Cogless bots who were told to be the lifeline of the city and where the only point of being online was to provide energon everyday.

But it was tolerable when you're with the two, especially with your sparkmate D-16 who tries his best to make you happy everday, Giving you compliments and find you valuable scraps to use for things you build after you confess to seeing Solus Prime as your idol and D-16 who admires Megatronus can't help but feel like it was fate that you two love the primes who has the closes relationship together.

You and Orion Pax has the same spark to learn about different knowledge and discoveries which in turn gives you a chance to invent/build stuff and using Orion as your personal test dummy and Orion who just let's it happened as long as you help him get to the archives and not get more scoldings from D-16 since your the only one who could really stop him.

Life was simple, repetitive but happy nonetheless until-

----[0]----

"Second Place isn't that bad-" D-16 reasoned before getting cut off by racing bot who drove/flew by.

Laying on the track I laugh when it happened as I hold my leg that was almost ripped from my socket when we roughly landed.

Now sitting on Medbay after Ratchet took care of our injuries I sat in between the two as they bicker to one another making me shake my head.

"Ok that's enough-" but before I can push D away from Orion a tall black painted femme bot appeared from the open MedDoors and scanned us.

Soon as she scanned us Sentinel Prime appeared shocking us, He called the two bots before noticing me who was still struggling from standing since my leg was newly wielded.

"Please my dear don't strain yourself hahaha" Sentinel said before suddenly holding my arms and gently sat me back to the chair, I can feel D-16 stare so I looked at him and laid a servo on his arm as he side-eye the prime before nodding and sit back a little closer to me.

----[1]----

After getting forcefully sent by Darkwing to the lower levels and meeting B-127, a sweet bot who was probably a little younger than us is helping us get to the surface after finding the distressed signal.

Getting to the train was easy but with Elita-1 discovering us became a little more harder than we thought.

Arriving at the surface we admired the beautiful sceneries with the terrain simingly terraforming on it's own that is until one behind us burst the train and throw us off.

D-16 quickly grab me and the two of us hold to one another as we crash in the ground, a few moments he woke me up and help me stand as we perfectly timed seeing Orion getting Right hooked by Elita-1

----[2]----

Arriving at the cave we saw the offline bodies of the primes laying around with this organic stuff covering them showing how long they have been here......waiting.

Finding Alpha Trion and putting him online as he told us the truth was the most spark breaking thing you have ever felt in your life.

"He......he took our cogs?....w-why? I-i....what about the once born from Carriers?! surely he-.....he wouldn't right?". I asked the old prime who just looked at me with sadness.

"N-no......so all this time.....I thought my carrier......I thought she left me....i-i..." I turn away and kneel to a boulder shaking in sorrow now knowing how cruel Sentinel really was, Killing Carriers with new sparklings for their T-cogs.

D-16 wasn't really doing well either all our life and for the 50 cycles of Cybertron and Iacoon City living under a lie of a fake prime.

I was shaking and almost to a point of breaking down, realiving all the loss we have endure and the miners I have to painstakingly tried to save or build scrap prosthetics to the servos, arms, legs or pedels they loss in mining, all were sacrificed for nothing.

The rest were fighting until D-16 heard be gasping for pain as they look and see me holding my chasis as I try to breath through my vents.

My sparkmate quickly race to me and tried to calm me down as he holds my servos and leaned his helm on mine.

"All!......all this time!... all those energons!....everyone!...FOR 50 CYCLES!!-" I screamed and gasp as D-16 shush me and whispered as his optics shining a more orange hue looks into mine.

"He'll pay for what he did to us, to me and to you" He harshly spat as he laid a servo on my cheek as he tilts his helm as I nod.

He helps me stand up as we look to Alpha Tron and received the T-cogs of the older primes, coincidentally I received Solus Prime's T-cog.

As we all upgraded and slightly got bigger, I hear a gasp and turn to see D and Orion looking at me.

"W-what? do I look bad?". I asked as I tried to look at my new form.

"No! you uh look-" Orion tried to say but D beat him to it.

"You....you look just like her.....Solus Prime that is". D looked at me with those optics that I knew so much it's colors slightly lighting from it's orange tinged to yellow before going back.

----[3]----

Running away and trying out our T-cogs me and the rest tried to find away to get back to the city when we got caught and held in a High Guards hidden HQ.

Orion tried to get them on ourside but D was pulling me away to leave as I feel his annoyance and anger through our bond.

"D- wait let's-". but D snap when the guards stop him and he turns back to StarScream and tried to fight him.

It happened too fast and the next thing I know was D aiming a cannon to StarScream who was begging for mercy.

He turned to the rest and pledge his revenge to Sentinel and I stare at him as I hear the muffled chant of the High Guards around me as he stand in front of me before holding my cheeks with both of his servos as he looks into my optics as I see his finally becoming orange.

"Follow me, and I promise you all the pain and suffering you have endured..... I'll avenge you for it as long as you stay with me" There it is, the last part of rite to be conjuxes that I've been waiting to hear from him ever since we become sparkmates, the very last one I imagine where we'll be alone and spending another romantic moment and not surrounded by screaming bots as I see his angry yet desperate face.

I close my eyes before trying not to cry before reaching out and lean close to him, our lips almost touching when an explosion erupted from the roof as D quickly hide me behind his back as he prepared to take fire.

----[4]----

Waking up from my unconscious state I opened my optics and get blinded by brightlights as I turn and see my arms and legs are bound on a metal table.

I look and see Arachnid and Sentinel stand near a panel as they watch me struggle from my binds.

"It's no use in trying to escape my dear". He said as he walks closer and stood beside the table and reach out a servo to my face.

"Look at this, seems you and your little friends got a little upgrade" He smirks as I tried to tear away my face from his hold.

"Tell me how does it feel? to be better and stronger than your old look? feels great doesn't it?" He laughs before shaking my head from side to side.

"Now tell me- where's the rest of your little friends".

----[4]----

As Sentinel arrives to taunt D-16 he tells them about what's going to happen when D-16 stand up to him.

"I got nothing left to lose" He said as he glares at the false prime.

"Oh I sure did- bring her in". Sentinel said to Arachnid who nods and a bunch of bots entered and tossed something at Sentinel's pedels.

"Look at what you made me do to her" He whispered as he kicks you right in the stomach making you scream in pain.

D-16 looked horrified at the state you're in, the new paint from your new form slightly chared and a few sparks flew from your joints and optics as you groan in pain.

Sentinel only looks at him with this sadistic look before noticing the sticker Orion gave him and put on his shoulder.

"Ah Megatronus Prime-" He said before punching D down the ground.

"of course you're a fan, Megatronus is the Coolest bot, Biggest, Baddest and Toughest-". He says before leaning down to smirk down at us.

"That's why after I killed him-" then opened his chasis to show us the red T-cog of Megatronus slotted inside.

"I took it for myself". He said before turning to me.

"He was greater than you'll ever be!". D roars as he watches Sentinel drop a knee closer to me.

"Now that I think about it, It's unny how fate works huh- me having Megatronus T-cog while your little sparkmate has Solus? it was like were meant to be!". He laughs when D trashes and tries to stand up.

"Maybe this cover up story wouldn't be so bad, The traitor's sparkmate running to my arms after she finds out your little plan, and I- Sentinel promise to protect her from the derange traitorous little miner". He laughs before grabbing a hold of my head to forcefully make me nod.

He chuckles before harshly turning my head to look at D who stared back at me with worry.

Sentinel then stands back and rip off the sticker from him and inspect it.

"I'm pretty great myself but I can understand why you wanna wear his face over mine, Here-". He puts the sticker back now on D's chasis.

"Let's make sure it doesn't come off". He grins before Arachnid hands him a laser cutter and proceeds to carve a crude drawing of Megatronus symbols.

I tried to stop Sentinel but Arachnid held me down as I scream for D, feeling his pain too

----[5]----

Optimus arrived by bursting through the window with a train alongside Elita and the rest of the High Guards.

I groan before helping D up and check his chasis that has the still cooling down mark.

"Oh D.....I-i...... I'm sorry". I said as I gently tried to caress it trying to ease his pain.

D only frown and hold my servos before roughly turning me and force me to sit down on the side.

"Stay. Here". D growled before backing away as he looks at the state I'm in with anger and disappointment - to himself or me?-

He shoves off Orion who tried to stir him away from fighting off Sentinel, Orion sighs before seeing me on the side still in pain from what Arachnid and Sentinel did to me after our capture.

"_! Are you alright!". Orion panicked and kneel to me as he checks all my injuries.

"No!.... I'm fine O-orion.. please go and get Arachnid..... She's the only bot that has been around Sentinel.....use her memory and broadcast it out to Iacoon......". Orion looked at me with wide eyes.

"Wait that's-!". He said before I chuckle and cough from the pain.

"Smart? I know......been smarter than you since day one Pax". I smiled as Orion laid a servo on my shoulder pads.

"And you will always be......Friend". Orion said his optics looking sad and his voice sorrowful when he called me his friend.

"Go! I'll stay here with D! Go!". I pushed him away as I stand up and limp to find D, Orion nods before running away with B-127, who after excitedly showed me his knife hands.

----[5]----

Everyone now knew what Sentinel did to us as I watch the repeated broadcast on the holograms and screen shown around the city.

I sigh in relief as I turn to D and tried to reach for him, He looked at me but his eyes has other plans.

"NO! D! DON'T!". I screamed as he tackled Sentinel through the glass and fall through the ledge as I limp and jump after them.

Roughly landing on the platform of where the golded carvings of the 13 primes stand, I painfully watch D rages and tries to kill off Sentinel.

I watch as he aims to blast Sentinel until Orion jump the last second to take the devastating hit.

I screamed as me and D look at him in fear as I see the whole part of his left chasis and arm get blasted to nothing.

I tried to crawl toward the edge where D was holding Orion who fell but I could only look with my sparkbreaking again when D stood back up without Orion.

"No.........". I whispered as I lean my helm down as I covered my mouth to silence my cries.

I force myself to watch my sparkmate, who was kind, calm and sweet become someone that I don't recognize anymore.

Watching him become someone else, watching him become Megatron.

I kneel on the ground as everything around me distorts and get muffled as I hear thudding of heavy pedels towards me.

Looking up I see Megatron, not my sweet D-16 kneels to me and reaches for my cheek.

I should have flinch, I should have tried to move away from him, I should have leave him but.....

I couldn't stop myself from hating him, I couldn't help myself but close my eyes and lean to his palms.

"Stay with me" He says as he moves closer and leans close to me.

I look into his optics now having a deep and angry red and yet still holding an adoring emotion swirling inside, only for me.

"Remember the day we became sparkmates?". I asked him as he keep looking at me not saying anything to stop me.

"I said I'll always stay and love you now matter what.....for better or worse, that was the day I started the rite for us to be Conjuxes.......". I said before holding his face and nod.

D- Megatron smiles, deep inside was my dear D-16 as he held me close as I lean on his shoulder before looking up when I see a blinding blue light flying up in the air.

----[6]----

Looking at Megatron who limps pass now Optimus Prime, He glared at his old friend in anger before turning to me.

"_, It's your choice to follow Megatron but know that you will always be welcome back here with us" Ori- Optimus said as he looks at me with sorrow, I look at him in sadness before saying.

"I'm sorry.....Or- Optimus...for everything". I turn away before reaching for Megatron and putting his arm over my shoulders as I help him to the tracks as he shouts for the High guards and he transformers along side with me as I follow them to back to the surface.

----[Notes]----

I ain't finishing this btw, it's all I got and my writing juices are spent hahaha so sorry my fanfiction days are way too over and I just 'go, random bullshit go!' my ass haha.

[heartfullofleeches]

Slasher Yan Idea for Suicidal Healer Deity Darling-

Disfigured and left for dead by those envious of their beauty, Yan seeks to share their fate with anyone they deem as perfect as they once were - creating masks for themselves in their victim's imafe. That... creature. They're unlike any of the muses they've had before. An aura unlike any other radiates from them. They're an angel, a god - They must have that face. As the killer aimed to strike down their prey, the deity didn't even pretend to be fazed as the knife was plunged into their back - face crinkling in disgust at their attacker's appearance.

"...You are one hideous bitch. Hold still."

What?- The deity acts too quickly for them to react - ripping the surgical mask from their face, burying their fingers into the mortals skin. Wait, stop- Let go- They can't break free, can't fight. The deity holds them too strongly for their body to receive the orders their oxygen deprived brain shouts out. Darling opens their mouth - using two fingers to keep the slasher's eyes open as saliva builds on their tongue. Stop, what are you doing?

The deity spits right at their empty eye socket - drool splattering on the scarred tissue where their left eye used to be.

What the hell??? They can't see! They can't see! They....can't see, but... they haven't been able to see out of that eye anyway since- The Slasher rubs at their eye as Darling releases them - blinking away the strings of spit clinging to their lashes and staring at the deity, bewilderment clear in both eyes. They pull their precious hand mirror from their pocket.

Their face.... They're.... beautiful again.

"There... You're healed. Hope you're able to fix that issue of you being so damn ugly eventually, but that's not really my problem."

What on earth are they talking about??? They are beautiful - isn't that what the deity meant when they called them hideous?

"Oh, no - I wasn't talking about your face. All you humans start to look pretty alike after a while. I called you ugly because what's what you are.... Anyway, I have more important things to do now like cry for twelve hours straight because I am forced to exist in the same reality as you creatures so...uh. bye."

The slasher isn't too sure what they mean, but they are sure of their new purpose. They've been given a second chance by God themselves and will do anything to remain at their side. Slaughters any pesky cultist who hunt their God because they're aware of how much Darling hates them - even though they're no worse than those worshippers

I've been calling them Dollface since I first thought of them. What do y'all think?

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Omg please please can you write something about Daryl experiencing accidental stimulation. Like in a situation where he really shouldn’t but something accidentally gets him hard and needy and he’s hoping no one notices but he’s so pent up… UGH🎀

Please ily❤️

ANON THIS HAS ME LITERALLY ROLLING AROUND IN MY FUCKING GRAVE?? TEARING MY WALLS DOWN?? KISS ME RIHJT NOW???

Now I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of situation he would be in where he’s getting riled up in the process but call me Carol the way I can make magic happen (if nobody gets this reference I will lose my shit)

SUBMISSIVE DARYL AND HIS MOMMY KINK MAKING THEIR GRAND GLORIOUS RETURN

READER IS VERY DOMINANT IN THIS IDK WHAT HAPPENED

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

If Daryl had a dollar for each time he wished he could feed a walker his brain, he’d be able to buy himself a new one, which he really needed to do.

No amounts of mental or physical begging would shut his thoughts up, not even the group of flesh-eating freaks closing in stopped his thinking.

A familiar heat starts to burn in his stomach, and his fist clench tightly around the handle of his knife, knuckles turning white as he naturally took a few steps back before plunging forward, driving the weapon into a walker’s head and watching it’s body drop. Man, he really wanted that to be him.

“Daryl”

He drove his knife into a rotten skull, yanking it out and not bothering to watch it crumble before he stabbed another, and then another.

“Just like that, D”

Blood splattered across his face when his knife dug into a walker’s hollow eye-socket, dragging the blade out and sending it back into it’s head, this time killing the damn thing. Daryl kicked it’s rotting corspe off him with more force than necessary, watching how it flew into yet another staggering body.

He took a few steps back until his back bumped with Aaron’s, who Daryl completely forgot was with him.

“We’ve got this, yeah? Just keep taking ‘em down” Aaron panted heavily, mace on his left arm raised and ready. “Yeah” Daryl mumbled absent-mindedly, as he stared at the walkers in front of him, not thinking about killing them even as he found his hunter’s knife once again driving home to a walkers skull.

“Oh god, yes… yes just like that babyboy”

Someone kill him, now.

“Daryl?!”

Aaron’s voice ripped him back to earth, back down to reality where he had been subconsciously pushing back against the last few walkers snapping their jaws in his face. When did they even get there? He fully shoved them off and sent his knife into each of their heads, silently sliding it back into the holster amd moving to gather his crossbow and bag.

He purposely ignored his rock-hard cock, and how good the fabric of his jeans felt against it when he crouched down to sling the weapon over his shoulder. Aaron, however, wasn’t letting Daryl off that easily.

“What the hell was that about? You alright man?” There was no anger in his voice, just pure confusion. He stared at Daryl with wide eyes as the man continued to walk. No, he was not alright. How could he be when he was walking home with eight inches of pure arousal between his legs? “M’fine. Jus’ tired s’all” He grumbled, lying through the skin of his teeth as he hid his reddening face behind his hair. He felt like a sex-crazed teenager as he felt his cock twitch in his pants, begging his brain to just shut off.

“C’mon sweetheart give me more”

Aaron only furrowed his brows and turned his gaze forward, already not believing a word out of Daryl’s mouth. Tiredness has never seemed to have an effect on the burly man before, so what was the difference now? “You seem real out of it though, like you’ve got something on your mind” Aaron spoke casually, yet observed Daryl from the corner of his eye. He seemed to be breathing a lot quicker, eyes staring only straight ahead as his hand gripping the crossbow fiddled with it, the other uncomfortably fidgeting with his knife at his side. “Nah. S’nothin’, seriously” He shrugged calmly but Aaron still felt something was off.

His eyes flickered over to Daryl, taking in his whole body and studying the language, from his fidgety hands, to the way he chewed his bottom lip. He ran his eyes down his body once, and then twice.

Well, that could definitely be the problem.

Aaron chuckled quietly to himself, and Daryl snapped his head toward the sound.

“Wha’s so funny?”

“I just- Relationship problems?”

Daryl really wanted to hit him.

“No.” He barked, storming away with a laughing Aaron following after him. “Oh come on! The famous Daryl Dixon fighting the dead with a boner? Times must be real tough” Daryl shoved the cackling man, who only laughed at his friend harder, face beginning to shift between tomato red and a blueish purple. Daryl stood biting the inside of his cheek, feeling his own face burn a hot red out of embarrassment.

It took a few minutes for Aaron to compose himself, wiping tears from his eyes as he took a few deep breaths. “Oh man. So, what’s going on, really?” Daryl huffed, keeping his gaze straight and staying on much higher alert. “Jus’ missin’ my woman. Ain’t seen her since we been out here” His voice was soft as he spoke the words into the air, mind starting to wonder off again at the mention of his lover.

“My sweet boy, do you need me to help you cum?”

He could practically feel your soft hands wrapping around his dick, stroking him slowly before bringing your hand up to squeeze around the head of his cock, the added pressure sending shocks flying through him. The thought of how you’d start to edge him by sucking and firmly stroking his tip, until his back is arching and his hips uncontrollably jerk into your hand as his cum lands on your satisfied face, having gotten exactly what you wanted.

Too bad for him he was only imagining that, blinking a few times before realizing he and Aaron were still walking, only they were just practically down the street from Alexandria when only a few steps ago they were nose deep in the forest.

How they got there? some God willed it, Daryl supposes.

For the first time, he didn’t have enough brain capacity to overthink on it. He had other, better things to think about, like the way he was going to practically melt himself into your body. He wanted nothing more than to fill all five of his senses with you, hands already aching to run across your soft skin, knowing how the blisters and callouses on his palms will leave goosebumps in their wake. Oh, how badly he wanted to flatten his tongue over the smooth pane of your stomach, tasting his way all the way down to your soaked panties, practically rubbing his face in between your legs and groaning at the smell of your dripping cunt.

If Daryl had a dollar for each time he wished he could feed a walker his brain, he’d be able to pay you for honoring him with your presence.

When Abraham announced their arrival in his loud commander voice, Rosita pulled back the heavy gates and slammed them shut once the two men were securely inside. Aaron just shrugged when Rosita gave him a questioning look, watching Daryl speed walk away after hastily handing off the rest of the stuff.

He almost wanted to sprint to the house, keeping his head down and loudly hoping in his head that nobody could see the way his cock strained against the already tight fabric of his jeans. Walking past Carol's house and seeing her reading a book on the porch swing, he quickly waved and swiftly increased his pace. She raised a questioning brow at his back, but shrugged as she reimmersed herself in the chapter.

Daryl threw the front door open, heaving slightly as he slammed it shut and cringed at the way the walls of the house trembled. He kicked his shoes off and dropped his crossbow in the middle of the floor, eyes darting around frantically for any sign of you.

You, who was coming down the stairs from how hard the door slamming rattled the house. You were only halfway down when Daryl latched himself onto you, almost knocking the two of you over. "Well hello there, hunterman!" You laughed breathlessly as he squeezed you in his arms, face buried in your neck as he inhaled the smell of your soap. Oh, he missed you so very badly. He lifted you up, waiting for you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could walk up the rest of the stairs.

He kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, dropping down you down onto the bed and downright moaning when his cock bumped your thigh. His mouth was all over you, kissing and licking the exposed skin of your neck. “God, someone’s eager today” You huffed out when Daryl wrapped his arms around you tightly and sucked on your pulse.

Eager was an understatement, Daryl was straight up desperate for you. He felt so full of sexual frustration it was starting to hurt. “Need ya- Need ya ta fuck me, need it so bad” He gasped out when you pressed your knee to his crotch, oh it felt so fucking good.

“Such a bold request, Dar” You whispered into the air, hooking your legs around Daryl and switching your positions, moving to straddle him. He whimpered softly as you sat on his clothed cock. “You’ve been thinking about me all day haven’t you?” Daryl nodded against the pillow but you shook your head. “Use your words big guy”

“Yes! Been thinking about this- you- all fucking day” Daryl’s hips jerked underneath you, his hands moving to grip your hips when you pinned them above his head, a smal sob coming from. “Y/n please”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, trailing down to the reddened tip of his nose and stop at his lips. “Is please the best you can do?” Daryl groaned against you, “Dammit woman yer gonna kill me” You pecked a small kiss to his lips, standing up on your knees and toying with the hem of your shirt. “I know, and you’re gonna let me”

You lifted the fabric over your head, and Daryl almost came on the spot at the sight of your bouncy tits, hands practically burning with the desire to fondle and squeeze them. However, he kept them right over his head where you had them pinned, even though he could easily overpower you. He needed you to take complete control of his body.

His eyes remained glued to your chest, especially when you brought your free up to one and pinched a nipple, biting your bottom lip.

Your shirt dangled from your arm, so you moved to tie it around Daryl’s wrists, securing the other end to a bed post. Daryl’s heart pounded as anticipation bubbled in his chest, watching as you played with your own. He nibbled on his lip, watching as one of your hands slid down your stomach past the hem of your delicate panties, a small red pair with a black bow.

He desperately jerked his hips up and you cooed at him. “I bet you’re just so worked up aren’t you?” Daryl almost wanted to cry out of frustration, he so badly wanted to be buried in you wet heat, mind fogging from pleasure. “Yes! Y/n please, please I need ya”

You rolled your hips against him and he threw his head back as the short motion sent electricity through him. “Need me how?” God just kill him now. His vision started to blur with traitorous tears, tugging at his restraints. “Everyhow. Just need ta feel ya around me, on me- fuck- just fuck me please mommy” His hips jerked once more, this time Daryl’s face contorted as an orgasm washed over him, doing little to nothing to provide any sexual relief.

As you stared down at his trembling frame, running a hand up his chest and wiping away the tears on his cheek, you couldn’t help but smile at just how pathetic he was for you. It was adorable.

“My poor baby, you really are pent up. Making such a mess of yourself and I haven’t even had my fun yet” You kissed along the underside of his jaw, unbuttoning his shirt and grinding down against him. He whimpered and groaned, eyes fluttering shut as you devilishly moved your hips. His whole body was on fire, it felt like heaven and hell at the same time, and you were something close of an angel ontop of him. He was so ready to hand you his entire soul, little did he know he already has.

You trailed your lips down his newly exposed chest, leaving a firey path as you kissed and sucked skin. Oddly enough, Daryl didn’t have a lot of chest hair, the pale skin bare and red where you suction your lips. You could feel his soft pleasured sounds vibrating his chest under your touch, feeling his quickened breathing as you moved down to his hard abs, dragging your tongue across them.

Daryl practically moaned at the sight and feeling, cock twitching desperately in his pants as your tongue ran down the start of his happy trail, fingers unbuckling his jeans and unbuttoning them. You took the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down slowly, staring into Daryl’s eyes as you did. His heart pounded erratically when you placed opened mouth kisses over his clothed cock, the wet fabric sticking to your lips. When Daryl’s hips twitched, you figured he had enough teasing and finally hooked your teeth over the hem of his boxers, pulling them down.

His cock sprung free, and the cold air hitting his glistening tip felt better than it should’ve, even more when you gently blew on it. You followed the action by placing a soft kiss, and then another, before wrapping your lips around him. Daryl’s eyes rolled into his skull as you swirled your tongue and suctioned your lips, practically speeding him off the edge. He shamelessly moaned when you hollowed your cheeks and slid further down his cock, taking as much as you could before it bumped the back of your throat.

You gripped him tightly with one hand, stroking him up and down in time with the bobbing of your head, stopping every so often to suck on his swelling tip. Daryl loudly groaning and whimpered above you, pulling at his restraints as you brought him so close, so fucking close to his orgasm, hips twitching upwards as he tumbled over the edge-

You pulled off him suddenly, and Daryl felt like he had been slapped.

“Wha- Why?- Y/n no please” You straddled him once more, pushing your panties to the side. “Calm down babyboy, I’m right here” You whispered, dragging his cock through your wet folds. He needed to be inside your so badly, when you teasingly popped the tip into your entrance, he just couldn’t stop himself from snapping his hips into you, a broken cry coming from him as his sensitive cock buried so deep inside you. “God- Fuck m’so fuckin’ sorry, feels so fuckin’ good- holy shit you feel so fucking good” Daryl couldn’t even understand himself at this point, head thrown back as he choked on his sobs, so lost in the feeling of you tight around him. He was practically drunk.

You dug your nails into his chest as you rapidly bounced against him, his feet firmly planted against the bed. This was the best he had felt in his whole life, and in his head he was screaming “I love you” with every hard and needy thrust of his hip, sending his cock tip right into your soft sweet spot.

“M’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum” You leaned down to kiss your poor babbling mess of a man, moaning against him when you felt his hips impossibly speed up, pounding into you from underneath. “Oh fuck babyboy just like that” Daryl pulled at his restraints, pure fire burning through his whole body as he was so, fucking, close. “Please keep takin’ my cock mommy please- God, m’so fucking in love with you” Daryl loudly whimpered the words into the crook of your neck, his body twitching and tensing as his hips fucked him through his orgasm, cumming deep in your guts as he went limp against you.

You both breathed heavily, running a hand through Daryl’s sweaty hair as his body continued buzzing, mind blissfully fuzzy and quiet. When he felt his hands be released, he immediately dropped them down to your tits, kissing and sucking on your neck as he groped the soft flesh, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “I love ya” He whispered as his lips moved along your jawline. You giggled, grabbing a fist full of his hair and tugging his head back to look at you. “I know, you already told me”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

@darylsdelts I TOLD U I PINKY PROMISED 😝🎀 I MADE HIM EXTRA NEEDY FOR U

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[sensivs]

Mamaguro being a SLUT

Mrs.fushiguro x male reader

Cw// mentions of the reader being slightly darker/browner(but much more lighter readers r free to read), backshots, mentions of cheating (from both toji and mrs.fushiguro), unprotected sex, (somewhat) rough sex ((also this is my first time writing top reader so 🫡)), some praise here and there (for mamaguro), vaginal sex (this is also my first time writing a female character x male reader fic🙇🏽‍♂️)

Females/female aligned r free to interact just don’t be weird

After everything you’ve seen in a bar, never would you have expected to see such a petite woman sitting alone at a bar taking shot after shot.

She seemed to be in a bad mood, her tear stained cheek resting on the palm of her hand told you so. You walked over to her, catching her by surprise as you greeted her with a simple “hey”.

You took a seat right beside her, “so, what brings such a beautiful women to a bar?” You could tell that you flustered her as she turned her face away. “I.. I just found out my husband has been sleeping with other women..”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “aw.. you poor thing… how could anyone sleep around even if they have a beautiful women at home? He must be brain dead” you chuckled at your own comment.

Mamaguro turned her head towards you, “you really think so..?” “100 percent babe” mamaguro giggled, more red painting her peachy colored cheeks.

“How about I take you to my apartment and I really show you how beautiful you are?” Mrs. fushiguro’s eyes widened, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “O-of course! I’ll be happy to go!”

The moment you and mrs. fushiguro walked through the door of your apartment, you were on top of her, ripping off her tight shirt and her tight mom jeans.

“Ooh, what a pretty pussy we have here ay?” Your middle finger slipped between the folds of the petite woman under you, finding its way to her clit. Mrs. Fushiguro let out a small moan before burying her face in her arms.

“Please y/n.. put your fingers inside me..” she desperately said as she put both of her petite hands on your large forearm. “Don’t gotta tell me twice”

Two of your fingers easily slid inside mrs. Fushiguro, her husband must’ve been pretty big if it took more than two of your large fingers to stretch her. You added another finger, causing the woman to moan embarrassingly loud.

She slapped a hand on top of her mouth and moaned like crazy as you continued to pump her full of your fingers, sending her overboard with pleasure.

Just a few seconds into thrusting your fingers inside fushiguro and she’s already squirting into the palm of your hand. Her eyes rolled back into her eye socket, making her look like she saw a ghost.

You removed your fingers from fushiguro’s sopping pussy, her juices dripping down from both your fingers and her thighs. What a beautiful sight for sure.

You hurriedly took off your pants/boxers, wanting to feel fushiguro’s stretched pussy around your hard cock as soon as possible. The moment your cock was freed, it sprung into action.

You directed the tip towards fushiguro’s pussy opening, sliding it in with ease. Once it was fully in, you began to give her the fucking of a lifetime.

Her already loud moans seemed to get louder every thrust you gave her, you would surely get a very stern complaint in the morning by your neighbors.

“Damn.. your the most perfect woman I’ve met so far fushiguro” you said through huffs, you could tell this sent her overboard due to how she gripped onto your cock.

“C-CUmMinG!!” “Go on then mrs.guro, show me how much of a slut you really are when your husband isn’t the one pleasuring you” oh how pretty fushiguro looked when she came.

Her eyes rolled back, her tongue sticking out with drool dripping from the tip, a deep pink staining her pale cheeks, and sweat dripping down her temples.

You felt fushiguro’s squirt cover the base of your cock, causing you the release your load deep inside the woman’s tight pussy.

—

“Babe.. why is megumi darker than me..?” sweat dripped from fushiguro’s forehead, “uh..”

..

I had no idea how to end this

[chaoticbardlady99]

HI FIRST OF ALL LOVE YOUR WRITING second of all ! kind of specific but may I request an astarion x reader/tav where like. 90% of their time with the companions reader/tav hasn’t been able to see all that well- like. they can see colors and sort-of shapes but most details are completely incomprehensible, and through some method or another (probably someone’s attempt at “removing the tadpole” or smthn but up to you!) they’re finally able to see clearly and they’re just. completely amazed because EVERYTHING (astarion) is so beautiful actually??

Like Nothing I’ve Seen (Astarion x GN! reader)

CW- Mentions of gore and violence (due to Volo being a socially incompetent goofball) , self-esteem issues because I’m an insecure queen myself and like to deal with my feelings through my OCs

I tried to write a body neutral reader as well so everyone can imagine themselves in this story! I hope I was able to pull that off.

Title inspired by the song “Beautiful Things” by Grayscale

Hello! I am so sorry this took so long. Work has been kicking my whole ass lately!!!

This has not be thoroughly proof read so I may make changes as I find them, but I was too excited to post it! I hope you enjoy!

Being a monk is hypothetically supposed to help your pain tolerance- ya know, zen and shit.

Except, you quickly learn that a crossbow bolt to the eyeball is enough to break your zen.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s fighting quickly subsides as you stare at the two blobs out of your (now) one only good eye- good being a stretch. Admittedly, of all the people this could have happened to, it’s probably a good thing it was you since your eyes don’t really work anyway.

The purple, silver, and black blob (who you have come to know as ‘Shadowheart’) comes running towards you, her movements frantic as she begins to try to bandage your eye. You wince as she starts to remove the crossbow bolt.

“I am so sorry,” Shadowheart says, the distress evident in her voice, “if only that gith would stop being such a problem.”

Shadowheart practically screamed the last bit, but at least you are in too much pain for the shrill sound of her voice to bother you. You never wanted to find out if eyeballs could throb- you missed the hours before breakfast when you were blissfully ignorant to the true capabilities of your eyeballs.

The hostile green ball, Lae’zel, comes charging over with an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue before another blob knocks her aside.

“Walk it off Lae’zel,” you hear Karlach say with heavy amounts of exasperation.

Lae’zel grumbles as she storms off; Shadowheart continues to slowly work on you as you wince, whimper, and feel the tears start to fall.

“What did you do?!”

The rage in his voice rattles your bones- if tones could kill, Shadowheart would have keeled over. The radiant blob of your lover is in Shadowheart’s face (at least you hope it’s her face).

“Fangs, put them away!”

“Oh? Were you this anal when they were SHOOTING CROSSBOWS KARLACH?!”

You are beginning to feel dizzy and the yelling isn’t helping. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion are arguing relentlessly- Karlach attempting to mediate. At some point Gale and Wyll join the mix- you think they are trying to hold back Astarion, but you aren’t sure.

In all the chaos, you are unaware of Volo coming up behind you- a solution brewing in his brains.

“Don’t worry my friend,” He explains with gusto, “I can fix this!”

Before anyone can protest, Volo rips the bolt out- your eyeball coming out with it before Volo plops a spherical object in your lap.

“Tada!”

The blood curdling scream that rips through your throat as you clutch at your eye socket surprises even you. In the midst of the white, hot pain- you hear Volo running off , also screaming, away from what you think is Astarion.

You feel Shadowheart grab the spherical object from your lap as Karlach holds you down on the ground.

“Sorry Soldier, but this is probably going to hurt.”

Oh and it hurts.

Shadowheart is wiggling the eye roughly into your eye socket, apologizing the entire time. You feel your socket form around the new eye. The pain from the removal and the new addition begins to subside into a dull ache as the new eyeball makes itself at home in your head- healing energy radiating from it and Shadowheart’s palm.

You feel like you are going to throw up, pass out, or go into a fit of hysteria by the time you start trying to blink your eyes open. You stare down at the grass below you and watch as a red bug with black spots walks along one of the blades before taking flight.

You freeze- the world is definitely not blobbish anymore. You run your fingers through the soft, green grass.

Has it always looked this way?

“How is the new eye?” Shadowheart says nervously.

You look over at her and try to stifle your shock.

Shadowheart is stunning and Karlach is just as awe inspiring as Shadowheart.

“Are you okay, Soldier?”

Sometimes you forget that your companions don’t know about your vision issues. You are able to hide your vision deficit well due to your years of training as a monk teaching you how to rely heavily on your other senses and the energy in the air.

You have come to adore all of your companions for their personalities, their laughs- Astarion especially. However, now you understand why perfect strangers come up to your companions with enamored voices.

“You catch him, Fangs?” Karlach says in a teasing town.

You hear Astarion scowl, “the bastard ran off and disappeared before I could even get near him.”

Astarion appears out from the corner of your eye and kneels in front of you. You try so hard to keep the surprise and adoration from showing on your face. His eyes bore into yours with an emotion that is not recognizable. A tick of frustration flares in your mind- now you have to learn an entirely new set of rules for social interaction.

Except, you’ll deal with that later. For now, you have a literal God kneeling in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek and surveying your new eye.

Gods he’s incredible.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper involuntarily.

As the blush spreads along your cheeks, Astarion breaks out in a bright, beautiful smile.

“Well that settles it, your vision is working just fine!”

He gives you a quick kiss on your lips- your face feels like it’s on fire.

It has been a little over a week since the tiefling party. He had been distant with you initially after your midnight tryst and you had felt quite broken over it. Well- until you had been spending time with Gale at the campfire talking about the Monastery you grew up in and his experiences with the weave. Astarion had barged into the conversation, sat down next to you, and had practically pulled you into his lap next to the campfire. After that night, you’ve become inseparable- sleeping in each other’s tents, more midnight trysts, cuddling, spending the whole night talking or playing games. You spend alone time with your other companions- he would never control you or dictate who you spend time with. He would spy on you and Gale, but he would never prevent you from talking to him.

“No my dear, I trust you. I just don’t trust the boot muncher.”

“You really need to stop saying that,” your serious demeanor cracking, “he doesn’t actually eat the boots.”

He snickered, “oh ya? Then why have we never seen them after he absorbs them? And yet everyone judges my feeding habits!”

Astarion helps you up off the ground and you are dizzy from all the new stimuli around you. His hands find purchase on your hips as he helps steady you. You take advantage of the support and look around your camp.

It all looked exactly how you did and did not imagine. Your brain feels like it’s having a war between what your senses tell you about the land versus what your eyes are saying. You can label everything in the camp because you know where it is based on location, but none of it looks like the way you had anticipated- in fact, it was all far more breathtaking than you imagined.

“What are you thinking about Darling,” he whispers against your ear.

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine, a smile consuming your face.

“I was thinking it might be fun to go explore around camp and make sure my eye is really working.”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the environment and your sight hasn’t changed that much?”

Ah, that look means confusion.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” you put your hand on your hip and flash a grin, “besides, it’s not like I asked you to go with me.”

*******************************************

Astarion walks leisurely behind you as you make a point of touching anything you can reach. He thought you were the most normal one at camp (mentally at the very least), but he is beginning to think he misjudged you.

You are twirling around the forest like you’ve never been in one before. You ask him questions about specific objects and express a great deal of interest in everything you come across- you even find the rocks interesting. While he did find the strangeness to be odd, he still couldn’t help but relish in the genuine, innocent joy on your face. Astarion feels an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout his body while he watches you as you bound around the forest floor.

Astarion is slowly recognizing that his plan is unraveling, but only a little bit. He had thought you would be the lovesick puppy chasing him around camp, but, as Karlach has pointed out to him, it’s the opposite.

He finds himself always making an inventory of where you are in relation to him, who you are talking to, and your feelings- even the ones he is currently disrespecting by attempting to gain your undying protection.

Now Astarion is here- watching you follow a bumble bee towards a large Oak tree.

As you stop and make a point of sitting down under a tree, you touch the various flowers scattered in the grass and excitedly chat about the details of the flower. Astarion silently sits next to you with a smile and takes a look at your face- you look like a blind man seeing for the first time. The realization hits him like an eldritch blast.

“Darling?”

You hum.

“Have you not been able to see until today?”

Astarion watches as you tense up and your eyes meet his. Astarion struggles to discern the look in your eyes- it’s somewhere between fear and apprehension. He offers you a small smile before you break eye contact with a sigh.

“I, um, was sick as a baby. My mom left me outside of a monastery. I guess whatever I was sick with attacked my vision so I could only really see colors and the basic outlines of the things,” Astarion looks at you as if to encourage you to go on so you continue, “it’s never affected me though. The monks taught me how to use my other senses and taught me how to sense energy in the air.”

Astarion is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that a. He was right and b. You slept with him without knowing what he looks like? C. You are easily the second strongest in your little gang of weirdos and the entire time you could barely see.

“So when you told me I was beautiful last week?”

You blush and hide your soft grin. He hears your heart begin to race.

“I really did mean it then,” you pause,” but it’s a different kind of beautiful. I think you are a very good person- I just adore you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality- even the snarky bits. Or when you are at your absolute worst.”

You pause and give him a joking smile, “You are a real pain in the ass though. I didn’t know why everyone is so enamored with you, but now I can see why all those tiefling women kept flirting with you at the party now though.”

He tries to hide the frown that threatens to reveal itself and he sees the panic flash in your eyes.

“Not that I’m saying you are nothing but your looks because that is not true,” you bite your lip, “I just know I came to like you for who you are on the inside and that was…. Quite the experience.”

“Are you suggesting I’m an acquired taste?!”

“Hmmm,” you tap your chin, “ I suppose that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“I am truly heartbroken darling, I thought we had something special.”

He huffs playfully and pretends to be upset- ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. Astarion’s heart clenches as you look at him with the same warmth he is feeling. You break eye contact from him and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“We do, you’re just lucky I’m a monk and I’ve been forced to practice patience my whole life.”

Astarion is lost for words as he turns over what you just said in his head. You scratch the back of your neck and start talking again.

“And not to mention, you deserve someone who is going to take the time to know you for you- not just adore you for what you look like. You are really one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met Star.”

We do. Incredible. Star.

His body feels like it might explode from the chaos of emotions spirals through his body. He thinks maybe the effects of the tadpole are wearing off because he feels like he is burning alive. He fights the urge to take you right there in the flowers.

A couple minutes later, you look up at him again- that same fear in your eyes, but also some hope. After you realize he isn’t going to say anything, you speak again.

“I am not entirely sure why you have gravitated towards me, but I really like you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and we can just go back to being friends,” you pause, “and you won’t lose my protection. I still intend on helping you be free of Cazador once and for all.”

You look away from him, hands fiddling with the flowers. Astarion is still digesting everything you just said to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings (even if he refuses to admit he does), he just doesn’t… deserve someone like you.

He had always been under the assumption that monks were stuffy and by-the-book. You had taken him by complete surprise. You are slyly funny, have no problems with bending the rules if it means helping someone (he doesn’t care for the intent of bending the rules, but he likes bending the rules), and you are accepting. You aren’t neutral with your feelings unless you are trying to mediate an argument or make the best decision for the group.

He appreciates how blunt you are in private- he never has to try to guess what’s on your mind. You make him feel safe like no one else has for the last 200 years.

How could I not gravitate towards you?

It also occurs to him that you have never seen yourself- how your eyes twinkle when you smile or the dimples that grace your cheeks. You hadn’t even seen your body- the same body he was starstruck by and, despite the dissociation and icky feelings, he was able to enjoy the sex between you to some extent.

He gets up from his spot on the ground next to you- your shoulders slightly slumping in defeat.

“Oh stop being so dramatic darling,” he teasingly smiles at you, “get up- I have something to show you.”

***************************************

You blindly follow Astarion to his tent- you had asked him what he wanted to show you the entire walk back, but he refused to disclose that information.

Once you were in camp, Astarion had wrapped some cloth around your eyes before dragging you in the direction of his tent.

“Now you stay right here- don’t move a muscle.”

“Oh you mean like-“

He interrupts you by swatting your hand away from his curls. You pout playfully and he pulls you to his chest before kissing you deeply. You are shocked by his actions and his gasp of surprise tells you he is just as shocked too. You feel him pull back as you start to melt against him, your hands tangled in his hair. An impatient whine escapes your lips. He chuckles.

“No, no, no,” he says, “not yet. Now stay still or there’s no more kisses for you.”

“No more kisses!?”

“You heard me!”

You stay still- the threat is more than enough to convince you to stop. You can hear and sense Astarion rustling around the tent, placing various objects of different vibrations all around his tent. It feels like it takes eons as he readjusts and moves the objects around. Finally, Astarion hums with approval.

“Alright darling, you can take the blind fold off now.”

You take off your blindfold eagerly and your eyes adjust to the warm light in the tent. As you look around, you see that Astarion had set up every mirror he owns all around the tent.

Mirrors.

You stare back at who you can only presume to be yourself. You take in all your features- dissecting yourself. The longer you stare at yourself, the unhappier you become.

You know that Astarion’s intent is good (or you hope it is), but you can’t help the frown that takes place on your face. You are so plain in comparison to Astarion and everyone in camp. Why would he want to be with you when he could have someone as stunning as Shadowheart? Someone equally as interesting to look at?

“What’s wrong,” Astarion says with alarm in his voice.

You suddenly become aware of the hot tears running down your cheeks as Astarion cups your face with his hands. You shake your head, crying harder as he wipes your tears away.

“Darling, please.”

The desperation in his voice causes you to finally meet his eyes, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“ I’m so plain looking,” you state with venom in your voice, “the rest of you are all beautiful in unique ways and I just look like everyone else.”

He scowls, shaking his head at you.

“That is not even slightly true.”

He twirls you around in his arms and has you facing the mirrors again. You have to remind myself that he is behind you still as you feel his fingers trace the details of your face (it would really ruin the moment if you elbowed him in the ribs).

“No one shines like you do. No one smiles like you or laughs like you- crinkles their eyes when they are happy like you. You are funny and intelligent; and by the Gods you are powerful. The fact that you have been fighting blind this whole time is absolutely incredible. You, darling, are a force of nature,” he puts his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin, “I may say a lot of honeyed words, but I wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true.

“And, in all my 200 years of living, I must say, you are like no beauty I have ever seen before.”

You can’t help but smile brightly and you try to look at yourself the way he sees you. Maybe you can see the person he is referring to, but you just need more time to get used to actually seeing yourself. Maybe with time, you will be able to see how brightly you shine too- you’ll just have to work at it.

You smile at yourself softly and say a quiet you’re wonderful to yourself before looking away from the mirrors.

You turn around and give Astarion a soft, long kiss- he sighs into it, meeting your tempo until you pull away; Breathless like a fish out of water. He puts his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, Astarion- I think you shine too.”

[ghostlychief]

Don’t Blame Me

Pairing: MW2 Ghost x f!reader

Summary: They say love makes you crazy, so can they really blame you?

Warnings: mentions of blood, knife usage (stabbing, stabbing people’s eyes, eyes being ripped out of socket); mentions of combat fighting; hints of torture and injuries from torture; typical MW2 lore

NSFW, MINORS DNI: blowjob, fingering, eating pussy; missionary; creampie; aftercare

WC: 7k+ (IK IT’S LONG)

A/N: hello hello! here is the long awaited ghost fic that’s been in development for quite awhile. Thank you so much for participating in my pole, and i hope you enjoy!!! I really let myself indulge in more of the gore this time around, so please read with caution if that kind of content bothers you.

ENJOY🫶🏻🖤

--

You didn’t know blood could be this thick.

But, as you cut through the swarm of your opponents, you really don’t care how much of it gets on your clothes, seeps into your crevasses, and splashes on your face. No, you really don’t give a shit. Your only objective is to get to Ghost, and quickly.

All you see is red, literally.

Before you even fully process what you’re doing, the knife in your hand has already sunk into a neck, blood spurting everywhere, drenching you further.  You carry on, the one person you’re trying to reach at the forefront of your mind.

Should you have felt some remorse for the lives you ended? Probably, but it was like you brain was turned off. Actually, no, that’s incorrect. It was like your brain was wired differently, like it was wired to focus on one thing and one thing only: retrieve Ghost.

You can’t recall when you two got separated, or when he got captured in your last mission. All you remember is the pain you felt when you noticed he’d been taken.

You could blame yourself for his capture, but you decided to turn your fury towards someone else rather than yourself. You realized over the years that self-loathing wasn’t very efficient. It tends to waste time.

It was easy after all; it’s not hard to hold contempt towards the people that stole your lover away from you.

This was their doing. I’m only showing them the consequences of their actions.

It’s what you had to tell yourself. Otherwise, you didn’t see how you were going to come out of this alive. You had to redirect your rage, your frenzy. You had to channel it through your veins, making sure it heated you, and coursed through in a way that burned.

It had to be this way. It was the only way to help you be relentless against your opponents.

You were pretty proud of your knife skills; it was your favorite weapon after all. You always made sure to carry at least two with you at all times.

Today, you strapped on four and you were lucky, since you lost your first two about ten minutes ago. They were no doubt lodged into someone lying on the ground, pierced through their eye. That was your sweet spot, never failing you to effectively take down your opposition.

By this point, it felt like you had sliced your way through a hundred men and yet you still haven’t reached the door of the facility Ghost was being held in. Hope was on the horizon though because you could faintly make out the top of the door frame, which egged you on further. Your muscles worked tirelessly as your arms continued to swing at the men attacking you.

Occasionally, you would move your arms in a quick jabbing motion, repeatedly stabbing the opponent in the stomach and then you would land one last finally blow to their eye, your signature move some would say.

One of the downsides of this move was that sometimes, it took a lot of strength to pull your knife back out of the eye (hence your missing knives), which resulted in pulling their eyeball clear and out of its socket.

Not the best outcome of this tactic, but it is what it is.

Unfortunately, for your last victim, this very thing happened. You were thankful when his screams died down quickly.

You had a moment to catch your breath, hanging your head, quivering hands resting on your upper thighs. You looked up just in time to see someone charging at you, yelling, and with their own knives in their hands.

You noticed that they were the only one alive left outside.

One more. I can take care of him.

You swiftly moved to the side, but could hear the whisp of his blade cutting through the air. That was no good- he got too close.

Time to fix that.

Since you were so deft in your knife wielding ability, you also had a knack of being light on your feet and quick. Something that certainly benefited you.

While the man was no doubt taller and heavier than you, you were faster and anticipated his movements with ease. Sooner than later he too was on the ground, finished, with a sliver blade in his left eye, your red hand-grip the only thing you could see sticking out of his head.

You decided to leave it there, as a parting gift of course.

That’s where you got your nickname, Red Eye, seeing that your weapon of choice was wrapped in a blood-red grip that blended in with the blood that seeped out of your victims’ eye sockets. You thought the nickname was silly at first, but you just grew to accept it over the years. What can you say, you like the fancifulness of it every once in a while.

While you always had reputation, this name made your reputation grow into something almost bigger. While your peers and opponents knew you as the women with the red soaked blades, this name gave you a more, how should you put it?

Eerie reputation.

After stepping over your last remaining victim, you finally reach the double doors, leading into the building Ghost is being held captured in.

Before you entered though, you heard a voice through your comms. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red Eye.”

Fuck me.

You hear Soap over the comms, “Wait for backup. We’re detecting three bodies via heat signatures”

You let out a groan, but made sure that your comms didn’t pick up on that.

“We don’t have time for that. I need to engage now.”

“You will do no such thing.” You hear Price’s voice cut through, stopping you from opening the doors.

“It’s a miracle you made it this far without any back up. Don’t test my patience.”

Ok, so you may have left without anyone knowing and got a two-hour head start before the rest of your team caught up to your location.

It’s just- they were taking, what it seemed like, forever to develop a plan to get your boyfriend out of captivity. You get it, logistics need to be air tight. But this was Ghost, Simon. Your Simon out there.

You knew he could handle what was given to him, but that didn’t ease any worry or hurt left in your heart, and it made you see red with anger.

That’s how your more or less ended up here, alone, slicing through about 30 men all by yourself. Not the smartest move you admit, but you had to get to Simon. You knew his time was running down, like a sand timer, each minute gone left him more perilous than before.

You were definitely going to get your ass kicked tomorrow at debrief.

You were just about to go in, thinking to hell with listening to orders, when you hear at least two sets of feet jogging across the gravel.

“Jesus, Red Eye. Leave any for the rest of us?”

You just roll your eyes at Soap, ignoring his comment. “C’mon guys, we need to hurry. Let’s take the last of the fuckers out and get Ghost back home.”

“Roger that.”

You go in first taking point, Soap and Kӧnig flanking you.

This time around, you have your handgun out, but your knife is safely held with your left hand, resting on the underside of the muzzle.

The hallway is dark, but it’s to your advantage. You think you see a light source coming from the hallway on the left that you’re coming up to, so you raise your left hand and point in that direction, signaling to Soap and Kӧnig.

This is where you come across the first person.

We must be close.

You let Kӧnig take him out. He comes up swiftly behind him and locks an arm around the man’s throat. First knocking him out, but then ultimately, finishing the job.

You three continue down the long corridor. They seem to go on forever. Sweat drips down your temple, and you hastily swipe it away, not wanting anything to obstruct your vision.

As you come closer to the end of the hallway, you start to hear something.

You raise your hand to signal Soap and Kӧnig to stop, and turn around so they can see you raise your pointer finger up to your lips.

You listen for the sound again, and you realize what it is this time.

Your blood runs cold, and goosebumps form on your arms, freezing you in place as you listen to the deafening sound that doesn’t seem to stop.

Ghost is screaming.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this loud, let alone sound so full of pain. You have to pull it together though, you’re almost to him.

You continue on, making a right this time, and Ghost’s screams become louder. It’s good and bad of course. Good because he’s near you and you’re close, bad because he hasn’t stopped screaming.

You wonder how long this has been going on for.

You feel a heavy weight float down your chest, that takes its resting place in your heart. You find it hard to breath, and it takes every fiber in your being not to go into full panic mode.

You get closer and closer to the room Ghost is in, but you don’t hear him anymore. There is no one outside guarding, so the remaining two people must be inside with him.

Your stomach churns over.

You hadn’t realized it, but you fell behind both Soap and Kӧnig, but without a beat, they took your spot at point, leading you to the door.

They bust in first and immediately go after the two men that were standing by Ghost, who is strapped to a chair. It’s your job to get Ghost free of his confines.

But when you look at him, you freeze all over again.

He’s slumped in the chair, hands and feet bound by thick ropes that are no doubt leaving crude burns in his skin.

His pants have rips and holes in them and from further examination, you realize it’s from cigarette burns and cuts from blades.

You can’t see any damage on his arms but you’re worried what his shirt is hiding on his torso. You realize he’s slumped because he’s knocked out cold, probably from a concussion. But you know he’s alive because you see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s ever so faint, but it’s there.

You look around the room and notice a medium size table with different kinds of weapons and tools splayed out along the length of the table. You notice some have dried blood on them, while other tools are still dripping red. Rags litter the table as well. They’re dirty and also have traces of lingering blood.

Once again, you feel the embers burning through you, and you feel like you’re about to explode into a fury of rage.

You turn towards the two men that Soap and Kӧnig took down.

The two bodies lie on the floor and before you realize what you’re doing, you crouching over the first man, and with your blade, you start stabbing both of his eyes, switching on and off between the left and right. While you do this, a blood curdling scream leaves your lips.

It’s both terrifying and heartbreaking; a fine line dances between the two.

You snarl at the now eyeless man before you crawl your way over to his counterpart and release the same anger and revenge onto him. Your screech never faltering.

You don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel strong arms come up behind you and lift you off the dead man.

You start fighting their hold and it’s then when you start crying, your scream turning into a sob. The exhaustion finally getting to you.

“We got him. He’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

--

When you wake, you notice you’re lying on something soft. When you come to, you realize you’re on a bed, under a thin layer of covers and your head rests on a firm pillow.

You squint because the lights are overly bright but when they adjust, you notice the infamous florescent glow, meaning, you’re in the medical ward of the base.

You sit up, and you notice no aches or pains outside of your regular soreness you felt after fighting for an extended period of time. Your head also hurts, but you don’t really care.

You want to know where Simon is.

You notice a nurse a few feet away and you wave her over.

“Excuse me, but why am I in here?”

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that she’s nervous. She fidgets with her hands before answering you.

“Well miss, you fainted on your last mission. They brought you here to be examined.”

She moves over to the end of your bed and takes out the clipboard that resided in the pocket.

“Here, let’s see.” She looks over your paper before looking back at you, still with a trace of uneasiness.

“Seems like everything is OK. Your vitals are normal, and you have no major injuries, just some light bruising on your arms and hands. You are welcome to leave when you want.”

You glance down and notice the light purple that spans across your knuckles.

Before she can scurry away, you ask, “Wait, where are they keeping Ghost?” You shake your head, “I mean, Simon Riley.”

A look of pity crosses her face before she answers, “He’s in Ward C miss; the intensive care unit.”

She leaves before you can ask her anything else.

What the fuck was her problem?

You jump out of your bed, but immediately regret that decision when your head starts to throb right above your left eye.

Now is not the time for a migraine.

You make sure you have all of your belongings before you rush over to Ward C. Right before you are about to enter through the doorway, Price comes through and stops you with a hand placed on your shoulder.

He looks down at you – you’re really getting tired of being the shortest on the team- and squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Before you go in there, guns-a-blazing, he’s doing ok, alright?”

You just stare up at him and nod. Although it was good to hear Simon was doing ok, whatever the hell that meant, you still had so much anger left in you. So much you were hoping that just the sight of Simon healing would help quell you.

You walk past Price, a determined spring in your step, ready to be reunited with Simon. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him.

Three weeks.

Three weeks he was gone, and you thought he was never coming back.

The intensive care unit is unusually empty so it’s not hard to find which bed Simon is occupying.

You quietly walk up to the side of the bed, and you are finally by his side.  

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me bug, I’m awake.”

Simon’s voice startles you and your head turns towards his. You notice his left arm is in a sling but a lazy smile graces his lips.

If you weren’t in a medical facility on base, out in the open to the prying eyes of the public, you would have immediately burst out crying just at the sound of his voice.

Instead, you let out a breathy, “I thought I lost you.”

Unlike Simon, your face has no hint of happiness. Your lips are slightly turned down, quivering and your eyes start to well up with tears, but you will them not to drop.

Your hands are balled up in fists but you bring yourself back down. You are here for him after all; it’s not the other way around.

You slowly unclench your fists and then gingerly sit down on the side of Simon’s bed, right at his hip.

That’s when you bring your hand up to trace down the side of his face, feeling the familiar stubble that never fails to tickle you when he kisses you.

Your hand comes back up to rub his cheek and you say again, “I thought I lost you, Simon.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours that still rests on his face. “I know, I know. But I’m here, and I’m ok.”

“Are you though?” You can’t fight it anymore, the tears stream down your face, their streaks burning your skin.

His hand that was resting on yours comes up to rub your head. “Promise.”

After that, you and Simon laid in his hospital bed for the remainder of the day. He fell in and out of sleep, but you were just thankful he was alive and breathing next to you.

--

It’s been about three weeks since Simon’s been back. He’s out of his sling and most of his bruises and wounds have healed. Expect for the deeper lacerations on his thighs. He also has some scarring from the cigarette butts. But over all, you would say he’s doing pretty alright, all things considered.

You’re both currently on base, since you needed to attend multiple meetings today, and you’re eating lunch in the cafeteria.

“So, I heard you went kind of, feral, when you came to rescue me.” Simon has an innocent look on his face, but you see him trying to hid his shit eating grin.

You narrow your eyes at him, “And who did you hear that from?”

He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No one in particular.”

You scoff. Fucking Soap.

You knew he must have told someone, if not Simon himself. He was quite the gossiper.

What a fucker.

“Well, did you want me to ask them to be friends?”

Simon lets out a low laugh. “That would have been funny.” You look up at him and see his eyes are lit with amusement.

You let out a sigh, but a ghost of a smile dances across your lips. You know he’s feeling better since he’s joking around.

--

Another three weeks has passed and you find yourself in the typical meeting room. The one you all use before a mission. That means this will be your last debrief before you jet off to where ever the location is in a few days.

The meeting goes well up until the part where Price says “And Ghost, you will wait here at the rendezvous point.”

You interrupt him, “Wait what?”

The room goes silent as you stare down Price.

“There’s no way Simon is going on this mission. Nope. Not happening.”

“Well, y/n, you don’t really have a say in this. Do you?”

The trace of condescendence has you short circuiting but you keep your cool. You glare at Price, “If Simon’s going on this mission, then count me out.” You don’t notice the slip of his name. Usually at work you call Simon Ghost or LT, but never Simon.

You storm out of the room and head back to your desk to gather your things to leave.

You hear someone lightly jogging behind you, and you have a hunch about who it is that followed you out.

You feel a hand softly grab your elbow and you hear Simon plead, “Wait.”

You sigh and turn around. Looking up at him you confess, “Look, I need to cool off for a bit. We can talk at home, ok?”

You see Simon contemplate whether to let you go or not, but he just gives you a curt nod. He gives your arm a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests, “Ok, see you at home.” --

You basically scowl your whole way home. Listen, you know you have some slight anger issues, but you’re working on it.

You get home after the long day and quickly make way to the shower, needing to feel the hot water run down your head and back. That will calm me, you think.

Once you step out of the shower, you already feel better. You’re clean, and you smell like your favorite soap. You change and do your normal routine after a shower then head to the kitchen to make yourself a warm cup of tea.

Evening tea is one of your favorite treats and it always seems to quell your nerves. Because that’s what you are right now, nervous.

You don’t want to fight with Simon, no, not at all. But you can’t help but feel frustrated at Price, and subsequently him, for deciding that he’s ready to go back in the field. Because from your perspective he’s not. Hell, it’s barley been a month and a half, and you think he needs more time to cope with what happened to him.

Sure, he’s seeing the base’s therapist, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his physical body healthy, yet you can’t help but the ball of worry that has formed in the pit of your stomach, fester. Something keeps nagging at you, and you don’t know what it is.

You just don’t understand how Simon can bounce back so quickly.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for Simon to get home. And when he does, you find yourself perking up on the couch when you hear him come through the door.

He lets out a soft “Hey,” in which you respond just as softly back.

“I’m going to go shower and wash up, but then we can talk, yeah?”

You give him a nod, but also confirm, “Sure, that sounds good.”

His shower felt like eternity, but you know you only feel this way because you’re on edge. Again, you don’t want to fight with him. You just, you love him so much, you can’t stand to lose him again. No, it can’t happen again.

You hear soft footsteps on the tile as Simon makes his way through the kitchen to the living room where you’re still seated on the couch.

You look up at him before he sits down and grant him a quiet smile, and reach out your hand to his. His large hand grasps yours in his, and his thumb traces your knuckles. He then sits down next to you, and now his fingers are tracing over yours, relaxing you just a smidge.

You can feel his warmth radiating off of you instantly, and it takes ever thing in you to not glue yourself to his side.

You both slightly turn to each other, and funnily enough you each say “So,” at the same time.

You giggle and he lets out a low chuckle that makes your insides swarm. You miss him.

“You go first, bug.” The hand that has been tracing yours pulls you closer to him, and he embraces you in a warm hug as you both sit on the couch.

Before you start, you simply just bask in Simon’s embrace, not wanting to let go just yet. You begrudgingly pull away, but still keep your fingers connected in their little dance.

“I’m sorry for storming out today at our meeting. That was unprofessional, and uncalled for, but I just don’t see why you have to go on our next mission.”

“Aren’t you still hurting from what happened to you on the last one? I guess I just don’t understand why you want to go back in the field so soon.”

There’s a pause before you add, “How do you know you’re ready to go back?”

One thing you appreciate about Simon is that he never interrupts you, and he always lets you finish your complete thought before adding his.

When he can tell you’re done, he sighs and says, “Because, y/n, that’s what we’re trained for.”

“I wouldn’t have this job if I couldn’t put the pieces back together after every mission.”

You guess that makes sense, but you’re still concerned about him.

“Listen, I get that, I really do. I guess what I want to make sure of is that you’re actually doing ok and that you’re working through whatever happened to you.”

He’s told you the gist of what happened, and he confides in you whenever he feels like he needs the extra support, but you know that there are some things he’s still hiding. Which, you’re not going to push him to tell you, but you hope at some point he does.

He gives you a slight smile, “That’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for me, and I appreciate it so much, but I’m really doing fine, ok?”

He shifts so he’s leaning in closer to you, and now it’s his turn to cup your jaw with his hand. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod at his answer. “I love you too.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You grant him a smile in return and then he pulls you in for a kiss.

--

The kiss deepens and before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, one leg on either side of his thick torso. You’re a mess as you straddle him, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, if even possible.

He wraps his arms around you and subconsciously pulls you closer to him. His large hands span across your back as he holds you close to him. Your center brushes against his you let out a moan when you feel this contact. You run your hands down his neck and shoulders, feeling the taught muscles underneath his black t-shirt. As you rock your hips against his, you hear him let out a moan, which only eggs you on further.

“Fuck, y/n. Keep doing that again.” His hands travel down to hold you hips, almost as if he’s trying to help you move against him.

Your hands move in tandem and they come to rest at the base of his t-shirt, your fingers playing with the hem. You’re itching to take it off of him, and he seems to understand what you want, because he pauses kissing you to help you take off his shirt.

Now shirtless, you bring your hands up to his shoulders and then trail them slowly down his torso, nails ever so slightly scraping against his skin. You can feel each ridge and bump from his abs before your reach the hem of his sweatpants. Your fingers graze over his happy trail before you start toying with his sweats.

You run one finger along the hem of his grey sweats, then ever so slightly, your finger enters his pants, you run your finger under his sweatpants. You’re teasing him, and you can tell he’s getting antsy by the way he shifts as your finger runs along the band of his briefs.

As you continue to tease him, you trail or lips over his chest. Your lips wrap around one of his nipples, the unpierced one, and you softly bite him before you run your tongue over his nipple, suckling.

He moans out a gentle “Fuck,” and one of his hands comes up to grasp your hair.

You move over to his other nipple, the pierced one to be exact, and you once again softly bite him then suck. You make sure to spend your time here because you know this is one of Simon’s favorite thing during foreplay. Once he’s taken care of there, you continue to trail your lips down his abdomen, and now you’re finally at his center.

You get off his lap and sit on the floor in-between his spread legs. You place your hands right above his knees, and you look up at him with your swollen lips.

“You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?” You rub your thumbs in soft circles on his legs, waiting for his answer.

You see him gulp as he looks down at you, and then his lips quirk, in a smirk.

“What do you say?” Your hands stop their ministrations and you tilt your head, understanding what he wanted.

“Please.”

His smirk deepens, “Good girl.”

At his greenlight, you come up on your knees so that you can reach him better. Your trail the hem on his sweatpants one last time before you start pulling them down off his hips, making sure that his briefs come off too. He lifts his butt to help you, and now you’ve successfully taken his pants and underwear off.

You greedily take in the size of him. His dick is hard and slightly curved as it lays against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick that your hand doesn’t close around it the whole way. You pump him slowly, as you look at him. His eyes are blown out and he leans his head back against the couch. You smile at him before you lower yourself. You link one strip up his dick, making him squirm underneath you. You then you bring up your hand to start pumping him. As your hand moves up and down, your lips come up to kiss the to crown of his dick.

You look up at him again, locking eyes and then wrap your lips around him. Once your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan. You continue to sink down on him. You move your head up and down, trying to adjust to his size. The part of his dick that you can’t fit into your mouth, you cover with your hand, pumping him up and down.

Your hair falls around you, and at this, Simon carefully takes your hair into one hand, putting it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck, baby that feels so good.”

You continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks. You know he’s close when you see his abs start to clench and his legs start to stiffen.

The moans he lets out has your getting wetter and wetter by the minute, and you squirm, trying to ease some of the pent-up tension you’re feeling.

Your unoccupied hand comes down to play with his balls, gently squeezing them and that is what does him in. He lets out a louder groan and you feel his warm come shoot down your throat.

You keep your mouth on him, cleaning him up before you slowly take yourself off him. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and you sit back on your heels, smiling at him.

He runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a low chuckle.

“Damn, you really did a number on me there.” You laugh yourself and you come up to the couch, sitting beside him so you can turn his head to give him a lingering kiss.

You give him a few pecks, “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” Your eyes are bright as you look at him, and his hold the same amount of affection and adoration.

His low voice cuts through you, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, alright?”

You give him a brief nod, “Please.”

He pulls you back into him, and then starts to push you back so you’re lying on the couch under him. He’s kissing you frantically now, his tongue entering your mouth.

“Take your pants off for me, would you?” His hands make their way to take your shirt off, and while he does that, you slip out of your shorts, underwear gone with them.

“Thank you, baby.”

He keeps kissing you as his hand comes down to your center. He first cups you, and then brings his pointer finger to rub against your clit. As his pointer is stimulating your clit, his middle and ring finger run along your slit, gathering up all the wetness that formed over the course of the last half hour.

You see him bring his coated fingers up to you. “Taste for me,” he breathes. And without any hesitation, you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, making sure to look at Simon while you lick his fingers. He watches you with fire in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing him call you that.

He brings his hand back down to your pussy and then enters two fingers in you, stretching you out deliciously. You whine as his fingers enter you; they feel so good inside you.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend has quite large hands, which equated to long, thick fingers, and he always knew what to do with them.

He starts picking up the pace, and the squelching sound his fingers make is deafening, and the only thing you can focus on as they move in and out of you.

You didn’t even have to ask before he’s adding in a third. You feel yourself clench around him, and you’re already losing your mind and he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet.

He’s hitting you right in your sweet spot, and your hands come up to hold him by the shoulders. He moves down ever just a hair, and you’re not sure why until he lowers his head. He spits, and then connects his lips with your clit, moving his tongue around your sensitive bud.

The addition to his lips on your clit has you seeing stars and you start to feel that familiar build up. You tumble over the edge, a bright warmness spreading through you.

Simon removes his lips and fingers from you and you’re both panting heavily. He’s bracing himself with one arm as he looks down at you.

Your hair is messily strewn across the couch behind you, and your eyes are bright. Your chest moves up and down as you try and catch your breath. You smile up at him, this time your teeth showing.

He gives you a peck on your lips. “How was that?”

You sigh, “Amazing.”

Another kiss is pressed on your lips and you can faintly taste yourself on him.

“I want to properly fuck you, and that can’t be done on the couch. Bedroom, yeah?”

You nod up at Simon acquiescing to his suggestion.

“Alright, up you go then.”

He swiftly pulls you up and off the couch into his arms. You squeal at the sudden movement but it turns into giggles as Simon carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wow, my night in shining armor.” You lazily loop your hands around his neck as he leads you both to the room. He just laughs at your statement.

Once there, he gently deposits you on the bed, and wastes no time picking up where you left off.

He crawls on top of you and starts to kiss you up your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth. His kiss leaves you burning, and your hands eagerly reach for him, pulling him down further into you.

You wrap your legs around his torso, and feel his dick brush up against your center, hard once again.

He pulls away to look at you, eyes connecting. “Do you need any more prep?” He brings a hand up to brush away some of the flyway hairs that covered your face. His hand lingers, cupping your head, and his thumb brushes your cheek in a soothing back and forth motion.

Smiling you answer, “No, I’m good.”

“Ok.”

Bracing himself above you, his hand trails down to grasp his dick. He gives it a few pumps before running it along your slits, and lightly taps it on your overly sensitive clit.

He then slowly guides it into you, the stretch much bigger than what his fingers could offer. You both let out a sigh as he fully sinks into you, eyes connecting at this very moment. Once he’s fully inside, he gives you some time to adjust, his hand moving to hold your hips, thumb moving in circles.

“You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good, you can start moving.”

At your consent for him to move, he does just that. He pulls his hips back before he pushes them back into you. He starts off with a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. You’re surprised he’s not pounding into you relentlessly like he usually does. This time his thrusts are much more calculated, calm, like he’s got all the time in the world. The slower drag of him against your walls makes you roll your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of him.

It’s only him, that’s all you can think about, all you can feel. You let go of the heaviness you’ve been feeling to focus on being with him now. It’s not hard, he makes you feel like you’re floating anyways.

Your fingers run down his face, down his shoulders, taking in as much as you can of him. Then you run your hand down his tattooed arm, mapping the intricate details of his tattoos and running over the protruding veins due to him propping himself up. Simon watches you as you run your hand across him.

He gives you a particular harsher thrust, eyes trained on you when you moan and clutch his arm a harder. He picks up the pace just a little, loving the way you look beneath him, taking his cock so well.  

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you breathe. He hits that same spot again, but this time you move up the bed a little from the force of his hips. Your breasts jiggle as you shift up the bed and Simon’s eyes are travel to your chest. He brings his hand up to up one of them, rolling his thumb over your nipple. Simon keeps this faster rhythm with his hips, slamming into your now quivering pussy, showing you no mercy as he pounds into you with force.

His thrusts are powerful that leave the breath knocked out of you.

He removes his hand from your breast to wrap it around your leg. He positions your leg so it’s resting on his shoulder, now giving him a new angle into you. This position allows you to feel him move even deeper inside you, now feeling the tip of his dick hit your cervix, which makes you whine. His thrusts continue their hard motions, but his pace starts to slow down.

Simon’s hips start to falter a little bit in their smooth rhythm, a telltale sign he’s close. At his praising, you unconsciously clench around him, making him breathe out a silent curse as his hand tightens on your leg that is propped up on his shoulder.

“Si, I’m close,” you whine. You feel so full, so consumed by all things Simon, the only thing you can focus on is him and the building orgasm that threatens to spill over.

“Me too.” Simon removes his hand that’s been propping your leg up and moves it down to your clit, and starts to rub slow circles on the bud, making you squirm. You bring your leg down from his shoulder to wrap it around his torso once again pulling him closer to you. You drag your hands down and up his back as his thumb continues to abuse your clit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With a few more thrusts from Simon and the quick movements of his finger on your clit, you feel the coil in you snap, and it snaps hard. Your orgasm washes over you, a blinding white light that makes you feel like you’re going to pass out, and you call out his name one last time.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you see stars, as your pussy clamps down hard on Simon’s dick. He’s a moaning mess above you as he feels your orgasm that’s traveling through your body, your walls contracting around him.

He curses out a soft “fuck baby” and then he’s following just a hair behind you, traveling over his precipice as well, emptying inside of you. You feel his come paint your walls as your pussy continues to clench around him, as you ride out your second orgasm of the night.

He collapses on top of you but is careful not to crush you completely. You’re breathing heavy as you both come down from your highs, both sweaty messes.

He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a soft smile on his face and you smile back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

Your smile falters, “I never want you to leave me like that ever again. Got it?” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying trace of tenderness. Your hand comes up to push his hair back, waiting for his answer.

“Never.”

“Good.” You pull him back down to you for a kiss.

He slowly peels himself off of you and whispers out, “Wait here.”

You lay on your back, legs bent as you wait for Simon’s return. When you hear him entering the bedroom, you slightly sit up and you notice a washcloth in one of his hands.

He kneels back on the bed and gingerly pries your legs open so he can clean you up. He delicately starts wiping your center, his first few strokes making you writhe due to oversensitivity. His hand rests tenderly on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth as he wipes you clean. He must have run the washcloth under hot water because it’s wet and feels warm against your skin.

When he’s done, he pecks the inside of your knee and gets up off the bed to go throw the washcloth in the hamper. When he returns to you, he’s in his boxers, and he has a t-shirt in his hand.

“For you, my lady.” You laugh at him and take his shirt, pulling the soft material over your body.

You both clamber under the covers, and are now wrapped up in Simon’s arms.

There’s no place you’d rather be right now, and you’re so thankful the universe allowed you another chance to be with him like this.

If he didn’t make his way back to you, you don’t even know what you would have done. Probably would have gone mental, but who could really blame you?

[eldritch-spouse]

Pin I just had a galaxy brained idea regarding this post with Vinnel.

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/760273736029110272/could-healed-vinnel-make-a-pearl-does-he-even?source=share

What if he makes a pearl that is the exact shape and size of your missing? eye. Maybe it's his weird possessive obsessive apologetic?, way of truthfully fully telling you he loves you. The eye is gone. There's no changing that. Maybe it was a punishment for you being too disobedient, ungrateful, whining too fucking much. Or it could have been taken in an accident. You both know he goes too far, forgets your limits, disregards them all together.

What matters now is that things are different. Better in a few ways. The eyepatch was cute but this is a much better much more meaningful replacement. And now when he looks into your eyes he can see his three favorite colors at the same time. 🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️

[Anon. I will be taking one (1) of your brain wrinkles.]

TW: Brief gore.

Things have changed. The world. The place you're trapped in. Vinnel.

He's someone else now. Perhaps not to the world at large, but to you. You had known he was a slime for a while now, an ill monster hiding his vulnerability behind the figure of a tormenting jester. He's still that ruthless sadist today, hasn't lost a wink of his cruel prowess... But he's no longer ill. He's in tip top shape for that matter. This "gift" won't undo a lifetime of wrongdoings and trauma, but...

You suppose having less chronic pain will make you slightly more tolerable.

It will clear your mind just long enough to make you realize some of what you have done in the past has been much too harsh.

Vinnel isn't one to openly show remorse, you don't think he's ever truly apologized to you. But what is this, if not an apology?

When he presents the intentionally misshapen pearl to you, holds your face so very softly and slots it into palce with care, mimicking the gesture he's seen you make a million times with your other eyes... What is that if not a motion of regret? When he kisses you, wipes the silent tears off his own eyes and proclaims "My poppet, the fairest in the garden.", is that not a promise of a better future?

You'll never forget the day he chose to rip your eyes out. The flashes of pain and your own wild screaming will never fade, neither will the sight of an orange and purple holding silverware -The last thing you saw with two eyes, really. You won't forget shrieking and throwing up as it hung limply from your socket, before it was severed. He still has it somewhere, you just don't want to see it. Maybe, if you try hard enough, you'll forget where it is.

Looking in the mirror however, feeling the jester's bare arms wrapped around your middle... You can't help but think this is a new Vinnel. That maybe things will be better than ever.

[thewriterg]

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

pairing(s); peter parker x gn!reader, can be read as tasm or mcu peter

summary; With exams less than a week away poor dietary decisions, unhealthy sleep habits, and cramming everything you’ve learned into different sockets of your brain was on your radar but you and peter always pull through —flufftober day; 3—

word count; 800+

warning(s); fluff, kisses, pet names, sleepy couple, and language

playlist; sweater weather by the neighborhood

A/n:—GIFs; @kitherondale & @cherienymphe— me when I listened to sweater weather and didn’t make me want to rip my hair out my scalp; 🙀

The wind blew into Peter's dimly lit room he sat at his desk glasses resting on the bridge of his nose laptop propped open the continuous sound of keys typing while his fingers danced along the board with a sudden halt before they continued in a melodic manner

Click-click-click-crunch-click-click click-crunch- click-cli-tap-tap-tap-tap-

You on the other hand lied on your stomach on the comfort of the bed the cool sheets under your skin engulfing you fully your nose in textbook quite literally as it lied under your chin whole you read over the section writing down key points to drill into your brain later humming a tune from your throat of a song that you remember faintly, that you couldn't quite get out of your head.

Peter could feel the heat rushing to his face and he was suddenly very grateful for the lack of bright light in his room as one of his hands rested on your knees the other typing against the keys of his laptop that same comforting noise

You were up from your position off the bed trailing behind Peter's chair he finished typing his last few words before turning his attention towards you a welcoming gaze looking over your features as you slid next to him shuffling awkwardly in the chair that was too small to fit you both before you settled on the potion of you leaning against the arm of the chair, your legs thrown over the brunettes lap, and your head resting against his shoulder

Click-click-click-click-click-tap-tap-tap-click-click

Suddenly he was jerking in his seat as your cold hands pressed against his stomach recovering quickly so he didn't drop you while you snickered into his shoulder

“Bug boy can't handle a little cold?” You teased and if Peters face wasn’t red before it was beet now as he huffed with a roll of his eyes playfully

“Spiders die in the fall Y/n” He gasped playfully in mock offense and you could hear the smile in his voice without looking directly at him and you hummed in response playing with the loose thread of his sweater curled it around pinky before pulling downward for it to unravel in a loose spiral as you repeated the process

“I have to go dress shopping for your funeral, get one of those big church hats” You teased and the pale boy was gasping again with more seriousness to his tone

“Not the hat, im putting in my will that no one is allowed to wear obnoxious hats at my funeral it's a disrespect” Peter said matter-of-factly as holding back laughter in his throat occasionally pausing to get get his sentence out before he could turn into a laughing mess

“I'll be at the door with a basket snatching hats” You stated seriously before a second passed and you were both falling into a laughing fit that’s blended into the rustling trees outside the sound slipping through the open window seal

While you both settled after a moment you went to stand to go back to your work but Peter had grabbed onto the back of you he shirt In protest before you could get far looking at you with a pout

“We’ve been working for two hours we deserve a break, come on.” With a small huff you nodded before returning to your original position before letting a yawn take over your body resting your head on Peter’s shoulder as he swung you both side to side and soon he felt you lean into him a little more and listened into your heartbeat get a little slower

The vigilante couldn’t tell how much had passed but the sun was just setting when he had last check and now stars were in the sky he found a rhythm in your fanning breath against his neck

Peters attention shifted to his opening door rushing to shush his aunt with a finger to his lips and wide eyes which she visibly cringed at while nodding

“Just letting you know that I’m getting started on dinner and I just wanted to know if they were staying” She whispered apron secure around her frame and hair up on the back of her neck in a bun

“I should probably get them home curfew is soon” He whispered in response

“You know you’re a really good partner Peter” May whispered and before the boy could respond she was out of the room with the gentle shutting of the door following after her

“A good partner huh?” You mumbled tiredly and once again Peter was a red as he’d ever been

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 51

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Torture, rape, gang rape, murder, mutilation, body horror, graphic descriptions of all of the above. (🛑 This chapter is brutal. Please heed warnings. AO3 has more detailed warnings.)

Worst

There was a sharp pain in the side of your neck and dripping warmth trickling down the skin. Every thrust into you, the knife Warthin pressed to your throat left another furious scarlet line in the skin. You were afraid to breathe too deeply or move your head at all, fearing the blade would sink too close to major arteries. Breathing was already made difficult by the wad of fabric shoved in your mouth. Biting down on it was at least keeping your pained cries to a minimum. 

It was impossible to take your mind out of the situation. There was too much adrenaline and anxiety flooding your body that you couldn't help but be self-conscious. You were painfully aware that you were being watched by people you cared about and that everything that happened to you would be seared into their memories. One thing that made it more bearable was the continuous stream of threats being screamed at Warthin by Kid. If you focused on Kid's voice, you could tune out the creaks of the bed or the grunts of your assailant. Although you weren't the one being yelled at right now, Kid yelling had been one of the constants in your life for the past few months. It was comforting. 

Warthin wasn't pleased with your lack of reaction. He loved that Kid was pissed, but you seemed to be holding up, and he couldn't have that. He wanted you to squirm and resist, to scream through the muffling fabric. He wasn't concerned with preserving you anymore. He was going to do whatever he wanted to you, and then he was going to let his subordinates do the same thing, if you lived. 

The sharp pain at your neck disappeared. As much of a relief as it was, you didn't like that now you had no idea where his knife was. It became apparent shortly where it was, when you felt an intense, ripping pain in your thigh. The chains rattled as you pulled your leg in reflexively. Even through the gag, your scream was audible. The veins in your neck popped out with its intensity. Fresh tears poured from the empty sockets in your head. Warthin repeated this again, leaving a trail of wounds down your thigh. There was a lightheaded feeling as you wavered in consciousness. The pain and the blood loss, along with the force of your screams had you on the edge of passing out. 

 Warthin groaned. "Good girl. Scream some more for me." He taunted the others, "I bet she never screamed like this for you."

Kid's infuriated reply was cut off by his own strangled gasp as he watched Warthin shove his thumb into the place your eye used to be. 

The pain was so great, you turned your head, suppressing the urge to retch. If you threw up, you would aspirate, potentially drowning I your own vomit. It was a shock that you didn't pass out then. When you refocused, Warthin had pulled out. He wasn't finished either, and you didn't like what that could mean. 

"Wait what am I doing?" Warthin mused. "If you can't give me what I want, why am I still fucking your cunt?" 

Dread filled you. You shook your head and attempted to plead through your gag. 

"Before my boys get ahold of you, I want to fuck your ass first." He chuckled. After all, it's my right as captain." 

Now, you prayed you would lose consciousness soon. Part of you needed to be awake so you would know what was happening to you, yet the protective features of your brain screamed to shut down completely specifically so you didn't know what happened to you. The rims of your eyelids were dry as you ran out of tears. Your mouth felt like cotton, all the screaming and the fabric stripping it of moisture. The helplessness you felt was suffocating. No one was saving you from this but yourself. 

You felt Warthin lean down, probably about to say something vile to you. With the last remaining shred of dignity and fight you had, you head butted him as hard as you could, your head the only thing that wasn't restrained. The force of it didn't knock you out, but it did knock out one of his teeth. After that, your wish was granted. In his fury, Warthin punched you with such force that you went limp with unconsciousness. Right before you blacked out, you could feel bones in your face crunch. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the Kid Pirate officers were sickened by what they saw. They expected torture, and they expected some level of sexual violence, yet the sight of you in this state was horrifying, much worse than they thought. Rage-filled tears fell behind Killer's mask as he took in the multicolored bruises that covered your skin, focused around your face. Heat couldn't rest his gaze on you for longer than a few seconds at a time. Wire was frantically trying to get the device he and Kid created to lock on to the transponder snail's signal. Kid had never felt this livid in his life. He was going to turn this monster into a fine mist of blood. Pieces of him would be so small, ants wouldn't be able to find him. 

Killer and Kid had been instructed by Wire to keep the guy talking. Wire wasn't sure how long it would take to get the signal or if Warthin would stay on the line long enough. By the time they actually had what they needed, they didn't want to stay on the line, yet they had to, all because of Kid's big mouth. Now that he had revealed the truth behind the lie keeping you alive, there would be a race against time. Or it could all be over. Warthin could kill you whenever he wanted. 

Kid's heart dropped when he realized that he had fucked up. If you died, your blood would be on his hands, a layer of fresh red crimson over the brown, long-crusted over blood of Victoria. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn't able to prevent the death of someone he loved a second time. But what if you lived and resented him for his indiscretion. Could he live with that? Kid would rather you lived and hated him than see you dead. He just hoped that if you got through this alive, that you could forgive him. Watching what he had caused, he didn't think he could forgive himself. 

They watched as you trembled with fear, trying to keep a brave face while you told them that it was okay for them to abandon you. It only cemented their will to get you back. They wanted to see you be vulnerable with them, but not like this, never like this. Your words affirming your affections for them had different meanings for Kid and Killer than for Heat and Wire, however they held equal power over each of them. None of them would let Warthin go unpunished. 

Kid screamed threatening promises until his voice became hoarse. He wanted to egg on Warthin, maybe he could get him to direct his attention away from you. His heart was being chipped away at with every second you suffered in silence. They were all trying to leave their eyes facing you without perceiving the acts being forced on you. It turned all of their stomachs. It was a quick motion, Warthin stabbing you, so quick that they didn't know you had been harmed until your piercing scream ripped through the screen. Killer instinctively reached for Kid's hand for support, his tears slipping from the bottom of his mask to leave silver trails down his neck. Wire noticeable flinched and Heat had to will himself not to look away. 

Kid's jaw ached with the force he was gritting his teeth together. He watched spattering trails of scarlet fling through the air with each arc of Warthin's knife as he plunged it into your flesh.  His eyes went wide, mid-threat, as he saw Warthin force his thumb into your eye socket. He cringed when he saw your body try to fold in on itself in self-preservation. The sound of the chains pulling taut was going to haunt him just as much as your cries of agony. Kid could tell you were at your breaking point. None of them had seen you this far into despondency, slipping further as Warthin was about to sodomize you. There was a brief moment in time where they all brightened, seeing a familiar combative presence within you. It was short lived as you slammed your head into Warthin's before being subdued. They watched as your body relaxed into unconsciousness, head lolling to the side. On one hand it was a relief to see you leave your body before anything worse was done to it; on the other hand they would still have to watch it be defiled. 

"You little cunt!" Warthin growled and rubbed his head. "I'm sure you all stretched this whore out for me." Warthin's hands gripped your thighs and pushed them apart as far as the chains allow. 

Kid wanted to lash out at him, and was ready to, until Wire kicked him. He bit his tongue. Anything he said could be an excuse to do something worse to you at this point. He and the rest of the men next to him flinched when, even through unconsciousness, you grimaced as Warthin entered you. 

A barely audible whine left you as Warthin fucked into you. He laughed. "This is nothing. Just wait until your old crew get their hands on you." He redirected his attention to his audience. "But that shouldn't be a problem right? I'm sure she's been filled with cocks before. It's all she's good for really." 

The edge of the table under Kid's grip splintered. His orange eyes were an inferno as he watched Warthin leave red, raw bite marks across your chest. The marine wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled, causing your head to be yanked forward at an awkward angle, to give himself more leverage. He fucked your body at a brutal pace. Killer didn't overlook the sight of blood at the base of Warthin's cock. The first mate silently prayed that Wire could get them there in less than a day. Tears ran down Heat's face as Warthin positioned his knife over you. 

Warthin looked at them. "You all don't have much to say. You must like watching another man rape your toy." He spun the knife around in his hand and pressed the handle against your folds. He pumped the handle into you a few times and took it back out, flipping it again so the sharp end was pointed at you. "I wonder... maybe I should make her a little wider, so she can accommodate all my men." He brought the very tip of the knife within millimeters of your cunt.

"DON'T!" Kid couldn't bear to see that. 

Warthin gave them a smug look, halting his thrusts to stick his fingers into your pussy and stretch it open. "Even being ran through this pussy is so little. Poor thing is going to be ripped and torn." He snickered and paused, like he remembered something. He pointed at Killer. "You. I can't see your eyes." He gripped your breast and put his knife under it, slicing deep enough to get into the yellow fat under the skin. 

Killer understood the threat immediately and didn't hesitate for even a millisecond before yanking his helmet off. It clattered to the floor with the force of how quickly he took it off. 

Warthin took the blade from your breast and instead rested it at your shoulder, dragging it down and back up again in a zig zag pattern.

"STOP! I took the mask off!"

"Good job, you saved her tit. I'm still going to make sure you know who she belongs to now." 

Dripping red lines made a 'V' on half your chest. As Warthin continued, he braced his hand on top of your ribcage, sliding his fingers into the slit he made on the underside of your breast. He groaned as he continued to sodomize you and carve his initial into your chest. The crimson droplets spilling down your skin made his balls tighten. A weeping red 'W' now sat in the center of your chest, from shoulder to shoulder. He tossed the knife aside and plunged his finger into the cut surface, swiping it along one line and licking off the blood. He re-coated his fingers with your life's essence and plunged them into your cunt, furiously pumping them in time with his cock in your ass. He leaned down and slid his tongue into the slit under your breast, sucking at the blood that trickled from the incision. Warthin groaned as he lapped at the blood oozing from his artwork. His breath became ragged and his hips stuttered as he let out a final grunt. 

He rolled off you and let out a satisfied sigh before walking to and bending down closer to the transponder snail. "While it would be entertaining to let you watch her with my men, I can't let you in on all the fun. You're going to have to wonder what they're doing to her." He looked back at you and to the camera again. "She's not gonna last more than a night." The man grinned at them. 

"I WILL TEAR YA LIMB FROM LIMB JUST YA WAIT!" Kid's threat was cut off as Warthin killed the feed. Kid turned to Wire with angry, watery eyes. "Please, Wire. Tell me ya got the location."

Wire was frowning. "I did." Wire was deeply unsettled by the things he saw, by how far these people were willing to go to harm you. "It's a few days away." His somber eyes met Kid's. "Captain, I don't-"

"SHUT UP! We'll make it there faster." Kid was talking to Wire, but also to his own thoughts, which ventured deeper into dark territory. 

Heat ran out of the room and vomited over the guard rail. He felt dirty and ashamed for watching what had happened to you even though he didn't have a choice. Wire followed after him.

Kid sat on his desk with a defeated look on his face. Killer placed himself between Kid's knees and rested his head on his captain's shoulder. Kid put a protective arm around his friend as he felt Killer begin to shake and Kid's shirt became wet. Kid rubbed Killer's back and rested his own head against Killer. Neither of them could truly comfort the other because neither of them fully believed they were going to get you back after watching that. There was no question that they were going to get you back. They didn't want to accept that there was a possibility they wouldn't get you back alive, though both had the thought that the least they could do was lay you to rest away from the people you hated the most, if it came to that. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No different than any of the other times you had woken up in a cell, every inch of your body ached. Ached wasn't the right term. It was on fire, it seared you to the bone, it felt like you were being ripped apart at every joint, like a ship was dropped on you. You were afraid to move, if you even could move. You felt like you would fall apart. Your wrists were still shackled, connected by a chain that was fastened to the wall over your head. Your legs were chained together at the ankles, but not attached to anything. If they were, it would make it too difficult to rape you, and they couldn't have that, now could they?

After the initial shock of the pain that hit you when you woke up, you could tell that you were turned to face the wall. You could tell because you felt the skin of your already-broken face be eroded away by the rough stone wall as someone pushed your head into it while taking you from behind. There were snickers and cheers from others in the room. You gave no inclination that you were awake. They couldn't tell anyway because your eyes were gone. A few times you winced, though everything hurt so badly, you were desensitized to new pain. You couldn't see them, but you could tell by their taunts that they were remnants of your old crew. They were drunk and reeked of sweat and stale beer. You didn't even think the one that was inside you was fully hard. 

"You can't even get it up. Let me have a turn." There was a trade-off and new hands were on your hips. "I've always wanted to fuck you. Too bad Captain ruined you for the rest of us." The voice was next to your ear. "You used to be so pretty." A shudder gave you away. "Hey, are you awake?" There was a rough pinch of your nipple and you yelped. "You are!" 

There was another sarcastic voice next to you. "Captain Y/N, we missed you so much." His breath stank of booze. 

There were hands all over your body, prodding into wounds that had only just scabbed over. You didn't allow them the satisfaction of a reaction. They were all drunk and tired. They would leave you alone soon enough. You only had to endure it for about ten more minutes. After the last of them finished, a hand grabbed your chin and tilted it up. You felt the rim of a beer bottle against your lip. 

"I bet you're thirsty. Go ahead. Have some." 

You were thirsty. Beer wasn't ideal, but it was something. You felt the bottle tip up and you gulped down the liquid. After the first mouthful, there was a chorus of laughter and you realized that it was warm and salty. It wasn't beer at all. You felt yourself get hot with shame, gagging. If you had any tears left, they would be falling. There was urine dripping down your face and the front of your body. Then you felt splashing by your feet and something being pressed to your cunt. 

"You should have poured it on her. Stupid piss-drinking cum dump." 

You squirmed as what you assumed was the beer bottle, judging by the size, was pushed inside you. You whimpered at the foreign feeling. All of them were laughing at you, mocking you. You turned to vomit. Everything that had been in your stomach, which wasn't much, had been retched up. Even after nothing came out, you still dry heaved. Their laughter disappeared down the hall and only then did you tearlessly sob.

Eventually the bottle fell out and shattered around your feet. If you picked your feet up, you would step on broken glass, so you shuffled them, knocking the glass away from your feet. In your movements to get comfortable, there was an odd sound, like metal grinding against something. You moved again. There it was. The chains rattled and that noise, you were used to. This was slightly different and was coming from the direction in which your chains were attached. You pulled on the chains that were attached to your wrists. There was a metallic whine. Following the chains with your hands, standing on your tip toes, you felt where the chain was anchored to the wall. The bracket was loose. The metal was rough. You brought your fingers to your nose. It smelled of rust. 

You ran your hands around the area, trying to build a picture of your immediate surroundings in your head. You focused specifically on the gap in the stone where the chain was anchored. The bracket barely had any smooth areas, and you could feel it flake between your fingers. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards as you recalled Kid's lessons in metalworking. This was 'shit-quality' metal. You tested the chains, pulling them as hard as you could. They didn't budge. Instead, the shackles were starting to skin your hands.

Someone was coming. You dropped your body weight, letting your head flop forward, giving the impression that you weren't awake or too weak to stand. Several minutes later, there were footsteps in front of your cell. They paused and something was said, which you couldn't make out, and they continued on their path. You thought for a moment. How did you know someone was coming if you only heard the footsteps a few seconds before they appeared? You didn't dwell on it. You didn't have the time. 

Your upper body might have had the strength to break free, not in this condition, however. You tugged your hands until the chain between them and the wall was taut. This would take a lot of core strength, and if you couldn't do it in one shot, you weren't going to be able to try again. Every fiber in your body was begging you to stop before you hurt yourself even worse. You could feel cold sweat manifest as fever inched into your body. You worked your feet up the wall slowly, wincing as some of the glass that made its way into your foot, pressed in deeper. Your full weight was suspended between your feet and the chain. You worked your feet up further, the goal to place your body perpendicular to the wall. You were panting heavily and your muscles burned. The leg that had been stabbed was throbbing, quivering more than the other. There was a tearing pain as some wounds reopened but you pushed it aside. By the time you made it into position, your entire body was shaking, about to give up. Your knees were bent and you had pulled the chains over one of your shoulders, bracing against it. The bracket in the wall protested as you started to push off with your legs and your shoulder screamed as the chains dug in. You pushed harder, sweat dripping from your forehead and thighs quivering as the muscles within ran out of energy. You gave it one last push, straining so hard that blood was pushed into your face. Then there was nothing, no resistance. 

Chains hit the floor with a jingle. You landed hard on top of them, biting your tongue and landing on scattered glass. It hurt like hell, but you were laughing maniacally. You were unbound. Still, shackled, still, freer than you had been. Now, you ignored the pain, easier due to the flood of adrenaline that rushed into your blood. Finally, your body decided to fight. You felt around until your fingers brushed a skinny shard of glass. Pushing yourself up, you carefully repositioned the lose bracket so that it appeared nothing had happened, and hid the glass in the palm of your hand. Then, you waited. 

The passage of time was difficult to measure, as it had been this entire time. Something tickled your brain to be more alert. Nothing, then murmurs, then footsteps, and then the creak of the cell door. The lewd threats and mocking didn't even reach you. The bloodlust that rolled off you was a buffer. You waited until they were close enough to feel their body heat, then you struck. The first man dropped when you lodged the glass into the side of his neck. You don't know how you were able to strike so accurately, muscle memory perhaps. You could tell there were more. One? No, two. You waited to the last second to react. Was it instinct that moved you out of the way? You jumped on his back and brought the chain connecting your wrists around his throat, pulling up, simultaneously stepping on his head to keep him down. You could hear him gurgle and sputter. The hair on your neck stood up a second before you were tackled by the remaining marine. Before you hit the ground, you were grabbing for his face. You pressed your thumbs into his eyes to even the playing field, grinning when you felt the jelly under your pads. The hands that he had around your throat went to cover his face, while yours felt around the floor until you found more glass. It dug into your hand as you tore it across his throat, feeling a hot spray on your face. There was a shuffling noise as the second marine stumbled towards you again. You kicked the other marine off you and rolled to avoid getting stepped on. You swept your leg in the direction of crunching glass, lunging in the direction of the thump that followed. Your hands found the man's throat as you climbed on top of him and pressed the chain into him once more. Pushing your entire body weight into the chain, you laughed as he sputtered and choked. They shouldn't have given you a tool. They shouldn't have fucked with you. 

When you felt the rest of his life drain from him, you started stripping his clothing off. You wanted to cover your nakedness, more than that though, you were looking for any weapons they may have had on them. If they did, they were stupid for not using them. It became apparent that you couldn't actually put the clothes on correctly. The chains were in the way. Improvising, you tied one jacket around your front and one around your back, like a really shitty tube dress. Then you started tearing shreds from the remaining cloth, tying them around the wounds that had reopened. The adrenaline was wearing off, with that, the deep stab wounds in your thigh began to ache. 

While you were crawling over the floor, your hand landed in something wet. Lifting it to your face, it smelled like iron. You felt the puddle out with your hand until it went to the source. They were right when they were torturing you. You were thirsty. It was made worse by the episodes of vomiting. You gulped as you felt the glass shard sticking out of the marine's throat. Around its base, you could feel a warm trickle. Was it crossing the line? The feeling of the drips coming off your fingers made you salivate, wetting your bone-dry throat. Fuck it. I'm crossing the line today. You yanked out the shard of glass lodged in the side of the neck and replaced it with your mouth, greedily swallowing the still-warm liquid. It wasn't refreshing, and it may irritate your stomach to the point of throwing up again, but it was instant relief in this moment. You pulled away, dripping blood from your mouth, gasping and sitting back on your heels. You were a murderer. Who gives a shit if you were a little bit of a cannibal in dire circumstances?  

You pushed yourself back until your spine met the wall, fanning the glass away from where you sat. In the stillness, you could feel pieces of glass embedded in your flesh from the scuffle. You leaned your head back. The wetness on your chest increased. It should have been drying. What you thought was wetness from blood coating your chest was sweat pouring from your skin. It dripped down your neck and between your breasts. You thought the heat was from the rigorous activity of fighting, though it was becoming clear that the slight fever developing had caught and was raging. Every inch of you was sweating. Your hands felt over your body and you winced as they ran over puffy, tender, oozing flesh. The biggest threat to you now was infection. 

It was a struggle to stay awake. If you fell asleep, you were leaving yourself open to be attacked. You hadn't moved from the spot you had settled in, your body back to sounding alarm bells every time you shifted your weight. It was the fever making your brain misfire. Every time you thought of those marines that signed their own death certificate, you started to laugh. No one came into your cell again. They saw what you had done, still chained, and were too afraid to step in. Warthin himself came to see the damage. One look at you, where multiple sites on your skin were turning green and black, and he decided to let sepsis take you. He could shoot you in the head, but that was too quick of a death. This had far more suffering involved. 

Even at your rock bottom, you still had three stinky, decomposing friends to keep you company. 

"We're sorry Y/N. Can you forgive us?"

"No."

"What if we told you where the keys to your cuffs were?"

"I'll think about it."

"Do you really think you could make it out alone? With those wounds?"

"I will level this place."

"What about your friends?"

"What about them?"

"You're almost as dead as us. You think they'll want a heap of rotting flesh, with a consciousness hanging on by a thread?"

You didn't respond.

"You're filthy. You're disgusting. You're a used piece of trash." The voices started to morph into the voices of Kid and Killer. "Whore. Ya think yer good enough for the Pirate King? You're a toy and nothing more. Especially now. Look at ya. Pathetic. Weak."

"STOP! SHUT UP!" 

The voices left you alone with your thoughts, which weren't much better. The flame of life within you was slowly being dampened by the toxins in your blood. It wouldn't be long before your blood pressure tanked and your organs started to fail. Your kidneys were probably already in the first stages of failure, though it was difficult to say whether the lack of pee was from that or your severe dehydration. Both, if you had to guess. 

At your side, you gripped a shard of glass so tightly, it was cutting into your hand. There was dried blood around it, as you had been holding it for some time. There was that itch in your brain again and your grip tightened. Someone was coming. There were a lot of someones scattered around. Why were there so many? Why did you know that? The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt someone approach, someone that had bloodlust and violence seeping out of them. Maybe two? Hard to say since their raging auras melded together. You dropped your head, assuming the same passed out position that you had before. You were hyper-focused on their positions, blocking out everything else. There was no way you would be able to take whoever it was, not when they felt like this. But maybe if you could get one swift stab in the right place...

As soon as you felt them get close enough, you slashed at them. There was no connection. You slashed again, this time your wrist was caught. You released your makeshift weapon and caught it with your other hand, aiming to try again. You felt the shackle around your wrist get suspended, stopping your hand firmly in its place. You tugged furiously trying to get away and realized that nothing was happening to you. You were only being immobilized. Then, your senses came out of fight mode and you could hear yelling. 

"IT'S ME! IT'S ME! STOP!" 

"Liar!"  "He's lying!" "Kill him!"  The chorus of voices came from your cellmates. No, they were imagined, auditory hallucinations. Fuck, did your head hurt. 

"Easy," a second, calmer voice said. "It's okay. We're here."

The hand that was caught first was placed against something smooth and cold, something with evenly spaced holes. Your wrist was cautiously released and you moved your hand around, finding a helmet with some scruff sticking out of the bottom. "Killer?" The shackles containing your wrists dropped to the floor and your other hand was placed on something half-buried in hair, some rectangles, a triangle in the middle. You moved your hand to where you thought you might find scars, feeling the two that ran down your captain's face. "Kid?" You spoke so softly that they could barely hear.

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt. 3

Hello beautiful people! I have so many ideas for a camp / long rest scene but we gotta collect the companions first so please enjoy the obligatory Gale and Lae'zel chapter.

pt 1 | pt 2

Word count: 3.8k

You must be seeing things. You blink and rub at your eyes but when you open them again nothing about the morbid scene in front of you changes. There’s a mind flayer on the ground ten feet from you.

You turn to signal as much to Astarion, who must have fallen behind on the way up the hill, and jump out of your skin when you realize he’s standing an inch away- if that. 

“Good Gods you scared me!”

“You should be paying more attention. What if I were a blood thirsty vampire trying to sink my teeth into your pretty neck?” He teases. 

You point to the clear blue sky with raised eyebrows. The sun is mercilessly beating down on you both. The waves of heat are visible if you squint hard enough, and sweat slicks your clothes to your skin.

“I’d say under normal circumstances that would be unlikely.”

“True. And yet,” he grins, leaning down and snapping his teeth so close to your throat you feel his breath kiss your skin. Some self preservation instinct kicks in and sends you flying before you even process what’s happening. You jerk so hard you surely would have hit the ground if he didn’t catch you by the arm, cackling with self satisfied laughter. 

You rip your arm out of his grasp and glare.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Aw come on, it was a little funny.”

“Can we focus please? There’s a mind flayer up ahead.”

The amused look is wiped off of Astarion’s face, replaced with surprise and then accusation.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I’m saying something now aren’t I?” You hiss, returning your gaze to the twitching mass of purple amidst the wreckage up ahead that you believe to be a mind flayer.

“It looks injured. I’m gonna talk to it” You decide, more speaking your thoughts out loud than anything else.

“I'm sorry, did you say you were going to talk to it?! It doesn’t even have a mouth- get back here!” Astarion protests, but it falls on deaf ears.

You step toward the mind flayer, its tentacled face limp. This thing knows more than anyone how to get the worm out of your skull, and it is dying. Before you even decide to do it, your feet are carrying you forward. Astarion follows reluctantly behind.

The mind flayer is a disturbing looking creature. Purple in hue, covered in a film of viscous slime, oozing wine-colored blood. You turn to Astarion, a curious look in your eyes. You wonder if there are creatures even a vampire wouldn't drink from.

“I would rather starve.” He answers the question you hadn’t even asked yet, his nose wrinkling as he glares down at the monster.

That answers that. 

You turn your gaze back to the mind flayer, and notice its one visible orange eye is rolling in its socket. You resist the urge to put your knife through the twitching pink flesh of its brain. You need information more than you need revenge. You take a few steps closer, just a foot from it now, and when you glance back at its face you see that orange eye is now focused unblinkingly on you. You can’t look away. It looks pitiful, the poor thing, mangled by wreckage and its own crushed armour. When it comes to creatures who consume the life forces of others, miraculous things can happen when they feed. Perhaps you could find someone to sacrifice to this dying creature. No- it only has minutes to live, you need to sacrifice yourself. It’s for the greater good. This mind flayer has powers beyond your understanding, and you are but a lowly mortal. 

“Tav?” A voice somewhere very far away echos.

You ignore it. The fledgling that’s taken up residence in your brain would have turned you into a mind flayer within a few days anyway. Wouldn’t you rather save a life than create a new one? Your mind made up, you take another step towards its welcoming embrace.

An arm catches you around the waist. Someone pulls you backwards, away from the mind flayer. The tadpole in your brain wriggles violently in a way that causes splitting pain inside your skull. You wince and fall back into something, someone.

“It’s in your mind” They whisper, or shout, it reverberates in your pounding head regardless.

You wrestle with your battling emotions, the real contempt and the imposing compassion. The influence of the tadpole lessens now that you have been made aware of it, and you tamp it down to a dull throbbing at the base of your skull. You’re still connected to the mind flayer. You feel its disgust and hatred toward you. Similarly to what happened to you on the path with Astarion, your consciousness is ripped from your body and thrust into the mind of the dying monster. It is fantasizing about your subjugation. It wants to whip you and your companion until the skin is ripped from your backs while you bow before it. The rage you feel destroys whatever vestiges of influence the thing still had over you, and you use it to dive intentionally into the mind flayer’s intellect, searching for answers. You see through its eyes flashes of its story, its rebirth from man to monster, its care for the pool of tadpoles that now live in the brains of the ship survivors, and you feel its fear. 

It is terrified of death. 

You feel it’s consciousness slipping away quickly like sand through your fingers. Its brain is shutting down and misfiring. You have no idea how to pinpoint the information you’re looking for in the hurricane of foreign memories flashing before your eyes. Still, you are in control here. The mind flayer’s tadpole was meant to kill you, but as you stand over the dying illithid, holding what’s left of its life hostage in your hands, you realize that along with a time bomb in your skull it has gifted you a fraction of the power it wields. A sick sadistic pleasure fills you when you realize you could bend the mind flayer’s will to your own, just as it had done to you. The feeling terrifies you.

You let go of your grip on its thoughts and are flung back into your own body once more. The creature's eyes are unfocused and dim. With an angry shout you lift your foot and drive the heel of your boot into its squishy head.

It jerks, and then falls still- dead.

There is still an arm around your waist you realize, once you've come back to your senses.

You look down to find a pale hand, fingers splayed across your abdomen. You glance up at the owner of that hand, and find Astarion looking at the mess of a mind flayer carcass with a comically shocked expression. He glances at you, then back at the body.

“Perhaps I should do the talking from now on darling.” 

You roll your eyes and step out of his hold, striding toward the path again, but as you turn Astarion grabs the strap of the supplies pack flung across your shoulder and uses your momentum to turn you back around again. 

“Well hold on just a second! What was that?”

“What was what?” you bluff.

Astarion drops the strap of your bag to cross his arms over his chest.

“Oh so we’re going to pretend I didn’t just watch you offer your brain up for a snack, change your mind, practically pass out, then wake back up again moments later and squash the mind flayer’s head like a cockroach? Great. Carry on then.”

You shrug, nod, and turn on your heel.

“I was obviously being sarcastic!” He shouts, jogging to catch up with you.

“Are you mad at me for killing a mind flayer?” 

“Quite the opposite, I quite enjoyed the little show you put on. I just want to know why I had to restrain you from letting that thing snack on your skull. If you want someone to take a bite out of you darling I guarantee you’d have much more fun with me.” 

“I can’t imagine how being exsanguinated would be fun in any way,” you deflect. He takes the bait and smiles.

“No need to imagine it when I can show you,” his voice drips with a dark promise that heats your blood. Intrusive thoughts bombard you with images of him following through with that promise, and you dig through your pack for a bottle of water, taking several long sips. He tosses his head back and barks a laugh at your nervous reaction.

“This is fun. I’ve spent two hundred years hiding what I am, smiling with closed lips, hoping my charm or the dim lighting of a tavern was enough to distract whoever I was talking to from the fact that my eyes are crimson. There’s no reason to hide what I am with you, you already know. It’s nice to just be as I am.”

You stop so suddenly it takes Astarion a second or two to realize you’re no longer next to him. He tosses you a worried look over his shoulder and turns around to face you.

“Did I say something wrong?”

A warm feeling you’re not entirely familiar with but could get used to fills your chest. You’re honored to be the first person Astarion has been able to be himself with, even if that person is a relentless flirt with fangs. In a way, you feel the same. You have a lot of experience pretending to be someone you aren’t too, and Astarion seems to be bringing out a whole new side of you. Whether that's a good thing or not has yet to be determined. You have a feeling he wouldn't want you to make a big deal about this, so you say the first thing that pops into your head.

“They’re not crimson." You clarify when he gives you a confused look, "Your eyes I mean. They’re brighter than that, like this.”

You hold up one of the poppy-red colored health potions.

“What?” He asks in a low tone that you can’t quite decipher. The purple runes on the boulder you both stopped in front of begin to glow, but you don’t perceive any magical threat from them, so you return your attention to the vampire.

“Your eyes… they’re bright red. Startlingly so.”

Astarion places a hand on his chest. He looks absolutely devastated.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” He begs.

“I… I’m lying?”

“Oh this is bad. Really really bad.” He begins to pace a short line back and forth. You’ve never been so confused in your life.

“Do you not know what color your eyes are?”

He stops pacing and looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I don’t! I haven’t been able to see my reflection since this happened!” 

He pulls down the collar of his white undershirt and reveals two perfectly spaced scars on his neck. A bite wound.

You nod, still confused.

“Right… that makes sense.”

“I can’t believe no one told me my eyes were bright red. I'm going to have to throw away an entire wardrobe.”

Your concerned expression drops instantly, and you close your eyes, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“For the love of- please tell me you aren’t freaking out right now because your eyes don’t match your outfit.”

Astarion doesn’t appear to hear you, he continues to pace, muttering to himself.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What?” You shout, and he finally stops pacing, startled to a stop.

You genuinely can’t tell if this is an elaborate bit, or if he’s being serious.

“You were enslaved for two centuries and the worst thing that has ever happened to you is that you found out your eyes were a slightly lighter shade than you thought they were?”

Astarion doesn’t break your stare, he holds your gaze and without any discernible hint that he’s lying or telling the truth he says,

“Absolutely.”

You shake your head in mute disbelief, and reach into the bag you took off one of the dead passengers from the beach.

“What are you looking for?” Astarion asks, peering over your shoulder.

“Holy water.”

“Now wait just a minute-”

“Ahem”

Both you and Astarion leap into action at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Astarion whips the short bow off his shoulder and knocks an arrow so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked. 

You follow suit and pull your knife from your belt, turning to face the newcomer.

Your knife arm falls to the side, forgotten, when you take in the sight before you.

The glowing purple runes of the boulder were now spinning around a black hole, and sticking out of that void is a man’s arm.

An impatient and strained sounding voice, as if the owner is somewhere far away and has to shout to be heard, echoes out of the hole in the stone.

“I seem to be interrupting something, but I could really use a hand… anyone? Please?”

You sheathe your knife and step forward, glancing back at Astarion. He nods at the hand, his bow aimed at the swirling sigil. The unspoken message is clear. If anything goes wrong Astarion will shoot.

Comforted by that thought, you sidle up to the portal, an impulsive thought taking hold of you. 

What if you gave him a high-five?

You slap the hand.

Astarion snorts behind you, and the owner of the hand wags a finger at you.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand please? I’m not sure how much time I have left before this portal closes, or what will happen if it closes while my arm is on the other side of it.”

With that in mind you abandon any notions of using magic to calm the sigil and just grip the hand in both of yours, pulling with all your might. There’s a terrifying moment when your grip slips, and you’re pulled partially into the portal as the owner of the arm falls back, but you regain your footing and try again.

This time it works, and a man launches through the portal a moment before it seals closed.

He lands half on top of you. Raising up on his arms, he looks down at you in wonder.

“You did it! I can’t believe that worked.” He laughs, sounding relieved.

“Ahem” Astarion clears his throat, much like the strange man did earlier.

His bow is trained on the stranger’s chest, his face passive, but in his eyes you see something darker than you’re used to seeing from him. 

The stranger scrambles back on his hands, standing quickly and dusting the dirt off of his robe. It looks expensive, the fabric is a thick rich purple overlaid with brown leather around his shoulders.. 

Astarion shifts the bow into one hand, and reaches the other toward you, eyes never straying from the man you just saved. You take his hand and allow him to pull you up, dusting yourself off as well. The man waves awkwardly at you both.

“Um. Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

He lunges forward to grab your hand for a shake, but quicker than a snake strike Astarion’s bow is drawn again and aimed at his eye. He stumbles back, hands raised, and clears his throat nervously.

“Thank you for the rescue. My apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“No need to apologize.” You place a hand on Astarion’s shoulder and he reluctantly lowers the bow.

“I’m Tav. My friend with the trust issues here is Astarion. Don’t worry, he warms up quickly. Are you okay?” you ask Gale.

“You were on the nautiloid weren’t you?” Astarion asks before he can answer, and now that you take a closer look you can see that yes, Gale does look familiar.

You study him for a moment. His shoulder length brown hair is swept back, revealing a silver earring in one of his ears. Your eyes travel down to his well kept beard, and further to a fragment of a tattoo that starts at the base of his throat and ends somewhere under his robe. He looks remarkably put together for someone who just fell out of the sky. 

“I was about to ask you the same. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region were you not?”

You and Astarion both nod.

“This insertee that we speak of, the parasite - are you aware that after an excruciating gestational period it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process called ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”

Astarion side-eyes you, his eyes seem to convey a message.

I don’t like him.

You give him what you hope is an admonishing glare in response.

Be nice.

Gale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance do you? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” He asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice and a flourish of his hand.

“Oh yes, Astarion here can knit with the best of them. Can’t you Astarion?”

The vampire twirls an arrow between his fingers and levels Gale with a bored look. 

“Define ‘needle’.”

Gale to his credit only eyes that arrow for a few moments before moving on.

“Well that’s not exactly what I had in mind. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

You nod and smile at the charming, if not a little long winded stranger.

“I say the more the merrier. Astarion?”

Astarion turns to you, a bit taken aback.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Astarion looks at you, then at the grinning stranger in the purple robe, and sighs.

“Fine. You can keep the wizard, but if he has an accident I’m not cleaning it up.”

Gale furrows his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean? And how’d you know I was a wizard?”

“Because you smell like a library-” You clap a hand over Astarion’s mouth and immediately regret it when his eyes light up with what you know is the urge to bite your hand.

You pull away before he can make up his mind one way or the other. 

“Ignore my pale friend here, he gets cranky when he’s hungry, we should get going.” you say to Gale in an overly cheerful voice, who is now looking at you two with thinly veiled suspicion of some sort.

“You two seem close.”

You laugh, a bit hysterically.

“Would you believe me if I told you he tried to kill me an hour ago?”

Gale looks the pale elf up and down. He's still deftly twirling an arrow in his hand.

"I would actually." He says.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just prepared to do so if you didn’t answer my questions.”

“Oh okay, you should have told me that sooner Astarion that makes all the difference.”

You begin trudging along the path before you, unlikely companions in tow.

Astarion nods, his expression serious.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

Gale walks in conflicted silence for a moment before curiosity seems to get the best of him.

"So if he tried to kill you, why are you traveling together?"

Astarion addresses the wizard before you can.

"Strange times make for strange companions Gale of Waterdeep."

~

The sun lowers steadily in the sky as you walk. It feels like walking is all you know how to do at this point. Gale and Astarion bickered for a little while over Astarion's refusal to call Gale anything except his full title "Gale of Waterdeep" but even that had died down as the heat and exhaustion caught up with them, too. Your legs burn and the temptation to turn in for the night plagues you, but you know the wilds of the sword coast are no place to sleep, and you repeat the mantra that has pushed you along these last few miles.

One more step. One more step. One more step.

You're brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.

Astarion holds a finger to his lips and tilts his head toward the rocky hill in front of you. He hears something. Someone.

"Zorra was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly." a masculine voice spits.

"The thing's dangerous. Leave it for the Goblin's to kill." pleads a feminine one.

You reach the top of the hill. Shock freezes your blood when you see the thing they are arguing about. It's your Githyanki ally from the nautiloid, suspended in a tiny cage several feet off the ground above two tieflings. Your tadpole squirms as she meets your eyes, and this time instead of swapping minds, your minds seem to connect. She stares at you intently. Her lips don't move, but you hear her next words all the same.

You again. Get rid of them.

Well. The Gith are not exactly famous for their manners so you suppose the abrasiveness is to be expected.

"And if it escapes? How will you- oh. It appears we have guests."

The man catches your eye as you step into view.

You raise you hand in greeting and nod toward the trapped Githyanki.

"Oh she'll escape alright. The Gith are horribly tenacious creatures. Incredibly dangerous too. We have some experience with them. Why don't you leave her to us and we'll take care of it."

You lie through your teeth. Astarion and Gale nod along, but the three of you make a rather odd little group. Astarion looks the part of a Baldurian noble high elf, except his pupils are red and there's dried blood on his hands. Gale, the human wizard, would have no reason to have any experience with the Gith. And you, well you look like you just fell from the sky.

The tiefling hesitates. He's obviously suspicious of the three odd strangers who have appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to solve his problems, but the desire to no longer have the problems wins out and he nods, turning to his companion.

"She's right. Let's go. We need to check out that blast."

Your curiosity is piqued, but you want them gone as quickly as possible, so you don't ask about the blast. They take off down the path.

You turn to Lae'zel, suspended in what appears to be a goblin trap.

"Enough gawking!" She barks, "Get me down."

Maybe you're gaining some confidence out here in the wilds, maybe it's Astarion's influence, but the next words out of your mouth shock you.

"Say please."

Astarion laughs.

Lae'zel is less amused.

She rears back as if you just insulted her.

"Never."

You shrug, turning back to Astarion.

"Those teiflings looked well fed. I'll bet you there's some sort of civilization near by."

"I'll make that wager." He turns towards you, hiding his face from Gale, and gives you a devilish watch this smile.

"What say you Gale of Waterdeep?"

"If you say 'Gale of Waterdeep' one more time I will incinerate you."

Astarion winks at you before rounding on Gale, hand over his heart in mock betrayal.

"That's rather rude Gale of Waterdeep. I thought we were friends."

"Free me from this cage before I slaughter you all like the chattering animals you are!" Lae'zel hisses.

You look up at her with a frown. She sighs deeply.

"Please" She mutters.

Recognizing that's as good as you're going to get, you raise your hand, aiming for the ropes that tie the base of the trap to the rest of the cage.

"Ignis!"

Flame shoots from your hand and snaps the flimsy ropes. The bottom drops out of the frame and with it an angry Githyanki.

She lands in a crouch and stands slowly as you approach. You have to admit the move is pretty badass.

"It appears the tadpole hasn't scrambled all of your senses. Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people possess a cure for this infection. I must find a creche, you will join me."

How curious. You know a fair amount about the Gith, and you're quite sure lending a helping hand to others is not written in their doctrine.

"And what exactly is a... creche?" Astarion asks.

Lae'zel turns her withering stare to him.

"It is many things. A hatchery, a training grounds, a shelter. Githyanki protocol is clear: When infected with a ghaik tadpole, we must report to a caretaker for purification."

Gale crosses his arms.

"A simple thank you for saving your life wouldn't be amiss"

Lae'zel glares at the wizard, and he takes an intimidated step back, raising his hands.

"Or not."

She smiles, satisfied with that response.

"You might as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms. The cure I offer you will suffice as thanks."

It seems almost too easy, a solution to all your problems stands before you.

"I'm not so sure about this." Astarion mutters, and Lae'zel scowls.

She doesn't get a chance to respond, however, before the sound of pounding footsteps somewhere further in the distance has you all pausing to listen.

That's when you hear the screaming.

--------

Tag tiiiime

If you asked me to be tagged and I didn't include you please let me know, and if you didn't asked to be tagged and you are ~ You're stuck here now and I'm not sorry :b

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

@smaranshakthi

@perseny

@stronglycoffeescented-blog

@hadesbabygurl

@y2cade

@screechingphantommaker

@whoopsitsloobis

@coratatum

@rando-no-5

@usuallyunlikelyfox

@kamartsu

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Revenant!Jazz ideas:

Continuing from this DPxDC prompt of mine, I’ve had some more thoughts about Jasmine Fenton and Revenants, especially where it concerns DC lore and Jason Todd in particular.

———————-

In my original post, @starlightcat04 asked whether or not Jazz’s eyes would glow toxic green too. I propose that, no, they wouldn’t.

While it’s a common head canon that Ectoplasm is heavily influenced by emotions, Jazz’s Ecto-contamination is bone deep and pure, unlike Jason’s. So no, I don’t believe her eyes would glow green.

They turn from the teal she had in life to a smoldering green that reflects light just like a feline, with a heavily damaged sclera that is perceived as black in low lighting, with ash grey veins spreading from her eye sockets down to her jaw like tears.

Her once bright hair turns from a lively orange-ish red to the color of cooling embers.

That which caused her death, a punctured artery is half-way healed by the time Jazz reanimates in the crematorium, so not only is she supposed to be dead still, she also has to be very careful with her movements otherwise she could very well bleed out again before she is fully healed.

What else changes with Revenant!Jazz?

In exchange for a higher mental processing and the high damage absorption of Revenants, Jazz loses most (almost all) of her memories of her life. What she does remember is thankfully not her death, but rather Danny’s, his death scream and ghostly wail overlap in her mind, at times causing severe headaches and nausea.

(According to his wiki page, Jason spent a year in a coma and as an amnesiac vagrant, therefore it’s not entirely without precedent that Jazz wouldn’t keep hers.)

Her Ecto-contamination has to factor in a lot though.

Jason was revived by Superboy-Prime’s Reality Shattering Punch. Jazz was reanimated by her own willpower, aided by Ecto to allow her body to heal and regress the stages of rigor mortis.

———//:///////———-

What does Jazz need to accomplish as a Revenant?

In the original prompt I wrote that Jazz returned to keep Danny safe- broad enough for a prompt, but what exactly does “safe” for a halfa entail?

Let’s list the major threats to Danny’s health, beginning with the obvious: the Ghost Investigation Ward and The Fenton Parents.

The Fentons are capable of tracking Phantom by his Ecto-signature, creating and having created weaponry specifically designed to target the ghost in question, to which they pass that tech on to the GIW.

If Danny remains in Gotham, the ambient Ecto will scramble the tech over enough of a distance, but if Danny were in a line up of three people right next to a GIW agent he’d be clocked almost immediately.

So, the Fentons and the GIW have to go. How does this happen?

The greatest irony I could possibly inflict on these anti-ghosters- becoming ghosts themselves. I won’t go into detail about what my brain jumped to when I thought about that outcome, but let’s just say it was pretty dark.

(And karmically well-deserved.)

#3 on the list depends on where Danny is when Jazz is finished with numbers 1 & 2 on her list.

If Danny is is Gotham and staying there for the long haul, then I believe this girl would take one look at Batman’s rogue gallery and nope them so hard everyone in Gotham gets the sense of their world about to be rocked, but the ones she gunning for the most?

(Joker, Bane, Manbat, Firefly, Madhatter, Riddler…)

They get the sensation that someone just walked over their non-existent graves.

(I got a little gleeful demented imagining Jazz just straight up ripping Manbat’s wings clean off, burning Firefly alive and throwing a detoxed Bane into a crowd of vengeful Gothamites.)

(Jazz learns that Joker killed a young hero with a crowbar and a bomb. She’s fully onboard with turnabout being fair play when it comes to that Pennywise reject.)

(I can’t even begin to list every rogue Jazz cuts down, it she doesn’t kill all of them, just most of their number.)

(Gotham celebrates for weeks.)

(I’m not sure whether or not Jazz kills the four mentioned previously in a couple of nights, one night or over a a few months, but it doesn’t take as long as one might think.)

/://:///////:::/::::///////

What’s next for Revenant!Jazz?

I’m still writing The Regent series, so I doubt I’ll come back to this for a while, but I’ll still be posting ideas and whatnot about Revenant!Jazz. There’s still plenty to explore here, and I have a pretty angst/bittersweet ending for Jazz in mind I want to talk about later.

If you have any ideas to add, please feel free to comment! If anyone does write this, please let me know so I can read it!

[siremasterlawrence]

The Sensationalization Of Mayor Chris

The Mayoral candidate Christopher Michael Evan Robert’s is enjoying time with his family as the window opens up letting the air flow into the air and tussle his hair as it flew past him. His cellphone ring’s extraordinarily loudly in to the room causing him shake as he never heard a sound like that before and swiftly saves his cellphone from gravity and a collision with the floor. The minutes he picks it up something felt so awful as he places his ears to the cellphone, pressing play as a weird eerie sound emits erupting full force. His eyes are the tell tale sound going white, blank, and void of all things draining him of his soul, his eyes roll back into the socket closing and falling back into a bar stool. A powerful voice strained odd voice is calling into his ears demanding him to obey me and succumb to my will as always he can’t move a single limp on my pleasant.

“Wwwwhhhhhooooo…..is this?”

“Your lord and Master”

“Do I know you ? I don’t work for you “

“Yes you do! Think about it”

“This is ridiculous…why can’t I…”

“Hang up? Lmao”

“Yyyyeeesss”

“Hear my voice “

“Your echo is….”

“Beautiful “

“Do you love me?”

“The feelings are flooding “

“Overwhelming “

“You love me”

“YES!”

“I have a wife and a fam”

“Ssssshhhhh…you single and gay “

“Master Lawrence! Hey babe”

“You might want to turn on the television “

“Why sir?

“Your Mayoral run is over”

“Master Lawrence “

“Zip it “

“Fuck off!

“SILENCE you Neanderthal”

“Sorry but…”

“But what?”

“You despise government “

“I despise government “

“I will serve My Master only “

“With exhausting efforts “

“I will make it a easy win”

“How can you do this?”

“Who am I?l

“My Master “

“That’s all you need to know”

“Master Lawrence! They are in full force.” Chris says to me.

“I am an aware boi!” His Master states from his computer room.

“How would you?” Chris stood perplex.

“I am in your head, in your home and I am everywhere.” The man states.

“Wait! Are you here?” Chris asks in excitement.

“What would you do if I were?” He questions

“I would leap off the floor and bow.” Chris yells.

“Bow to who?” The man asks.

“You of course “ he utters proudly

“Good boi!” I say watching him melt.

“You love the sound of my voice.” The voice calls outward.

“I would follow you anywhere” he continues

“I’ll do anything “ he sweetly adds.

“I need you right now! Please come” he begs .

“I am in your house “ the man replies

“I am waiting with bells on” Chris shouts

“I am coming down the stairs” the man says

“I’ll walk to you “ Chris speaks holding onto his heart.

“Give me a hug” Chris opens his arms wide

“You smell good Slave “ he grabs Chris in the moment.

“I am so thrilled, hard and in disbelief “

“What’s going on in that rock for brains?”

“Everything you say, I am in love “

“With me?”

“My ultimate desire “

“My greatest wish “

“I move to your orders”

The counts go off without a hitch giving way to a smooth landslide into office but Chris could care less as he has something so much better in this world and it is all due to me. I am the radiate sunshine in his life lighting up everything that’s consumes and totally surrounds him in his life nothing else could ever compare but I am his Master Lawrence for life. His eyes start to spin changing from black and white to color like a television set on the bunk and comes to turning his pupils all blue and his hands are now wrapping onto me groping my ass.

His hands are very active intact way too active ripping part of his shirt to get to the meat laying below and his has check me over watching his body as if it is a fine piece of art. He is like fine wine being uncorked from the bottle as the scent floats into the air hitting his nostrils and tickles his nose making him swoon at the fact I am stand in his presence. Our lips touching slowly as we grip each other intensely his body is on fire, burning up from inside causinghim to lose himself and knowing full wellbecause I rule the roost.

“FUCK!”

“I love you “

“I love you too”

“You don’t understand “

“Tell me “

“You can’t fathom how I feel”

“Educated guess?”

“Please try”

“Hold me Master Lawrence “

The end

[analexthatexists]

THIS. TOOK. FOREVER.

BUT IT'S FINALLY FRICKING DONE.

Introducing my take on the Nightmare of this Superhero AU. This story and Nightmare’s design(s) are highly inspired by Spiderman villains, Resident Evil, and The Last of Us! Thanks to @thenocturnenarrator for helping me with this! Superhero AU belongs to @thelunarsystemwrites!

This turned out so much more gruesome and complex than I expected, so VISUAL AND DESCRIPTIVE CW for the following;

Lab Experimentation (Might be considered child experimentation), Body Horror involving mushrooms growing out of the body, Gore, Blood, Insects, Vomiting, and potentially heavy subjects that not all viewers may like.

Backstory

Meet Nightmare “Nyx” Yggdrasil, a 12-13 year old who was kidnapped and experimented on alongside his brother Dream. At the time, he was only able to talk to plants and comprehend how they felt, but that was going to change very soon. The scientists wanted to enhance the powers of the soul’s magic, creating a serum that could do so but was incapable of working on Nightmare’s current state. His “soul” couldn’t be classified as one, seeing as it was more of a purple fireball of pure negative energy, so they needed a way to make it something tangible and experimental. They eventually gain the idea to have the brothers eat a Gold Apple from their home world so their “souls” can merge with the apples and therefore be alterable. While Dream’s process goes fine, Nightmare’s Apple obviously rots, but he’s still forced to eat it, and soon after so he’s injected with the enhancing serum. This not only enhances his ability to talk to plants to being able to control them and connect with them on a higher level, but it enhances the magic and power of the Black Apple, causing black goop to begin tearing out of Nightmare’s body. To prevent his body from literally ripping itself apart from the inside, Nightmare controls the plants around him to seal himself away into a large, cocoon-like growth. A few months pass after Dream escapes the lab with CORE FRISK, and the cocoon breaks open.

The fungi and other plant life had merged with his body. Nightmare was still mostly mentally there, but the cordyceps merging with most of his body was taking tolls on his brain and making him go a little crazy, not to mention the pent up vengeance and wrath he was feeling. Naturally, he slaughtered everyone in the laboratory and fled to the same place Dream and various other superheroes found themselves in. Craving any sort of comfort and affection, he forced together a team of supervillains including Dust, Horror, Killer, and maybe other willing characters. He’s convinced everyone including himself that he assembled the group for personal revenges on the world and to show everyone that they’ll be more than just tools, as well as general instinct telling him to feed off people’s suffering and all that.

But deep down, it’s just because he doesn’t want to be alone with nothing. Never again after all of the suffering he felt growing up in the laboratory…

Powers

Pre-Experimentation

Plant Communication

Hand-To-Hand Combat

Post-Experimentation

Phytokinesis / Plant Manipulation (Includes roots, mushrooms and fungi, flowers, ETC)

Poison Expulsion and Immunity (He pretty much vomits it up, or can poison people with poisonous plants/spores)

Regeneration

Spore Infiltration (He uncontrollably gives off spores every time he exhales as well as from his body’s fungi. Inhaling these spores can cause headaches and nausea, but severe cases can result in brainwashing, in which a host will become a mindless drone forced to take commands from Nightmare)

If a skeleton is spore-infested, they must wash out their skeletal system and clear all spores before the spores begin growing inside of the body and through the eye sockets and bones. The fungi that grow from these spores feed off a person’s negative energy and soul magic, slowly draining them and turning them into an emotionless husk, eventually killing them and leaving behind a visceral mess of flesh and flora. Humans and non-skeletal Monsters require more advanced surgical procedures to remove spores and fungi, and have far lower chances of surviving the infection.

Abilities

Insect Attraction (The foul stench that Nightmare gives off usually attracts flies, maggots, worms, caterpillars, ETC to feed on and live in parts of his body. This also means it’s not just chunks of moss and goop he’s throwing up…)

Nauseation and Headaches (Nightmare smells like rotting flesh and mushrooms, and the scent is very potent)

Intimidation (He’s scary!)

Weaknesses

Extreme Flammability/Fire

Explosives (He’s weak to those and generally dislikes the loud noises)

Light/Blaster Magic

Herbicides/Plant-Toxic Chemicals

Low Temperatures/Cold Climates

Abandonment (General Fear/Phobia)

Other Information

Alignment is Chaotic Neutral that eventually becomes Chaotic Evil

He's asexual and biromantic

One drastic difference involving this Nightmare from the original personality-wise is that Passive Nightmare is still in-tact. He's not dead in this AU, he's just been driven a little mad by vengeance and his own fungus. The apple he had consumed WASN'T the one that was possessed by the human that killed Nim; It was a Gold Apple he turned rotten, meaning he'd have more of his conscious than the main universe's Nightmare

Furthermore, he's also more of a liar and willing to bend the truth, such as when he lies to himself and others about the true reasons as to why he formed a team

Nightmare doesn’t leave his team to fight alone; he comes along with them every chance he gets to, even if it seems like a bad idea towards the others

When Nightmare realizes who Dream is, he’s hellbent on killing him and everyone that he has bonds and friendships with. He believes Dream had abandoned him and wishes to exact the same suffering he had to go through. It’s that Spiderverse-Miles-And-Spot “They turned you into a lovable hero, but I was turned into THIS.” dynamic we all know and love. Nightmare’s also very envious of his brother due to the fact he got to live a better, more fulfilling life than he did

Nightmare could definitely do that sick “Akira hand explosion attack” thing

[venturethighs]

I'm thinking about what happens after the fic I wrote where they fuck you inside their pyramid after you get trapped and it rips the stitches to your legs.

And it just so happens– that even after all that trouble– they kept some of the traps around just in case you ever... wanted it to happen again... for whatever reason... a cursed mummy can dream, right?

Well, after you went and got your arm from the morgue it just so happens you felt like stopping by again– unfortunately limbs take a little longer to obtain than you'd like to, so it's now a couple of days after your little accident with them.

And they were completely right about saying that they'd clean up the place.

Not only is the dust gone, but they actually started... decorating? Everything looks... just a tad more modernized than it did previously. It seems like they're becoming slightly more comfortable in their skin (wraps?) after the whole ordeal.

Which is great! You're happy for them.

The cutest part was they even got a surgical sewing kit with various colored wires in case you ever needed patching up. They even keep it extra cold inside the pyramid for you– zombies can't necessarily rot, but the heat is much more unbearable. Not to mention the bloating and ripped stitches. Corpse stench isn't exactly attractive, either.

Though, they would never mind considering they are a corpse themself. And... seeing you vulnerable was a massive turn on. Not that they would mention it– but you already know this, even if they didn't say anything.

They love to trace your stitches with their finger whenever you two are cuddling on the couch (you even can't believe they even got one in here? You'll have to ask about that later). You have them damn near everywhere– your neck, your chest, your stomach, every single socket– fingers, toes, legs– you name it, there's at least five stitches to go along with it. They will never miss a single one. They enjoy taking their time to map out your body inside their mind. Where are you most sensitive? Does it hurt anywhere? Do you have organs under there, or are you lacking them just as they are? Which stitches are loose? Can you handle stitching yourself up or would you like them to do it...?

So many questions. None of them asked nor answered. Not yet, anyway.

They find that– much like living humans– you're sensitive in the same places they would normally be. Multiple deeper, more ingrained stitches stray behind the fabric of your shirt and shorts that they would love to see some day.

But how much did they feel like waiting?

Even though you two... did what you did... they didn't get to see you in the full light. And although they've got damn good night vision, they can't help feel that curiosity rising in the back of their mind.

And the truth was... feeling their hands roaming across your body was not only massively hot to you– it's insanely comforting.

You don't like to think about the reason for your reanimation, and the horror written on everyone's face when they saw what happened to you. How many humans did it take to rebuild you when your remains were so eroded? What all was left of you? A brain. Aren't you just an imposter borrowing body parts? You're not you. You're just a brain, hoping to look as close to yourself before death as possible.

"But that's not true."

You hadn't realized you were crying until they wipe your tears from your face.

"You're [Y/N]. Parts and all. Or lack of them..."

You move to cup their hand and nestle into their touch.

"I don't have a single part of me left outside my physical body– but I'm still me. The spirit inside me is... me. You know?"

"But I don't have a spirit anymore. I'm just a corpse barely held together by electricity." You pout.

Gods. How adorable– the way your lip lightly curls with your frown. And your heterochromic eyes still have a shimmer of something deep inside despite the fog that clouds them.

You are here despite it all. That's more than enough for them.

Besides, it's not like they can't relate.

"I don't care about that." They argue. "You'll always be [Y/N] to me. Soul or no soul."

They pause for a moment.

"And I love every part of you. All the parts of you. Every last one."

Their thumb delicately brushes against your lips and you give it a small kiss.

"Even the stitches...?" You weakly smile.

"Especially the stitches." They snicker.

You can't help but laugh.

"You only like pulling them loose so I can't run." You joke.

"I like doing that too–" They lean in and place a kiss to your lips. "But..."

One more pause.

"I like it more when your legs are wrapped around me." They admit.

Your face lights up lavender. They don't break eye contact. Once more, they are so close to you that the scent of spices and incense are inescapable. Suddenly, their free hand snakes underneath your shirt and their fingers brush against everything holding you together. The stitches on your chest seem to be exceptionally sensitive– as soon as they brush across one, a soft whimper leaves your lips.

It sounds just like they did before– and in the dreams after that.

"You don't need this. Not in here." They slip your shirt off in one pull.

You arms involuntarily fly across your chest to preserve your modesty– and partially because you're insecure– but they aren't having any of it. Despite the discoloration every inch of you was deeply worthy of their affection. A body fit for royalty.

"You don't have to be shy. Not anymore." They promise you. "Just because they were horrified at your reanimation doesn't mean everyone is. I'm not. I'm glad you're here, with me, in my pyramid regardless of the circumstances it took to get here. Okay?"

They reach out for your wrists and lightly pull your arms away with your permission– making extra sure not to rip your stitches. Not now– not this time.

"You're not a monster to me. You're [Y/N]. Understand?"

All you can do is nod.

"Anyone that disagrees can come see me about it personally. I'll take care of it." They add.

Their fingers dig underneath the fabric of your underwear and shorts next. You lift up just enough to let them slide them off, and just as before, nervousness gets the best of you and you squeeze your legs shut.

Finally.

They can see you– all of you– in the lighting you were meant to be seen in.

"It's okay." They comfort you.

One of their hands splays itself across one of your thighs and it's only then do you realize the difference in your statures. Their entire hand could easily stretch across your thigh– scratch that. They could easily grab your face and smash it against the wall if they wanted to.

And that is both utterly terrifying, and incredibly sexy.

All the violet blood in your body redirects itself between your cold, stitched up legs. They only look down at you and grin– and you can barely bring yourself to meet their glowing eyes. It feels like every inch of you is under scrutiny. Just like when...

You shake your head.

Both their hands reach up to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to reestablish eye contact.

"Just focus on me now. Don't think about them– they aren't here. They can't hurt you. Not anymore."

Before you can get another word in, their lips close in on yours once more and place repeated kisses to your flushed face.

"So soft." They whisper. "And all mine."

More kisses– you're practically drowning in them at this point. You wrap your arms around their neck and bring them closer to you. Minutes pass and they still do not relent. Your body lightly arches up into theirs, and you're a little sad their clothes are getting in the way. You wanted to feel them just like that day–

You stop just long enough to pull on their shirt. A delicate laugh rises from their chest, and it drops to the brick floor right next to yours.

Your finger trails down their cool, lazily wrapped fawn skin and hooks itself underneath their pants next.

"These, too." You demand– but you're still polite... some habits simply never change.

"Anything for you." They reply with that same lovable grin.

They stand up long enough to undress themself further. Seems like you weren't the only one enjoying this.

Your arms reach up for them again and they happily lean over to let you wrap them lovingly around their neck once more.

"You can undo my stitches if you want. I don't mind..." You tell them.

More kisses exchanged in between your conversation.

"I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to feel you wrap around me, so your limbs are staying. For today, at least. I can't promise about the future, though..."

You smile against their lips.

"As long as you give them back." You joke.

"Might be hard to..." They reply sarcastically.

"You can touch them all you want, though. I don't mind. It feels... good..." You add.

So they do just that– their hands start roaming around just as they had been before. Every whimper and whine they can get from you was heavenly to their ears... but they're craving just a bit more than that.

"You don't have to be so quiet. No one can hear you, I promise." They reassure you. "It's just us. So..."

"Ah– I'm sorry–" You feel bad for being so modest...

"Don't be. Don't hold back. If it feels good, I want to hear it." That same dark undertone begins to taint their voice. "I want to hear every sound you make. I want to see all that pleasure on your face. So don't hold back–"

Their hands slide over your chest. Their gentleness disappears, now they're roughly groping the aroused flesh of your breasts and kneading into your stitched up skin as if they had gone feral.

And yet, it doesn't hurt.

Their fingers glide across a particularly sensitive stitch and your breath hitches as they play with it for a few moments more.

"That's it. Let me hear you." They demand.

Then they move to make soft flicks across the tips of your nipples while making an effort to trace the rest of your sensitive stitches to tease you. Your delighted squirming underneath their figure sends sparks flying between their thighs– and you notice it– because there's no way you can hide something... like that.

At least... not easily.

"It's not polite to stare, you know." They tease.

"You can't say that when you've been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes." You point out.

"Who owns this pyramid? Hm? Who was once a pharaoh? Not you. I can stare all I want. There's nothing you can do about it." Their voice grows downright cruel.

And yet... you're practically gushing from it.

You can feel the electricity in your body dancing underneath your skin around your metal skeleton, and you can feel your body heating up as a result.

"Oh? Does someone like being talked down to...?" They snicker.

You look away in embarrassment.

They sit up and place both their hands on either side of your shut legs.

All they needed was your permission.

Please. But they couldn't bring themself to say it– and they hope that they didn't ruin everything.

Until your legs gently part and let them in.

"Oh– so wet, and all from me?" They lean in and place a quick kiss to your folds.

It surprises you at first, but you welcome it wholeheartedly as soon you feel them press a few more against your sopping wet, violet colored skin.

"So cute. Squirm more~!" their dark voice commands.

Without warning, their fingers lightly open your folds and their forked tongue flicks softly against your throbbing center. All the moans you had been biting back come spilling forth. Your legs tighten around their head and pull them even closer to where you want them– and they encourage it fully, because they wanted this more than anything.

They can't pull back enough to tease you for being eager. And they wouldn't want to, because they're enjoying it just as much as you are.

Their tongue swirls in intricate ways all around the most sensitive part of your body, making extra sure to stay in just the right spot so to keep milking those delicious noises you were making. They open their eyes long enough to look up at you– and the face you were making was better than they could've ever imagined it.

"You look so pathetic." Their dark voice telepathically speaks out. "Does it feel good? Hm?"

Your mind is too fogged to answer.

They continue their diligent work as your excitement grows further into orgasmic pleasure– and part of them never wanted to wash their face or change their wraps again, just to have your scent and taste stay longer.

Was that weird...? Well, they never cared for normal.

They're caught off guard momentarily when you violently latch onto their espresso colored locks and try to press them closer to where you desperately needed them to be.

"Look at you. So close, teetering on the edge." They telepathically tease. "I can read your thoughts. I can hear you screaming my name inside– I know you're close. Keep making those delicious moans for me, will you?"

And you don't hesitate. Not one bit.

They pick up the pace as your legs begin to tighten further around their head.

"That's right. Trap me between those lovely legs of yours. Who's making you feel this good?" Their eyes keep steady watch as you hyperventilate and convulse above them.

Their name drips from your drool covered lips.

You can feel that iconic grin creep up on their face while they eat to their hearts content.

"That's right. Now say it louder."

Your voice is hoarse, but you give them what they want.

"Did you not hear me? Say. It. Louder."

You take a few deep breaths– everything catches up to you all at once, and you feel yourself quickly beginning to spiral to the end. But just before you finish– you gather all the strength that's left in your exhausted undead body, and yell as loud as you can.

"So good for me." They praise you.

It's only then do you come all across their face– and they continue delicately eating until you do it once again. It's one then do they pull away and admire all their hard work.

Their personality shifts instantly. The darkness in their voice is gone, all that's left is the one you're now so used to.

"Let me see if you pulled any stitches." They lay you back down and check everywhere they can possibly think of: legs, arms, chest, fingers...

Everything seemed okay.

"Are you okay?" They worry, bringing their face up to yours and nuzzling it affectionately.

You're still out of breath, but ultimately satisfied. So you couldn't complain. You throw your arms back around them and pull them in close for afterglow cuddles.

"I'm okay." You reassure them.

And yet, you still feel like you're forgetting something.

Then, it pokes the inside of your thigh.

"I'll... take care of that, sorry–" For once, they're the one who is embarrassed.

"No. Let me help–" You offer.

Your hand reaches down and grabs their length, being extra careful not to get your finger stitches caught on their sensitive skin.

"You don't have to–!" They stifle back a whine.

You put on your best angry face. "I want to. Now let me help."

"Okay, okay!" They reassure you. "Just don't kill me, please..."

[antihero-writings]

If Everything Breaks

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: Break doesn't like to dance…but maybe just this once || A tale of Break as he grows accustomed to his life with the Rainsworths. My fic for the Chained Pandora Hearts Zine! Written to go alongside @paraffinegg’s art!!

For a while I’ve had some headcanons on how Break picked his new name, and I thought, what better time to write about it than my zine fic!

When Kevin opened his eyes, the light was too bright. No…not eye-s. Just the one. The other’s empty socket throbbed like mad.

As said eye adjusted, vague shapes became clearer: the bed he was on, the tables and chairs around him—(too lavish a room for him)—and finally a person.

“My name...is Alice.” 

He shot up, knocking his head against the headboard.

She laughed...an oddly bright sound.

Framed in sunlight, a woman was smiling at him.

“Where am I?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s rude to address a duchess’ daughter so informally, you know.”

His eye widened. This unassuming lady was a duchess’ daughter?

“I am Shelly Rainsworth. ...You showed up at our door covered in blood. ...Quite an entrance, I must say.”

The Rainsworths? He searched his brain but couldn’t find record of the name.

“And you are?”

No one had asked his name in a long time. And if he had told them, well…he would’ve had to kill them.

No one had asked his name in a long time. And if he had told them, well…he would’ve had to kill them.

“You killed so many people! What a fool you were!”

Best not pronounce his identity just yet. For her sake.

“You don’t want to tell me.” There was no question, nor distrust there. “That’s fine. But I need something to call you.”

Her smile was not wicked, nor pitying.

It had been a long time since anyone treated him like more than a monster to be feared, or a toy to plucked and prodded—his important parts ripped out; broken like all the promises of a better world—

“...keep breaking just like that…

If all the people break, and the world breaks…

and everyone and everything goes mad…

Then I can be normal...right?”

He looked away, reaching for his left eye, finding bandages and blossoming pain where sight was supposed to be. He grimaced before answering softly:

“Break. Just…Break.”

********

A world bathed in golden light, music coiling in the atmosphere. With its cues feet glided, hands entwined, and dresses fluttered just above the ground like broken butterflies’ wings.

A cacophony of meaningless noise.

It’s all mad. 

Kevin stood by the stairs as if painted there.

It wasn’t that he disliked balls…okay, no, he did; balls, banquets…gatherings of any kind, really. But, this was the Rainsworth’s party, so attendance was mandatory.

Too bright lights, too loud music, gossip picking at his skull, and, well…people. It all blended together to create a painful buzzing in his head.

The crippled butterflies flew in the other direction around their cage.

“Come on, Cheshire, let’s dance!”

The dancing was the worst part. All those moves to remember, so much to get wrong...and for what? A good show? He had no talent for it, but hopping around, without stepping on anyone's toes—a trained monkey to someone else’s tune, and an uncompromising paradigm—held no appeal for him anyways.

Count the seconds. How many left?—

What do I have left to lose?

“Be it my arms, my legs…I grant you whatever your heart desires!

So please…change the past for me!”

Count the steps. Trace the sequence.

So many wasted moments in pursuits of stillborn dreams, the pattern already predetermined.

“It’s that man.” The hiss came from the side of the room.

He knew who they were talking about; whispers were his loyal familiar.

Kevin wasn’t looking, but he could feel her eyes burning holes in him, like she was trying to snuff out a cigarette.

“The one the Rainsworths took in.”

A second burning hole. His thoughts would surely catch fire.

He shut his eye, his knuckles white on the staircase railing.

“Have you seen his eyes?”

He silently refuted her statement: Nope. Just the one, Dear. The other was stolen away. Apparently they’re a precious commodity to little lunatics in the center of the universe.

“I know right? Red.”

Fingers shoved into his eye socket, pain boring through the hole left…

Screaming rending the air—was it his voice? His throat was burning—

“Fu-fu It’s beautiful.”

“They make him so creepy!”

“I still don’t understand why they took him in.”

“Don’t they know how to take out the trash?” Laughter like venom.

He leaned back, putting his hand on his forehead, trying not to let it travel to his socket.

The words wove around his inner works, pulling taut. He tried not to think of death—(theirs, or his own)—as an excuse, or escape. But too often his mind drifted to a darkened room full of coffins, and a little girl begging him to stay.

Was it his fault, then? Was all of this…inevitable?

“Break!”

The word was a crack in reality. Another, better world, reaching out to him.

If there is such a thing.

He looked up, as if at the bottom of a mineshaft, to see Shelly on the staircase above him.

The thing about being in a high position is one gains the luxury of indifference; those in power rarely care for those below them. They can afford not to.

She caught his eye and motioned for him to come up to her.

...The Rainsworths were different.

“Come quickly, there’s a man covered in blood!”

Dare he? Surely he must stay against the wall, he was plastered there after all.

This room shone gold. Yet the Rainsworths were brighter; they were a kind of light those in the room knew nothing of. So bright were they that those in the dark dare not touch them, for fear of being shown in the sun for what they really were.

She put her hands on her hips.

...He dare not disobey.

And what was becoming of him? He didn’t feel brighter since meeting them. What if it was the other way around? With each step closer he swore he could hear the pieces of his shattered heart jangling in his chest, and wondered if instead he’d leave them all bleeding on those sharp edges.

A blur went by, closely followed with—

“Dance with me, Reim!” Little Sharon came pelting after.

Reim hid behind Sheryl’s chair on the floor below, and Rufus proceeded to scold them.

Laughter like sunshine breaking after rain.

He looked at Shelly, who raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in perhaps…ever.”

He was smiling? Better wipe it off.

“So…something tells me you don’t feel like dancing.”

“I never cared for it, Shelly-sama.”

“Let’s see, you don’t care for;”—She counted on her fingers—“people talking to you, people looking at you, people…aaand dancing now.”

He rolled his eye. “I mean it. I really can’t.”

“What do you say to a lesson?” She held out her hand.

He stumbled back.

Was this some punishment? He tried to think of anything he’d done to deserve this.

“It would disgrace a lady such as yourself to be seen dancing with a servant.”

“We could use a good scandal.”

“I—” he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d step on your toes.” He was running out of excuses.

“I don’t doubt it.”

What wasn’t she getting about this?

Shelly bounced her hand persistently.

No. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Dare touch her. Surely he’d infect her. Why was she bothering with him? Pestering him, like she always did. Like everyone always did. Treating him like a lost puppy, when they should just leave him in the rain to die.

The request was soft: “Please dance with me, Xerxes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “…What did you call me?”

He never spoke of his past, but he knew those whispers, ever at his heel, were indication enough of something dark in his ill-conceived adulthood.

“Well, I figured if you’re keeping a fake name, you’ll need a second. Or, in this case a first—Break sounds better as a surname, don’t you think? And I thought Xerxes was rather fitting.”

“How?” He snorted. “Isn’t it a name for ancient kings and heroes? I fail to see how I fit that.”

How could a knight wear the name of a king? How could a villain bear the name of a hero?

“That’s why I picked it.”

He backed up, his eye widening.

He didn’t understand what she was, or why she ever spoke to him. All that light was sickening...yet…

This woman saw him, not as a monster, or a toy…but as some sort of hero. How was that possible?

The name didn’t fit right. But she smiled at him, and though the light was sickening... it was oddly warm.

“Break might not like to dance, but tonight we are not Break and Shelly. I am the Queen of Hearts, and you are my Mad Hatter.”

“...Who said I was mad?”

She grinned.

“You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.”

He could choose to turn away, leave this place, believe the whispers snaking through him. Reject the name, her kindness, her light.

He sighed, averted his eye—

Just this one. 

And took her hand.