#did they dig up her bones and bring them home?

[heartz4shauna]

thinking about how jackie’s parents probably didn’t have. a proper funeral for her

[iwashie]

𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙃𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙?

sevika x fem!reader, bi reader, exes to hookups again, +18

You were Sevika's ex girlfriend, almost got married to her but the disagreements and her lack of time for you made you break up with her and some time after started dating a kind man who took you to the topside, both of you trying a life there and leaving Zaun behind.

But, look who's back to the lower levels of Zaun in flesh and bones, alone and prettier as ever, bringing some sunlight to that hole, and rotting at the Last Drop as you used to.

Sevika chuckled when the men pointed to you across the bar, sitting all alone and having your favorite drink, still the most beautiful woman in Zaun, your flashy clothes and sulken face forcing her way to you.

"Well, well, well. Look who's back to the hole, the only one!" You rolled your eyes as the voice echoed close to you. "Missed home so much? And alone as I see..."

"Don't start, Sevika. I'm not in the mood for your bitterness." You replied, still paying attention to your glass, the drinking more interesting than the woman next to you; a white light, because Sevika would always be fucking interesting, no one compares to her. You could feel her eyes on your body, looking you up and down and that damn smirk on her lips as she always had when was about you.

"Just curious cuz you know, rumors in Zaun spread fast, and the saying is that you come back alone for good." She got closer, her mechanic arm resting on the wood, and her other hand brought the glass of whisky to her chipped lips. You followed the movement out of the coner of your eyes, gulping down as she licked her lower lip and smirked, knowing that you were looking at her. "Where's your man? Zaun is getting dangerous to wander around alone, girl."

You sighed heavily, knocking your hands on the table, turning your whole body to her, and looking at those grey eyes shining at you. She was the same damn sturdy, hot, old, and big woman that had you drooling over. She automatically made room for your knees between her open legs as old times. "I'm not with him anymore, okay? He's still up there, and I'm back home. Happy, vika?"

She laughed loud, banging the glass on the table and leaning over you, almost touching your noses. You held your breath, eyes strolling across her face before locking eyes with hers. "Pretty much, doll." You gulped, eyes lowering to her lips and back up. "The boy was a kid, wasn't he? Told you you couldn't get better than me." She laughed again, and you lost your temper, getting up and glaring at her; the height difference was still big, you barely reached her chest, and she lowered to your level.

"I had a good time with him. Felt like I was a priority for the first time." She huffed, her eyebrows knitting together as she ran her tongue on her teeth. You smiled and continued. "He was really good to me. I lived pretty comfortable and happy there."

You hit on a nerve and smiled more as Sevika fumed, fire on her eyes still locked in your figure. You paid your drink and left the bar, knowing she was following close behind. It was always like this when it's about you two; a dance, getting under each other skin just to end tangled and start the circle again.

You sighed as you pressed your face on the wall, nails digging on the garment behind you, feeling the warmth and weight on you. "If you had a good time, why did you come back, doll? He didn't know you like I do, right?"

You rolled your ass on her as she pushed your waist against hers, pressing your body on the wall of the alley. She sniffed your neck, giving a light kiss on the region, and sucked hard as her hands hovered your curves. "He didn't touch you like I do, huh?"

"He didn't know your body like I do, doll." She ran her hands up to your boobs, copping them and squeezing with care. You threw your head onto her shoulder, closing your eyes and grabbing her close as she unfolded you so easily. "He didn't do you right just the way I do, right?"

"Vikaa, please..." You panted on her neck as she played with you the way she knew you liked and the way that had you weak on the knees. She slid her human hand down your torso, playing with the hem of your pants, and you moaned when she entered it.

"He didn't want you like I want you, doll." You turned your head to her, chasing her chipped lips and kissed her roughly, full of teeth, bites, saliva, and desire for each other. You felt like floating and being pulled down to earth too fast, moaning loudly and trembling on Sevika's hands.

Even though you two had broken up once, no one could make you feel that way like Sevika could. She was right, that man didn't know you or your body, kissed and touched you like she does. That man was nice and all, but nothing compared to having her loving and wanting you the way you deserved. Nothing compared to Sevika making you cum in a dark, dirty alley in Zaun only with her fingers.

She broke the kiss, saliva connecting your lips, and her blown grey eyes devouring you while her hands did you the way you liked, wanted, deserved, and yearned. "He didn't love you like I do, doll. And you know nobody else is gonna love you like me."

"Only you, vika. Only you can me feel this way." You moaned against her lips, clinging to her body as her fingers made you come with a shiver and blown puppy eyes to her.

"Fuck, woman, just accept that you're mine and I'm yours forever. Just let me love you again and make up for the last time, doll." She promised on your lips, removing her hand out of your pants and grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and mouth. She pushed you two against the wall, towering over you as she kept her eyes on you and kissed you like she fucking missed doing so. "I fucking love you, doll. Tell me you love me too."

You locked your arms behind her neck, pulling her in, and devoured her like you had been starving for too long. "I love you, vika... I'm yours. Only yours. Forever yours, Sevika." She mumbled a "my girl" and pulled you out of the alley, guiding the way to the place you missed so much and called home.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[sluts4matt]

Do you take requests if you don't can you make one where y/n is dating chris and she is slowly realizing that she's in love with matt and one day has her and chris are fucking she moans matts name and chris gets upset at her, then another day when she's touching herself all she can think about is matt, but she doesn't have the heart to break up with chris to be with matt.

If you want you can make her break up with chris and then she gets with matt and fucks him.

WHAT THE HEART WANTS

pairing: mean!chris, sub!matt x reader

summary: falling for your boyfriend's brother was one thing but moaning his name during sex? that's a whole new story. but maybe that was the little push you needed to finally do something about your feelings.

warnings: SMUT, fingering, mommy kink because im a sucker, p in v, praising, oral (female receiving)

word count: 2052

author's note: i'm sorry this took so long @outerbanksstorys, i'm almost certain i may have ended up changing a few things up but i hope you like it. xx 🫶

you couldn't help the way you giggled at matt's joke. you were on your boyfriend, chris' knee, his arms wrapped securely around you as matt told the two of you, plus nick about his day.

chris wasn't paying attention, not at first, too busy watching as matt's body language changed. his posture becoming a bit more confident at the giggles leaving your lips.

your giggling only stopped when you heard chris clear his throat. you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "is everything okay, chris?"

he simply smiled at you, nodding his head. "of course, baby."

you smiled back, turning your head back to matt, only for him to no longer be in the room.

the small frown that grazed your lips made your heart pang in guilt. "can we go to bed?" chris asked, rubbing a hand along your arm.

"i'm gonna get a drink first, and then we can, okay?" with a kiss on the cheek, you slipped out of his arms, walking over to the kitchen.

you opened the fridge, taking out a water bottle, and closing the door.

as you took a sip, you jumped at the sudden voice. "he's a lucky guy, huh?" matt commented. you narrowed your eyes confused, "what?" you mumble, bringing the glass of root bear to your lips.

"i said, chris is a lucky guy, i mean look at you. anyone would be lucky to have you," he said, a hint of something you couldn't place in his tone.

your cheeks dusted a faint pink as you mumbled a "thanks," in return. you quickly walked back to chris' room, slipping under the covers beside him.

not even thirty minutes later chris had your ass up in the air, his fingers digging into the meat of your hip bones, fucking into you from behind.

your face was buried into the mattress, muffling the noises coming out of your lips.

his thrusts were relentless, making you cry out in pleasure. "matt, fuck," you squealed, pushing your hips back into him.

you were too caught up in your own pleasure, you didn't even realize you let matt's name slip.

it didn't register until the movement behind you stopped. "what did you just say?" he growled. your head was yanked from the mattress, "what did you just fucking say?!"

your eyes went wide, "no, no, chris, i didn't-" "save it, just save it." he grumbled, pulling out of you, and grabbing his boxers off the ground, sliding them on.

the way his hands went up to tug at his hair made you feel guilty, your eyes watering. "chris," you say softly, though you don't make movement towards him.

scared that he'd lash out like guys have done in your previous relationships.

"fuck, why would you- god." he groaned, walking out of the room, and slamming the door behind him.

tears fell down your cheeks. how could you have been so stupid?

you grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, sliding them on, and grabbing your phone.

as much as you didn't want to, you knew it was best if you stayed away for the night, instead going home.

"hey," matt whispered, looking up from his phone as he heard you come downstairs. your eyes were puffy, and your cheeks were flushed a bright red.

"everything okay?" he asked, his phone dropping from his hand as he stood up to comfort you. "mhm," you hummed, shrugging him off. you knew if chris came out seeing his brother, who you just ended up moaning's name, comforting you all hell would break loose.

"i'm gonna go, i'll see you later." you smiled softly, not giving him a chance to argue as you left.

as soon as the door closed, chris stepped out of the bathroom. "you're fucking dead," he glared at matt. "what the fuck did i do?" he scoffed, his expression going from his previous worried one to one of confusion.

"she called out your name, dick!" he yelled. "i can't even have sex with her without your fucking name coming from her mouth." he jabbed a finger into matts' chest.

"maybe you should revaluate yourself then bud," he said, a sense of pride washing over him. "if she likes me better, then what does that say about you?"

and with that, chris was swinging a punch, landing a hard hit to matts' jaw. "are you fucking joking," matt scoffed as he held his jaw. nick came down the hall, turning into the living area.

"what's going on here?" he questioned. "nothing." they both said, glaring at each other as they walked away.

--

you sighed, leaning your head against the back of your sofa. it had been a few days since everything happened. the only messages you were receiving from chris were 'goodmorning' and 'goodnight' texts.

what hurt worse than anything was the guilt eating you alive at the fact that maybe, you had more feelings for matt then you let yourself believe.

you weren't sure when it started, but you had found yourself staring at him more and more, catching yourself wondering what it would be like if the lips touching yours every night were his instead of chris'.

how he would act if the two of you were more than friends. you felt so incredibly guilty. but that didn't stop the thoughts of him. that didn't stop the fantasies.

your hand trailed down your stomach, your hand dipping into the front of your shorts.

"oh, fuck," you groaned, imagining it was matts' long fingers rubbing circles against your clit. his voice whispering sweet praises in your ear.

"just like that," you whispered to yourself, a finger teasing your entrance.

"god," you cried out, sinking the digit into yourself. your eyes shut tightly, as you pumped the finger in and out.

"more," you whined to yourself. your free hand trailed up your shirt, grabbing onto your breast.

your breath was coming out in short pants, you could feel the coil in your lower stomach tightening, as your finger moved faster. your fingers pulled and twisted at the pink bud on your chest.

"f-fuck, yes," you moaned, the coil inside of you snapping. as you rode out your orgasm, your legs trembling, your brain went to one person.

"matt."

you laid there for a moment, catching your breath, and thinking about what you had just done.

"shit," you sighed.

you couldn't stay with chris if all you thought about was his brother. that was wrong, and chris didn't deserve it.

"chris," you called, knocking on his front door. the sound of the tv could be heard from the outside, the sound of a football game playing.

you were about to knock again when the door was opened. you were met with a shirtless matt, his hair disheveled, an amused expression as he staired down at you.

you couldn't help the way your eyes trailed up his torso, going to his left arms. his tattoos had always driven you crazy, so crazy in fact you almost had chris talked into getting some of his own.

"i uh, is chris here?" you cleared your throat, meeting his gaze again. it took everything in you to keep eye contact, not wanting to be the first to break.

"uh yeah, he's in his room," matt said, his eyes flickering over your body, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin where your shirt was riding up.

you nodded your head, walking past him and going to his room. when you got the door you could hear the boy's grunts, small noises coming from another female.

your heart sank. you weren't even broken up. i mean obviously moaning his brothers name during sex was one thing, but to go and have sex with a complete different person was another.

you backed up, walking back up the stairs. "where's chris?" matt asked, as he saw you coming up the stairs. "room." you muttered, pushing past him and making your way to the front door.

"i thought you were talking to him." he stated confused, "yeah, well he seems busy," you laughed bitterly, opening the front door.

"wait." he called, walking after you.

"what, matt?" you sighed, turning to face him. his hands cupped your face, and he pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours.

your heart thumped in your chest, your eyes wide, as you didn't move, frozen. once he realized you weren't moving, he pulled away.

"shit, i'm sorry." he mumbled.

"matt," you sighed, looking down at the ground.

"no, no, i get it. i'm sorry."

you looked up at him, seeing his eyes trained on the ground, and his cheeks a dark red. the next thing you did was unlike you. you ran your arm behind his neck, tangling your fingers in the brown locks tugging his head up.

the submissive eyes the boy gave you made you crash your lips into his again, this time the two of you kissing passionately.

his hands went to the backs of your thighs, picking you up and carrying you to his room.

"fuck, i've waited so long for this." he groaned, sitting down on his bed, you on his lap.

your lips attached themselves to his neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin. he whined, his hips bucking forward.

"shit," he groaned, as you ground your hips down on him.

he pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it to the ground, and immediately attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.

"god, yes." you moaned, his hands running up and down your sides. his lips trailed across your collarbones, his hands pushed your hips off of him, pulling the sweats you had worn down, tossing them somewhere in his room. he tugged you back on top of him.

"need you to sit on my face," he mumbled, laying back against the bed. his hands pulled you up his torso until you were hovering over his mouth. he placed kisses against the fabric of your underwear.

"please," you whined. he hummed against the material, his finger hooking into the side of the clothing, pulling them to the side.

"fuck," he groaned, licking a strip through your folds. "so wet for me," he murmured, latching his mouth around your clit.

"oh, fuck," you groaned, holding onto the headboard of his bed. his hands were gripping at the backs of your thighs, as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves.

you were a mess above him, grinding down against his mouth. his mouth was relentless against you, the tip of his tongue entering your cunt.

"matty," you moaned, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"i'm close," you whined.

"cum on my tongue, baby, please," he moaned.

"oh, oh, shit." you moaned loudly, your thighs shaking around his head. he helped you ride out your orgasm, lapping up all the juices, that fell from your cunt.

you climbed off his face, and down his body, pulling the sweats and his boxers off his hips, and tossing them to the floor.

"fuck, condom," he cursed, going to reach into his nightstand. "i'm on birth control." you stated, "you clean?"

he nodded his head, "yeah, fuck, i'm clean."

"me too, we're good." you grinned. his cock stood proudly against his stomach. the tip leaking pre-cum, his shaft was long and had some girth to it, though not like chris'.

you wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly stroking him, a thumb swiping at the beads of pre-cum.

"shit, shit, stop, you're gonna make me cum," he groaned, his hips thrusting up. "already?" you taunted, raising an eyebrow.

"fuck, you've had me waiting for years. i've been thinking about this moment for years." he groaned. "now sit on my cock." he ordered, grabbing your hips, and helping you line up with him.

"oh, fuck," you gasped, lowering yourself down.

"holy shit," he groaned, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. once you bottomed out, you stayed still, letting yourself adjust.

his head was against the headboard as he stared up at you. "move," he groaned.

"so impatient," you sighed, moving your hips up, and dropping them back down. his mouth fell open in a silent moan, his head falling back.

"such a good boy," you moaned, as he started to meet your thrusts.

"fuck," he growled, "yes, mo-" he cut himself off, "what was that baby?" you teased, slowing your hips down.

"shit, nothing, fuck, keep going," he whined, his own hips picking up the pace, as his eyes squeezed shut.

"no, no, use your words, pretty boy." you groaned, your own eyes shutting at the feeling. "i was gonna say m-mommy," he moaned. "there we go," you grinned, "good boy, being honest."

his hands reached up, grabbing onto your breasts, and kneading the skin. his teeth dug into his bottom lip.

"fuck, look at you." you praised. his cheeks were flushed a bright red, his pupils blown, a layer of sweat covered his body.

"so beautiful, all for mommy, aren't you?"

"yes," he nodded his head, his eyes opening. his mouth was parted open, a string of curses leaving his lips.

his breathing was coming out in pants, his hips moving erratically, chasing his release. "fuck," you squeak, burying your face into his shoulder as his hips thrust up and his cock hits the spot that has your mouth falling open and you seeing stars.

"right there," you cry out, his hips snapping into the same spot. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red crescent marks on the pale skin.

"'m close." he whimpered. "me too." you mutter breathlessly.

"mommy, please," he whined. "come on, baby, cum for me."

with a few more thrusts he was spilling into you. the warm liquid coating your insides, his head against the headboard.

"good boy," you cooed, bouncing on his cock. the overstimulation was making him a whining mess.

"fuck, come on, mommy. cum on my cock." he groaned, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves.

"shit," you cried, your orgasm washing over you, his name falling from your lips. your legs shook, his hands holding your hips down, keeping his cock inside of you.

"sh, i've got you." he whispered, as you collapsed onto his chest. "that was so fucking hot."

you giggled, looking up at him. "can i take a picture? i promise i won't share it."

"mhm," you nodded your head, sitting up. he grabbed his phone, turning on the camera, and taking a picture of the two of you.

your face was hidden in his neck, your back being on full display. your body was glowing in a sheen layer of sweat. his eyes were focused on the camera, a grin on his face.

"you're so pretty." he complimented, showing you the photo. he set the phone down and kissed you softly. "can we cuddle? then maybe take a shower?"

"of course, pretty boy."

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72

[forest-hashira]

Keeping Warm

having now recovered from writing smut back in september, i am back with more demon slayer smut! partially joking but writing smut really does take more out of me which is why this one took so long to come out. this is my promised second entry for my autumn leaves anniversary event, which is still open if you would like to contribute something! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy 💜 also big thanks to @awkwardchick87 for beta reading this for me!

event masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: obamitsu x gn/afab reader (female anatomy but gender neutral pronouns), undefined but implied established relationship, cockwarming, orgasm delay/denial, oral (reader receiving), making out, cowgirl position, slight sub iggy/dom mitsuri (not too heavy tho), creampie

Obanai had never been fond of cold weather. Much like his scaly companion, he preferred the warmth of spring and summer, and spent as much of his time as possible indoors during the fall and winter. If there was a chill in the air, it would cut straight through to his bones, no matter how many layers he wore. He never mentioned it to anyone else, knowing there was little that could be done about his difficulty regulating his own body temperature, but as soon as both you and Mitsuri had wormed your way past his defenses, the two of you had picked up on it, and did everything you could to keep him warm.

Which, he supposed, was how you all wound up the way you were now.

The temperature had dropped before the sun had set, and he had barely finished lighting his fireplace when he heard Mitsuri calling out for him.

“Obanai!” she’d chirped, grinning brightly when he came to the door to greet her. She’d held a thick blanket in one arm, her other hand holding yours. You’d offered the serpent hashira a pleased smile as well, just as happy to see that he was, in fact, home. 

“Hello, Mitsuri,” he’d replied, smiling behind his bandages. He’d greeted you, too, then tilted his head slightly. “Not that I’m not happy to see the two of you, of course, but can I ask what brings you to see me this time?”

“We know you don’t like the cold,” you’d explained. “We wanted to make sure you stayed warm tonight.”

He hadn’t thought much of the way Mitsuri’s eyes glinted when he’d invited the two of you in, assuming she was just excited about having a sleepover with you and him, since those didn’t happen exceedingly often, given your positions in the corps.

Now he was wondering if he should’ve read into that glint a bit more, since she was straddling him as he laid on his back on his futon, you sitting by his head. Clothes had been discarded quickly, so you and Mitsuri were entirely bare, and the only thing Obanai still wore was his bandages.

“We’ll keep you warm, ‘nai,” the love hashira cooed, rolling her hips against his, and he let out a shuddering breath, his hands gripping lightly at her thighs. She paused at the touch, tilting her head slightly. “Wait until you’re given permission, love.”

“Apologies,” he murmured, releasing his hold on her, instead digging his fingers into the futon beneath him.

“All is forgiven,” Mitsuri assured him, slowly beginning to roll her hips again.

Your fingers glided across his forehead, gently brushing his hair from his eyes, and you smiled at him when he looked up at you. “Can I take these off?” you asked quietly, fingers ghosting down his cheek until they reached the edge of his bandages.

There was the tiniest moment of hesitation – less than a second, really – before he nodded. “Yes,” he breathed, remembering that Mitsuri liked when he said the words aloud. “Yes, you can take them off.” 

With nimble fingers, you delicately unwound the bandages from the lower half of his face, setting them off to the side. As always, you were careful not to touch his scars; he was comfortable enough to allow you and Mitsuri to see them in private, but he still didn’t like them to be touched. “Stunning as always, ‘nai,” you said, giggling softly when his face darkened with a blush at your words.

The sound of your laughter sent his heart fluttering, and he smiled slightly back up at you. He still found himself flustered whenever you complimented him, but he never argued, even if he disagreed with your words; how could he, when your eyes always shone with genuine, eager affection?

Mitsuri shifted her weight slightly from her position atop the serpent hashira, and he gasped, his hips bucking the tiniest bit with surprise. Knowing the movement was unintentional, the love hashira chose not to chastise, instead grinning down at him. “Someone’s eager,” she teased, a small laugh tumbling from her lips at the way the older man’s blush spread from his face down his neck to his chest.

“Looks like you’re warming up,” you said, a teasing lilt to your words as well. As you spoke, you carded your fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Just as you knew would happen, the touch sent a shiver through the serpent hashira. “Or maybe not.” 

With an exaggerated pout, you looked back up at Mitsuri. “Looks like he’s still cold, ‘Tsuri.”

She fake pouted right back at you. “Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Her gaze dropped to Obanai’s, and she tilted her head slightly. “Do you need more to stay warm?”

“Please,” he answered, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please, Mitsuri.”

Her peridot eyes flashed. “Well, when you ask so nicely…”

When she stopped the slow rolling of her hips, Obanai almost whined, staring up at her pleadingly; you knew from experience he was mere moments away from openly begging, if the love hashira decided to push him even just a tiny bit more. He was in luck this time, though, and she had mercy on him. She raised herself off of him slightly, just enough to wrap her fingers around his hard cock.

He barely stifled a gasp at her touch, and when she began to sink down onto him, his eyes rolled back in his head. The feeling of being inside of either of you was something he knew he would never take for granted; the warmth and intimacy of it was too precious to him. It took him a few moments to catch his breath once Mitsuri was fully seated on him, the heat of her almost unbearable, while somehow also being exactly what he needed. 

The love hashira sat perfectly still atop the serpent hashira, watching as he fought to compose himself once again. She could be patient, and she knew you could, too; besides that, this was far from the first time the three of you had done anything like this, and Obanai had proven each time that he was more than capable of being obedient and taking direction. There was no doubt in her mind that he would manage it again this time. When she saw his two-toned eyes flutter open once again, she smiled down at him.

“‘Nai,” she cooed, slowly trailing her fingers up his stomach and chest, delighting in every minor jump and twitch of his muscles beneath her touch. “You’re doing so well… Can you do something else for me?”

“Anything,” Obanai replied, almost before Mitsuri finished speaking. He was willing to do anything she asked of him, even if all it earned him was a smile. The same went for how he felt about you; maybe holding the two of you so close to his heart would only cause him pain one day, but for now it only brought him peace, so he would make no effort to change how he felt.

Mitsuri’s smile inched closer to a smirk. “I want you to make them feel good.” Her eyes darted up to your face for a moment, though his stayed locked on her.

“How?”

“With your mouth.”

Finally, he tipped his head back slightly to meet your gaze, his pupils blown wide. “I would be honored to pleasure you that way,” he told you, almost reverently.

His words had heat pooling in your gut, and you swallowed thickly. Even if you hadn’t already known how skilled he was with his tongue, you wouldn’t have been able to deny him when he looked so beautiful when he asked. You nodded in response, not quite able to find your voice in the moment.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes never once left your face, and the feeling of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Mitsuri told you, a faint edge to her voice – not sharp, but motivating nonetheless.

Never one to disagree or deny yourself pleasure from either of your lovers, you carefully pulled yourself away from Obanai, shifting so you were hovering over his face, facing the love hashira. You didn’t lower yourself to be within his reach, though; Mitsuri was still calling the shots, after all.

Obanai felt his mouth begin to water as he looked up at your pussy, so close yet still so far away. He flexed his hands against the futon, eager to devour you but doing his best to be patient.

Apparently getting a thrill from the control she had over the two of you, Mitsuri sat in silence for a moment, simply looking you over, before she said, “You can touch them now, ‘nai.”

The serpent hashira barely remembered to thank her before he locked his arms around your thighs and dragged you down to sit on his face, his mouth already open and eager to please. The first taste of you on his tongue had him moaning against you, and you gasped at the vibration against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathed, one hand going to Obanai’s abdomen to steady yourself, the other landing on Mitsuri’s shoulder. You met her gaze, and the heat that had risen to your cheeks spread a bit further when you saw the glint in her eyes.

“He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?” she asked, somewhat teasingly. As she spoke, one of her hands pushed your hair away from your face before coming to cradle your burning cheek. “Feels like he’s keeping you nice and warm, too, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, lashes fluttering a bit as you felt Obanai trace a pattern across your clit. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but if you’d asked, he would have admitted it was his name; an invisible mark stating that you were his as much he was yours and Mitsuri’s.

“Good,” she murmured, smirking slightly as she pressed her thumb to your bottom lip for a moment. When your lips parted slightly at the touch, she pulled you into a kiss. 

Her lips were soft and plush against your own, and in mere seconds you found yourself being devoured from both ends, completely at the mercy of your two ravenous lovers. Your grip on her shoulder tightened as you moaned against her, reciprocating the kiss as best as you were able.

It wasn’t long – an embarrassingly short amount of time, in fact – before your legs were shaking around Obanai’s head. “‘Tsuri,” you whimpered, breaking the heated kiss in an attempt to catch your breath. “I— ah! —I’m close.”

“Already?” she asked, a teasing edge to her voice. When you nodded, she tilted your chin up slightly to meet her eyes again. “I know you’ve earned it,” she added, glancing down at the man beneath you for a moment. “But do you think he has?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered immediately. “He’s— fuck — making me feel s-so good.” With practically every breath, small moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, and if the serpent hashira’s hold on you had been any less secure, you’d have been grinding down on his tongue, eagerly chasing your release.

Mitsuri seemed to brighten a bit at that. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve to feel good, love.” She grinned when the pet name had you practically melting for her, and she pressed another quick kiss to your lips before turning her attention to her other partner. 

“‘Nai,” she said, tracing a fingertip lightly down his torso. “Once you make them cum, I’ll let you cum, too.” She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, promising so much more once he did as he was told.

The action drew a loud, wanton moan from the man, which in turn had you gasping and dropping your hand from Mitsuri’s shoulder, leaving both hands now braced against his stomach. He tightened his grip around your thighs, pressing you as close to him as he could as he increased his efforts. 

When he shifted his head slightly and pressed his tongue into you, not giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling before he was fucking you relentlessly with it, you cried out. The sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body at that moment had you trembling from head to toe, but it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge. You squirmed the tiny amount you were able in his hold, trying to get some sort of stimulation to your clit.

Thankfully, Obanai seemed to get the message, and he loosened his hold on you with one arm. It allowed you to shift a bit more, but the movement wasn’t really necessary once his fingers found your clit. He rubbed quick, almost aggressive circles on it, matching the insistent pace of his tongue inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” you wailed as your orgasm crashed over you, your head dropped forward to rest against your pink haired lover’s chest. Despite having brought you to your peak, your raven haired lover showed no signs of letting up, still devouring you as if his life depended on it.

“Looks like you’ve earned your reward,” Mitsuri mused, beginning to rock her hips, giving Obanai the pleasure she’d promised him. 

It quickly became apparent to you that she was eager for release, too, because within just a few minutes she was fully lifting herself up and down on his cock, little sounds of pleasure slipping from her every time their hips made contact. Managing to come back to yourself a bit, you lifted your head from her chest, dipping in and taking one of her pretty pink nipples into your mouth and sucking hard, the way that always made her whine and plead for more. 

“Oh, yes, keep doing that,” she gasped, beginning to pinch and tug the other nipple herself. The more stimulation she got there, the louder she moaned and whined; she’d always been sensitive there, and you loved the reactions it would pull from her.

When she grew closer to her orgasm, she went back to simply rolling her hips and grinding down on Obanai’s cock, chasing the pleasure she knew awaited her. You decided to take advantage of the change in her movements, reaching between her legs to play with her clit. You were drawing close to another orgasm yourself, and you wanted desperately for all three of you to cum together.

She gasped, crying out your name as she fell apart, riding Obanai even harder to bring him to the heights of pleasure, too. It didn’t take long for him to get there, if the moan he let out against your pussy and the gasp Mitsuri gave were any indication. The vibration of his moan was enough to send you toppling over the edge again, a shuddering, breathless moan escaping you as you released Misturi’s nipple from your lips.

The three of you took a moment to catch your breath, not bothering to move from your positions at first. Eventually, though, both you and Mitsuri crawled off of the serpent hashira, one of you lying on either side of him and curling up as close to him as you could. After a moment, Mitsuri reached behind her, fumbling a bit until she found the blankets, including the extra thick one she’d brought with her. She pulled them over the three of you, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Obanai wrapped his arms a bit tighter around the two of you, and you eagerly pressed further into his space – you were there to keep him warm, after all.

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @redlikerozez @oceaneyesinla @pixelcafe-network @peachsukii 

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@entirelysein-e @sugurei @whatthefucksatan @roselleviennesstuff @awkwardchick87

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[dateko]

˚｡⋆ OUR SUMMER HOLIDAY | GOJO SATORU

summary: a slice of a lazy summer afternoon with you, gojo, and two little cursed spirits...

Having Satoru cling to you in the unforgiving summer heat is pure torture. Yet you don’t make an effort to move because there is an occasional refreshing breeze that flies by, and really, you just very much enjoy the feeling of his weight on top of you. The cicadas in the trees buzz and hiss in the distance, and Satoru hums a made-up tune, his cheek sticking to your chest like glue. The two of you stay in that position for a while, loving in silence and enjoying the afternoon, resting in the hammock.

“You’re being awfully quiet.” You muse, letting your fingers run wild through his hair. He sighs at the feeling, adjusting himself up to slot his face into the crook of your neck.

“Megumi’s not here, so I can’t bug him,” He mumbles, voice carrying a slight drawl. “Speaking of bugs, he’s probably infesting the house with them by now.”

Before school was to start again, Megumi and Tsumiki had begged their blue-eyed guardian and you for a short summer holiday. A day or two before I go back to “jail,” as the first grader called it. Knowing Satoru couldn’t say no to his two children and you not having a single mean bone in your body, the four of you set out on a road trip to one of the Gojo Clan’s vacation homes. Far from the busy city and near the roaring ocean, the house you’d all be staying in for a few days was just perfect.

Compared to your cramped and comfortable apartment back in Tokyo, the temporary home had enough space for Megumi’s demon dogs to run around and a kitchen so big it completed your happy little heart. It was a lovely weekend getaway where the kids ran around catching bugs and picking flowers, spending sunset afternoons walking along the shore and lighting fireworks at night. Satoru was certainly ecstatic, having convinced Yaga to rid him of any missions for the weekend.

“Popsicles!” Tsumiki’s voice sings as she slides open the door and steps out onto the engawa. Dressed in a white frilly sundress with embroidered strawberries, she carries around a small basket with frozen treats. Megumi trails behind with a mischievous grin, holding what looks like a stag beetle in a mason jar. They’ve certainly been busy today, unlike you and your lazy lover.

“Mm, just what I needed!” You smile, kissing Satoru’s temple sweetly, urging him to grab you one to share. To this, he pouts with a whine, unwilling to leave his cozy spot against your chest and tangling himself in the embrace of your arms. However, the strongest for you is obedient, complete putty in your presence, who dutifully complies. 

Tsumiki’s smile reaches her ears as she hands him a popsicle, and Satoru pats the top of her head as he thanks her. “Gojo, wait!” The little one calls, digging around her basket. “I have one more thing.”

Satoru raises a quizzical brow and turns to you, who shrugs, leaving your trusty hammock to reach over and grab the treat in his hands. His daughter beams up at him with a playful smile, tugging on his arm to bring him down to her height. “I made you a present!” She says proudly, revealing a carefully crafted crown made of dandelions in her hands. Satoru’s eyes widen at the gift, cheeks slightly shy as he nods, letting little hands place it carefully atop his snowy locks. He can’t seem to stop smiling today. It feels good to be loved.

“How do I look?” He stands, striking a few poses that cause a few giggles and hoots. “Should I do a twirl?”

“You look stupid.” Megumi answers flatly from his spot on the engawa, a bored expression on his face. Tsumiki scolds her younger brother before adamantly declaring that their guardian, indeed, looks like a fairy princess. 

Your boyfriend looks at you with a defeated expression, blue eyes with long batting lashes asking you to vouch for him. “Did you hear that? Megumi’s being mean,” His arms pull you into his broad chest, hands rubbing your shoulders. “You don’t think I look stupid, too, do you?” 

Shaking your head, you flash a smile and finish your popsicle with a pop. “You’re certainly the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.” 

Satoru pulls you closer and coos at your response, dipping his head down to rub his nose against yours before placing a giant kiss on your lips. The children behind you groan in disgust at the sight. You can’t help but shudder at the feeling of Satoru sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, giggling against you as he listens to Tsumiki telling Megumi to close his eyes. It’s sticky and sweet, even in the heat. The sorcerer pulls back with a smirk, his hands on your hips, squeezing you playfully. “Mmm, strawberry. My favorite.”

You roll your eyes and pinch his cheek. “You’re such a handful, ‘Toru.”

“Can we go to the beach again?” Tsumiki pips. “I wanna pick seashells!”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Satoru replies excitedly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You playfully push his annoyingly handsome face away from you, stopping him from making those lovesick, kissy faces and ogling eyes. “Sorry, but no. We went yesterday, and plus, Satoru won’t stop being annoying about it.” 

“Hey! What’s wrong with wanting to see you in a swimsuit? You act like I’ve never seen you n-”

“Okay! We can go!” You clap, embarrassed, and march back into the house, where the resting demon dogs wait for you. “Kids! Grab the picnic blanket!”

Left on his own devices and already missing you by his side, Satoru giggles as he watches you pack up with Tsumiki in the kitchen. It’s a sight he wishes he could keep forever. He wishes for more days like this one. One where the kids can continue enjoying their youth, without a care in the world. And he knows that you feel the same.

You’ve always been so loving and supportive with the kids, from the moment he showed up at your front door with two pairs of wide and innocent eyes. It’s not every day that the four of you could act as a family and not sorcerers fighting to protect humanity. Satoru realizes this is something he wants to protect for a long, long time.

“What are you giggling at? It’s creepy…” Megumi says, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

“Oh, nothing…”

note: this was... a very fruitless fic... i'm sorry... i really do not want to go back to school and also it's very hot outside so i birthed this... also i might continue writing the beach moment but really i apologize for the lack of actual real and raw writing i usually do i am... Unwell and forgot what it was like to write!!!

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER 3

Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: really random smut. soz. not proofread! really random. definitely for the plot moment.

i hope you guys eat this up like you did with the teaser.

taglist at the bottom

It was nearing the end of the US tour, and honestly, my bones ached. We were all drained, even Jolly, who always kept a calm-ish composure, was antsy. It was our one day off, Matt dragged us to some shopping plaza. 

It was lowkey chill, just sitting in the food court talking about some post tour plans. I swear I saw a flash of red hair, it made me sit up a little straighter. But when I turned to look, there was nobody. God, I was so exhausted I was seeing shit now. Nick was chatting about how apparently a pretty girl moved in next door to the house he shared with his brother. About the time that kid got a girlfriend. 

Nicholas invited me to spend the break at his parents' ranch, which felt like home to me too—they were practically my second family. That was the bond Nicholas and I shared. Ruffilo had always been my best bud, Nick and Jolly coming in at a close second. I took Natasha there once, to meet my makeshift family. She didn’t show up. 

It was embarrassing on my behalf, I had boasted about her to Nicholas mom countless of times. She was excited for me, my career restricted my love life, yet there I was, hooking up with girls. 

I swear I saw her red hair again, the same red hair that we’d get into arguments about. Stupid arguments really, her hair kept staining my pillows, wondering how many other guys' pillows she stained. 

“Dude- are you even listening?” Matt leaned forward, waving his hand in my face. I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “I’m fucking wrecked.” I grumbled, taking a sip of the coke in front of me. Matt hummed, flicking through his work diary. “Got 6 months break, back on for 6 months, and off again.” I just nod, too exhausted to absorb any information. 

Back at the venue, I immediately seek refuge in between the grey sheets of my bunk, my mind a million words per minute. I fumbled with the cover of my notebook, scrambling down some notes. 

Why’s  this always gotta happen to me?

I should have known. 

I never fail to learn from mistakes, still throwing stones.

Blah blah blah….

I feel my focus fading away, i had high hopes

Running from the man I used to be, but I'm too slow. 

It was honestly the roughest of rough drafts, but I was itching to get back in the studio. Ideas were just piling up, emotions weaved within poem-like structures, they were all.. rough, and definitely needed fine tuning, but they were beginning to represent an album. 

Songwriting is not something that can be forced, it's an intricate, spread of emotion with an equally as unique and specific composition in the background. It was never good enough. Never, ever good enough. 

I had watched time and time again how the scrunched up failed drafts piled up, nothing ever feeling raw enough, or not too the fans liking. It didn’t help that Sumerian were so fucking picky on albums, or that ever since we released that song with poppy, we were obligated to tour with her. The rumours were digging my head in. 

Is this really what I want for my career? I ponder on that question too much. I should bring it up in therapy with Dr Tomson. Fuck. I was getting off track. Literally. Sumerian’s requirements for this album was a track that would hit the charts, and a minimum of 12 songs. Part of me regrets signing with them, but would I be this successful had I not? 

I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Matt had pointed that out when I woke up the next morning. I just hummed, brain on autopilot. “You know, we need an artist for the new album’s cover, considering booking times that's something we need to plan months in advance.” Matt spoke, flicking through his diary. Nick stood in the kitchen in grey sweats, brewing coffee. “I could find somebody,” he said, handing me a cup. 

I nodded, sitting on the bar stool. “Is Jolly up yet?” I asked, flicking through the pages of my notebook, briefly going over some of my rough, rough drafts. Nick shook his head, “Him and Nicholas got back late that night, something wrong with the wires and shit.” 

NEUTRAL POV

She was scribbling in her journal as the sun went down, propped up on her windowsill, once  again. Writing a poem about the bitterness and scars of her childhood, it always stuck out to her how Nevada was so quick to dance around what actually happened, yet she had no problem shouting it to the world. Whether it be from art, or journaling, it was easier to keep a manuscript, a direct display on what shaped her to be who she is today. 

It felt like all her knowledge and skills of painting were slipping through her fingers, but it hurt too much to resume again. Emotionally, and financially. Maybe this was just something she’d have to come to terms with, she couldn’t dwell on her past quite like this anymore, she wasn’t old enough to do that quite yet. 

��Let’s go out.” She said, her words rushed, standing in the doorway of Nevada's room. Nevada’s eyes were wide, she had begun to worry about her, and now she’s just popped up saying she wants to go out? 

Choose your battles I guess

Nevada and Y/n got ready together, something they used to do as rebellious teens. Good vibes and pregame drinks, music blasting through the house. All dolled up in sparkly dresses, with dawn the hype man, the two set off into the city. The city was illuminated with a series of advertisements and bustling nightclubs, everyone with the same objective; to get absolutely shit-faced. 

And so those two did, Dawn snuck Nevada away  to do.. stuff.. In the car, while she was grinding up against a particularly tall blonde boy. His voice was fuckin hot, like musky and sexy and every single adjective you could use to describe a man. And god, he smelt good, and his touch just made her melt. 

She hadn’t expected to run into her cousin and her husband, and his bandmates. But when she laid her eyes on that fine ass man standing- no. looming over the group of british boys. He introduced himself as Vessel, quite an uh- unique- name, but who was she to judge? She was horny, and there was a tall metal vocalist right in her grip. 

Everything about him was enticing, his defined, gorgeous abs, his absolute killers of canine teeth, and his voice. It made her unbelievably wet, she needed something. She’d gone without for so long, having thrown her vibrator out when she met noah. 

They snuck down the side alleyway, the booming stereo filtering through the constant revolving door around the corner. She was a fit of giggles as he hiked up her sparkly dress. Compliments rolling off his tongue, as he traced the curves of her ass. 

His fingers ran along the waistband of her panties, soft, dainty pink ones. “Yeah..? you want me to touch you?” She smiled up at him, her pearly whites making his jeans tighten. With a soft tug of the hips, she had her back to him as he fumbled with the button of his jeans. 

“Fuck… so wet.. already?” he groaned out, lining himself up. She let out a strangled moan as she sank down on his cock, overwhelmed at the size. Her fingers grasped around his wrists as he began to move, holding on for dear life. 

It was a quickie in a back alley way, but it didn’t stop the shame when she woke up in his bed the next morning. 

“I’m so fucking sorry oh my god my cousin is going to kill me-” she spouted off, pacing around this poor guys island bench. He sat at the barstool, eating bacon and eggs. 

“Stop stressing.” he huffed gruffly, a sleepy look on his face. 

“Dude- like.. Respectfully, youre a fucking stranger, i’m in your house, you’re in an anonymous band bro!!” She shouted, a little bit more than panicked. 

“It was a quickie, nothing more. We can be friends if you’re so worried about it.” he mumbled, eating his food. 

“Ugh…” she sat down on the barstool next to him, stealing his coffee cup. “So… what’s it like being a rockstar?” 

“Busy. Why do you ask?” he questioned, turning to face her. 

“Well… I dated- sorry, hooked up with a rockstar and never really asked him about it.” she shrugged, not caring if it was an overshare. 

“How come?’ he asked, a curious tone in his voice. 

“Didn’t necessarily stick around for me to ask. Was more of a ‘pump and dump’ guy.” she responded, toying with the keychains of her car keys.  

“Don’t ever say that again.” He cringed, resuming eating. “So why’d you hook up with him in the first place?” 

“He was hot.” 

“No shit Sherlock, other qualities.”

She sat for a moment, really questioning everything. Why. why, why? 

“He was carefree, wasn’t afraid to be himself, but was a bit afraid of commitment.” was the answer she scrounged up. He just hummed, “So who was it?”

She grimaced, awaiting this question. “I'd rather die than tell you because I think you guys at least have connections.”

“How’d you meet this douche anyways?” 

“I was studying art and design at a local uni, he was studying design briefly.” 

“You do graphic design?” Vessel asked, looking down at her quizzically. 

“Mostly art, but I want to turn it digital.” she responded, pulling out her phone to show him pictures. He studied each unique piece intricately, his face lighting up. A man who could appreciate real art. 

“How much would I have to pay you to design an album cover?” he asked, putting the phone down. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

 “What?” 

“I like your style, I'm offering you a chance to work with me.” he states bluntly, staring at her. “What the fu-” he cut her off, “we can get you head of the design team, i liked your work and i’m willing to pay however much.” 

“Don’t you have like.. bandmates to discuss this with?” 

“bandmate, others are tour personnel.” 

“Interesting- anyways, are you sure?” 

“Yes, Being on the design team also means you’re in charge of designing different things like merch, billboards and visuals. It sounds stressful, but the pay is good and you’ll have a chance to come on tour with us.” 

“Fuck man- take a girl out to dinner before telling her this” 

He chuckles, grabbing out a notepad. 

“I’ll write my details down, I can get you employed asap, if you want to do this.” 

“Do I have time?” she asked, rubbing her thighs anxiously. He nodded, Her phone rang and she fumbled to answer it, bringing the nearly dead phone to her ear. 

“Dude where the fuck are you-” 

It was her sister. 

“Hi, first off! I'm 23. I can be wherever I please, but can you please come pick me up?”

“Only you’d get a job opportunity out of hooking up with someone.” Nevada laughed, driving a ridiculously hungover Y/n home to their shared townhouse. “Hey- we are cool now! He’s a friend, and he said I could go on tour with him.” she retorts back.

“Are you trying to seek vengeance for noah?” Nevada asked, sipping shitty iced coffee. “Most definitely. That fucker thinks he can act like he didn’t tell me he loved me mid sex, he can suck it when im touring with his favourite band.” 

“Absolutely cold,” Nevada laughed, the hood was down of Dawn's convertible, the wind blowing through her wavy highlights. The air smelt of sea salt, the beach not being far from their house. She felt a little more free now, ultimately deciding to take up Vessel's offer, on both the album cover and design position. Although she would be leaving Nevada to manage the cafe on her own, Nevada knew she needed this. A push in the right direction, to make some new friends, and perhaps run into some old ones. 

Noahs POV 

Holy fucking shit maybe i wasn’t hallucinating. 

In the sea of fans you couldn’t miss her unmistakable red hair and plump lips. It seems as though she’s gotten even more botox from the last time he saw her. Why was she even here? What could she benefit from even being here? I had to peel my eyes away from her, trying to maintain the energy of the crowd. 

She was by herself, in a tight skirt and a bikini top. I saw her towards the back, but as I progressed through the store I noticed she was nowhere to be found. It was relieving and terrifying all at the same time.

We finished our set, sweat-drenched and exhausted, but riding the high of the music. Weaving between crew members, I entered the dressing room, boys in tow. 

“Hi” 

I jumped, turning around to face whoever was standing by the door. 

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, stepping back as she stood forward. “Natasha, how did you get through?” Jolly stated, stepping closer to her. “I’m just here to see noah!” she smiled, veneers on full display, a coy smile across her red lips. “I don’t want to see you,” I sneered, arms crossed. 

“Come onnn noah! Lighten up!” A smile flashing over her face, she stepped forward, reaching for me. An all too familiar feeling pooling in my stomach. 

“Don’t.” Jolly said firmly, stepping between us. Anger rippled through me, not wanting to swing on a woman. My palms were sweaty, why does she want to talk? Nicholas appeared at the door. “Hey do you guys want to go- what the fuck?” 

Natasha stood between us, twirling strands of red hair. Nick fumbled with his phone to contact security, visibly looking stressed, I shot a look at Nicholas. “You know, I really miss you, Noah bear.” She smiles, her annoying voice hanging heavy in the air. “What the fu- Tash you fuckin cheated on him?” Nick piped up, putting his phone in his back pocket. I cringe at the nickname, rubbing a hand over my face. The tension was palpable, silence echoing through the corridor.

“Get out of here..” I grumble, thoroughly embarrassed. Her face feigns offence, “Noah, we were made for eachother!” Nicholas tensed in the doorway, each member uncomfortable with the old yet new presence.  “Get the fuck out of here Natasha.” He calls out, leaning against the doorframe, a pure look of disdain displayed on his face. 

“Boo! You guys all suck. Noah bear loves me, and he’ll come visit me at the Inn tonight!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. Beaming with some profound pride. “I don’t fuckin like you-” “stop denying it my love!!” she shouted, in the same moment, security burst through the door, grabbing her elbow roughly. 

She wriggled and shouted at them, her body thrashing about, not keen on being forcefully escorted out. I just sighed loudly, embarrassed. My tired body collapses down onto the leather couch. The commotion catches the attention of a few crew members, specifically matt. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. 

 “I still think she’s a porn star.”

TAGLIST: @emluvsuxo @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @lma1986 @cheyyyyr @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996

The next chapters are so not going to make sense. pray for me.

[angelbitezzz]

Some writing under the cut

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Plus: Bonus

It was quiet now. Just the sounds of her peaceful breathing and the ambient rustling of the wind through the pine trees outside. The TV was muted, only on to give some light if the human was to wake up. Not that she was likely to—healing was an exhausting process, and apparently even more so to beings made of physical matter.

Sans leaned against the wall next to the television, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't moved in...oh, if he had to say, maybe 3 hours? He'd parked himself there once Asgore had deemed her no longer at risk of dusting—no, wait. Humans didn't do that, did they?

He was learning a lot about humans today.

For one—the blood.

Comics didn't do it justice. Most of what washed up down here was kid stuff, tagged with that old "Approved by the Comics Code Authority" nonsense that he was beginning to suspect was just straight up censorship. Of course on a factual level he'd known that humans had blood; he wasn't stupid, he'd skimmed waterlogged science textbooks with interest.

Did you know that humans have nearly five liters of blood in them? If they lose about 40% of that, they're dead. That's about 2 liters, give or take. It's so little blood. Just 3 liters makes a gallon. Humans were walking around with just above a gallon of blood inside them, sloshing all over the place.

It's heavy, too. Well—humans were heavy in a way that most monsters couldn't be. They were just stuff, collected together in a bag of skin and liquids. Angel weight approximately 150 pounds, if he had to guess. Limp, it felt like more.

His hands tightened on his arms, bones digging into soft fabric. Dried blood flaked off a dark stain along his chest and right arm, just where his left hand rested. It was uncomfortable. He didn't move his hand.

Could Sans even describe that unique, awful, stomach-churning feeling of sheer nausea at the memory of feeling it seep into his clothes? His mind went back to the first drop, that single, perfect, ruby red drop that'd plopped down onto his white glove and soaked into it. Like a blooming rose.

He felt a fullbody shiver pass through him, rattling in the air softly, too quiet to disturb her rest.

...Why couldn't he stop focusing on it?

His gloves were in the trash now. He couldn't bring himself to take off the jacket, though, regardless of the blood dried on the fabric.

Blood was dark when the cells within died. Brown didn't go well with blue. He really should go wash it. But then, the blood hadn't washed off the gloves. So where did that leave him?

Pupils tracked where the drop had fallen from, sliding up along a tree trunk until it landed on the dark figure overhead, hung over a particularly thick branch. A hand hung down, fresh red drip drip dripping. The faint purple glow of her headset was the only reason he even realized who it was, as hidden in the leaves as she was.

It was a blur. He reacted without even really thinking of it, reaching up and grabbing onto her soul with his magic, pulling her down almost too harshly. It prompted a breathless whine of pain from the nearly unconscious human, his brother gasping next to him as she slumped down into Sans's waiting arms.

"SHE'S...IS SHE...?"

Home again, no time to speculate. Her HP was low. It was dropping. He CHECKED and found it steadily beeping down, sending electric panic down his spine. More blurs. Pawing at purple clothes, assessing the damage, an awful wound that would've made him lose his lunch if he'd had the stomach to do so. The smell strong and iron, mixed with the fragrant perfume of the trees she'd been caught in. Bandaging her with Papyrus's help, watching in despair as she bled through and began steadily staining an old shirt of his, a bead of blood sliding down the side of her face from her nose and swiftly drying, sticky red on brown skin still dark from the sun. Fuck. Fuck.

Nauseated, he flicked his gaze back to her face on the couch. She was sleeping peacefully. Her features were soft and relaxed, open, no pain present. Not like earlier, when she'd been unconscious and clearly in so much pain that she couldn't help but react even while down for the count, crying and moaning while they'd tried to fix her up. The flickering TV cast ghoulish blue light on her face, an arm slipping out of the blankets and flopping limp downward.

He needed to know more. More about human bodies. He needed to make sure this couldn't happen again. He'd half a mind to wake her up and force her to quit their endeavor altogether, if not for Asgore's insistence that she gets rest.

Was her chest rising with her breath? Was it?

Struck with a sudden, uncharacteristic paranoia, he pushed off from the wall and approached on silent feet. He reached and pressed a hand to her chest over the blanket.

A steady rise and fall. The vibrations softly reverberated through his bones, easing the tension that had coiled in his shoulders. He felt stupid. He kneeled and gently took her fallen arm, raising it to tuck it into the blanket again only to stop, digits still pressed against her wrist.

"her heart," he thinks. "of course."

A soft flutter beat against his fingertips. Like he'd caught a butterfly in his hands. But this...was in her arm, or rather, her wrist. Small, insistent. Steady. Warm.

Sans really should tuck her arm back under the blanket. He should. He doesn't. He raised it somewhat and adjusted his grip, tilting his head as he focused on that feeling. He shut his eyesockets, letting the rhythm drum against his fingers and beat the fear out of his body. He'd never actually touched her skin before, had he? Always wearing those gloves. In his panic, earlier, he'd never registered how warm she was. The warm pulse of her heart was all he could focus on now.

"It's okay. I'm okay."

Her words earlier had been so insistent. She'd been so concerned about Papyrus's reaction to her near death that she's jumped to soothing him rather than focus on her own injury. Was it that she knew her magic would hold out? Or had it only been for his brother's benefit?

He wondered how often she'd had to try and push away the pain to reassure someone else.

He put her arm back under the covers and adjusted her make-shift pillow, the blue cape folded in on itself until it resembled the bed-sheet it used to be. Then he stood and stepped away, his body disappearing into the shadows before she could stir at the disturbance.

She would be fine.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I thought about Huebei and thought of a couple of really cute ideas.

First and foremost, I can see archeology and paleantology being a special interest of hers even going into her adulthood. Girl wants to work on archeology dig sites and stuff and loves the museum. In Soft Boiled Wukong asks MK to help him out by taking her to a trip to a museum while he and the rest of the Noodle Gang set up a surprise party for her on the island the first time her birthday comes up after the monkey family met the group.

Second... and I don't really know WHY, but I can see her being a dancer. Maybe a ribbon dancer or something, but I think of her dancing gracefully as her tall, lanky teenage self and as her buffer adult self and think,'Yeah, that fits.' I can only assume it's the bit of Macaque's dad's influence that she likes performing. Goodness knows she didn't get it from Wukong! Although he can be just as artistic too and as someone who is artistic from an artistic family, I find that if an inheritance trait, even if my style of art is completely different from my siblings' preferred media. We all joke I'm the only one who can draw even tho all the rest of them can play music, something I frankly am terrible at no matter how much I practice altho that could be the stage fright speaking

Third, I can totally see her and Red being inseparable as babies. They were born not far apart in age and basically have similar powers to each other, whenever Uwkong needed a break he'd go to DBK for babysitting and vice versa up until their falling out and Wukong being forced to seal DBK away. It's for this reason I imagine she would like to sneak out to Uncle Bull's resting place just to be near him again. She knows her dad didn't really have a choice, but she misses Uncle Bull and Red. She makes sure Red never sees her or knows she's there when the Bull Family visit.

The first thing Wukong teaches her, besides how to control her lazer eyes, is the transformations. This was a bit of a necessity since, during the journey and shortly afterwards, Wukong would find himself in a situation where demons and celestials of all walks in life would try to sneak onto the island to search him and his cub out. While most were just curious, a few beings did not mean them well, but luckily for Wukong, they only ever searched for a monkey and his baby... they never searched for a sparrow or a tiger. Fresh from the Journey, visitors were the last things Wukong wanted to deal with!

Yuebei quickly starts to see MK as a sort of big brother figure, in spite if her jealousy that he of all beings got picked to be her father's heir and not her. It didn't matter to her that she had explicitly told her father once she never wanted to follow in his footsteps, that staff is her BIRTHRIGHT! Even so, the first time MK got hurt in front of her (Calabash episode actually) she near lost her shit.

Haha! I do love having Yuebei be interested in bone-based sciences due to her literary association with bones. She was def a "dinosaur-kid" who would run up and down beaches, digging up little shell fossils to bring home and show to her baba. Wukong isn't 100% sure what a trilobite is, but his cub is super excited to explain them to him when she found a weird fossilized pillbug. Wukong just loves that his babygirl has such a passionate interest in the world.

As Yuebei gets older, she goes through phases of hyperfixating on different archaeological eras and cultures. As someone who has an ornament cabinet full of Egyptian god statues from one such phase, I can imagine a few sections of the Stone Palace treasury has been organized so Yuebei can display her interests.

I can imagine (even pre-series) Tang running into Yuebei at the museum, the little glamoured demon just fascinated by a display/diorama on Tang-era trade routes. The scholar thinks its the cutest thing ever! The two become sort of nerd buddies once Yuebei warms up to the Noodle Gang.

And ooo ribbon dancer Yuebei!!

I have watched some performances, and many of the dancers are buff af.

I can see Wukong struggling to find a creative or physical outlet his daughter would enjoy, only to turn around to find the cub dancing with a stray phoenix feather. He sighs, knowing that the theatrical spirit of Macaque has lived on in some way. Heavens know Yuebei is far more confident on stage than Wukong will ever be!

Yuebei and Red Son were def tight as cousins well up until Bull got imprisoned, and they still have an "older sibling, younger sister" relationship in the modern day. PIF and Red never held Wukong's actions against his child, and if the little rebel liked to visit her auntie and cousin without her baba's permission, then they would accommodate her.

I love the idea of Wukong training his daughter some key powers, like the transformations. Yuebei's different transformations tend to be dark furred/scaled/feathered with little red-orange flecks. Almost like a certain Macaque's... one thing she has trouble changing is the age of the animal she turns into. She's almost always a juvenile of the species no matter how hard she tries.

Yuebei, showing off: "Watch this! I can turn into a tiger!" MK, excited: "Sweet!" Yuebei: (*transforms into a tiger cub*) MK, wondering if that was intentional: "Umm..." Yuebei, furious: "Not. A. Word."

And ofc the baby girl had a problem with her lazer eyes shooting off whenever she had a tantrum - so Wukong had to devise a way to help her control those early on. Welding goggles and sunglasses help a lot on his end, but Guanyin also helped teach younger Yuebei meditation techniques so she could calm down in the moment and avoid triggering a shot.

In the end, even if Yuebei naturally developed a lot of her baba's powers, she sort of resents that MK was chosen as his successor and not her. But she also *knows* it killed her baba to give the Nüwa-made cub up to give him a "normal" life. A life that she couldn't have...

She wants MK to realise his responsibility and not waste it. But also wants to be a kid like he does. The two have to work together to make a balance.

[kaminokatie]

Order 66 Part Two || Captain Rex

Synopsis - You can't hold back your feelings for Rex anymore, regardless of what happened on the Jedi Cruiser during Order 66.

Warnings - NSFW.

Word Count - 1.4k.

{Part One Here}

{Caffeinate Me}

What had happened to you on the Jedi Cruiser hadn’t been spoken about; neither you nor Rex could bear to bring it up. Rex felt incredibly guilty despite your reassurance and you, well, it wasn’t something you wanted to exactly re-live.  

Ahsoka had gone her own way while Rex had vowed to save more of his brothers. You knew you probably should have gone with Ahsoka, but your heart belonged to Rex… You couldn’t leave him. You were currently hiding out in an abandoned house in the middle of a forest while Rex made a plan, an extremely detailed and thorough plan.  

You looked around the dilapidating home until your eyes fixated on Rex who was, as usual, looking distressed. You stood up and made your way to his side. “Rex,” you whispered, placing your hand on his armoured shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

His helmet rested on the table in front of him, leaving his face uncovered for you to see the emotion hiding beneath his eyes. Yet despite this, he still tried to lie to you. “I’m fine,” was all he said. 

“You’re not fine,” you mumbled, wedging yourself between him and the table to gain his full undivided attention. 

Rex let out a big sigh and looked into your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You smiled at him, clearly confused. “What’re you sorry for?” 

“You know exactly what I’m sorry for,” he sighed again. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at him and bit your bottom lip. “Rex…” You mumbled. You pulled him into a bone crushing hug, your cheek pressed up against his plastoid armour plating. 

“Don’t do that,” Rex growled lightly. 

“Don’t do what?” You asked, pulling away from him assuming he meant the hug. 

“Don’t pretend that what happened was okay,” his reply was shaky. “I hurt you Y/N, in a way I should protect you from!” 

You could see he was getting frustrated, anger in his eyes as he thought back to what he had done. “I assume very few clones were immune to order 66,” you tried to comfort him, but weren’t exactly sure how. 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better Y/N, and you know it.” You shook your head and stood on your tiptoes, trying your best to press your forehead against his comfortingly. “What are you doing?” 

“What I should have done when we left that stupid cruiser,” you mumbled before pressing your lips to his softly. After a few seconds you pulled away, nervous to see the Clone Captain’s reaction, however you didn’t get a good look at his face as he pulled you back, kissing you passionately. Rex’s hands settled on your hips, nails digging into the fabric of your Jedi robes as he deepened the kiss. Without hesitation you kissed back, biting down on his bottom lip as you jumped up, sitting on the table behind you. You opened your legs, letting Rex settle between them as the kiss intensified. “Oh Rex,” you mumbled between his lips, hand reaching down to remove his codpiece, feeling his hardening cock against his blacks. 

“Y/N…” He whispered, pulling away from your lips and looking down at you whilst breathing heavily. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Why not?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“I can’t forget what I did,” Rex whispered, his eyes purposefully looking away from you. Your hands skillfully removed the rest of his armour as Rex breathed deeply, hitching slightly as you pulled down his blacks to his knees and finally freeing his cock. His tip was swollen and red, pre-cum dripping from his slit but still Rex didn’t look at you. You jumped off the table and got to your knees, sitting up and taking the head of his cock into your mouth, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum on your tongue. Rex shivered, eyes finally casting down to you as a hand made its way to your hair, pushing your face further onto him. His cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly and Rex immediately pulled you off of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “don’t be,” you said before finding his cock once more with your mouth. You licked the underside of his shaft, before taking him in again fully. You gagged again, but expertly continued your movements as you bobbed your head along his length, tongue poking out to wrap around his head. Another one of Rex’s hands fell to your hair, both of them now placed on the back of your head, somewhat guiding your movements.

After a few more moments of you essentially deepthroating him, Rex pulled out of your mouth with a silent pop and looked at you with wide eyes. “I was so close,” he mumbled before looking away, slight embarrassment on his face. 

“That’s okay,” you smiled, wiping the drool from the corners of your mouth. You stood up slowly, peeling your Jedi robes off and getting completely naked for your Captain. When your clothes were in a pile by your feet, you jumped back onto the table and lay down so you were flat on your back. Spreading your legs, you exposed your dripping cunt to Rex who’s eyes were now trained on you with a hunger you hadn’t seen since that day. “Please Rex,” you begged, voice clearly pleading. You cupped your breasts and played with your puckering nipples before trailing a hand down to your clit. Your fingers strummed at the sensitive bundle of nerves before Rex viciously pulled your hand away. 

You looked up at him confused until you felt his tip poking at your entrance. You nodded and Rex nodded back to you before slowly slipping inside of you. You both moaned loudly and Rex let his body collapse onto yours. His arms wrapped around your waist as his hips began to snap against yours gently, lovingly. Rex kissed your bare neck, breathing heavily against the crook as he tried to pace himself. He almost forgot how good you had felt. You wrapped your legs around Rex’s waist, forcing his cock inside of you at a deeper angle making you squirm slightly. 

He pulled your body closer against his as his pace sped up, hips driving desperately into you. “Kriff,” he hissed, biting at the soft skin of your flesh on your neck to quieten the intensity of his moans. 

Your back arched lightly as he hit that spongy spot inside, drilling into you now at a pace you didn’t even think was possible. “Rex!” You cried out, nails dragging down his back. “I’m gonna cum!” 

“Cum for me baby,” Rex growled, teeth pulling at your neck and sending you over the edge. Your entire body lit up with pleasure as your legs went slack around his waist. Your clit was throbbing from the sheer force of your orgasm and beads of sweat were dripping down your temple. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Rex spluttered as his hips stuttered against yours. Thick ropes of cum erupted from his slit and deep inside of you as he continued to fuck into you. “Take it all baby. Please,” he begged, his hips finally stilling against you. You nodded, breathing heavily. “I love you. I love you so much,” he blurted out. 

Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat at his confession, but you were quick to reciprocate the feeling. “I love you too Rex.” He pulled away from your neck to press a chaste kiss to your lips, cock sliding out of you slowly. “I always have.” 

“Same here,” he whispered against your lips. Rex’s hands slid from around your waist and came to cup your face. “You should get some rest. I still have a lot of planning to do.” 

“I don’t want to sleep without you,” you grumbled, watching as Rex stood up and pulled his blacks back up his toned body. 

“How about I cuddle you until you fall asleep?” Rex suggested. Your eyes lit up and you smiled wildly, nodding excitedly. “Come on then,” he chuckled. 

“Let me get dressed first,” you smiled, picking your clothes up off the floor and quickly dressing yourself.

You followed Rex into the bedroom and climbed into the abandoned bed together. He was quick to place your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was quick to lull you into a restful slumber, being in his arms just felt so right. “Goodnight, my sweet Jedi,” Rex whispered as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

i'm working on a new project that is (for once) not connected to any of my bigger original universes, so i thought i'd share some of the writing i have for it! taglist down below, feel free to take this opportunity to share your own wips (in a separate post of course) if you have any!! the first part is a sort of introduction to the story, from the perspective of main character marshall! the second part is a snippet from a scene much further into the story, to kind of paint a picture (for both you and myself lol) of what the setting and the tone of the story is gonna be like. it's a bit different writing than what you're used to from me so please take a moment to read the warnings first!! warnings >> blood, cult, death, implied cannibalism, gore, religion, violence

God won't speak to me.

He spoke to my sister when we were eleven, her howls echoing through the backyard of our childhood home as the venom of a wasp spread quickly through her veins.

He spoke to my mother the day we buried her oldest son, the hem of her alcohol-stained dress torn where it had caught on the thorns of a blackberry bush she had blankly passed through.

He spoke to my father the day he put the barrel of a .44 in his mouth, reenacting what he had classified a sin for all the wrong reasons, his trembling finger on the trigger strong enough to rip apart the last tendon holding our family together yet not to finish the job.

I was eighteen, when I was found on the river bank near Overture, Louisiana, the sharp end of a jagged knife plunged deep within my side and my bloodied hands clutching the cross necklace of my brother, my breathing akin to the ice cold shallow water grazing at my ankles as I stared up at the star-spotted sky with glazed over eyes, blue chapped lips shaped in the final hum of a prayer.

A black abyss stared back, a strained vacuum without comfort, leaving me with a plea unheard and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

And God did not answer.

'Gotta dig… Just gotta dig. Gotta get 'em out of there… Gotta take 'em home…'

The physical distance between Marshall and the grave did not muffle the continuous mumbling, the shaky voice of the young priest clear as day like a whisper directly in his ear as the eerie silence looming over the church's cemetery left him with not much else to focus on. He knew he should turn around and leave, at that hour of the night— get back in his car and return to Posey in the motel, get some sleep while he still could— yet curiosity held him tight within its grasp, and each step he took pushed him closer into the wrong direction.

'Just the bones… Just the bones…'

The man was hunched over, back turned towards Marshall and partially obscured by the few last rows of gravestones stood between the two of them. His neck twitched— a sudden and unexpected movement at an angle Marshall did not hold for possible, yet it had happened entirely too fast for him to clearly see.

'Hey, is everything alright?' he called out; well against his better judgment, hairs on his forearms standing up straight as his feet carried him another few inches closer to the priest.

And the closer he got, the more he wished he had listened to himself.

If he had just turned away, he wouldn't have had to notice the unusual and unplaceable noises bubbling up from the priest's direction. He wouldn't have had to realize the priest was sat next to a coffin, yet to be lowered into an undug grave. (A curious practice, but Marshall was not one to judge— Overture'd had to endure a rather tiresome series of curiosities as of late, and an unburied corpse in the middle of bumfuck Louisiana in the midst of a yet to be explained power cut would be the least of its problems.)

'Just the bones…. Gotta dig… Gotta bring 'em home.'

'Do you need help?' Marshall persistently asked, his voice muffled by the thrumming of his own heart in his eardrums while his eyes trailed over the coffin— splintered and shattered at the lid, the glimmer of the distant church lights barely enough to reveal the outline of an axe resting on the dirt at the priest's ankles.

'Have to do it, there's no other way. Gotta dig, gotta dig, gotta dig—'

'Hey!'

Marshall should have never stayed in town.

He realized that now, as the priest's obsessive muttering came to a sudden stop forcing Marshall to hold still too— yet he had already approached too closely, and realized that no dirt had been dug in at all, and realized that the priest's hands were instead stuck inside the coffin repeatedly plunging deeper and deeper into the rotting remains of the corpse inside, once white vestment covered in blood and gore and he stared up at Marshall with a faint glow in two milky white eyes and with a wide grin exposing bloodied and shattered teeth, much akin to a predator looking at its next prey.

'Just the bones,' he repeated, the nodding of his head nearly belittling— as if to convince Marshall this was how it was supposed to be, as if to convince him the Word of God was not to be neglected and his fate as a sinner was a gift to the Divine Light and as if to convince him as long as he would not struggle it would all be over soon.

'Gotta dig.'

Marshall could not move, lamb to the slaughter as the priest rose to his feet with the axe in his hand.

'Just the bones! Gotta take 'em home.'

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel

[dark-elf-writes]

I just woke up from a very short dream where Konoha was peaceful after Naruto took over and as kakashi got older and the fighting stayed inactive, he noticed his stomach get a bit of squish to it. Just him poking his stomach in front of the mirror and realizing he doesn’t have like washboard abs for the first time since he was capable of developing muscle mass. And finally realizing the peace will last. Has lasted. That he hasn’t been sent to kill for years now and won’t be ever again.

THANK YOU UNCONSCIOUS BRAIN! That was a magnificent idea.

Kakashi doesn’t really notice it at first, how could he when he’s making sure his former student settles into his new role and staying close by just in case he needs help or advice or anything really. Not that he looks like he’s hovering, sprawled out over a couch Naruto had moved into the Hokage office and pretending to read as he listened for any threat. Shikamaru rolls his eyes whenever he sees him. Naruto never kicks him out though. He does, however keep pushing water and tea and food into Kakashi’s hands, griping about him not being allowed to starve himself in his office.

Everyone seems to be pushing food on him, he realizes later. Guy dragging Kakashi out for dinner, Sakura bringing two bentos when she stops by for her weekly bitching session report with him and Naruto, Anko giving him a stick of dango as she bemoans her eyes being bigger than her stomach. Shikamaru keeps pushing water and tea at him as well as Naruto. Says something about how both of them would drop dead of dehydration if he wasn’t there. While that was probably true Kakashi preferred to believe the Nara was slowly trying to drown them one glass of water at a time.

He doesn’t notice until Pakkun points it out one morning as he walks around his house without a shirt (without a mask. When did he start feeling comfortable with his face uncovered even in his own home?)

“You look better with more meat on your bones. Less like you’re going to die if you miss a damn meal.” Kakashi blinked, looking down at himself and poking at the soft skin of his stomach.

There was still muscle there of course. He would never stop training even if peace lasted until the day he died but…

He looked more like Guy now he realized, just as strong but without the definition. He thought he liked it. Liked not being able to see the clear cuts between his muscles. Liked looking a bit softer. Still,

“Maa, are you telling me to go on a diet, Pakkun?”

The ninken bares his teeth at him, waiting for him to settle onto the couch (an exact copy of the one in naruto’s office. a gift from Sasuke with a deadpan expression and humor glinting in his eyes) before jumping up to lay on his stomach, making sure his paws dig in just a bit to hard to prove his point.

“No. You’re far more comfortable now.”

Kakashi hums as Pakkun settles down for a nap and decides that the village wouldn’t fall if he took a day off from lurking around his student’s office before settling back into the cushions to join him.

[small-sinclair]

Can you do a Dogs of Ambrose?

Dogs of Ambrose

Jonesy. You know her. You love her. The Sinclair Brothers worship her. She is the pack leader and the mayor of this town. If she doesn’t like the dog that comes to town or is attacked by another dog, the Sinclairs will get rid of it. No questions asked.

Indiana Bones (Indy). He’s a brown and white pit bull with the biggest heart ever! Vincent and Lester came up with that name and Bo loves it! He loves digging and digging and digging and digging and digging. He comes home with bones like deer bones and skulls. Indy and Jonesy are married.

Bo-utiful. She’s a white and black hound dog that sits in Bo’s shop. She hangs out with Bo all day either by playing, sleeping, or just being there with him. She’s the sweetest doggie ever.

Beaver. This light brown lab-German Shepard mix was found by Lester while he was beaver hunting up north. He decided to bring him home after Beaver jumped into his truck and barked at him.

Peach. She’s brown, grey, and black mut that always brings a smile to anyone. Bo’s having a bad day? She’ll do a little dance. Vincent is sad? She gets him to smile. Lester having a bad day? She’ll run and bring the biggest stick every! A tourist taking their last breaths and scared? She’ll lay next to them and put her head on their chest, staying until the heartbeat fades.

Sunny. He’s a sweet little golden retriever that Lester found in the kill pit. Shy at first but will love you until the end. Will steal your food.

Alaska. She’s a red husky that Vincent adopted after he killed her owner for tying it outside in the heat (it was 102 that day). He takes her on walks and lets her sleep next to him between Jonesy and him.

Canon. Just as the name implies, he’s a canon. He’s Bo’s hunting beagle, and he’s good at bird and gator hunting. He runs fast, kills fast, and eats fast. Play fetch with him! He loves it!

Pepper Flaks. Vicncent’s not a fan of little dogs, but this grey and gold Chihuahua won his heart after she did a little dance. Her favorite food is pepper jack cheese, grilled green pepper, red peppers, bell peppers, pepper flacks— if it has peppers in it, she’ll eat it.

Cyclone. The oldest sausage dog you’ll ever see. He’s been alive longer than the twins, so that should say something. He hardly walks or moves around, but moves just enough to show he’s alive. Survived 3 heart attacks, a broken rib, 4 coyote fights (he’s won all 4), and has killed snakes. His back legs don’t work, going blind, and he can’t hear well, but he’s a happy boy, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t outlive the Sinclairs. 

Bluey. She’s a blue and grey puppy heeler :3 . Lester found her and is forever happy with this little girl. She loves going on adventures with her sister and hanging out with Jonesy.

Bingo. She’s a golden and orange heeler. She is sisters to Bluey. She loves running in circles and “singing” with Indy.

Now, the strangeness of the 3 Black German Shepherds and how they were found:

Demon. This one-eye black German Shepard is silent and scares everyone. Vincent found him curled in the back of the church under a destroyed cross, sleeping under the Virgin Mary statue. He stays near Vincent most of the time and attacks victims if they fight Vincent. (If you squint real hard, the dog looks like Vincent.) No one knows where he came from or how he got into the locked church.

Devil. Looks exactly like Demon, but has all of its eyes. He’s loud and friend, but don’t get him mad or in a corner; he will bite. Bo took him in as his own. Devil walks along side Bo and only answers to him and no one else. (If you squint, Bo and him are the same). Again, no one knows how or when these pups got in the church or how the cross got burned. But does anyone know why the Virgin Mary statue had water coming from her eyes?

Saint. A black German Shepherd with a little white cross on his head. Lester found her on the same day when Demon and Devil were found, but Lester didn’t know about it. He learned about them when he brought Saint over a day after. Lester woke up, made coffee, and and looked in his living room. Underneath the ram skull on his wall, Saint laid asleep. The doors were locked and there was no way Saint could’ve just came in. Saint is the sweetest, happiest, cutes puppy every! He loves people and being around Lester. Enjoys the roadkill pit, too.

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟[NSFW] ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ — wanshi x reader [PGR]

all we do is think about the feelings that we hide

a.n. - halsey thanks for this beautiful song (titled "drive" too), you gave me too much inspo and I love it. also I ended up listening to the whole Badlands album as I write this down lmao also here's to hoping we get an s wanshi soon!

pairing - wanshi x f!doctor

words - 3,476

warnings - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MAJOR SMUT AHEAD: thigh riding, penetration, degradation (mentions of whore, slut), orgasm denial, creampie??. mean!dom!wanshi x sub!bratty reader. bratty reader because hehe. also a little exhibitionism down there. STRONG USE OF MATURE LANGUAGE. friends with benefits au! doesn't seem like this thing has plot kek just purely smut, I swear.

Anger has a vice grip on your throat.

Clawing and clamoring at the apex of your tongue, teeth gritting hard to prevent the profanity from spewing on your lips. Your shoulders shake as the events of earlier replay in your mind, fingers curled into fists that you feel your nails digging into the palm of your hand — it's raw; how anger bubbles like a pan full of boiling water, and you want to throw it away viciously into the source of your miseries.

Fuck the autonomy. Fuck the anarchy of your workplace. Fuck the Star of Life.

You wanted nothing more than to let the anger run wild and hope it won't make a home out of your hollowed out chest.

Fortunately for you, the ride you've been waiting for has finally arrived.

The clanking of your heels reverberates throughout the hall as you walk to your transport, but you no longer care if someone watches. Flinging the car door open, you throw yourself onto the chair, slamming the door shut. Your anger doesn't sizzle out, instead, it flares up the moment you catch a glimpse of silver hair in your peripheral vision.

“So angry today,” he chuckles, with a deep voice laced with grogginess, “where to, Princess?”

“Anywhere.” You flat out spoke, not bothering to hide the annoyance in the way you speak, “Just drive.”

He doesn't say a word; instead, he fiddles with the keys, the engine revving back to life. Staring outside the moving car, you find yourself swimming, bathing in the city lights of Babylonia's nightlife.

It stays that way: the occasional sound of the wheels passing through asphalt and concrete, his stepping on the accelerator, and the music of the Golden Age on his dashboard. You've long put on your seatbelt but twiddle the strap absentmindedly. You look away from the front, his gaze is on you. Your hands hold themselves into fists, his left on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift. It doesn't quell the anger in your bones, it only feels too familiar. A routine, if you must.

“You must have done something.” His usual sleepy voice is unlike when he's serious and focused. It's a voice that brings a shiver to your spine.

“I haven't.” You huffed, “This is none of your business.”

“Said the girl who called for me to pick her up.” You don't miss the taunting smile tugging his lips, “You're a walking contradiction.”

“Wanshi.” The name goes as an echo in your head, as a shiver down there, “Did I not tell you to shut up?”

“Then, you shouldn't have called for me.” His voice is sharp enough to cut through silence.

It agitates you. The feelings resurface — anger, frustration, indignation — all crashing into something horribly beautiful, something that claws from the back of your throat to the inside of your thighs (you cross them together now, Wanshi doesn't turn a blind eye to it). Your anger resigns for a short while; your hand reaches and wraps itself on the hand on the stick shift, grasping and desperate to show who's boss.

“Drive,” you muttered, “Keep driving until I say so.”

Sooner or later, the scenery turns into something you're familiar with. It doesn't take long; the humming of the engine, the tale-tell sign of the starry night lulling into midnight, the ocean waves crashing onto the shore, the throbbing of your core aching and aching.

You hear the chair creak. You look away from the ocean. You look at the man instead.

Silver hair, refined jaw, pale face. He reclines himself on the back of the car door, legs spread out up to your thighs. He stares back at you, amber eyes illuminated with an emotion you've long recognized since you both established this contract.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He whispered, “Use me as you like.”

It makes you rethink the contract.

But you're here anyways: straddling his thighs, your legs clenching on it as if your dear life depends on it, hands clawing on his hips. The medical gown you wore is now slung lazily on your chair, the first two buttons on your uniform already open as your cleavage is shown in all its glory, your teeth biting down on the hem of your skirt. You've long discarded your underwear (it's in his pockets, you're somehow aware), and you're desperately humping on Wanshi's thighs.

Whines of frustration escape your quivering lips, the anger in your bones twisting and turning, wanting to be transformed into pure pleasure. But such pleas fall deaf on Wanshi's ears, as his attention is elsewhere but you.

“Wanshi,” your call becomes a whimper, much to your chagrin, “Pay attention to me.”

“You think you deserve it?” He chuckles, amber eyes focused on the book he held, “After being such a brat? Is that how I should be treated?”

“You- ngh,” your pussy flinches, as it catches a part of his pants that deliciously rubbed your neglected clit, “I-I wasn't...”

“Work hard for it, doctor.” His teasing makes your hole quiver once more, the title somehow causing you to be more embarrassed with what you're doing with a man like him.

You've long noticed the tent in his pants, twitching whenever you cried out. Trying to relieve from its restraints, you slowly rubbed it, the outline surpassing the length of your fingers, leather wet from the constraints held somewhere inside-

Wanshi flicks away your hand. Amber eyes stare at you, to which you glare back.

“Fuck you.”

“I will, when you stop being a brat.”

Your ego, unfortunately, doesn't bow down to such a request. You want it raw - the thrill of sex sending your mind into overdrive, the grasps of hands you'd lose sensation from holding on too much. And so, you continue to grind on his thighs, wherever the mere journey of your escapade ends.

You look at him once more — Wanshi. BPE-47. Support-type construct. You've always known him as a reliable healer, for both humans and constructs. After all, he's been a revered war hero and nurse, someone who could keep everyone around him alive. But why is it now, he who made this contract with you, making you choke in the loss of pleasure? You don't even remember the details as to when you've both made this arrangement. All you want right now is just to be fucked full by him and him alone.

“Mm?” Wanshi's eyes flickered at you, and it made your heart skip a beat, “That's new. Did you only call me just so you can do this?”

“No.” You hurriedly said, the pleasure starting to seep into you, wetness coating a patch in his pants, “I...I was just thinking.”

“Say it, then.” He lowers the book in his hand, eyes now attentively looking at your every move, “I don't have all night.”

“I-I had to do 4 operations in two straight days.” You began, gritting your teeth, the reminiscent anger poking you incessantly, “The nurses were bitches throughout the operation.”

A hand crawls ever so slowly to your thighs. He rubs slow and languid circles, tracing up to the outline of your skirt. “Mm, then?”

“I told...I told them to be more attentive or the patient would deviate,” you see his hand caressing outside your uniform, twiddling the bottom buttons, and you swallowed, “but, ah- they didn't listen...”

He's opening the first button. With his amber eyes, he threatens to stop if you stopped talking. And so, you continue, “The-The doctors were assholes as well.”

You want more, the anger subsiding into something you've craved for: pleasure. He's being attentive, finally. The book was already discarded to the dashboard of the car, two of his hands unbuttoning your uniform agonizingly slow (his fingers would slip through, your torso shivering at his every touch). Although you've been talking about your shitty experiences at the Star of Life, they've become a mindless babble to you, mind occupied with the way his hands were exploring the expanse of your exposed skin as the last button is finally opened. Wanshi drags his fingers over your stomach, your sides, your hips- his fingers trail to your back, unhooks your bra fast, like how he has been doing for a long, long while now, hands now cupping your breasts, touching everywhere else there but the two neglected nubs.

“That's it?” His movements halt, causing you to whine, but his hands are still holding your chest, “Over trivial matters?”

You don't remember it being trivial. Ah, maybe it is, now that he's touching you, now that you're too hell-bent on wanting his touch for you. Wanshi looks at you, a free hand reaching out to your chin. His thumb rubs the outline of your lips, carefully staring at your contorting expression. He's always done this before- watching you as if memorizing your every move. Without a warning, he slips his thumb past your lips, toying with your tongue. Your hips stutter at the intrusion, as he squeezes your chest.

“You know, I never got to tell you this, you may look pretty when you're talking about your problems at work.” He glances at your lips taking in his thumb, before looking up at your irises, voice dropping an octave lower. “But you always look prettier when you're silent and sucking on something else.”

He matches the thrust of his fingers in your mouth to your hips. Pleasure rebuilds itself as knots in your stomach, his hands and mouth aiding as he latches on one mound, his other free hand fondling your other breast. It drives you wild and wilder, waiting for the right time to come, with or without his permission.

Yet, before you could, the sound of an engine draws closer, closer to where Wanshi had parked the car. Fear intertwines your sense of pleasure, pussy violently clenching around nothing, as your hips falter with irregular movements. Wanshi noticed it long before you, so before you could surrender yourself to the pleasure, he pulls himself away.

A regretful moan escapes your mouth, the telltale sign of the ruined orgasm causing the anger in your muscles to reignite. “What the hell-”

“I didn't tell you to cum yet.” He looks behind to see another car parked beside him. “Tsk, a shame.”

He says so, but he pulls you closer. It catches you off-guard, moaning out his name as you feel the friction of his bulge under your soaking pussy. “Do you want to be caught like this, doctor? Would you like to be known that an esteemed doctor of the Star of Life is moaning like a cheap whore inside this car?”

Your cunt throbs at his words. Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, as you cover your mouth. Your face rests on his shoulder, eyes trailing as you recognize the car next to you. Two people step out, wearing the same lab gown you have, but you couldn't recognize the faces. Effortlessly lifting you up, he starts to unzip his pants. While he's at it, you can feel the outline of his hand under you, and you're sure he's purposely teasing you more. You grunt out in annoyance, to which he only laughs.

“So naughty,” he drags the zipper down awfully slow, “I should have known when you've already wet yourself in my pants. I wonder how my captain would react.”

He leans upward, teeth grazing your ear, “That a little whore has been playing with her toy.”

“Wanshi,” your mouth betrays you, a breathy moan calling out his name. You feel his thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit now, ruthlessly shoving a finger into your quivering hole.

“I'm not fucking you like this,” He whispers, continuing his ministrations as he nibbles your earlobe, “You've been so bratty lately, you're ruining the mood.”

Your ego is your Achilles' heel. You want it to crumble, you want it down, just to let him in. But instead, it makes you bite your lips to prevent moans from coming out, it makes you shake. Your strength has long disappeared already though, making you unable to shake away the hand that is abusing your trembling pussy.

“Fuck you.”

“Am I not doing that right now, darling?” Chuckling, he fiddles with your ruined hair, “We've long established that, haven't we?”

The two people outside of the car are laughing now. You're suddenly aware: the car windows aren't that tinted, and you know that they will notice the shake of the car. Wanshi starts to groan.

“Fuck- ah, you're squeezing my hand now. Did you think you'll cum that easily?”

“N-no, I-”

“-oh, or did the newcomers notice?” He starts to laugh, mischievously pulling his hands away, “I think you know these people, yes? They seem nice. Should we give them a show?”

“Wanshi don't be stu- ah,”

Without a warning, Wanshi sinks his cock into you in one fluid thrust. A loud moan of his name tumbles out of your lips, and he has to shove his fingers in your mouth.

You feel so full, so fucking full. You imagine it now, his cockhead teasing your cervix, girth pulsating deeply in your walls.

“You actually want to put on a show, huh?” You taste yourself in the fingers inside your mouth, albeit bitter, but you're too focused on his length that seemed to already reach the deepest part down there.

“[Y/N]- nngh, you're so tight.” He pulls you by the shoulder, smiling when he sees the look on your face, “...already fucked out?”

As if in a daze, you shake your head, “N-No...I-” Your whines grew into something pitiful, as you mindlessly ground your hips, desperate to make him move already, “Wanshi, Wanshi,”

He pulls his fingers away to grasp your chin, angling to kiss you. It's rough, it's soft, it's everything - the first proper kiss of tonight, you should've memorized it: his tongue, his lips, the outline.

“How pretty,” his chuckles passed through your ear and exited to the other, his eyes taking sight of you unraveling like this in his lap, “My pretty little slut.”

The slapping of skin. The sound of lips crashing onto each other. There are no lovers in this story. Only two individuals in one car, chasing the heights and highs of infatuation, drilled in the expanse of lust. One chases the thrill of sex, the other- no one knows. Wanshi could only behold this sight that only he can see alone, ingrained in his M.I.N.D.

His hand grips your hips, nails digging in so that he'll leave bruises in the morning. Latching on one mound, he sucks on it as if his life depended on it. Upon hearing your moan, Wanshi begins to thrust upwards.

“You like that, don't you, doctor?” A title that he's long forgotten in the past, now used for someone he adores, “I think you've done enough. Let me return your favor.”

He feels your pussy clench as he jerked to meet your movement. Low, breathy groans intertwined with whiny moans. You've probably forgotten your name now, as your mouth only calls out to the man fucking you full. Although he fucks you ruthlessly, his gaze seems gentle. Forget the world outside, or the people close — you endlessly chase this heavenly high.

“You're close.”

“Mmph, mmhm-” Your fingers find themselves tangled in his hair, your other hand holding onto his shirt. “I...I have o-one- ah, more request.”

“Say it.”

You looked up, exposing your neck. You've always fooled around with Wanshi, yet nothing but bruises hidden under uniforms and shirts. And right now...you're asking for something that seems different than the usual arrangement.

“Mark me,” you whispered, “please.”

It's a plead, not a request. But who was Wanshi to deny you, when you've asked so sweetly? Pulling you closer, one hand propped under your pussy and twiddling with your clit, Wanshi bares his teeth near your neck, breath fogging even your common sense.

“You will cum when I say so, [Y/N].” He hears you whine, “You better listen.”

You're listening all right. Not when the overstimulation clouds your judgment, not when you hear the suspicion on the outsider's faces, not when Wanshi starts to nip that specific side of your neck- you try not to cum. No, you were far better than that. You forgot that this was just an arrangement, a contract.

The first bite in your neck is painful, but it sends you to paradise. Your body shakes, an impending orgasm rushing to meet you. Wanshi wishes to extend his fun, but he knows you've done enough, too fucked out to make thorough judgments. And he hears the outsiders talk closer now.

“[Y/N],” it's warm, it's hot — your cunt, molded now into the shape of his cock, after being fucked by him multiple times now — he wishes he could stay that way, entrapped in your warmth, but he feels his own self-control wither, “I'm close.”

Your pussy trembles in response. With one last thought, he whispers in your ear, “Who's making you like this, hm?”

“W-Wanshi,”

Your last thought is white noise. His thumb rubs your clit messily, before the magic word arrives, “Cum.”

You do. Oblivious to the world, you come undone, come unraveled in Wanshi's lap, mouth babbling words that you would never say when you're sober. You forget you're a doctor, you forget he's a construct. You forget everything but Wanshi and his name.

Wanshi fucks you through your orgasms, the grip of your hand in his hair grounding him as thick cum fills your overstimulated cunt. He calls out your name, a low moan that echoes in your ear. One rational sense hears the outsiders going back into the car, seemingly driving away. The other is busy holding your slacked body against him, breathing into the afterglow.

You think it's ethereal: his messy hair, the golden glow of the streetlight haloing behind him by the car window, your bodies molding into one another, each catching your breaths. Your eyes grow heavy. You think you should wash away the cum that's stuffed full of his now-softening dick inside you, but weariness slowly consumes you.

When the dark consumes you, you feel a gentle caress on your cheek, paired something warm covering your naked body.

“Sleep well, Princess.”

Solemnity flutters in your chest.

The next moment you wake, your body is heavy. But your head is on something soft, a pillow propped under it. You try to sit up, but you realize a new set of clothes is on you.

“I cleaned you up, Princess.” Wanshi's voice answers the questions running through your head, “You were snoozing too peacefully even when I was dressing you up.”

He's now sitting properly in the driver's seat as if nothing hot happened to the both of you earlier. Amber eyes are trailed to the sea, the glow of the streetlight showing the contours of his face.

A faint blush dusts your cheeks, “Thank you...”

“Don't mention it. I think it's time for you to go back to work anyways, wouldn't want your patients to be left alone.”

As he starts the engine, you start to think. Did you want to go back to the Star of Life now? The night seemed so early, and you wanted to spend more time with him. It wasn't part of the contract, right? A tug in your chest begs to be noticed, wanting him to notice it for himself.

His hand is on the stick shift. You reached out and held it. He looks at you, and you stare at his amber irises.

“Wanshi,” you breathed, “kiss me.”

“...did I not fuck the brattiness out of you earlier?”

The blush on your cheek deepened. “W-Wanshi...!”

He laughs genuinely now. You tug on his hand once more. Looking at you, he silently licks his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You spoke, “Kiss me, Wanshi.”

He's the first to reach out and cup your cheeks. Doing the favor to lean closer, foreheads touching, you closed your eyes. You feel his lips - cold, soft, wanting to be warm - before he closed the gap.

This kiss is softer, sweeter now. You wondered once if this contract would morph into something better, something warmer. But his kiss is now something you could equally call desperation, a want distinct to lust. You've both waited for this. He tilts your face, only to deepen the kiss.

Hesitantly, you pull away when you part for air. You opened your eyes to find Wanshi's lips swollen, a blush mirroring your own. Your hand is still with his. He doesn't move away.

“I'll...take you back to the hospital now.”

“I want to stay with you.” You squeezed his hand, “let's drive for now.”

And maybe you would talk a bit more than just drive.

likes, shares, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Please don't copy and plagiarize my work!!

[autumnmobile12]

“Simon, I have watched you repeatedly hit a bullseye from two hundred yards while riding at full gallop,”  Catherina said.  “I can’t do that.  Leona can’t do that.  I’m not even sure if our father can do that.”

...

Simon loved his family dearly.

It was just they were a little ‘much’and as a result, he preferred to keep his visits to home short and infrequent.  Supply runs, nothing more.  Even now, he’d lingered in the village longer than he’d meant to, though that was on account of Mother.  He’d meant to leave yesterday morning.  His provisions, no doubt including some well-meaning gifts from family who missed him, were still packed and arranged neatly by the door.  All that needed doing was saddling his horse and rounding up his dogs.  Yet when he had come downstairs, well rested for the four hour journey ahead, he found Mother already awake in the kitchen, staring forlornly out the window.  Sypha had never been a morning person and three growing children had not changed that, which led him to conclude she either hadn’t slept well or she feared he would slip away with little more than a note of farewell.

Whichever it was, she heard his step on the stairs and turned to him with a smile that would have convinced him had he not seen her sadness prior.  Was he ready to leave, she asked.  Did he have enough food?  Was he warm enough in his mountain shelter?  Would he like help preparing to leave?  She sounded so genuine in hiding her heartache from him that Simon only felt a sharp pang of guilt.  He loved her, really he did, and he weighed the selfishness of his desire for solitude against the sadness his departure would bring for his family.

...

He loosed the arrow with a quiet hiss.  It cut through the air like a lightning bolt and struck the doe in a quick, clean shot through her shoulder.  Simon quickly drew another arrow as she faltered, but he needn’t have bothered.  After a moment, the deer slumped quietly to her knees and then collapsed softly onto the earth.  Lowering his bow, the young man made his way out of the undergrowth.  When he reached the felled deer, he knelt and bowed his head.  “Forgive my taking of your precious life.  May your spirit depart in peace, may your body nourish my family and people.”

Note: His name comes from the Lords of Shadow timeline.

Simon is the enigma of the family, and honestly the one I really struggled with developing.  His sisters are both remarkable in their own way with Leona being the formidable warrior and Catherina the skilled mage of the siblings.  Finding something that would both set Simon apart from the girls and yet balance out their talents was a challenge.

I at first played with the idea that he feels pressured by the feeling of being overshadowed by his sisters, ignoring or even discrediting his own abilities and struggling internally with the idea of living up to his family’s expectations.  But that’s an archetype that’s really cliché, and I wanted there to be more to his character.  Archery was one of the first things that came to mind.  In the medieval period, especially for England, archery was high in demand for the English wars.  Bowmen were crazy strong to the point their skeletons are actually deformed to such a degree that archeologists can identify their bones in dig sites.  So this is not an idle skill by any means.  The strength need to draw a longbow requires years of dedicated practice.

The idea of him living in the mountains came from fur trappers who live in isolation throughout the winter, which led to Simon’s love for solitude and animals.  He keeps hunting dogs, naming them after archangels and war goddesses.  He's gifted with animals, so during his time in isolation, he catches falcons and hawks to train and sell to the wealthy citizens of nearby cities.  He’s also a skilled herbalist, both a healer and a poisoner.

Throughout, he seems to have the quiet bearing and dignity of a shaman or a monk, which aligns perfectly with his mother’s heritage.  In his early years when his personality was first developing, his tendency to wander off to play by himself was a source of concern for Sypha.  Coming from a culture that places value in community, she found her son’s solitary nature odd but ultimately harmless. She doesn’t know it, but in this, he takes after her father, who passed before she was born.  For her peace of mind, she taught him her ability to manipulate fire so that he would never freeze during his travels in the mountains.  Alucard checks up on him frequently, too.

In temperament, Simon has two outward modes of operation and almost zero in between.  For the most part, he has the quieter, more somber elements of Trevor’s character, but like Sypha, when Simon reaches his breaking point, he is perfectly capable of losing his shit.  It’s always a source of awe for the rest of the family and a pretty effective gauge in telling when things have officially gone too far.

In the end, despite his extreme introverted behavior, Simon’s love for his family is boundless.  He’s never hesitated to drop everything when he hears there’s trouble at home and he always comes back for the village festivals.

Key words for Simon:  Independent, resourceful, patient, calm.  The Belmont outrider and keeper of the woodland.

...

His Siblings

Leona

Catherina

[stesierra]

Sorry to disappear, guys. Things have been crazy over here. But I am surviving! My brain is just mush. So here's a tag game to get me back to thinking about my WIPs.

@fishythewriter tagged me!

My words are: Bone, Soul, Knife, and Blood. I'm drawing from Court Phoenix. I'm tagging @macabremoons and anyone else interested with the words moon, frail and death.

Bone

Chujulan’s hands settled on my shoulders. “Kerra? What’s wrong?”

“I saw a ghost,” I croaked. Our shaman had warned us often of these daylight demons. They had no power to possess or hurt at night, but by day they were a constant threat. When she was alive, she’d prevented such dangerous spirits from entering our lands. Now that she was dead, my village lay vulnerable. And I had no protections from them at all.

The princess’s grip turned painful, her nails digging through my shirt. “Impossible. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“The city doesn’t believe in ghosts?” How stupid were they?

She snorted. “The others are obsessed with them. But I refuse to hide myself from the sun or cower behind the city’s wards because of them.”

Was that why the city-folk always visited our village at night? Because they were afraid of encountering ghosts?

“And if ghosts exist, why did I see nothing?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But the sun had half-blinded me, and in those blind spots, it appeared.”

"You saw a ghost in after-images of the sun?"

Her doubt irked me. “The dead don't have bodies. If they want to make themselves known, they have to make do with whatever nature provides, unless they possess a human or animal. That's what our shaman said.”

Her hands released my shoulders. “Maybe. I don't know much about loose spirits.”

“Why not?”

“The city is warded. Nothing without a body can exist there. Nothing possessed can walk through.”

I nodded. It wasn't dissimilar to what our shamans did. At home those wards were caught up in little bundles of bird bones or in blessings written in the corners of our paper windows. “But don't you all tell stories about them? About wandering spirits and lost souls?”

“The only tales we tell of ghosts are warnings. The only wanderers we care about are those who wander for a reason.”

“A reason?”

“Revenge.”

Soul

I went to bed, but it didn’t help. Whenever I was awake, my head and muscles tormented me, as though both were about to crumble to pieces like rotted wood, and my heart fluttered in my chest, too weak and too fast. When I dreamed, it was of my village on the other side of a great chasm, grayed to a ghost by smoke. I moved away from it, as if I stood on the walking city’s edge as it roamed across the steppe. I couldn’t jump off or run to it. I could only watch it vanish in the distance. And I woke with tears in my eyes and a horrible emptiness in my soul. My father’s words echoed in my mind: “If you move to Skyfire, the city will sink its barbs into your soul. Your anchor will be torn from the earth. And you’ll fade to nothing and die.”

I tried to tell myself this was just some disease common to the city folk. But as I burrowed under my blankets, I knew it wasn’t. I didn’t get sick, not like my non-magical siblings, and I’d never felt so empty. Maybe my father was right; maybe I was dying, and by now I was so far from my village I would never find my way back. And I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to live here with Hes, wanted to rise to become someone important the way a blacksmith never would.

Knife

Chujulan frowned. “Go to bed,” she advised. “You look like shit.”

“What do you care?” I muttered, too sick to care about manners.

She cocked her head at me. “You remind me of someone.”

Something about her tone made me look up. I couldn’t read the expression on her face. “Who?”

She didn’t answer for a minute. Then she said softly, “Her name was Cherin. In our ancient tongue, it means 'long-life' and is given to bring good fortune.” Her lips twisted in a not-smile.

“I take it she got neither.”

“No,” Chujulan said. “She died on the surgeon's table. She was only fifteen. And just starting her menses, although it was late.”

“Was she another landbound?” I asked, still bewildered by her interest.

“She was my only full-blooded sibling.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” What else was there to say? “Why did she have to go under the knife?”

Chujulan's brows lifted. “She had her menses.”

I tried, “And that made her... sick?”

Her humorless laugh jabbed like a needle. “You’re so ignorant, Kerra. You’ll never survive in this city if you don’t learn.”

My face flushed hot. “Then tell me what you mean. How else am I supposed to learn anything?”

Her smile bent in all the wrong ways. “Listen to the gossip. You’ll find it anywhere. The day-wakers love to talk about us. Almost as much as the lordly.”

“You mean about the rials?”

“Who else? To speak lightly of sagan or regalie is to court ruin. But what are his bastards but dogs on a leash?”

“I am pretty sure you could have most of them killed.”

“Not lightly, not citizens, not unless I wanted to justify it to my father's judge and risk my high position at his side. So they watch and talk. And if a rial, upon reaching puberty, is plied with drugs and liquor and carried away, they place bets on whether she will ever return.”

I was fascinated despite my headache. “You came back.”

“Yes, because I didn't die.”

“Where did they take you?”

She shrugged, a hand running across iron chair beneath her. “To the surgeons, as I said. It's a safe procedure for boys — the city has made eunuchs for as long as it's castrated deer bulls. But we women they must cut open and gut like a rabbit, pulling out the bits they don't like. When Cherin,” she said and paused. “When my sister went under the knife, she died before they even stitched her back up.”

It was a nightmare story, and one I simply could not comprehend. I whispered, “Which bits did they take?”

“The womb. The tissues associated with it. Everything needed to bear a child.”

"Why?" I blurted.

“As long as we are sterile, we cannot seek to claim the herd throne. No one would back a contender without hope of heirs.”

“They think you'll try to rule otherwise?”

“The sagans have always feared a coup, sometimes even rightly. So they have seen that no rial will ever spark a civil war, nor serve as a lordly's figurehead.”

Blood

“The Ferd-Marshal sent you a note,” the girl said as I inspected the garment. She held out a sheet of paper.

What in the world was a Ferd-Marshal? I put the outfit down on the pile and said, “I can’t read.”

She stared at me, as though I’d declared that I could fly. I refused to be embarrassed. I was a villager, not a city-woman, and we didn’t write things down.

She said finally, “I’ll read it to you.” The girl smoothed her fingers over the paper.

“Kerra,

This should be delivered with your new outfits. They’re fireproof, so Heslibra shouldn’t be able to turn you into a torch any longer. Wear them every day and forget your old clothes. This is your costume now. Clothes and makeup are a language you’ll need to learn to read. Lying about your status by wearing the wrong outfit or eyeliner is a capital crime. So stick with what I’ve sent you.

If the Breaker of Legends summons you — and he will — tell him the sagan says you answer to Batoktoa directly and not to him. He’s insufferable.”

Chujulan had written this. She must have. So she was the Ferd-Marshal, whatever that meant.

The girl folded up the note and dropped it on my table, as if I had any use for it. As she turned to leave, I blurted, “Can you arrange for a new mattress and blankets to be brought here? I don’t know who else to ask.”

She frowned at me. “What’s wrong with the ones you already have?”

I choked on words for a moment. “They’re covered with blood! Someone died in that bed, and I’m not sleeping on it!”

“Oh,” she said, looking at the door to the bedroom with wide eyes. “I thought they cleaned that up.”

“Well, they didn’t, whoever they are. Can you arrange for a bed or not?”

The girl pursed her lips. “I suppose. Something will arrive before morning.”

Before morning, because the city-folk stayed awake all night and slept all day. This place was clearly mad.

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Just chapters and snippets

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[puffdragongirl]

Put [My] Hand on [His] Shoulder

Looking back, Shirayuki hardly noticed the first time he did it.

She is sitting on a bench outside the Starlight Gate, trying to settle her nerves while she waits for the last of the baggage to be loaded onto the carriage that will ferry her to her homeland. The thud of a modest traveling case hitting the ground in front of her drags her attention away from the dance steps she was trying to recall. She looks up to find Obi, hands on his hips as he observes the footmen scurrying around.

“Is that all you are bringing?” she asks, thinking of the three trunks that had been required to hold the dresses and shoes that had been prepared for her trip.

“That’s all of it,” he confirms, toeing the case. Despite how light he was traveling compared to her, the tone of his voice conveys his general dissatisfaction with his baggage. Her face must convey her confusion, since he elaborates. “It’s my rule to dress so I can move about freely…” he offers, tugging ruefully at his clothes, less formal than Mitsuhide and Kiki’s usual garb, but more constricting than the lightweight gear he had worn when they first met, “But I have to wear this uniform…”

He trails off with a shrug, but Shirayuki nods, understanding the appeal of traveling light. She had done so herself during her flight from Tanbarun, throwing only the most essential of her belongings in a single bag. Left to her own devices, she supposed the belongings she would pack for a trip to her former home would still fit in that same bag. However, neither one of them has much control over the bells and whistles required for an official state visit.

That realization brings her a feeling of kinship with the habitually mysterious guard. Despite his tendency to chatter, Obi rarely said anything meaningful, let alone anything that revealed personal details or opinions. In a way, Shirayuki knows precious little about him aside from his name, and she isn’t even greatly confident in the veracity of even that. Given how much time he now spends shadowing her, he seems to have at least a semi-permanent position as her guard, so it would be nice if she could learn a little more about him.

Perhaps this trip will be a good opportunity to get to know him better…

“Obi?” she asks hopefully, “This time are you going to ride in the carriage?”

“No,” he answers, shortly but cheerfully, “I’m going to follow you on horseback.”

“Of course,” she murmurs, more to herself than anything else. His distaste for carriages was one of the few things she did know about her mysterious companion. “By the way, I didn’t know you were going to accompany me until last night.”

“Oh really?” he looks a bit uncomfortable, and pointedly avoids her gaze, hand raising to kneed at his right shoulder, “Well, I hope you don’t mind, Miss.”

“Oh no,” she reassures quickly, “I’m grateful!” She bows her head, “Thank you for coming with me.”

Her show of gratitude only discomfits him further, his fingers digging further into his shoulder. He asks if she knows about how he wound up accompanying her but refuses to provide any further details when pressed. He does mention something about Zen wishing he could accompany her. They exchange a bit more small-talk about the logistics of the upcoming trip until Lord Haruka arrives, followed shortly thereafter by Prince Zen and his retinue. The action is lost in the haze of the day’s travel, and then again in the face of being kidnapped – twice! – and nearly being sold into slavery. She does notice him rubbing at the joint a few more times on their return to Wistal, but honestly attributes it to a nervous habit given it most often appears in moments of tension or discomfort.

In fact, it’s only after he follows her to Lyrias the second time that Shirayuki realizes Obi’s nervous tic is – at least partially – more than that. It’s chilly at best in Lyrias, and bone-chillingly frigid at worst, and the frequency of his kneading increases as the temperature drops. She begins to notice the degree of discomfort accompanying the motion during their first winter in the North, on a deeply subzero day.

Shirayuki reluctantly emerges from her blankets, instantly regretting the decision when the chill of the floor seeps through her thickest pair of socks to freeze her feet. She figures there is no recovering the heat she has lost at this point, and bundles up to make her way to the lab. Surely some academic had figured out how to maintain a comfortable temperature in the laboratory building on cold days, right? Unfortunately, that assumption is sadly untrue, and the research wing is somehow even more frigid than the rest of the keep. And so she joins the others, huddling close in a pile of labcoats and scarves, staring desperately at their manual-less and sadly unlit coal brazier.

“Well, don’t you all look cozy,” Obi drawls, sweeping into the room along with a draft of chilly air from the hallway. He looks remarkably comfortable despite the weather, but is dressed notably warmer than usual, including a fur-lined cowl and half cape. “Did someone steal the lab coal bucket or something?”

“Save us Obi,” Suzu groans from his place in their sad pile, “They left us alone with no heat.”

“So they have, must be a new recruit on heating duty this morning,” her knight laughs, now long past the mistaken assumption that learned academics could perform day-to-day tasks with ease, “Let’s see if we can’t figure it out.”

And of course, within a few minutes, the brazier is lit and warmth slowly begins to return to their frozen bodies. Since the brazier took the full coal bucket to load and light, Obi also leaves to refill it for them from the common storeroom in the basement. As he settles the bucket back down, Obi narrates the lighting and refilling process to Suzu, who nods along agreeably as if they do not both know the knight will surely need to rescue the academics from their chill again in the future. As he chatters, he puts down the heavy bucket, then raises a hand to his shoulder and works at it absently. For a split second, she sees a slight grimace pass over his features, but it vanishes quickly. Her brow furrows, and she moves towards him, concerned he may have pulled something hauling that bucket around, “Obi-”

“OH MY GOD!” Yuzuri shrieks upon her arrival to an unexpectedly warm lab, “IT’S ACTUALLY WARM HERE, WHO DID THIS???”

She quickly deduces Obi - the only non-academic in the room - is their savior, and begins to sing his praises. Her moment to bring up his shoulder is lost in the wave of well-deserved praise for her knight, and besides, she can see he is moving the limb just fine now, so perhaps it is nothing. She can always ask again later…

--

Later comes in with the winter snows, and the one-two hit of heavy winter precipitation and shoveling duty. Being affiliated with the guard in Lyrias means being on the hook for at least some shoveling - not even Lord Makiri can escape a mandatory shift or two with a shovel. This of course means Obi is drafted into service, and so on snowy days his visits to the pharmacy labs are short. On one morning after a particularly nasty snow storm, Obi manages to nab a shoveling shift near the research wing, and so has time to stop by for a chat between his other duties.

“Why is it always Thursdays with the snow?” he whines, temporarily shedding his snow-caked outer layers, “My Fridays are busy enough with the meetings Makiri makes me go to, and now I gotta take shovel shifts between them too?” He flops down on his traditional spot near the window he arrived through, and gratefully accepts a cup of tea, “Literally any other day would be fine, but we’re going on three weeks in a row of this.”

“Now that you mention it,” Suzu chimes in from his bench, “it is a little weird it keeps happening on the same day of the week.” He gets a distant look on his face, “I wonder what the actual probability of it is?”

“Oh no,” Yuzuri groans, “Please, it’s too early for math.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Suzu reassures, “Statistics isn’t really math.” He rises to start scribbling on a chalk board, “Plus it’s a simple problem - just multiply the individual probabilities of snow happening on a Thursday together, right?”

“But what would that probability be?” Ryuu joins Suzu at the board, “There isn’t an equal probability of snow on any given day of the year, let alone on any specific Thursday.”

“Well, we could at least start by figuring out a baseline probability of snow each month, I bet you someone in the meteorology group has some numbers we can start with…”

“This all sounds like math to me…” Obi mutters, and privately Shirayuki agrees.

“Right?” Suzuri nods vigorously, “It’s always like this with them, and even worse if Kazaha is around too.” She buries her head in her hands, “This one time a patient asked about the frequency of illnesses in Lyrias and…”

As his attention is drawn by Suzuri’s lively narration of the drawn-out statistical debacle that arose from that patient’s innocent question, Shirayuki notices his hand drifting up to his shoulder. He kneeds at it thoughtlessly and then rotates the joint in it’s socket. Her level of concern ratchets up - she had thought perhaps lugging around the coal earlier in the winter had aggravated some recent injury, but now that she’s thinking about it, she’s noticed him working at it fairly frequently in the weeks since. Perhaps the injury was an old one that caused a nagging pain - her grandfather had a bad knee that acted up in the cold and snow, so perhaps Obi had similar issues? There was only one way to find out.

“Hey Obi-”

“Sir Obi!” the door bursts open, and a young guard spills into the room, “Here you are, Lord Makiri has us looking everywhere for you!” The guard shoves a missive into Obi’s hands, “Urgent message from the commander, he needs you at once in his office.”

Obi glances at the note, groaning slightly at whatever it says, “There goes the rest of my day.” He nods at the pharmacists, and offers an apologetic smile at Shirayuki, “I’ll try to stop in later, Miss, but failing that, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“As soon as I can” winds up being three days, and he returns full of stories of his escapades tracking down some bandits. The intent to follow up is there, of course, but somehow it slips to the bottom of the list and asking about his shoulder is once more pushed to later.

--

Unfortunately, the departure of winter weather doesn’t take all of Obi’s shoulder pain with it. Since coming to Lyrias, Obi had in many ways come into the service of Lord Makiri, although of course his duties as Shirayuki’s knight always came first. Makiri is a man with an eye for talent, and immediately attempted to formally lure Obi into his service. Failing that, the man became determined to squeeze every ounce of utility out of her knight for as long as he can. Most days, that takes the form of running regular patrol sessions and helping oversee the city guard, including participating and offering his own unique training sessions. Other times, it takes the form of running special missions, such as the past winter’s bandit case. These things benefit Obi of course, as the regular activity combined with a steady diet of bone-sticking stews and buns had bulked him up and further sharpened his keen senses. But some of these activities took a harsher physical toll.

“Ughhhhhhhh,” Obi slumps onto the dinner table, temporarily blocking the space for his dishes, “Spear practice days are the WORST.”

“There, there,” Suzu pats his hair, “It must be so hard being a hot guard twirling cool kill sticks around while the city ladies watch.”

“Hardy har,” Obi, unamused, pushes Suzu’s hand away as he rises to a proper sit, “You’re always welcome to join in on training if you want.” The threat of physical activity immediately sends Suzu skittering back, hands raised in surrender, “No? I’m sure I could get Shidan to excuse you once a week or so.”

“I admit defeat,” and with that the researcher slinks away, leaving only Ryuu and Shirayuki at their table.

“Hard day on the fields?” Shirayuki asks, grabbing a bowl to dish out a hearty serving of their dinner of a rich pork stew for her knight.

“Spear day,” he nods, “All the days with proper weapons are the worst.” He sends Shirayuki a grateful smile as she sets his meal in front of him, “Form this; technique that; it seems a lot of hassle when things go out the window in the heat of the moment.”

Neither Shirayuki or Ryuu can offer much in the way of commiseration, but they nod agreeably anyway. This seems to soothe Obi, and the three of them pick up their usual dinnertime ritual of catching up on the day’s events. As they chat about the usual chaos of the laboratory and the gritty details of the spear-training session, Obi begins another nightly habit - engaging in a good stretch. As he stretches out his back and arms, however, Shirayuki notices a brief flash of discomfort, and sure enough, his hand rises to work at his shoulder. Finally, a perfect opportunity to ask about his shoulder, and surely nothing would interrupt them during their dinner!

“Hey Obi, over the past couple of months I’ve noticed you -”

“Sir Obi!” a chorus of voices suddenly chimes, and their table is swarmed by a veritable crowd of young recruits, all clamoring for a private audience with Obi after his “masterful” display with the spear and his knives earlier in the day. She seethes silently as the soldiers coerce her knight into an impromptu demonstration of his skills, and then drag him off to the training fields for a hands-on lesson. It’s nice to see Obi be recognized for his skills, but Shirayuki can’t help but wonder why it had to happen today and at this exact moment. If she weren’t a scientist, she would have thought the universe was conspiring against her, or perhaps against Obi’s shoulder specifically.

--

“Shirayuki,” Ryuu appears at her desk the next week, holding out a small ceramic pot, “I couldn’t help but notice you were staring at Obi’s shoulder last week at dinner as well.” She opens the pot to find it contains a rich cream compounded with muscle-relaxing herbs and oils, very much like the one that has sat in her own pouch for the last few months, “Maybe you’ll have better luck than me delivering this to him?”

And so her one-woman mission becomes a two-pharmacist one, although neither would turn out to have luck over the next few months.

--

Things finally come to a head during their second winter in Lyrias. The first big snow storm of the year is rolling in, bringing an icy chill to the air, and a persistent ache to Obi’s shoulder with it. He’s spent an unusually long amount of time in the pharmacy today, as nearly the entire guard roll has been placed on standby to be ready to respond for shovel duty once the snow arrives. She’s been busy with her usual daily tasks, but has spotted Obi absently rubbing at his shoulder all day long.

Today, she thinks to herself, as her work day nears its end, and Obi is still idling in the lab, chattering to her about everything and nothing, as is his wont, as they have plans for dinner later tonight, Surely today is the day.

She finishes straightening up her desk, and grabs one of the pots of salve her and Ryuu have stationed in and around the pharmacy and their quarters. She turns towards Obi, opens her mouth and -

“Lady Shirayuki?”

Gods Damn It!

Turning towards the door, Shirayuki spots one of the new technicians approaching her desk. It’s painfully obvious they are nervous - their hands are practically clenched into knots - so she pushes down the urge to scream at being interrupted yet again.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“I just have a question about the Olin maris lux variety,” the technician waves their lab notebook around, “I noticed in the greenhouse that we have the temperature set to 10 degrees, but in the original technical note…”

As the technician’s question expands and becomes more and more technical, Obi loses interest and wanders over to the window, his arms crossed behind head. Shirayuki honestly wishes she could join him, as she's had this same conversation multiple times with other new technicians that assumed reading technical briefings made them experts in horticulture and pharmacy. He twists, ducking slightly to stare up at the sky, likely trying to gauge the clouds. She can practically see the gears turning in his head as he calculates if they will have time to get to and from the tent district before the snow starts.

Her attention shifts back to the student as their “question” about the growing conditions for Olin maris finally finishes.

“Well, we have learned quite a bit since our original technical note was published,” Shirayuki states, “And we’ve adjusted our rearing conditions accordingly.” She quickly scans her desk for a copy of the current operating protocol, but it must be in her lab notebook or something, “I can pass along a copy of the rearing plans to you tomorrow, and then set a meeting to discuss any concerns you have after you see those?”

“I mean, I’d appreciate that, but weren't the conditions in the original technical paper necessary for…”

As she listens to the non-question of the technician, she sends Obi a look that screams “couldn't this have been a letter?”, and catches him in the act of kneading his shoulder again. She forces her attention back to the technician, trying to speed along the conversation and get back to her evening and her long-delayed task of seeing to her knight’s discomfort. It takes far longer than she would have preferred, but some minutes later their questions are answered, at least enough for now, and the technician departs with a promise to return during tomorrow's office hours.

“Bet you are looking forward to that,” Obi quips as he approaches her desk, “But the good news is I think the snows will hold off enough to make it to the tent district and back again.” He launches into a story about another guard and their way to “read the sky” with 1000% accuracy, and distractedly kneads at his shoulder. “Probably hocus pocus, but it's probably just as accurate as Professor Green's forecast. Besides, Suzu put money in the pot on snow arriving before midnight and we all know how rarely he wins bets! Did you get in on the-”

“Is your shoulder bothering you?” she interrupts his rambling, almost disbelieving that the moment has finally come.

“Oh,” his eyes widen, and the hand immediately drops from his shoulder, “It’s fine. Just a little stiff from the weather, nothing of importance.” He resumes his prior ramble as an attempt to deflect her attention, “So anyway about the pot-”

“Obi!” she interrupts again, loudly. It startles him, and her a little too - but she's not letting this chance slip by, not again.

“Obi,” she repeats, her voice gentle now, “I know it hurts.” She approaches him slowly, reaching for his arm in a silent request for access. He reluctantly holds out his limb, and then allows her to rotate it gently.

“It’s the weather, isn’t it?” she asks as she probes the joint, feeling the tension in his muscles and the slight reduction in his range of motion, “It’s worse before storms like this, right?”

“And on cold days,” he admits, quietly, “It's always been that way, nearly as long as I can remember.”

“And spear days, I bet, because that’s what tipped Ryuu off.”

“Little Ryuu noticed too?” he asks, sounding surprised that not one but two people would care about his wellbeing enough to notice him grimacing in pain.

“Of course he did,” she says, showing him the container of salve from her desk, “He even made this batch of muscle balm with me, and helped me hide them all over the lab so whichever one of us pinned you down first would have a pot handy.” She releases his arm, and gestures towards one of the lab's exam rooms, “Now come in here and let me help you.”

And so, at long last, Shirayuki was able to properly examine her knight’s shoulder. She didn't learn it that night, but he later revealed the ache stemmed from a poorly healed injury from the past, perhaps a broken collarbone or maybe just a severe sprain. It wasn't something that could be fixed, but the pain was something they could improve with soothing balms and anti-inflammatory tinctures. It also gave him a free get-out-of-jail card for spear day, under “Pharmacist's Orders” as he gleefully told Makiri. Of course, nothing would stop Obi from pulling stunts that would aggravate the old injury, such as scaling castle walls or hanging one handed from trees to impress recruits, so the gesture never completely vanished, but Ryuu and Shirayuki were satisfied that cold days no longer guaranteed the appearance of a hand working at Obi’s shoulder.