#i just needed to put this all down in words somewhere

[lostfracturess]

say it again — satoru gojo x f!reader

you've been married to satoru gojo for so long, but you've kept it quiet, so you can imagine his satisfaction at finally hearing you call him "husband" in public.

You've managed to keep your marriage to Satoru Gojo under wraps for nearly two year now. It isn't that you're ashamed—far from it.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers simply comes with complications, especially given his clan's tendency to meddle in everything.

So you both agreed to keep it quiet. No flashy announcements, no public displays, just you and him. Sure, it means wearing your ring on a chain under your clothes and careful planning for your living arrangements, but it's worth it for the peace and quiet.

That is, until you slip up at the most mundane possible moment.

You're both at an official appointment regarding some property documentation. The clerk has been droning on about paperwork when she asks about your relationship to Satoru for the forms.

"Oh, he's my husband," you reply absently, still scanning the documents in front of you.

The scratching of Satoru's pen stops abruptly. You look up to find him staring at you with the most ridiculous expression—somewhere between absolutely delighted and utterly self-satisfied.

"What was that?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face.

You blink, realizing what you've just said. "I mean���"

"No, no, say it again." His eyes are practically shining now. "What am I to you?"

"Satoru," you warn, very aware of the confused clerk watching your exchange.

"Come on," he says, leaning closer. "One more time. What am I?"

"We're in public," you hiss, but you can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.

"Please?" He bats his eyelashes at you in that ridiculous way of his. "For your beloved husband?"

"You're impossible," you mutter, but you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly perfect as your husband?"

The clerk clears her throat. "Should I... put down 'married' then?"

"Yes!" Satoru answers before you can. "Put down that I am this wonderful person's husband. Their spouse. Their better half. Their—"

"She gets it," you cut him off.

But Satoru isn't done. For the rest of the appointment, he manages to work the word "husband" into nearly every sentence. "As her husband, I think we should sign here." "My lovely spouse and I would like copies of that." "Do you need both myself and my better half to initial this?"

By the time you leave the office, you're ready to strangle him.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you say as you walk to the car.

"Can you blame me?" He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It's not every day I get to hear you call me your husband in public. Usually it's all 'this is Satoru' or 'we're together' or my personal favorite, 'yes, I do unfortunately know him.'"

You roll your eyes, but can't help leaning into him. "You know why we keep it quiet."

"I know, I know. The clan would be insufferable." He presses a kiss to your temple. "But maybe we should tell them anyway? Can you imagine their faces when they find out we've been married this whole time?"

"They'll have our heads for this."

"Perhaps. But you have to admit, the thought is tempting. No more sneaking around, no more hiding that ring." He catches your hand, thumb brushing over where your ring should be. "I want everyone to know exactly who you are to me. And what I am to you. What was it again?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Come on," he coaxes, "just say it once more."

You pretend to consider it. "And what do I get out of this?"

"My eternal love and devotion?" He gives you a long look. "And I'll do the dishes for a week."

"You're supposed to do those anyway," you point out, but he's already pulling you closer, that insufferable smirk of his growing wider.

"Say it again, love," he says, and the way he looks at you then—eyes soft and full of adoration—makes your breath catch in your throat.

All your defenses melt away under that gaze, the one he reserves just for you, the one that makes you forget why you ever try to deny him anything.

"Husband," you breathe, and feel him tense slightly against you.

"Just like that," he whispers. "Though I prefer when you add my name to it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"That's what I do best," he says. "Besides, my darling wife, I think you secretly love it when I am."

The way he says 'wife' sends a shiver down your spine—something you know he notices from the satisfied look in his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly yours," he corrects, and despite his playful tone, there's something sincere in his gaze. "What do you say? Ready to scandalize some elders?"

Looking at him now, you can't remember why you ever wanted to keep this secret. "With you? Always."

He doesn't wait for more, just leans in and captures your lips with his, and you think maybe going public isn't such a terrible idea after all.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[nhlclover]

AFTERGLOW RYAN LEONARD

pairing: fem!reader x ryan leonard

summary: a misunderstanding drives you to a island of isolation, making you question yours and ryan's relationship.

warnings: mentions of cheating/unfaithfulness, self-isolation, crying

wc: 2.34k

notes: based on 'afterglow' by taylor swift. i love me some angst with a happy ending😋

You hadn’t meant to see it. That’s what you told yourself over and over again. It wasn’t snooping. 

His phone had lit up beside you on the couch while Ryan was in the kitchen getting drinks. It was instinct, really — just a glance at the sudden brightness in your peripheral vision. But your eyes betrayed you, catching enough of the notification to make your chest tighten.

Brooke Last night was fun! Let’s do it again soon :)

The name hung in your mind, unfamiliar and somehow venomous. Brooke. Not a classmate he’d mentioned, not one of the guys’s girlfriends. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself that Ryan was the most solid, trustworthy man you’d ever known, but curiosity — or was it paranoia? — itched beneath your skin.

You quickly stood, frantically gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. You called out to Ryan, telling him you weren’t feeling well and you were going to head back to your dorm. He’d rushed out of the kitchen, catching you just as you were shoving your feet in your boots. 

“A-are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, just need some rest,” you reassured him, hoping he’d buy your flimsy excuse. The door was open and shut, with you on the other side before Ryan could ask another question. 

The spiral began as soon as you left his apartment. Every glance at your phone felt like a reminder of what you hadn’t asked, hadn’t confronted. You replayed every moment of your relationship in your mind, searching for signs you might have missed. Had he seemed distant? Had he started texting more? Was he pulling away from you?

It wasn’t deliberate at first — not entirely. You told yourself you just needed time to think, to calm down, to process. But each day stretched into the next, the unanswered texts piling up. Hey, is something wrong? turned into Did I do something? and finally Can we please talk? Your heart broke a little more with every message you ignored.

You stopped going to his games, too — a first since you’d started dating. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in the stands, watching him skate across the ice, wondering if Brooke was sitting somewhere else in the crowd. The thought of it all felt insurmountable. So you stayed home, your own guilt a quiet, gnawing threat.

Ryan’s friends noticed. Of course they did. You’d all become close since you and Ryan started dating, and the change in your behaviours and your absence from games was glaring. Practices were off — Ryan was missing passes, his shots lacked precision, and his usual easy laughter in the locker room was conspicuously absent.

Gabe had always been the observant one, the kind of guy who noticed when something was off long before anyone else caught on. So it didn’t surprise you when he showed up at the library one afternoon, a concerned look etched into his usually easygoing face.

He slid into the seat across from you, ignoring the pile of books and papers scattered in front of you. You tried to put on a smile, but it felt weak, forced.

“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m fine,” you replied, the words coming out automatically. You were fine. You just needed to figure things out, that’s all. You forced yourself to focus on the open textbook in front of you, but Gabe wasn’t buying it.

Gabe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know that’s not true,” he said bluntly. “And before you say anything, I’m not here to grill you or get in the middle of anything. But Ryan’s a mess.”

That got your attention. You looked up, heart thudding uncomfortably in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“He’s barely talking to anyone. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. And on the ice?” Gabe shook his head. “He’s not Ryan. He’s off—like, really off. It’s like his head’s not in the game at all.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach, sharp and unrelenting. “I didn’t mean for—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Gabe said. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. And it’s none of my business. But I do know Ryan’s not the kind of guy who lets just anything mess him up like this. He cares about you. A lot.”

You finally let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I found a message on his phone. From someone named Brooke.”

Gabe’s expression morphed into confusion. “Brooke?” he repeated, frowning. “Who the hell is that?”

You shook your head, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard him mention her. And the message... it felt... off. Like something was going on that I didn’t know about.”

Gabe’s brow furrowed as he processed your words. “But Ryan? I can’t see him doing that to you. He’s... he’s not like that. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I can’t just ignore it, Gabe.”

Gabe sat back, tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “Look, I don’t have all the answers, but you need to talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason for all this. Maybe there’s something you don’t know. But shutting him out isn’t going to help either of you.”

You felt torn. You wanted to believe Gabe, to believe in Ryan and the love you shared. But part of you was terrified of confronting him, of facing the possibility that your fears were real.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Gabe studied you for a long moment before leaning forward again, his voice steady but insistent. “You can. You’re stronger than you think, and this — whatever it is — it’s eating both of you alive. Friendsgiving is at my place, Wednesday night. Ryan’s going to be there, and so are you. No excuses.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Gabe raised a hand to stop you. “I’m serious. You don’t even have to talk to him there if you’re not ready. But seeing each other in person? That’s the first step. Take it.”

The next evening, you found yourself hesitating on the porch of Gabe’s house, the soft hum of laughter and conversation drifting out through the windows. Your stomach churned with nerves as you clutched the bottles of wine you brought, the glass cool and grounding against your fingers. You hadn’t seen Ryan in weeks. You didn’t even know how to begin to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Before you could turn and flee, Gabe opened the door, grinning like he’d been waiting for you. “There she is! Get in here, we’re just getting started.”

The warmth of the house wrapped around you as you stepped inside, your heart pounding. The inside was warm and chaotic in the way only Friendsgiving could be — mismatched chairs pulled around a too-small table, dishes precariously balanced in a potluck array, laughter and voices overlapping in the candlelight.

You caught sight of Ryan the moment you stepped through the door, standing near the kitchen with a beer in hand. His eyes met yours briefly, widening in surprise. He looked tired — pale, shadows under his eyes, and his usual easy confidence replaced by something far more hesitant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jacob intercepted him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a conversation.

Throughout dinner, you found yourself hyper-aware of Ryan’s presence at the opposite end of the table. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, but neither of you spoke. He seemed quieter than usual, laughing at jokes that didn’t quite reach his eyes and pushing food around his plate more than eating it.

After dinner, you ushered everyone into the living room, volunteering to handle the dishes. Your offer was driven partly by a desire to help and partly by a need for a quiet moment to collect your thoughts. A few protested, but you insisted, retreating to the kitchen before anyone could argue further. The rhythmic sound of running water and clinking plates was soothing, a brief respite from the tension.

You didn’t hear Ryan approach at first. It wasn’t until his voice, quiet and hesitant, broke the silence that you turned.

“Need a hand?” Ryan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative.

You glanced over your shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking at you like he was afraid you might tell him to leave. After a beat, you nodded. “Sure.”

Ryan stepped closer, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and taking his place beside you at the sink. For a while, neither of you spoke, the clink of dishes and the rush of water filling the silence. You stole glances at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed weighed down.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I did, but… whatever it is, I’m sorry.” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I know I should know what I did wrong, but I’ve wracked my brain and I just don’t know what I did. But please tell me… let me fix whatever I did.”

You gripped the dishcloth tightly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. Ryan had always been the kind of person to face things head-on, but hearing the crack in his voice—seeing the way his shoulders slumped like he’d been carrying the world—broke something inside you.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice trembling. “I—God, I’ve been such a mess, Ryan. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was push you away.”

Ryan paused, setting the plate he was drying onto the counter. His eyes searched your face, a mix of confusion and hurt. “Protecting yourself from what?”

You swallowed hard, knowing there was no turning back now. “I saw a message. On your phone. From someone named Brooke. It said, ‘Last night was fun. Let’s do it again soon.’ And I — I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know who she was or what it meant, and instead of asking you, I let it get to me.”

Confusion flickered across his face, then realization. “Brooke?” he repeated. “That’s — God, that’s nothing. She’s my mom’s friend’s daughter. She just started at Boston College, and my mom asked me to show her around. That’s all it was, I swear.”

His words came out in a rush, like he needed you to understand, like he needed to erase every doubt that had built up in your mind. “We grabbed coffee, and I showed her some places on campus. That’s it. I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t mention it. I never meant for it to come across as something… more.”

Your throat tightened as his explanation sank in. “So… you’re not—”

“No,” Ryan said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m not cheating on you. I would never, ever do that to you.”

The weight you’d been carrying for weeks suddenly felt unbearable, tears springing to your eyes before you could stop them. “Ryan, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I should’ve come to you. I should’ve trusted you. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I got inside my own head and I-I hurt you.”

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hands found yours, damp from the soapy water. “You didn’t ruin anything. Yeah, it hurt, but I get it. I just wish you’d come to me instead of dealing with it on your own.”

“I was scared,” you admitted, tears spilling over. “Scared of losing you, scared of finding out I wasn’t enough.”

Ryan’s grip on your hands tightened, his thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable softness in it, a warmth that wrapped around your heart. “You are enough,” he said firmly. “You’ve always been enough. You’re all I want. Nothing — no one — could ever change that.”

Tears streamed freely down your face now, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. He released one of your hands and reached up to gently wipe the tears away with his thumb. “I was so stupid,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you instead of running away.”

Ryan shook his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Hey, we all mess up. Relationships aren’t perfect. But we don’t have to let this break us. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest ache. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know us,” he said simply. “I know what we have. And I know we can get through this, as long as we’re honest with each other. No more shutting each other out. Deal?”

You nodded, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Deal.”

Ryan let out a soft sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly. “When you pulled away like that, I thought… I thought I was losing you. And that terrified me.”

The idea that you’d made him feel even a fraction of the fear and doubt you’d been drowning in made your heartache. “You’ll never lose me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears. “Not if I can help it. I’m sorry for putting you through this, for doubting you when you’ve never given me a reason to.”

Ryan smiled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’re okay,” he murmured against your skin. “We’ll be okay.”

For the first time in weeks, the tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by the comforting warmth of Ryan’s presence.

[punkkture]

how i view simon riley

for a second, let’s just forget everything about him that actually is true and let me lie . . .

simon riley is 6’5” and is chubby with hella muscle underneath. hes got a lot of tattoos covering his arms and hands, and one on his torso thats battered with scars. i like to think he has dark brown hair, its just my type okay? his eyelashes are sooo long and his hands are always washed, he hates having dirty hands.

simon is a good leader, he kind of has to be. he is an amazing man when it comes to his job and his teammates, but when he gets home, thats the only chance he has to just let go. there isnt some persona he has to put on when hes home. his temper gets the best of him sometimes and hes lwk toxic asf.

“baby c’mon you know i didnt mean to, ‘m sorry” — “dont be dumb sweetie you know im busy right now, go somewhere else and leave me alone” — “stop acting like this, im tired of you right now”

but he will always come to bed with you. always kiss you goodnight. always fixes the covers back over you when he gets up in the morning. its not his fault that he just has some anger issues he never got over when he was a kid. simon is either a big teddy bear or a stone wall. hes hard to read on most days but his tone will always give it away. mf has an awful tone problem when hes having a bad day. simon’s words are often harsh when hes having a bad day but his physical nature says the complete opposite.

“just shut up baby, you sound so stupid” he’d groan at you, but at the same time he’d pull you closer into him, kneading your soft skin in his hands gently. as if he is always apologizing after every mean phrase that comes out from those parted lips. and when that hurt whine comes from your lips hes already ‘shh’-ing you and rubbing your side.

my simon riley is infatuated with his sweetheart being all dolled up and dumbed down. he loves himself a stupid dumb girl that just cant do anything by herself. of course he knows hes needed for work, but simon has never felt needed outside of his job title. even if he’d never admit it without some emotional talks, he could cry over the fact that you need him. that something as precious and pure as you needs a man as rough and battered as him. he knows deep down youre not a stupid girl, youre bright and just curious, as he likes to put it. he loves being able to explain simple things to you, loves that you call him because you forget how to turn the oven fan off and how to cut a mango. hes so thankful that hes not needed for life or death situations with you like he constantly is for work.

my simon riley is obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. he is a sucker for breeding. when hes left alone in thought he always, without a doubt, thinks about you having his babies and forever being in his life. he just knows you’d be such a good mom. you are the only person he can even picture caring for his own. your sweet and kind nature on the daily shows how maternal you are and it just makes that soft spot in his heart swell and get bigger every time he pictures it. hes also smitten with your waist line. oh god dont even get the man started on your back dimples and the curves of your hips. simon’s lips are always on your abdomen and tummy.

“gonna have my babies in here one day sweetie, youre gonna look so pretty all knocked up” he mumbles in between warm open-mouth kisses right under your belly button. his heavy fingers digging into the dips of your back as he pulls you inexplicably closer to him.

he really is such a sensitive man under all that scar tissue and bulky muscle. in my head simon is an april taurus sun, pisces moon, and rising gemini. so basically, the taurus in him showcases he has a very rough exterior that is great at displaying leadership and grounding skills, but the pisces on the inside makes him sensitive and he has a lot of emotions, then the gemini in him makes him come across as independent and deceitful at first. i could go on forever about this mans astrology chart.

simon riley who always brags about you to his friends. he’s very careful with talking about you at work though. he would most definitely set the world on fire if anything bad happened to his sweet angel girl. when he’s back from deployment, out at some shitty pub with johnny . . he can’t keep his lips sealed about you.

“i know ‘m gonna marry that girl. i know it, gonna give her my last name and at least four kids . . you wanna know what she made for dinner when i got home from the last deployment?” he rambles to poor soap who just wanted to get out of his apartment.

[insidekatmind]

Best friends- Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18, smut, cheating,english is not my first language

The soft lights of the sunset paint the horizon in shades of orange and pink as you sit on your porch, a book open in your hands. The air is crisp, with a light breeze carrying the salty scent of the ocean. You're engrossed in your reading when you hear the familiar sound of hurried footsteps on the path leading to your house. You look up and see Pope, his expression troubled and his fists clenched at his sides.

“Can I come in?” he asks without preamble, his voice rougher than usual.

You set the book down next to you, concerned. “Of course, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He climbs the porch steps, his movements quick and jittery. When he stops in front of you, you notice the flush on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his hands.

“It’s Cleo,” he says finally, crossing his arms over his chest as if trying to contain something too heavy to hold. “We had a fight. A bad one.”

You stand up, gesturing toward the door. “Come inside, let’s talk about it.”

He nods and follows you in, collapsing onto the couch in your living room. You bring him a glass of water, which he accepts with a small nod of thanks. He takes a sip in silence, then runs a hand through his hair—a gesture you know well. It’s his way of trying to calm himself down.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” you ask, sitting next to him, close enough to let him know you’re there for him but not so close as to invade his space.

He sighs, a deep and tired sound. “It started as something stupid, at least at first. We were talking about plans for the weekend, and I said I wanted to spend it with you guys, with the Pogues. She started saying we spend too much time together and that I should dedicate more time to just the two of us.”

You nod, trying to see both sides. “And what did you say?”

“That there’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with my friends. But then she got upset and said I never put her first.” He pauses, shaking his head. “It’s not true, but… I don’t know, maybe I messed up somewhere.”

You look at him with gentle understanding, seeing the weight he carries on his shoulders. “Pope, you know how much Cleo cares about you. But maybe she needs to feel more secure in your affection. Maybe your words made her think you don’t care enough.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes filled with frustration and pain. “But that’s not true. I do care, so much. I just… sometimes I don’t know how to show it.”

You place a hand on his arm, your touch light but reassuring. “You don’t have to have all the answers right away. Sometimes it’s just about listening to the other person and trying to understand them.”

He leans back against the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? I thought being with someone was supposed to be easier.”

You shake your head with a wistful smile. “Relationships are never easy, Pope. But if they’re worth it, you work to make them work.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, broken only by the sound of the waves in the distance. Then he leans slightly toward you, his gaze now softer but also more intense. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know? You’re always here for me, even when I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

Your heart beats a little faster at his words, but you try to stay calm. “That’s what friends are for, Pope.”

He offers a faint smile, a tired but genuine one. “You’re more than a friend to me, you know that?”

Your breath catches for a moment. “What do you mean?”

He moves closer, his face now only inches from yours. “I mean… I don’t know when it started, but lately, I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I’m with Cleo, part of me just wants to be here, with you.”

His words leave you speechless. You search his eyes, trying to discern whether he’s confused or sincere. But there’s no doubt in his gaze, only honesty.

“Pope…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you to get over Cleo. It’s not that. But tonight, when we fought, all I wanted was to come here. To be with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. It’s a kiss that starts tentative, almost unsure, but as you respond, it deepens into something more intense, more passionate. His hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world around you fades away.

When you finally pull apart, both of you breathless, he looks at you with a kind of reverence tinged with uncertainty. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

You did not let him finish because you have re-cut your lips with his. You sucked his lip whining moaning.

Pope lies you on the couch while he takes off your clothes and then takes off his.

Pope looks at you for a moment to confirm that you want to do it, and you nod.

You moaned at how big and long Pope’s dick was. He smiled and kissed you softly, then came in with a quick blow, making both of them groan.

"You’re tighter than I imagined," Pope muttered as he began to move.

You groaned and then caught your lips with him

As the impulses of Pope increased fucking you with force venting all his anger and all his passion that had at that moment.

You could only groan with force while your pussy held Pope’s cock tightly making him moan while he fucked you harder while he chewed your neck leaving spots and bruises but you didn’t care, you were enjoying and getting even more excited at the same time.

You scratched his back feeling how it was destroying your pussy and left big scratches behind his back but neither of them cared, too taken by the moment and how you were fucking so well.

"you’re fucking me so well" You whimpered and he growled as he felt your pussy tighten even more around his cock two more shots and made you come then follow you by wheel cumming inside.

"the best sex of my life" he murmured as he joined your lips with hers again.

Pope still had his dick inside you and you felt it was getting hard again and you moaned as you were watching and stroked his hair.

"Round two?" He whispered and you smiled nodding

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[nekrosmos]

Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.

[salbei-141]

Late night doubts (Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, violence, death, organised crime, cartel, military, guilt, shame, fluff, etc.

a/n: rare update incoming. i am alive, surprise, surprise!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Soap were led side by side on his bed - you did this every now and again, seeking comfort in each other's warmth and words; sometimes it was just silent between you both with some music lulling the both of you in the background - sometimes all you needed was the comfort of knowing someone was there.

Tonight was one of those nights where soft music was playing, echoing around you both - you didn't pay much heed to it though, it was just there to fill the void in the room. Your mind had been going haywire recently, your last mission had you questioning your position in not only Taskforce 141 but in the military in general. You were the team's lookout, consistently above them somewhere - sniper following your team's movements, and the targets. You had failed before - sometimes obstructions occurred, that was apart of the job, you weren't able to save everybody all the time - you learn to accept it.

The most recent mission involved the taskforce entering a private compound that was ran by cartel members in South America. Like usual, you were perched up in your own little manmade hideout - surrounded by whatever greenery you could cover with. The team were ordered to enter the compound, retrieve the necessary data, and exit the compound. It was specified to be a quiet in and out job with zero distractions, and zero noise. It had been going well, you had been following your team - watching as they passed by windows until they left your sights for good, and then took watch over the guards around the compound. You were gaining an idea on their patterns for where each guard patrolled - ready to assist the team from high ground when they inevitably had to exit. However, it was one of those missions...things just didn't go to plan, and you didn't know if you'd ever get over it.

"Soap?" you needed to voice your thoughts to someone before you drove yourself mad in the coming days.

"Yeah?" you felt as he moved beside you to look directly at you, but you kept your eyes trained on his ceiling.

"You ever regret this? Like the job, y'know?" You could feel the regret instantly invade every nerve in your body - you should've just stayed silent.

"Aye, sometimes. Why love?" you were surprised by his answer - you were expecting some sort of disappointment from him for ever doubting your position in serving your country.

"Just the last mission...I-" you let out a sigh, not quite knowing how to talk about this, while simultaneously not wanting to talk about this at all, "it's just that the last mission - I've never been put in that position before, never trained on how to make a call like that."

"It's the military y/n - you can only be trained for so much before you're thrown into the unknown, and we both know it happens more often than not. You made the right call though.", you fell into silence, mulling over what he had said.

Unknowingly, tears had gathered in your eyes, and you felt as it trailed down your cheeks, hot against your skin. As you made quick movements to wipe them away, Soap turned to look at you, caught off guard by your sudden movements.

"Y/N?" You didn't turn to face him.

His hand slowly came up to the side of your face and he turned your head gently to face him. His heart felt constrained within his chest at your reddened eyes that were trying so hard to hold back tears that you had been bottling up since the mission.

"I don't know how to live with myself anymore Soap," you sounded so weak - he'd never heard you sound so small and unsure about the future.

He pulled you into his chest tightly; if he was being honest with himself there wasn't much he could say to comfort you. He had been tortured and looked death itself in the eyes, but never had he had to make a call like the one you had.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his chest. You felt yourself start to crumble more within his hold until you fully let yourself sob. You couldn't remember the last time you had cried like this, and you'd hoped you wouldn't have to again.

Nothing was said in the time Soap held you close to him - he hadn't moved in 40 minutes, just held you close while he ran his hands up and down your back and occasionally brushed his fingers through your hair as you sobbed into him.

Your crying had turned into soft sniffles. Your mind still felt muddled, unsure of where to go from here.

"Love?", he sounded so soft as he spoke in your ear - he cared for you like no one else.

You lifted your head slightly to look at him and whispered - your throat feeling tender, "Johnny".

He gently smiled at you and placed a small kiss on your forehead, "What if you took leave? Take time to think about what you want".

You looked at him confused, your life revolved around the military and as much as you were questioning your position within it, the thought of taking time off was foreign to you.

"I don't think I could handle being alone Johnny", truth be told you'd rather be deployed on another mission immediately than spend time alone with yourself. You haven't been alone for years - the military was like family to you - there was always someone around, be it Gaz, Price, Ghost, or most commonly Soap.

He caressed your face softly, "I won't leave you lass, we can both take leave".

"No Johnny. They need us...they ne-"

"They don't need us y/n. Price will make sure we get it off, come on...you need it - let me look after you..." he looked at you desperately, begging with his eyes for you to agree.

You stared and slowly nodded. "You promise you won't leave me?", it was a silly question, but you couldn't bare the thought of being alone any time soon.

He smiled down at you and spoke softly, "I promise to never leave you - I don't think I could anyway", your cheeks flushed lightly - his eyes stared at you with adoration.

You tried to muster a small smile for him. Johnny placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, pulling you against him again, "I'll speak with Price in the mornin' love, go to sleep, aye?".

You nodded silently against him and allowed yourself to close your eyes, exhausted and in need of sleep. He was like your safety net - nothing could hurt you as long as Johnny was nearby.

Soap watched as your face relaxed and your eyes shut as your breathing started to even out. He pulled you impossibly closer and felt you nuzzle into him as he ran his fingers through your hair until the both of you eventually fell into a deep sleep.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

on the rare occasion when sanemi’s mental health plummeted and he couldn’t take it, his feet guided him, the ache and the need for numbness coaxing the money over, lifting his hand as he took the sake. he drank and he drank until he was completely unconscious. he awoke with alcohol still strong in his system and, without much thought, he found himself on the way to gyomei’s estate. he often associated the man with something of comfort, although he couldn’t figure out why at the moment. neither could he figure out when he’d arrived, instead staring blankly at the door to gyomei’s house before realizing he had to knock. gyomei opened the door for him and allowed him entry, sensing far more than the sake and gruff greeting sanemi managed. they sat quietly inside after gyomei gave him a cup of water. then, abruptly, sanemi spoke. he was uncharacteristically vulnerable under the anesthesia of alcohol.

“you asked why i don’t talk to genya,” he stated, his eyes unfocused as he stared down at his cup. he took a sip. “didn’t answer, did i?”

gyomei hummed vaguely, not wanting to accidentally set sanemi off. he wasn’t sure how this man was like, once his guard was lowered. “i do not believe you did,” he agreed, though that certain conversation had happened weeks ago. genya was here, actually. he’d been training in the back when sanemi had arrived. undoubtedly, genya must be wondering what was taking so long.

sanemi nodded, downing the rest of his water. he put the cup down. then picked it up, fidgeting with it. his movement was loud in the silence of the room. “considering the circumstances,” he began, “is there really anything else i could do?”

“what do you mean?” gyomei asked, frowning. he heard a door opening, somewhere in the house. genya was getting restless, it seemed. or he was taking a break.

“my only objective for anything is…” sanemi paused, considering this. he started again, discarding his previous words. “most demon slayers objectives are to make sure other people can live normally. even if we can’t. right?”

gyomei made a noise of agreement. sanemi nodded.

“i’m no exception,” he remarked. “but, also, i am. it’s not like i don’t care about other people, but- i don’t ever think about them. when i need to be motivated to stay alive. you know? i do have other people i care about, like iguro or whatever. but he’s not why i’m doing this. i’m not why i’m doing this. nobody’s why i’m doing this.”

there was a lengthy pause. “then who is?” gyomei inquired. he shouldn’t be taking advantage of sanemi’s talkativeness, but he wasn’t the one who needed to hear it. he knew where this was going. genya did not.

sanemi sighed. he tossed his cup in the air, catching it in one hand. “genya. he’s not strong enough for the corps. he’ll survive a couple weeks, but he’s due to die eventually. or get too injured to keep going. i don’t get him. he’s got no reason to keep going, yet he clings onto the pathetic hope that he can do it. he should’ve opted to find some woman to marry. let him have children and make a family and forget all of this happened. if he wants to survive, that’s his best bet,” he said. he seemed to have thought it over many times before. enough so he knew it all, even under the muddled mindset he was sporting. “genya deserves better than to fight mutilated beasts every day. but i can’t kill them all for him. so he just has to leave.”

gyomei let this sink in for a long moment. “i believe,” he began, slowly, “that he wants to by your side.”

“wants?” sanemi scoffed. “he doesn’t know what he wants right now. but i know what he needs. he needs to stop chasing after me. i’m a lost cause. he’s not, yet. so he should take advantage of it before it’s too late. he’s an idiot.”

“i understand where you’re coming from,” gyomei reasoned. “but… you have to consider how he feels about it. does he want a life without his brother? is it really best for him?”

sanemi’s posture sunk, ever so slightly. he was trying to curl into himself. “not like i love the prospect, either,” he mumbled. “it’s just best for him. don’t want nothing more than that.”

gyomei let out a breath. “if you tried talking to him about it-“

before he could finish, sanemi cut in. “don’t be stupid, himejima, he hates me. he wouldn’t listen.”

gyomei was completely taken aback. “what? of course not. quite far from the truth, shinazugawa.” he was confused. “from where did you gain that aspect?”

“where? he hardly listens; won’t leave the corps when i tell him,” sanemi said, full of irritation suddenly.

“because he wants to stay by your side.”

“i don’t want it. i told you. it’s better if he’s not.”

“then explain it,” gyomei insisted. “he believes you’re the one who hates him.”

sanemi snorted, as if that was the most ridiculous thing ever. “that’d be like hating a newborn puppy because it can’t provide for itself. i don’t hate genya. but he has every reason to hate me.”

[sitkowski]

sink with me ( girl!noah x f!reader )

kinksgiving day one: shibari

pairing: girl!noah x f!reader cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ genderbent characters (always a girl noah), dominant f!reader, mentions of sex work, shibari, orgasm denial, kink negotiations, subby noah, hair pulling, face slapping, mommy kink, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, strap ons, aftercare. word count: 2.8k author's note: leftovers from kinktober that i never finished! so, happy kinksgiving. this one was fun as hell to write and soon i will have genderbent all the omens...title comes from "forever sinking" by ocean sleeper. divider by @saradika-graphics 🪢bless @darksigns-exe for the inspo of girl!noah's tattoo <3

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || read on ao3 (coming soon)

The knock on your apartment door disturbs your bath. Reaching out of the tub, you pick your phone to check the time. Your client is almost thirty minutes early. Mild frustration bubbles beneath your skin and you lift yourself out of the water. You pull the plug and grab your robe, seeing no point in rushing to the door. They knew what time they were supposed to be there. If they didn’t want to remember the time, they’d have to come in and wait for you while you prepare.

“You better have a damn good reason for not remembering the rules, Noah.” you say when you open your apartment door.

Noah, usually so full of anger and swagger on stage, stares at you with a cute little dumbfounded expression. “I don’t…I just got antsy.”

It’s not a good enough answer, and she knows it. She’ll pay for it. Which is probably exactly what she wanted in the first place.

“Okay, well I could make you just sit out here for the next half hour,” you see the protest forming on Noah’s lips, and as tempting as it is to listen to her plead her case, you roll your eyes and step aside. “Or you can just park it on the sofa while I finish getting ready.”

“Thank you.” she murmurs gratefully.

You let Noah walk past you, your gaze softening once she’s not looking. She obviously showed up early for a reason, and though you won’t let her see it, you’re a little worried about her. Closing the door and turning the lock, you look over your shoulder to watch as Noah does exactly what she was told to do. She sits down on your sofa, and she waits.

“I won’t be long. Don’t move from that spot.”

You’ve seen all types come through your door and honestly, Noah is no different from any of them. Everyone needs the same thing; a distraction, you give them a semblance of control that they’re missing somewhere in their lives. And you’re more than happy to provide that. Even for the front woman of an up and coming band who is probably drowning beneath the pressures of newfound fame.

Leaving her in the safety of your living room, you walk down the hall to your room, not bothering to close the door behind you. Noah prefers her scenes in the living room, and you have a selection of items laying on the end of the bed that you’d planned to bring out before she arrived. You take your time putting on a simple lingerie set, something decadent in red that Noah will like. Instead of putting back on the robe that you’d had on when your bath was ruined, you find another one, something in silk that you don’t bother to tie off as you gather the items from their place.

When you come back out in the living room, you see that Noah is exactly where you left her, elbows propped up on her knees, chin in one of her palms. Her eyes raise slowly as you enter the room, but you ignore her in favor of depositing things on the coffee table before her; a length of rope that matches the same shade of red as your lingerie, a set of safety scissors, and a harness and dildo that Noah always picks out when she comes to see you. You watch the way she looks over each item greedily, before looking up at you again.

“This is what you were hoping for, correct?” you ask. She nods and you make a face at her. “Words, Noah. You know you’ve got to make it through this part before you get anything you want.”

“Yes mommy,” she says without missing a beat.

“So, you want me to use all of this on you?”

“Yes,” her answer is automatic, and you nod in approval. “I’d like that very much.”

Giving her another nod, you gesture for her to stand. She’s taller than you, but you’ve never let that stop you before. A snap of your fingers and she shrugs out of her jacket and then her hoodie, leaving each piece of clothing in a careful pile in the chair by the sofa. You watch as fabric gives way to inked skin, and you wonder how many people get to see this much of her on a regular basis. You only know so much. As much as Noah lets you. It would be cliche to say that she’s one of your favorites, but it might be true.

“Turn around for me, Noah.”

She does as you ask and you step up behind her to pull her hair back off of her shoulders, twisting the strands into a loose braid. Your fingertips trace over her back piece, just an outline of Joan of Arc for now but it’ll be something when it’s done. Noah shivers under your touch, and turns back around when you’re finished. Her hands hang loosely by her sides, and she meets your gaze head on.

“Safeword?”

“Traffic lights.” Noah says.

“Hard limits tonight?” She chews on her bottom lip, obviously hesitant to say what she doesn’t want. Usually she’s more prepared than this. “It’s okay, Noah.”

“No name calling, nothing degrading at least,” she says at last.

You nod. “Okay. What are your soft limits?”

“Slapping? And…pulling my hair.”

It’s pretty tame, by your standards, but it’s your goal to make sure that she’s comfortable with you, that she feels safe and she gets what she wants out of this. Honestly, your pleasure is secondary, unless Noah’s in a mood. She’s left you a complete mess more than once because that was all she wanted.

Tonight, she’s the one who will be a mess.

“Find your position.”

It would be easy just to have Noah kneel, but since she’s going to be tied up, you need her to start out in a place that you’ll be able to tie her then move her. She edges into the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, stretching a little bit before pulling her legs up and resting her arms on her thighs. This position will leave her fully exposed and one good push would send her right over on her back once you’ve tied her.

Picking up the rope, you walk over and crouch down in front of her. She straightens her shoulders, and you reach out to run your fingers down her inked throat. “Color?”

“Green.” she says confidently.

You shrug out of your robe and unwind the rope. Noah’s eyes never leave your face as you first tie her forearms and wrists, and then tie her wrists to her thighs. Each turn of the rope seems to make something soften in her, making her pliant, until you’re looking at her and you see that her eyes are closed now. She breathes deeply through her nose, exhales slowly through her mouth. You take a separate section to tie her torso, around her breasts and down to her waist. Finally, you tie her where her elbows are cinched on the bottom of that rope, leaving her bound from her shoulders down to just above her knees.

“Try and move for me, Noah?”

She tries to lift her arms, but can’t. If she wanted, she could stretch out her legs, but it would just change her balance and she’d fall forward. Her only option is to keep her legs bent at the knees. You make a noise of approval, sliding your hands up her inner thighs, pushing her legs open wider. You trace your fingers over the tattooed skin that shows between the columns of rope. Her chest rises and falls with each breath and you move to your knees. You let her take as long as she needs to settle, and then you slide your hand further down between her legs. Her gasp of surprise is cute, as if she weren’t expecting it. You take your time, teasing your fingers into her slowly.

“I think you’re gonna make a mess on my floor,” you say, and you see the way Noah’s cheeks go red.

If it were a different night when she’d want you to be mean to her, you could probably make her cry about it. But that isn’t what she’s after and instead of degrading her for it, you just curl your fingers higher inside of her and lean in so that your tongue teases over the skin around the ropes on her chest. Your tongue swirls around her nipple, teeth gently closing on it. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Noah's hands clenched into fists when she realizes she can't touch. When you look up at her, her eyes are wide, her mouth open a little. She's doing her best to stay still as you touch her, because squirming is only going to put her off balance.

“Can I come?” Noah asks, and you sit back, moving your fingers faster. Your thumb brushes over her clit and her jaw clenches. “Mommy, please, can I—”

“No.” you say, pulling out your fingers.

She lets out a noise of disappointment and you can see the way her limbs are trembling already. Slowly you count to ten before letting your fingers slide back inside of her. Noah makes a move like she wants to shift away, already dripping again down your hand, but holds herself still again as you bring her close to her climax for the second time. Just as she’s on the edge, you pull away and this time her cry of protest is louder.

The slap to her cheek isn’t hard, if anything it was nothing more than a pat. Noah sucks in a deep breath and you grab onto her chin with fingers wet with her own slick. “Color?”

“Green,” she gasps out.

“We’re gonna move now, okay? Turn around and shuffle back, just like that.”

Noah’s moved now so that she can lean back into the love seat, her back supported by a cushion you put down behind her. The move also puts her legs higher and you tap on her inner thighs for her to open them wider. When you sink your fingers back inside, a sob-like sound comes out of her mouth and she does squirm this time, rocking down on your hand as much as the ropes will let her. You feel her clenching around your fingers, trying to keep you there even though you’re going to pull away yet again.

“Yellow,” Noah says and you immediately pull away. “Sorry, sorry, I was going to—and I don’t want to disappoint you.”

You frown because that’s not the direction you want to go at all. Scooting closer, you tip her chin up so she meets your eyes. “You could never disappoint me, Noah, you were doing so good. I wouldn’t have punished you for it…much.”

This brings a bashful smile to her face and she shifts around a little. You give her a few minutes to settle again, lightly tracing your fingers over her arms and thighs.

“How are you feeling? Anything bothering you?” you ask. You cannot wait to see the marks when you undo the rope later.

Noah shakes her head. “I’m ready to continue when you are, back to green.”

You take her at her word; despite the light sheen of sweat on her tattooed skin and the wild look in her eyes, you’ve done this enough times to be able to tell that she’s okay. But instead of touching her again, you lean back. “I think it’s time for something else, gotta give the needy girl what she really wants, right?”

She nods in agreement, and you smile indulgently, getting up long enough to undress and grab the rest of the supplies from the table. She gazes up at you as you slip on the harness and adjust everything correctly. You know that you could play this up, have her go down on you—on the fake cock that she’s currently eying greedily—but instead you kneel back down. Her frustration at not being able to touch you is palpable as she squirms around, and you hook her braid around your hand and tug.

“Be still for me, Noah, you’ve been so good so far.” You say, the hint of a warning clear in your voice.

“Sorry, mommy,” she murmurs, looking up at you. You don’t buy the innocent act at all, but you twist the braid again until she gasps, trying to arch away. “I’m sorry!”

You believe her now, and you let go, tapping the end of her nose with your finger. “That’s my girl. Now, sit up a bit for me?”

She does as you ask and you pull the cushion out from behind her, tossing it on the floor and then tipping Noah over. She lets out a little laughing protest, and it’s a little amusing watching her try to get into a position by herself. Eventually you give in and help her so that the pillow is up under her hips, her shoulders pressed to the floor. She’s always liked to have her eyes on you, and you won’t deny her that.

Reaching down, you wrap your hand around the dildo and feel absolutely nothing. It’s always a mindfuck for you, and you like it, the curious disconnect that comes with giving someone pleasure from something that only gives you a little bit of an after effect. But it’s in the way that Noah’s eyes go glassy and wide as you slowly push into her that gives you more of a powerful feeling. In your mind, no one else can do this for her, make her feel like this.

“Does it feel good, Noah?” you ask once it’s fully inside, your hips flush to the back of her thighs. The ropes graze your skin and you slide your fingers beneath them for leverage. “Is this what you needed?”

“Green, really fucking green,” she gasps out.

You’re glad she’s remembering to check in with you even when you don’t ask for it, and you reward her by pulling almost all the way back out and using your grip on the rope to yank her back down. She yelps and her fingers scrabble at nothing, still tethered to her thighs, and you know it must be frustrating that she can’t do anything. But that’s the entire point, she’s given you all of the control here, and you happily take it to give her exactly what she needs.

Each thrust of your hips draws a new sound out of her and you don’t even try to drag it out now, hips pistoning into hers. You take pity on her and lace your fingers through hers on one hand, giving her something to hold on to while you take her apart. Your other hand reaches down, thumb teasing over her clit in quick circles.

“Come whenever you want to, Noah.” You say, not expecting her to last much longer.

Her fingernails dig into the back of your hand and she arches up off the floor when she finally falls over the edge, tears spilling down her cheeks. As soon as she goes lax beneath you, you pull away slowly so as not to overstimulate her to the point of pain. Looking down at her, trying to catch her breath, eyes still clenched shut, you know she got exactly what she needed when she came here tonight.

“I’m going to get the scissors now, okay?” you rub a hand over her stomach to get her attention from wherever she’s drifting in her mind. She nods once. “Stay still for me.”

You get up long enough to take off the harness and grab the safety scissors from the table. Noah’s exactly how you left her, eyes still closed, when you kneel back down. You cut her arms free first, slowly rubbing your hands over the skin to make sure she’s still got the feeling in them. Each piece of rope that falls to the floor makes her breathing even out, and eventually she’s watching you as you remove the final pieces from her thighs.

Leaning over her, you place a soft kiss on her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and you smile, helping her sit up.

“I’m thinking you need a bath, and a big glass of water. Are you okay to move?”

Noah looks down at her thighs, tracing her fingers over the indentations left behind from the rope. She shivers when you do the same to the marks on her chest. It’s always been one of your favorite parts of after, seeing what’s been left behind.

“What about you?”

“Oh, that’s also what the bath is for,” you say as you undo her tangled braid. “You interrupted mine after all. I think you’ve still got to pay for that.”

Noah smirks as she manages to let you pull her to her feet. “Whatever you want.”

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae

@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses

@thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

@malice-ov-mercy @itsjustforce @darksigns-exe @baddestomens

@collidewiththesavannah @sorrowsofsilence @fadingangelwisp

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

[figurantedefilme]

"my pretty girl" — sam winchester.

pairing: tfem!sam winchester x gn!reader

summary: sam needs to relax and you would do anything for your girl.

cw: 18+ content, MDI!! sub!transfem!sam, softdom!gn!reader, intended to be read as sapphic, there's not really a plot, kissing, inappropriate language (not sure if i can count it as dirty talk argh), masturbation (sam receives). 1.2K words.

a/n: so, this is my first smut and it must be really bad, but i was thinking so much about this girl that i had to do something. this fic was very inspired by some of my favorite writers!! i'm trying to write more and trying to improve my writing, i still have a lot to learn. constructive criticism is very welcome!! english isn't my first language. enjoy it ;)

— send me an request!! <3

sam had been acting strange since you left in the afternoon to investigate some witnesses under FBI cover, and you only realized why when you got in the car and you could take a look at her crotch and saw how tight her pants were and how she was uncomfortable, all the way to the motel fidgeting in the seat. when you got to the room, sam opened the door and hurried in and sat on the bed while you closed the door.

"i think i'll take a shower first, okay?" sam said, searching her backpack for some clean and comfortable clothes.

"hm, okay, you can go first," you said, sitting down next to her, putting one hand on her shoulder. "only if you don't do anything and let me take care of this for you." you palmed sam's cock over her pants, she shivered and let out a moan that sounded more like a sigh, shivering at your touch, but tried to hide it by looking away.

"o-okay," she was already blushing, you could feel the heat radiating from her needy body. She stared at you for a moment and hesitantly gave you a sweet and soft kiss. "i need you so much, babe." she wrapped her arms around your waist and buried her face in your neck.

"what's got you so excited, baby?" you said, running your fingers through her soft hair.

"argh," you could feel her face getting hotter. "i couldn't look at you in that outfit." she tightened her grip on your waist.

"oh, you like seeing me in a suit?" she nodded. "okay, i'll keep it then," you threaded your fingers through her hair and gave it a little tug so she would look at you. "how about we take off some of those clothes of yours and you lay down on the bed for me, hm?" you said in a teasing tone, which only made her blush more. she just nodded and stood up.

she took off her coat, shoes and belt, but when she started to unbutton her shirt, you stood up and grabbed her wrists.

"leave this to me, okay?" then you started to unbutton her shirt slowly just to tease her, always with your eyes fixed on hers. you took off her pants and left her with only her underwear.

you gave up on teasing her when you saw how sore she must be, so you asked her to lie on her back on the bed with some pillows, relax, and let you do your job.

so you climbed on top of her, knelt down, without sitting on her lap- and started kissing her. you kissed her with desire, with your hands on her face and let her enjoy the moment for a while. you wanted her to relax, lately she was very tense with all the work and you just wanted her to feel good for a while, at least.

you began to kiss her down, wet kisses on her jaw, neck, until you reached her covered breasts. you looked at her as if asking for permission, she nodded and leaned her back a little. you unbuttoned them and threw them somewhere in the room.

so you started kissing and sucking her breasts, leaving some marks but always with so much care, as if she was made of glass and would break at any moment, you were adoring her and her body, you just wanted her to feel good and loved.

"honey, p-please?" sam was tired and sore, she just wanted to relax a little and was asking you to do it for her.

"it's okay, honey, it's okay." You told her and started to move lower on her lap until you were face to face with her panties.

"c-come on, please, i need you so bad." she said beggingly, she was thrusting her hips up almost without realizing it.

you slipped your fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down enough for your cock to pop out. the tip was so red, and pre-cum was dripping almost all around its circumference. from the look on sam's face and the state she was in, you felt like she was going to explode with just one touch.

"so needy, baby, do you need me?" you grabbed sam's cock and started pumping him really slowly.

"y-yes, faster, please, it hurts..." she was almost crying, she was writhing underneath you.

"i'll give you what you want, my pretty girl, i'll give you everything you want." you started going faster, sometimes slamming your hand on sam's hip, running your thumb over the tip to use the pre-cum as lubricant, sometimes squeezing a little, wanting to take everything sam could give.

"a-ahh, baby, i-i'm gonna cum." sam said, some tears started to run down her face, she was trying to hold it in but she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"okay baby, cum for me, love, be a good girl." you sped up with your hand, squeezing a little more until with a loud moan like a scream, sam finally came, dirtying his abdomen, your hand and a little of your face.

after catching her breath a little, she looked embarrassed, still with her face red, she whispered. "i'm sorry"

"sorry for what, love? you were great," you said, smiling at your girlfriend, lightly running your hand over her thigh.

"i was so needy that i couldn't hold back and i got you all dirty..." she hid her face with her hands.

"heyy, don't worry, okay? i like doing this for you, and it's okay, I'm glad you relaxed at least a little, i can see it on your face. how about we take a bath together and go to sleep afterwards, hm?"

"that's fine by me, love," she sat down and pulled you next to her and gave you a kiss. "i love you so much."

"i love you too, pretty girl."

[obeymefanfiction]

Beel: When Things Changed

Obey me! Fanfiction (July 2020) my masterlist Featuring: Beelzebub X Female Reader Word Count: 2500 Disclaimer: Obey Me! characters are the rightful property of Solemare. Warnings: Fluff/Angst You were lucky that demons were comparatively vocal at sporting events or you would have embarrassed yourself completely a long time ago. As it was you were still grateful Asmodeus and Satan were willing to put up with your antics as you crazy fangirled over Beelzebub’s game. Levi and Belphie both refused to sit by you after the first game. “Oh baby! You are rockin’ it Beel! Go! Go! GO!” “Thank Diavolo we brought earlplugs this time.” Asmodeus sighed. “Please only punch the air _? I bruise easily.” “She is also caffeine free this week so there is that.” Satan pointed out with a sly grin. “I’m betting once the adrenaline wears off, she will crash where she stands.” “I’m going to go get some refreshments and hopefully find someone to flirt with. You’ve got her covered Satan?” Asmo asked.

“Yep. I thought I saw Solomon over there flirting with some succubi.” “Oh! That bitch better not—” Asmo stormed off with purpose just as the crowd erupted again in cheers. “How is he so freaking awesome, Satan? Seriously! Did you see that?!” You squealed gabbing his arm as you jumped up and down. “Working out and eating constantly?” Satan suggested rubbing his chin contemplatively as though trying to assess if you seriously wanted an answer to that question. “Oh, trust me I know!” You laughed. “Oh! Sorry! Did I hurt your arm?” Satan rolled his eyes. “Just because my biceps aren’t as large as my brother’s doesn’t mean you could actually injure me.” “But you yelped last time.” Satan blushed, “That was Levi, and we’ve discussed this. Your enthusiasm can be a little overwhelming.” “I know it wasn’t Levi! Belphie had to push me down before the lightning struck. Green lightning.”

“Whatever, you remember it your way and I’ll remember the truth.” He shook his head holding back a smile. “Were you this crazy in the human realm? I’d think they’d ban you from games if you were.” “I’m not crazy Satan! It’s just that I love this stuff. BEEEEEEEEEL! Oi! Give the other team a chance you kick-ass demon!” Satan sighed deciding to cover his ears because when you changed volume that quickly the earplugs didn’t help a whole lot.

Satan had been right. You absolutely crashed as soon as the adrenaline wore off. Just before that you had somehow driven Belphie out of the twins’ room and up to the attic. His departure may have been a consequence of your enthusiastic recap over Beel’s performance? When Belphegor left with a grumble about how it’d be impossible to sleep with you around, however, you’d been rather hurt. Beel assured you he was just tired. Belphie had actually attended all his classes that day because of several tests. So he was more worn out than usual. Not long after the sullen twin’s departure you remembered raiding the kitchen with Beel. But somewhere between the ice cream and the pudding things got foggy. You weren’t certain what time it was when you woke up, but you must have slept pretty deeply to suddenly be awake like this. You glanced around realizing at once you’d crashed in Beel’s bed instead of your own. When your room was a bit broken and you needed to shared a room with him, Beel had always let you use his bed and opted to use the couch. Hmmm… that didn’t seem to be the case this time, however. Both the couch and Belphie’s bed were demon free. So where was Beelzebub? Suddenly concerned, you tried to sit up rubbing at your eyes to clear the last clouds of sleep from your mind. That was when you realized a rather large well-muscled arm was wrapped around your waist. Huh, maybe you were still tired since you hadn’t noticed the extra-large demon cuddling you like you were the small spoon in this bed? The thought made you flush, but you didn’t really want to disentangle yourself and wake him either. The warmth of Beel’s body wrapped around yours was undeniably comforting. His familiar scent surrounded you. The softness of the pillows contrasting with the hardness of his muscled chest at your back seemed like the perfect combination for comfort. You couldn’t help smiling at the thought and a content sigh escaped you. Beel shifted behind you drawing closer and murmuring, “Why are you awake this early?” “I must have just slept really well, sorry to wake you.” You whispered back. “Hmmm… you should stop wiggling and go back to sleep.” He mumbled burying his face against the back of your neck. His warm breath tickled your nape pleasantly giving you goosebumps.

“I wasn’t wiggling.” You smiled unable to resist teasing him back. “You were… and sighing all dreamy-like. It sounded as though you’d just woke up to find a giant cinnamon roll next to the bed.” His teasing laughter vibrated against your back. You giggled a little too. You’d admitted that the one food you really missed from the human realm was a cinnamon roll. He’d asked for details about what it was and how it tasted. That he still remembered after all this time made your heart feel especially warm. “The only cinnamon roll I found was the adorable demon hugging me in his sleep. Sorry to disappoint you Beel.” You squirmed around in his embrace so could roll over and face him. You reached up to ruffle his mess of bed hair but then couldn’t help smoothing it back down in to place. You always enjoyed touching him like this. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to be close to him, held by him, and teased by him. “Are you saying you were considering eating me for breakfast?” His eyebrows raised in mock surprise. You giggled, “It is a good thing Belphie isn’t here or he’d accuse you of flirting with me. You know that has certain connotations in the human realm, right?” “It does here in the devildom too, _.” He pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Oh. You hadn’t realized that. His pointed comment made your face feel a little too warm and you looked down biting your lip. You were suddenly really confused. W-was he flirting with you? While the two of you were in bed together? Nah, this was Beel. He… well he was sexy as hell, but you two had always been… just been… Beel suddenly took that moment to do a full body stretch. His legs and arms were easily longer than the bed and seeing those gorgeous muscles rippling up close was not good for your heart. With a content hum he rolled back toward you and wrapped you back into his familiar embrace. “Don’t look all worried. I was teasing you. Besides I’d never do anything that you didn’t agree to, okay? As attractive as you are, I’d still never hurt you.” He tucked your head beneath his chin and began stroking your hair. This too was a familiar gesture, but it didn’t calm your pounding heart the way it usually did. “Beel… did you meant that?” You asked softly. “That I’d protect you? You’d better bet on it.” He chuckled and his breath brushed tantalizingly against your ear. “No. I mean… the uh… attractive part.” Damn why did your face have to be on fire just now? “Attractive…? Oh, that part.” He pulled back enough to see your face and shrugged, “Well, it’s not like you haven’t heard that from Asmodeus and Mammon plenty of times, right? I mean a demon would

have to be blind not to notice you’re really pretty.” He continued stroking your hair as the two of you talked and it was starting to feel a little less innocent. His two brothers were both blatant flirts. You had learned to recognize when they were playing around and when you needed to head things off. Belphie and Beel were different. They tended to treat you more like family, so you hadn’t been hesitant to accept their more touchy and cuddly natures. Their closeness had always been a comfort to you not an invasion. You were aware of how attractive they both were, of course, but you hadn’t thought they’d ever look at you like that. “Mammon and Asmo aren’t you though… you uh… don’t usually say things like that.” You admitted. “Sorry it just caught me off guard. I wasn’t trying to make this awkward.” You buried your face against his chest still flushing fiercely. At least this was Beel you were talking too. He would probably laugh it off and chalk it up to human silliness or sleep deprivation. He always went easy on you when it came to awkward moments like this. That was one reason it was so easy to trust him. How many times had you had misunderstanding with the brothers because you hadn’t been paying close enough attention? Or forgot that you were dealing with demons in the devildom? Despite your awkwardness they still managed to make you feel accepted. Especially Beel. “Wait, you didn’t know I thought you were attractive?” His hands grew still though they didn’t untangle themselves from your hair. “N-no.” You admitted. “_.” Beel sounded… upset? You drew back so you could look at his face. Yep, he looked a little upset too. “What?” You asked. He rolled away from you to his side of the bed. Then he sat up running an agitated hand through his hair. “I just… how could you not know?” “Know what?” You sat up too hugging his pillow against yourself for warmth. Your body seemed distressed about losing it’s personal heater. “That you’re… that I…” He glanced at you and suddenly blushed fiercely. “I’ve had a huge crush on you since… well since you forgave me for eating your pudding that one time. So, almost since you came to live here? I thought you were just trying to be nice about it by not saying anything. Keeping things from getting awkward the way you do with Mammon. But you… you didn’t know?” “You… like me then? Like, you’d want to kiss me and…” Beel laughed, “Are you crazy? You don’t think I give you bites of my food for nothing do you? I love the idea of being that close to you. If it was anyone else, they’d get a black eye before they even touched my food.”

You’d thought it was odd he was always willing to share with you. Even his favorite things like his pudding. Still, to have Beelzubub admit he liked you? You weren’t sure how to react to that. Beel laughed again a bit harder this time. “That’s hilarious. All this time I thought you knew. Oh great, this isn’t going to feel awkward now is it?” An alarmed look crossed his handsome features as he turned around to face you. The bed shifted under his weight and you would have toppled into him if you didn’t grab the headboard. “Like I said, I promise I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to. You’re too important to me to disrespect you like that. You’re just so pretty it’s hard for a guy not to think about it sometimes.” He flushed looking worried and embarrassed all at once. “Please don’t be mad at me for that? You’re really special to me _, and I wouldn’t want that to ever change.” How was he so sweet and perfect? And he really… really? “I like you too Beel.” “What?” The words were out of your mouth and in the room before you realized they came from you. Yet, s soon as you realized they had you knew they were true. How many times had you checked him out or commented how lucky the ladies were to have him around. How many times had you wondered if he’d ever go for a human, then brushed the thought aside feeling embarrassed at the idea of even wondering. He was arguably the closest friend you had in the devildom, and the idea that he might like you had you wanting to go do backflips. Not that you would… but the feeling was definitely there! “I-uh—I’ve been trying not to… because you’re so amazing and I’d… I just… can’t help it okay? So, to hear that you—um.” You gulped. “I think about kissing you and things like that too. I just didn’t want you to feel like… like I wouldn’t be okay if you didn’t like me too.” You looked up at him nervously unable to help fidgeting with the pillow you were holding. He reached out and took your hands, gently enfolding them in his familiar warmth. “You don’t have to be scared you know. It’s just me.” He offered you a gentle smile. You looked up into those gorgeous amethyst eyes of his. “That’s why I’m nervous though! You make my heart just—and I can’t help it if I-Beel?” He leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You gulped staring up at him in surprise. “You need to stop looking scared and cute. Otherwise I’m going to need permission to show you how much I like you sooner instead of later.” A banging on the door made you jump and Asmo’s anxious voice shouted through the door at the two of you. “Come one guys! Get up! We are going to be late!! We’ll miss the sale if you don’t get moving and I refuse to pay for lunch if that happens Beel!”

Oh! You and Beel had agreed to go shopping with Asmo this morning! Beel was coming mostly to carry stuff and because Asmo offered to pay for lunch. You’d been happy at the idea of having him along, because last time you went shopping with Asmodeus it was a marathon. He forgot that humans seriously need three meals a day and your arms were about to fall off by the time you made it home. “Got it, but I am not skipping breakfast and neither is _.” Beel called back standing up to gather his things to head for the bathroom. “What do you want for breakfast? After I shower I can fix you something while you’re getting ready.” He offered. “I think one of your omelets sounds divine.” You suggested. “Are you sure? I know you have more of a sweet tooth when it comes to breakfast.” He teased as though this were the most normal morning in the devildom ever. “I’ll have to satiate that craving around lunchtime.” You shrug. “A Beelzebub special omelet sounds too good to pass up.” “Then omelets it will be. You need to hurry, though, or I may taste test yours.” “Beel!” You objected to his back as he disappeared down the hallway.

[fxckin-blackbeard]

ᒥ☠ᒧ—        After their hasty retreat, the Queen Anne's Revenge would move to different waters for a few months. Staying in one spot was never good, moving around meant you couldn't be easily caught. Edward spent a few weeks depressed, he replayed that fight with the Commodore over and over again in his head. No one had the gall to put up a fight anymore, no one but that fascinating Englishman. Weeks of surrendering ships, he grew bored again.

He'd had convinced Israel to return to the waters where the Commodore patrolled. Well, not framed exactly that way, of course, or else Izzy wouldn't have agreed. First, with all their plunder they would be making port in Tortuga to sell off some. They would need to restock on supplies and men as well, Edward's careless nature and games saw a large turnover in his crew.

The Queen Anne docks in the port, and Edward is not so excited to get off the ship. He had salt in his blood, making landfall was nothing but tedious. His mood is sour, a scowl glued to his features as he walks down the gangplank and onto the dock.

"'M gonna go get pissed and find some opium. You deal with the boys." He tells Izzy, walking away with a small wave to his first mate as he leaves him to do work while he went to fuck off.

His mind wanders off as he does, he thinks of the Commodore again. A bit of heat rises to his cheeks as he specifically remembers the decadent sound made when he slashed him. Dare he use the word cute? The man was fascinating, that one word kept coming to Edward's mind when he thought of the Commodore. In his distracted state, Edward trips over the leg of a man near-passed out on the dock.

Filthy, reeking of alcohol, and absolutely disheveled Edward sneers at the bum.

"Listen, mate, could ya be a mess somewhere not in the fuckin' footpath? That would be great." He nudges the man with his foot, trying to urge him to move. "If ya spew on m'boots, ya gonna be eatin' them when I kick ya in the mouth." Edward warns, having been in a similar drunken state before to know moving just makes the world spin. Some could hold down their dinner, other's couldn't.

James let out an involuntary sound as the blade sliced across his left side—a peculiar mix of a pained hiss and something dangerously close to a moan. He gritted his teeth, clutching his side as blood seeped through his torn coat. Cheeks burning anew at the unintentional sound. He pressed his gloved hand to the wound, feeling the wet warmth of blood begin to soak through his pristine blue coat. Edward’s mocking sing-song voice grated in his ears as the pirate prattled on about the damage to his attire.

“You’ve ruined nothing, Teach,” James growled, straightening despite the pain. His voice carried an edge of defiance even as blood stained his side.

When the pirate's first mate gave the retreat order, James's attention snapped to Izzy, his sharp green eyes narrowing at the blatant shift in power aboard Blackbeard's crew. "Well how about that, easily summoned like a mongrel" James's lips twisted into sour, smug smile.

"Running with your tails between your legs a second time, Teach?" he called, his voice biting despite the tightness in his side. "A Devil you may claim to be, but a coward is what I see. "

Edward had swung back to the Queen Anne's Revenge, laughing like a madman, but James didn’t chase him. He clutched his side tighter, his hand sticky with blood, and turned to Groves, who was already barking orders to secure the deck.

"Groves," James said hoarsely, his voice cutting through the din. "Report." Groves hurried to his side, his face pale but resolute.” We’ve sustained losses, sir, but the merchants are alive, and the pirates are retreating. We’ll hold the ship.”

“Good.” James nodded curtly, his voice firm despite the pain gnawing at his side. His gaze lingered on the retreating pirates aboard the Queen Anne’s , his lips pressed into a thin line. “Let them run. For now.”

Groves said, his tone heavy with relief that his words had finally reached James. "Sir, You’re hurt—let the surgeon see to you."

James waved him off with a wince, glancing around to assess his men. The deck was littered with the wounded and the dead, but his Marines were rallying. He straightened up despite the pain, nodding to Groves.

"See to the men first. We’ve lost enough today," he said, his tone softening for the first time in hours. With a last glance at the retreating pirates, James took a steadying breath, this time they both drew blood, next time he was determined to make the next encounter their last.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[reimeichan]

(Vent for things I've been holding in for years. This no longer reflects my current situation, but these feelings still linger inside of me.)

Why is it so hard for you to understand that I'm disordered? That my memory issues are debilitating and disabling? Whenever I tell you I forgot you tell me I need to try harder, but I try as hard as I can and I still can't remember. You tell me to take notes, and I do, but I read the notes days later and they no longer make sense to me. "Take better notes" you tell me, but I'm doing the best I can! I set alarms to try to remember to do things, but sometimes the alarm goes off at an inopportune time and I forget to reset it. Sometimes I even forget to set the alarm at all. I wrote a checklist for the things I need to do every night, I have it taped to my door- but it's now just visual noise for me, like all the other things in my life. I don't know how to make it any more noticeable or obvious to me.

Am I the problem? Am I truly not doing enough? Can't you understand that I'm struggling and struggling and struggling and there's no perfect solution? I took my meds like you asked me, why do I still forget things? Is it really all on me?

You say you can't accommodate my memory issues anymore. That it's draining you and hurting you. That it's not your responsibility to help me. And... I know this. I don't want to rely on you. But when my phone is in another room and I'm washing the dishes, is it really so hard when I ask you to send me a message to remind me of something I'm remembering to do at this moment but I know I'll forget once I'm done? Is that my fault that I can't write myself a note right then and there?

Am I that much of a burden for you? When did I become a burden and not equals? What happened to making compromises with the person you love? It's not your responsibility- but you told me you cared about me. About us. Where did all of that go? Have I really burned you out so much?

Am I really that broken that you no longer love me?

[caught-in-the-filter]

Feeling some type of way about the SAer among other things winning AGAIN, and FL’s reproductive rights amendment not passing even with the majority vote wanting it.

It’s not just about abortion. It’s never just about abortion. It’s about healthcare and basic human rights.

It’s about my first ever gynecology appointment, with a female gynecologist because I’d thought that would be both “safer” and “purer” than letting a man see and touch me “down there” unwed even in a medical setting. It’s about the fact that she didn’t believe I was a virgin in my early twenties. It’s about the fact that my mom, thank god she was there, had to insist more than once on a pediatric speculum on my behalf before the doctor finally listened and switched it, because I didn’t know there were different sizes they could use. It’s about the fact that the doctor didn’t listen when I fucking *begged* her to be patient and go slower because the speculum hurt so badly because I’d never had anything inside me before. It’s about the fact that I had to pretend I was fine when I stood up from that uncomfortable table-seat afterwards and realized she’d made me bleed. It’s about the fact that all my life I was told I’d go to hell for something like that, that even a medical procedure could make me somehow “impure” because it broke something inside me even out of necessity. It’s about the fact that I had to quietly panic-research “hymen” and how that even works because we are not taught our own anatomy in school because it and our mere existence is “inappropriate.” It’s about the fact that even the somewhat neutral resources I found contradicted each other, so I still don’t fully understand my own body or what actually happened that day when I bled.

It’s about the fact that raising concerns about excessive menstrual bleeding and painful cramps resulted in the doctor asking simply, “Do you want birth control or ibuprofen?” It’s about the fact that growing up in conservative churches made it clear that abstinence was the only way to live out of wedlock, and the best and purest form of birth control, that taking anything for it meant I had sexual intentions, which would mean I was going to hell for being a whore even if they couldn’t physically stone me to death for it anymore then. It’s about the fact that my only options are to fuck with my hormones and cycle in hopes it helps a little, or give myself future stomach ulcers I didn’t know then could be a side effect of NSAIDs. It’s about the fact that I have to pop that ibuprofen like candy anyway so I don’t feel like I’m dying for at least a week every month. It’s about the fact that so many with even worse complications than me need a non-existent future husband’s *permission* to be able to get hysterectomies even when it’s 100% necessary, because some hypothetical man that doesn’t exist has more say over her body and what it endures than she does.

It’s about the fact that my mom’s doctors ignored her uterine fibroids until they were so big that her uterus was fused to her bladder and she was bleeding so heavily and irregularly until someone finally listened and didn’t just say, “Lose weight,” which is a whole other degrading issue. It’s about the fact that her previous doctor *knew* about the fibroids and didn’t tell my mom, just gave her a passing, “Oh, they got even bigger?” in the office to her surprise, when it was too late to do the minimally-invasive laparoscopic version of the procedure which they could have done if he’d mentioned them sooner. It’s about the fact that she’d already had two kids and a miscarriage in-between and a tubal ligation, and her doctors still ignored her medical needs for years. It’s about the fact that her surgery was years ago and things have only gotten worse. It’s about the fact that as my cramps and bleeding only get worse, as ibuprofen hurts more than it helps, I’m afraid to start birth control only for the chance it could be taken away completely. It’s about the fact that I’m afraid to *not* be on birth control because rapists get congratulations and powerful offices and applause, but I’d get sent to jail or sent to my death with the consequences of their actions. It’s about the fact that I don’t know if I could find a doctor who would sterilize me by my own choice. It’s about the fact that I can’t afford, nor afford to take time off work for, an invasive surgery I shouldn’t have to endure just to keep myself safe.

It’s about the fact that every fucking day, all day, Hims and Viagra and however many other erectile disfunction ads are broadcast in every medium “for better performance in bed.” It’s about the fact that I am expected and required to not want anything to do with any performance in bed, while simultaneously expected to take it with a smile if a man wants it of me. It’s about the fact that in either case, I am the only one who’s considered impure. It’s about the fact that merely wearing shorts in an increasingly hotter climate is seen as “asking for it” but wearing full coverage in spite of it is seen as “needing to lighten up.” It’s about the fact that even if I were married and procreating on purpose and did every single thing The Right Way, but “God decided it wasn’t my time to have a child,” that we would both be left to bleed to death, that I would be left to bleed to death in my grief when at least I could be saved. It’s about the fact that that’s not an exaggeration and is happening all over the US because doctors are either restricted or afraid or agree with the bans themselves.

It’s about the fact that it’s not just about me, but the response to my outrage and grief is, “Why do you care if you’re not having sex? You’re not planning to need an abortion anyway, right?” It’s about the fact that yes it still very fucking much is about me, and about you, and about the people in your life you at least pretend to or think you care about. And it’s about the fact that we need to frame it as “your daughters, your wives, etc.” because you can’t possibly be expected to care about anyone you don’t already think you own and/or anyone outside your immediate periphery beyond “sending thoughts and prayers” when the system you praise and kill for is the root of the problem. It’s about the fact that even then, so many of you would rather see you’re so-called loved ones dead too than see them not conforming to your hypocritical ideas of perfection and righteousness. It’s about the fact that you think that’s somehow better and destined and even merciful. It’s about the fact that you think all this death is somehow “pro-life” or simply write it off as collateral damage like it’s their fault. And it’s about the fact that you can’t even see just how misguided and horrible you are through those pretty stained glass windows. I know, I lived inside them too, I believed you that we were being good and doing the right thing and thinking the right way too, I hadn’t actually read the book we were hitting people with then myself yet either, but then I grew up and learned what you really mean, what any of it really means, and that that book is a weapon wielded for power and to enforce compliance in a corrupt system masquerading as holy. I pity you, I pity me, I pity all of us. But I am *enraged* on behalf of the people who have already suffered and lost so much because we live in a world that refuses to see women first and foremost as human, and refuses to see humans beyond our own selves as deserving of the most basic decency and autonomy.

[blitz0hno]

Why does knowing I have DID because ✨DID Problems✨ make said problems both less and more Terrifying.

Like I know what it is and how to cope. I'm getting really good at it in fact.

But also these are like. Problem problems. I dunno if we can counsel ourselves outta this one gang..

Blogging time! Cuz like yeah it's objectively weird but just another Sunday for us lmao

Like tell me why, when we headed back to work shortly after hanging out with a friend, "we" briefly couldn't even remember who we hung out with. Except now that I know what's going on, I realize when I'm not fronting. This other alter fronted by surprise, probably because we were deciding where to work tonight.

Like cool I know why I was so out of it but still Doing Things but the WHY there makes things. So incredibly complicated for me. And bro felt baaaaad like shit he didn't remember jack. Because duh the Guy Who Was Not There fronted only after the other human is Gone. Some alters just can't help but mask and it's not good for us so they don't front with others around, you know the basics lol

And why do we feel like a bad friend even though we remember them perfectly clearly now. We remember them, but we had to consciously communicate it... To someone else in our own head... Like a thought-game of telephone? And like u know what it's like to think u can feel your brain working, and mine's like "compartmentalize or else." Whoops! Having fun? Many people wanna share front? Gonna slice up the memories! Oh you're conscious of this process? Amnesia. Get shadow realmed bitch you're not about to come into contact with something you shouldn't be reminded of. DAMN being wired for Living is so cool actually but also mom pick me up I'm scared (picks myself up). We always remember after a moment or two, which is why we never used to suspect amnesia to begin with. I will never understand why latching onto guilt for every little thing seems to be hardwired into our being.

It's up and down really, and makes socializing tough even though we love interacting with our friends so much. And Idk we always have really good communication when we're happy (and high ngl) but sometimes if we're alone we connect a lot of dots and don't know what to do with them. Silly funny interesting things and not something legit keeping me too dissociated to drive lmaoooo good thing we're freelance

BUT because we stopped, we saw a raccoon skitter across the ground. I love raccoons, they're cute. We were just thinking about them earlier. Makes up for the Horrors I think.

Tryna make some more money before bed but my phone is crying "no signal" despite working on certain apps. Guess I'm being forced to chill for a second. We're doing just fine and hopefully have a whole new job soon. We saw a magazine at the store that had part of the title obscured and all that remained visible was "your mind works." I think I'll take that as a good sign because uh it sure does! We deal we deal.

Being myself is the best advice I ever actually followed but damn this is difficult.

So yeah internal communication is a fuck. But less so than it used to be.