#scarless arms

[scarlessarms]

My new dark ambient album dropped today.

[diejager]

what would eldritch reader vs some other eldritch person look like?

[A cheese wheel has been added to your inventory.]

[A cheese wheel has been consumed.]

Opposition Cw: blood, gore, death, cannibalism?, tell me if I missed any.

Despite old-age rivalries and ancient hostilities, to fight a Lord for One’s territory, the bloodshed and animosity shared between many, and the death of a ruling, primordial being, they had forgone the older ways, taken to learn and study humans and monsters alike, especially the sudden emergence of hybrids, a perfect cross between human and monster, one that rivalled the flawlessness of Old Ones. You were one of those that sought change, to live and prosper farther than in their imagination, their faith and their fear. You wanted something substantial, tangible under your clawed, see thing you could taste and touch, more than the pleas and cries.

Most had left their territory, travelling wherever the wind blew, some ventured far and high, drifting from the country they were born to new colonies —the Caribbean or the Thirteen Colonies in the West of the great Monopolies of the 17th centuries. You rarely strayed outside familiar lands, presiding over a small stretch of land in Europe, it was familiar, comfort. It was a decision many agreed with, those you crossed would peer at you, a subtle nod of their head and they’d be gone, vanishing when someone broke your contact; gone along the wind, leaving only a whisper of their existence in monstrous words too high for human and monster ears.

Perhaps that’s why it felt odd to fight another one after centuries of peaceful coexistence, to throw yourself into the fray, broad and towering over the trees, beak snapping at the canidae entity and talons gripping their paws, claws threatening to rip into your feathered body. You felt stretched, rusted with joints creaking and bones groaning, too old and too tired. This Entity was young, a few centuries old, with a wolf-like appearance and a character that fit a mutt more than it would a being of such prestige. They were chaotic, acting recklessly and without thought, you needn’t ask it their age, it was written all over the scarless skin and brutish acts.

Rather than fighting for land, coveting wealth and fine metals that humans loved with greedy hands, you took on the wolf for protection, the ward of your small family, under a dozen with years of bloodshed and violence under their belt. The 141 had a mastery in different skills, utilizing what they did best to push on, to fight and survive to see the next sunrise, but even hybrids had limits, where their great feats and insurmountable reputation were useless against something of old; be it young or primordial, Eldritch beings had little predator, prey to their own kind but rarely from another.

You clashed with the Wolf, standing on muscular, hind legs ruffled with dirtied fur, blood staining the greyish hair; a strong tail swaying carelessly, cutting trees down with a rough swing; a well-defined abdomen painted with a tribal tattoo, gleaming with a gold light, portraying the image of a holy symbole on a blasphemous being; sculpted arms holding back your own feathered ones, hands bleeding from your talons; and a wide mouth, silver teeth bared in a loud growl, the sound near deafening to you. It was strong and well-trained for something born in times of peace, body built to it’s peak and mind sharpened to ignore every distraction, but you were from the old, racking up more experience and wisdom it could only dream of wielding.

You were defending the LZ, standing between the Wolf and it’s mission of killing those it could kill, beings weaker than it. The only thorn in their mission was you, the lone Entity that engaged it. The Wolf hadn’t been told that the TF had an Old One, primeval in every sense. It struggled against you, your more monstrous figure compared to their tamed one, their creation stemming from some wild fantasy of the Middle Ages, when France feared the human eating wolf.

You screeched as loudly as it growled, voice gaining in force, a cacophony of screams and cries slipping from your tongue, the fears and terror of beings that brought you to life. Spreading your second pair of limbs, you slashed at it, digging into the soft skin of it’s abdomen, tearing away fibres of muscle and warm fat. It yowled, struggling to pull away, frantic at your shift of tactic —fearful that you decided to attack than defend your group. It stood on the single probability that you wouldn’t engage, preferring to protect than fight with the risk of endangering your family.

The Wolf would die today. Your grip was unyielding, keeping it in this situation however much it tried to squirm away, hands prisoners of your first pair of wings and chest bleeding from your second. Before long, it would be another body added to your count, cooling and gutted on the forest ground. You swung your tail around them, wrapping once around their slim waist, adding further leverage over it while you dug their intestines out. The strong stench of blood, metallic and tempting, filled the air, bringing fearful tears to the Wolf’s eyes, beady, yellow eyes growing hazy.

You revelled in it’s slow death, your thirst for violence growing with the ages of peace, strung tight like an itch that bothered you incessantly. You hungered, you couldn’t remember the taste of Eldritch meat, the rich ambrosia in the veins or the last whip of their dying breath. Your beak cracked open, white teeth gleaming inside your black mouth until they were dirtied, stained red with the blood of an Entity, you clamped down on it’s neck, breaking the rough skin with enough force to shatter bone, but the Wolf had tough bone. That would only prolong it’s suffering, the pain feeding you as much as the meat and bone would —a delicacy of the ages. You wonder how König and Ghost would think of Eldritch flesh.

You wouldn’t need to eat for another month after this buffet.

Taglist: @warenai @capricorn-anon @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143

[saturnsorbits]

In Another Life

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen, Warnings: Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Mentions of Geto x Reader/Gojo. Word Count: 5.5k.

Summary: After a near miss with Megumi lands him in the infirmary, you find yourself back at the place you said you’d never return to.

A/N: Honestly, Gojo is a bitch to write for me. There's something I was trying to do here, hopefully it worked.

Rain bounces off the concrete. It hammers at your umbrella, collecting in the sagging canopy that is held aloft by bent metal spokes. A fight surrendered. You cling to its handle, sheltering under its non-existent protection as the front of your t-shirt fades to a dull translucence. Each of your steps spits up water that collects into puddles in your shoes, dampening your socks and putting a squelch in your stride as you continue down the road.

You don't care how much the puddles are soaking your legs. You're too angry.

You're angry a lot lately.

Since it happened, there's been a numbness spreading through you. A hollow that you can't fill no matter how much you eat, or drink... Or hurt. Your heart, once a delicate and proud thing, is shattered. Its fiberglass shards an ever present ache that only seems to deepen with each breath you take without him.

Approaching the main entrance of the Gojo estate, you find the gate unlocked. Beyond the path is immaculate. A thick cobbled road twists through the grounds connecting the main building to it's out houses, bordering the neatly styled gardens and surrounding the large pond stocked with expensive koi.

There's a catfish in there too, somewhere, one that's far outgrown its water-mates. It must cost an arm to feed, but you doubt Gojo minds; there's no way he'd get rid of it.

You clench your jaw.

It's from a distance that you finally spot her. Leaning against a wooden pillar on the back porch is the familiar figure of Shoko Ieire. She's backlight by candle light, a shadow of herself as she watches you with tired eyes. There's purpling to her skin, the etch of exhaustion ever present on her features now. A cigarette is balanced between two of her slender fingers, already half smoked to ash. She raises it to her lips as she watches you pass, a vulture on her stoop.

You don't speak to her. You never do. But, before you can vanish from sight, she sighs. 'You're only hurting yourselves... Fighting won't bring him back. No matter how much we all miss him.'

Her words are seeds, burrowing into the soft flesh at the back of your neck. They'll sprout there no doubt and eat you from the inside out, creeping into your sinew until you can think of nothing else... You block out the thought. Instead turning your attention to your chosen method of abuse and the flicker of rage still alight in your chest.

Hurrying now, you don't bother to avoid the squeaking stair that leads to the front door of the outhouse. There's no point. His eyes have followed you since your umbrella broke almost thirty minutes ago, since before you left Jujutsu High with tears still glistening on your cheeks, since before you dismissed Shoko and wrapped a blanket around Yuji's shoulders.

The door opens.

'Who did I piss off to deserve a surprise visit from you?' Gojo Satoru is shirtless and smirking. The plain of his chest is broad with lean corded muscle that is almost entirely scarless: a luxury only he can afford. Standing aside, he raises his eyebrows above his blindfold. He likes it when you're angry. 

Angry is easier than the other thing.

You barge your way past him, catching him hard on the shoulder as you go. 'You're fucking out of order for sending him in there like that.' Tossing your bag, you wheel about on your heel readying a second volley of vitriol. 'He's sixteen and you sent him on a fucking special grade case. It's a miracle he's in the state he is and not dead.'

Gojo closes the door, shrugs. 'He's not dead, consider it a… Learning curve.'

'A fucking -.' You bite your tongue. Draw blood. Taste metal.  'Are you insane?'

Gojo smiles. 'People have called me a lot worse.'

Bile licks at your stomach, promising a brutal climb up your throat. You ball your hands into fists, basking in the bite of your nails against your palm. You'd hit him if you thought it would do any good. Instead, you go for his jugular with the next best thing. 'He'd be so disappointed in you...'

Gojo stills.

The words sink into Gojo's back and slip between his shoulder blades. The muscle there locks, knotting as he refuses to turn and face you. His breath is tucked away in his chest, wedged between his third and forth ribs. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper – a broken sound that creaks through his lips. 'Don't do that. Be angry with me, but don't do that.'

A win. 

The fracture in his armor shines bright, allowing you to dig in further. 'This is what tipped him over the edge, Satoru. This needless fucking sacrifice.' 

The words repeat on you, anger clawing at your stomach again. You can still feel it. The blood seeping through your fingers had been hot and sticky, flowing steady no matter how hard you pressed against his chest. The smell of blood is cloying, lingering even now as the memories attempt to drag you back.

He'd looked so broken. His body a dead weight on Yuji's shoulders as he'd carried him to the infirmary, picking his way across the courtyard through tears. You'd held the boys insides closed as well as you could, hoping that it would be enough.

It had taken hours.

When Shoko had done all she could, she'd sat down beside you; her throat dry, hands steady despite the shake in her voice. 'He's out of the woods, the rest is up to him.'

You blink tears from your eyes and watch as Yuji bends himself into the curl of a question mark just to link his little finger with Megumi's. 'Do you remember when he was little?'

He looks like that now, you think. Young. His face is a picture perfect imitation of the youth he's been cheated out of. His bird-bone chest fragile, stuttering out uneven breaths in a manner that betrays his injuries. In-between his eyebrows a notch of tension subsists, creasing the skin and ruining the childish pout placed delicately on his lips. Yuji reaches out and presses his thumb to the wrinkle, smoothing it out with a gentle stroke.

'He was always serious, even then.' Shoko mumbles. There's the smallest glittering of fondness in her eyes when she thinks back to the small child they'd all first met.

He'd been a shock that's for sure. Barely ten and striding beside The Gojo Satoru like he couldn't care less. His upbringing had already hardened him to the world, but even that wasn't enough to prepare him for what was ahead.

You'd watched him grow from that small, insolent child to a young man with a bleeding heart. The same heart that often lead to... Well, this.

The numbness in your chest stirs. How often have you been sitting here? How often have you watched white sheets be pulled over broken bodies? Your fellow sorcerers fighting for their lives in metal beds? 

It's on days like these when his old rhetoric tastes sweet on your tongue.

Turning, Gojo fixes you with a cold stare.The shine in his eyes has gone flat, leaving nothing, but the glacier behind. He’s challenging you, forcing you to bare witness to the eye of the storm - the Gojo Satoru that everyone is so, so scared of. 'Do you really think I enjoy it?’ 

You lick the inside of your mouth and taste venom. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ 

His shoulders sag. ‘No.’ 

‘Then, why.’ 

There’s laughter basking on the back of his tongue, it lingers there tasting sweet until he swallows it. Holding his arms out, he crucifies himself - a false God standing before you, out of place in his own living room. ‘I’m Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer - last of his line, inheritor of both my clan's great techniques.’ 

‘You’re boasting.’ 

‘Admonishing, actually.’ 

You snap, tiring of his games. ‘You -.’ 

The tips of his tongue finds his teeth, caresses them. ‘I,’ he spits. ‘Can’t save them all, so what am I supposed to do except prepare them?.’ 

‘Is that what you’re going to hide behind? Really?’ You seethe. It’s the same excuse he’d given back then, back when betrayal was a word you used instead of a name - except now, you know it’s all bullshit, not just the sad words of a terrified boy. 

Gojo chuckles. Sinking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he bunches the muscle of his shoulders into a shrug. ‘What then? Stop the curses? Jujutsu? Or maybe it’s the people I should -.’ 

‘Careful…’ You growl. ‘You’re starting to sound like him.’

‘So are you.’ He tilts his head, considers you for a breath too long. He shouldn’t have made it personal, but it’s hard not too when he can hear his words in your voice. ‘You’ve been sounding like him for a while.’ 

Letting your eyes drop to the floor, you speak to the ground. A moment of weakness you know will cost you. ‘I know you think you were the only person who loved him, but you aren’t.’ 

‘Oh, I know.’ Gojo snorts. It’s an ugly thing, a break in the lul that cracks you over the head like a whip. He’s decided to make it bitchy, he might as well draw blood - it isn’t as if you’re not looking for your own pound of flesh. Licking over his lips, he lets them curl into a smile. ‘You were always barking at his heels. I was barely able to get his cock down my throat without you walking in.’ 

You choke, ‘You -.’ 

‘No,’ he relents, before doubling down: hard. ‘But if it was going to be either of us we both know it would have been me.’ 

‘Oh, fuck you, Satoru.’ 

‘Will I do? Not much of a substitute for our dear -.’ 

The bow of your heartstring breaks. You’re not sure you could take hearing his name fall from Gojo’s lips, so instead, you shout. Cutting him off, you submit to the anger winding its way up your legs. It sneaks through you, hijacking your veins and making your entire body burn. ‘You’re fucking insufferable, Gojo Satoru the strongest fucking sourcerer, you’re just an immature, arrogant prick underneath it all, aren’t you?’ Your chest is heaving, the barbs Gojo has dug there sting leaving you breathless and bleeding. 

Gojo shrugs again. 

‘You never fucking cared, did you? Not about Megumi… Suguru.’ 

You don’t see him move, but you feel him. His chest presses into yours forcing you back against the wall as he towers above. A rush of wind follows, the harsh huffs of breath panted across your face as he fights a losing battle with his composure.There’s a tension in his cheek, the muscle ticking as it’s stretched over bone. It’s the same in his fist. Porcelain skin pales, striated over both his knuckles and jaw alike. 

Part of you knows you should be scared. Better sorcerer's than you would be. 

But, it’s your fault. 

You committed the sin. 

You should know better than to utter his name. 

Gojo snarls, his lips pulling back to show off clenched teeth. He looks like an animal, his hackles up - body tensed and primed to spring an attack. You’d be forgiven to assume that he was a predator on the hunt and not a taunted beast cornered. ‘I think you should leave.’ 

‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Leaning forward, you jab a finger into the divot of his chest and feel the digit bend.

‘Leave.’ It’s a dare, a vicious mockery as it drips from his tongue. He doesn’t retreat. Instead, he opens himself, rolling his shoulders until you’d have a clear shot and juts up his chin.

The air between you is thick. You can feel his breath, each exhale fans your collarbones - warm and wanting as you both bask in the stalemate. The anger in your stomach simmers, the hatred too, bubbles, acidic and fierce as it eats you from the inside out. You’re not sure why you came here anymore, why you’re not holding vigil in the infirmary or demanding meetings with a set of higher-ups that will discard your words. 

It’s not like anything can shake The Gojo Satoru. 

No. Even he couldn’t do that. 

Gojo’s challenge remains unanswered. It hangs there, demanding an answer while evading both of you. 

Swallowing hesitancy, you steel yourself and dig in your heels. This used to be his job, standing in Gojo’s way - holding onto his heels so he couldn’t fly too far, but that was all before. Breathing deep, you will your voice not to waver. ‘Is that really what you -.’ 

Reaching up, Gojo hooks a finger under the material of his blind fold and tugs. 

Your breath sticks. 

There, basking in the ice pools of Gojo’s eyes are tears. They glitter, lost stars already fallen, destined to never see the sky again. 

It’s an admission, one that is as much yours as it is his. You lean forward, let yourself tip. 

You taste salt when he kisses you. The sting of his teeth takes hold of your lower lip, but he soothes it quickly with the salve of his tongue. Dipping into your mouth, he flicks over your teeth before shoving you bodily against the wall. Your collision isn’t gentle, it’s messy, desperate as you're suddenly forced to fight. 

One of his hands loops around the back of your neck, his long fingers splaying across your nape as he pulls you in to devour you. You lean in, let him have you while your hands explore his chest. Palm first, you press to him letting the contours of his body guide your touch. He shivers as the tips of your fingers crest over his nipples, the rose buds pebbling under your fingers as your thumbs follow in succession. 

He moans into your mouth, the noise going straight to your cunt as he readjusts his stance and slips a knee between your thighs. The angle is delicious, his height providing the perfect slope for you to grind against as you cling onto his shoulders for stability. 

‘Fuck.’ Gojo’s chest heaves as he pulls back. You’re a vision, with the evidence of his desire shining on your lips and the heat he can feel seeping into his thigh. Reaching out, he presses a thumb to your lips and leverages open your mouth to press down your tongue. ‘I’m not going to be gentle.’ He counsels. 

Licking up his thumb, you bite harshly just before the nail. When the digit retreats, you smile. ‘Neither am I.’ 

He nods, planning his next move, but you beat him to the punch. Your hand wraps around his cock and squeezes, cutting off his common sense and rendering him blank. A gasp fills his chest almost suffocating him as you smooth a thumb over his head and toy with his sanity. 

You cock your head, pleased with the higher ground. ‘Y’know, for all the girls you used to bring back - we were also so curious as to why we never heard anything.’ Flicking your wrist, you force Gojo to flatten his hands against the wall beside you to remain upright. He locks his knees, eyes rolling skyward. ‘I was so sure it was because your cock was small.’ 

He grins at that. Bravado gifts him a reprieve, ‘What’s it feel like to be wrong, sweetheart?’ 

‘Oh, I’m fine with that.’ Rubbing your thumb down his shaft, you release him just as his hips begin to grind into your hand. ‘I’m just worried about you not knowing what to do with it…’ 

Gojo hisses through his teeth and removes his leg from between your thighs. It’s petty, he knows, but the whine that rattles your throat is payment enough. Silencing you with a kiss, he licks into your mouth, hungrier now as you scramble for purchase on his shoulders. Your desperation makes him harder, has him leaking more into his underwear. ‘I’m getting sick of that smart mouth.’ 

Catching his eye, you smirk. ‘You’ll never get sick of my mouth.’ 

‘Oh, yeah?’ He raises his eyebrows, ready to add his own witty retort. He can already picture it now. You, on your knees, your eyes fluttering shut, your throat open. He wonders how hot your mouth would be, how soft your tongue would feel as it laved over the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Gritting his teeth, he allows himself a brief moment to regain control. 

‘Yeah.’

Your voice brings out gooseflesh across the back of his neck. He shivers, feels his chest swell with anticipation. He’s going to ruin you, that’s for sure. He might even make you thank him for it afterwards. He’s about to command you to kneel, to put you in your place, but he doesn’t even get the chance. 

You shove him. 

Hooking a toe behind his heel, you chuckle when he hits the floor with an ungraceful thump. He grunts, hands snapping to brace himself just as your knees crunch on the hardwood beside him. 

The force of the landing sends an ache through his bones, vibrating his joints. His temper flares, annoyance itching at his fingers as admonishes himself for his lapse in focus. Still, all is forgotten as your fingers begin to work at his belt. 

Wasting no time, you undo the clasp and yank the leather through the loops. The belt cracks, causing Gojo to flick up his eyebrows once more. ‘Be careful…’ You tease, snapping it again. ‘Or I’ll be using this as a collar.’

‘Promises, promises.’ He reaches out a hand and lets his fingers trail across the plush of your thighs, admiring. Stretching, he curls himself into a lower case ‘C’ to grip the fat of your ass and administer a singular hard slap. 

You catch your lip between your teeth and work quicker, unbuttoning and tugging denim down his thighs. There’s no bothering with unclothing completely. You don’t even bother to strip him of his underwear. Instead you slip them just low enough to expose the wiry mess of his pubic hair and hook the elastic underneath his balls. 

He hisses as his cock is exposed to the air. It bobs there, aching, hard and flushed down to the base. He’s long and leaning, with a pinkened head that gleans with pre-cum. Each droplet drips down his shaft, rolling over the rivers of thick purpling veins until they reach the base and stick into the cloying nest of pubic hair. 

The sight of him makes your cunt clench, anxious to be full. You strip, ignoring the low whistle that slips from Gojo’s lips as you lose your pants and pull aside your underwear. Straddling him, you bat away his hands when he attempts to take hold of your waist and hover above his cock. 

Chuckling, he leans back, tucking his palms under his head. ‘You’re gonna want to prep yourself for that -.’ The pet name never manages to flick off of his tongue. He gasps, the air shocked and frozen in his lungs as a violent tightness overtakes him. The muscles in his legs flex, his toes curling as he struggles to comprehend the sudden pressure zipping down his body. 

Reaching between your thighs, you spread yourself and take him whole. He’s large enough to steal your breath, but you’re careful not to let it show. You settle, feeling the muscle of his hips twitch underneath you.

‘Careful…’ 

‘I’ve taken bigger with less prep… Sweetheart.’ 

Gojo opens his mouth to speak, but all that leaves his throat is a moan. His hands shoot out, body curled as you intercept him in midair and wrap your fingers around his wrists. Rendered useless, he allows you to guide him, allows you to press his hands to your hips, to encourage him to grip, to hold and pinch. A passenger in his own body, he lets the feel of you envelop him, smothering him until biting his lip is all he can do to keep the strings of babbling moans trapped in his mouth, 

You’re annoyed to discover that he sounds as pretty as he looks. His eyes have thawed, limpid pools shining as he looks at you with something you’re not willing to give a name. Slipping your hands over his, you shift his grip down your body and press into him until he takes hold of your ass. Kneading the fat there, you moan, enjoying his heat on your skin as you begin to move. You ride him how you want to. For your pleasure and not his. 

Battling the thing inside of him that screams at him to submit, Gojo wrenches his hands from your grip. Your fingers softened around his wrists with pleasure provide little resistance, as does your body as he takes a hold of your waist and plants his feet on the floor. 

The first thrust takes you off guard. His cock spears you, pressing hard against the roof of your cunt making you see static. The second you’re prepared for. Ignoring the fluttering of your cunt you throw your weight forward and slam a palm down beside his head. 

‘C’mon Princess,’ Gojo coo’s. His pace doesn’t falter. The slap of skin fills the room as his thighs hit your ass over and over again. Your cunt swallows him, arousal dripping down his length making the entire room sound like sin. ‘Hear that… Your cunt loves it. I can feel you dripping down me.’ 

You grit your teeth. Shifting your weight, you force your ass back against him, meeting each of his thrusts. 

‘That’s it, good girl.’ Gojo snarks. ‘See how much better it is when you just fucking -.’ 

The remainder of his sentence is cut off and swallowed, trapped in his throat as you wrap your fingers around it. 

His cock jumps inside of you. 

You squeeze harder. 

A broken moan trickles over his lips. 

‘You’re fucked up.’ You laugh, exasperated. His pace has slowed, but still his hips shift forcing you to take his cock over and over again. Sitting down on him hard, you match his thrusts with a grind - catching your clit on the thicket of pubic hair covering his crotch. Pleasure uses your ribs as a climbing frame, springing off of your organs and making you feel light. 

Gojo grins, teeth shining. ‘Says the woman with her hand around my throat.’ 

‘Oh fuck off.’ 

‘Get me off and I might.’ 

‘You think I’m going to let you cum?’ Without releasing him, you straighten. Your grip forces him to come with you, to sit up and flatten his legs. His thrusting stops. His eyebrows raise. 

With your free hand, you break through the buttons of your shirt and take hold of your tit, squeezing the flesh. Rolling your nipple between the knuckles of two fingers, you work yourself up to hardness and suck air through your teeth. Your petting only makes you wetter, the subtle flicks of your hips keeping your body taught as you creep steadily towards your orgasm. Pushing out your chest, you offer it to Gojo with a command. ‘Suck.’ 

He wets his lips. 

You tighten your grip on his throat. Feel his cock kick again. ‘If you’re waiting for a please, you’ll be waiting a long time…’ 

Gojo lets his tongue lol out of his mouth. Using only the tip, he flicks it against your nipple, but retreats as soon as a moan slips from your lips. ‘What about now?’ 

Biting your cheek, you attempt to still the rolling arousal in your stomach. The first pass of his tongue on your skin burns you alight; your knees weaken, forcing you to lower yourself entirely onto his cock. A moan bubbles in your chest, held back only by the annoyance itching at your fingers. Digging your nails into the vein throbbing at the turn of his jaw, you press until bright crescents appear on his skin. ‘I said…’ You growl. ‘Suck.’ 

Head clouded with lust, Gojo feels his reserve give in. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s lasted this long - it’s been a while since he’s had someone to play with. This time, when he takes your nipple into his mouth he’s like a man starved. He sucks, tongue flicking and circling. Reaching up he takes you in hand and squeezes, moaning as he continues to make-out with the peak of your tit. 

‘Good boy…’ A gentle pet on his head solidifies your praise. Your fingers itch at his scalp, tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear and then drops. Slinking down your body, you tuck your hand under your cunt and tap a finger to your clit. The movement makes you jolt, jump starts the rocking of your hips as you begin to chase your high - using Gojo as your own personal sex toy. 

It pains him to say he likes it. Each grind of your hips sends a jolt of electricity up through his spine, his cock lost to the heaven that is your cunt. Drool leaks from the sides of his mouth, his tongue lapping at you, anxious to earn more of the panted moans you feed into his ears. 

 So used to taking, this moment of servitude suits him… 

Each inch of your body is tended to, singing in harmony as pleasure rises through your body and threatens to take over. You let it. Drawing quick circles on your clit, you release Gojo’s throat in favour of clinging to his shoulders. Thick lines mark out exactly when your orgasm hits. You dig into the muscle of his back, hips threatening to still as wave after wave rocks through you.It’s blinding, casting static on the inside of your eyelids as your eyes roll back and strain. 

A hand cups your ass and presses into you, forcing you to keep moving. He can feel the sponginess of your cunt, feel you milking him - demanding his seed. Clenching shut his eyes, he focuses on you. Your moans trickle into his ears, feeding him, urging him on as he takes control and prolongs your high. You look ethereal with your head bowed and your eyes clenched shut. The plush of your bottom lip hangs open allowing more of your noise to find him. Moans. Words.. They sink into his skin.

‘Satoru…’ 

It’s a whisper. A broken one, but his ears aren’t deceiving him. 

Your grip around him tightens. 

‘Satoru…’ 

The second he feels your cunt release him, he’s moving. Using all of his strength, he scrunches his knees and forces you forward, but there’s no chance of you finding your balance before you’re tossed again. He maneuvers you like you weigh nothing, broad hands taking your waist and flipping you once more before he’s on you again. 

Stable on your hands and knees, you arch your spine and push backwards. You can feel the stickiness of his cock pressing to you coated in your cum. It nestles between the cleft of your ass, pressing to all of the wrong places. 

Leaning over you, Gojo presses his chest to your back and whispers in your ear. ‘Now, it’s my turn. So be good and stay still, huh, Sweetheart.’ His palm wraps your shoulder, forces you to the ground as his heat leaves you, but before you can complain, or wriggle, the hot press of his cock is slipping back inside of you. 

Gojo is anything, but gentle. He’s relentless, fucking into you like a machine. Each thrust comes with a shock of pleasure that sparks at the base of your spine, one that explodes and seeps into the bones of your hips. He’s too deep, muddling somewhere in your stomach as he grips your hips and yanks you back forcing you to take him whole again and again. 

‘Cum…’ Gojo leans over you, his eyes wide as a hand dips around your waist and pats at your hip. He follows your curves and dips between your thighs, his fingers drawing out rough circles on your clit. There’s a desperation in his voice when he speaks again, his breath fanning your ear as his thrusts grow erratic. ‘Need you to cum, need - fuck. Need to feel it.’ 

Your body kicks, legs shaking as he begins to work you back up again. It’s as if your nerves are frayed, too raw even as your stomach begins to fill once more. 

‘C’mon… Wanna feel you.’ 

A droplet of sweat falls between your shoulder blades, dampening your shirt. Desperation radiates through him, burning your skin where he touches you. Your body obeys easily, even as his ministrations become halting and uneven, but it isn’t until one final word slips from Gojo’s lips that you find your second orgasm crashing into you. 

‘Please.’ It slips out without his say so and falls heavy in the room. 

You want to snark, want to turn and bite, but your knees are too weak. Instead, you press your head to the floor and wait for the air to return to your lungs. There’s a stuttering behind you, a momentary lapse of pace and then, the room is full of Gojo’s moans. 

He cums hard with his hands clamped back on your waist to steady him. The release is nothing like he’s ever felt, his whole body becoming a live wire that winks out, suspending him in his own pleasure until, at last, his limbs become numb. ‘Fuck…’ 

Bucking, you stop him from collapsing on your back and roll just in time for him to lay himself beside you. You lay like that for a while, side by side in puddles of your own spend and sweat until the floor grows cold. Then, he’s gone. 

The chill from the floorboards cools your skin and burrows into your bones. You flip, rolling over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. You’re still angry. Although, the feeling is distant now - lingering somewhere deep, settled and asleep. It’ll rear its head again, there’s no doubt about that, but for now it’s a welcomed reprieve. 

Footsteps warn you of Gojo’s reappearance. He’s almost naked, his jeans discarded while his boxers have been pulled up to their rightful place. There’s a necklace of red around his throat, the indentations of your fingertips obvious on the paleness of his neck as he crouches down beside you and produces a towel. 

‘Admiring your handy work?’ He chuckles, throat raw and begins to wipe you down. The towel is warm, but dry and makes quick work of the cum spilling out of you. 

You swat at him, but there’s no malice behind the movement. Instead, you groan and lift your hips. ‘Did you fucking cum in me?’ 

‘Give up a chance to cum in a cunt like that? Of course I fucking came in you.’ 

‘Bastard.’ 

‘Didn’t seem to mind it before.’ 

You swipe at him again, more determined this time, but he dodges it. Grabbing your wrist, he uses your movement as leverage and heaves you up and onto your feet. He lets you sway there for a moment, watching as the shake in your thighs threatens to give way and then hauls you up and over his shoulder. ‘Put me fucking down!’ Beating at his back, your threats die on your tongue as heaviness overtakes your body. You let him carry you, slipping through two sets of doors before you back meets the comfort of a fresh duvet. 

‘There,’ he chuffs. ‘Now quit screaming.’ Collapsing to the bed himself, he stretches, soothing tired muscles before setting about removing his blind fold. 

You roll, watching. ‘You sleep with it off now?’ 

‘Nah.’ He shakes his head when its done, letting his hair fall to frame his face. ‘Not since -.’ The muscle in his jaw clenches, relaxing only when he’s sure his name has settled itself back inside his heart. 

Walking your hand over the sheets, you wrap a palm around his bicep and urge him down to the bed. He goes willingly, letting you manipulate him until an arm is tucked under your head and a hand is pressed to his chest. ‘I’m not sorry.’ You speak to the air, but don’t mind when Gojo replies. 

‘Neither am I.’ 

Nudging at him, you force him to look down at you, to see the hurricane of emotions wrestling in your eyes. You think of Megumi laying in a hospital bed, his heart mending from an assault it should never have suffered. You think of Suguru, poor, tormented Suguru, and all of the times he could have been saved from himself. You think of them and offer yourself. ‘Next time you’re thinking of sending someone on a case that’ll get them killed,’ you hold his gaze, challenge him to disobey you. ‘Send me.’

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 5

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, virgin reader, first kiss

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: You are having a blast doing what you want to do for the first time in your life. However, the longer you live with Ghost, the stronger the tension between you gets. One night, curiosity gets the better of you and Ghost can’t help but satiate it for you. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7

Ghost watched you watching your movie with a slight smirk under his mask. While you have already seen him without the mask a couple of times already, he still felt more comfortable with the mask. Especially since he was technically still working. While he has been having fun watching you run around the safehouse enjoying new knowledge, he still had to stay on his toes. Your life was still in danger as far as he knew. 

You were wrapped up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, your eyes trained on the screen that flashed movie scenes that were once banned for you. Since day one, you have been desperate to fit as many banned activities as you possibly could before you would go back, whenever that was. Watching movies was part of those activities along with listening to diverse music, exploring the wonders of the world wide web, and trying new foods that weren’t exactly the healthiest. 

In your hands while you watched the movie was a small journal and pen where you took notes. For you, this was more about enjoying the contraband. This was research. You took notes on the cinematography when it came to shows and movies. You took notes on the melodies and harmonies when it came to music. You took notes on ingredients and flavor when it came to new food. 

Anything and everything was a research opportunity in some way. And Ghost admired that about you. You weren’t too naive despite growing up the way you did. You picked up on things rather quickly, especially when you were in a groove. Now that you were free, you didn’t hold back in demonstrating just how smart and competent you were. He figured that if you weren’t a princess, you’d be a scientist of some sort. 

He suppressed a chuckle as you gasped and jumped from a jumpscare on the screen, the horror movie clearly getting to you. Not that you were silly for being scared. The original Psycho was a fantastic piece of cinematography from the horror genre. The lighting work, the script, the acting, and the camera angles all contributed to creating the creepiest horror movie that has stood the test of time. 

You wrote down your experience in your notebook, excited to add to your research. Just before the credits began to roll, Ghost walked over and sat himself next to you on the couch. The couch dipped under his weight, reminding you of how big a man he is. You scooted over, making sure to give him enough space that he took up. 

When the credits began to roll, you stretched your arms above your head to help out your back. Ghost stared at how your graceful arms raised up high, how your back arched slightly. He noticed how flawless your skin looked. It was no surprise that you had scarless skin. At the same time, though, you looked unbelievably soft to touch. 

Ghost had been thinking about that more often within the past week and a half. It was hard not to think about it as you became comfortable within the space. You wore more casual yet cute clothes, you carried yourself more easily, and you have been more active in maintaining the temporary home. Not to mention that you have been wearing that hair clip he bought you just about every day, exposing the nape of your neck. 

He wanted to snake his arms around your waist, pull you close into his lap, and kiss your bare shoulders. The desire passed as you looked at him suddenly. “Would you like to choose the next movie?”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your offer. Ghost hasn’t had much time to see a lot of movies. He’s seen the classics and some modern popular films, but his job didn’t exactly allow him time to really indulge in any binge watching of any kind. 

“I was planning on choosing a romance to directly compare the cinematography differences since I expect the contrast to be quite stark. However, if you would like to watch something else, I don’t mind.” You warmly smiled, happy to have Ghost join you in your movie binge. 

You had been trying your best to give him space since he was still taking his job very seriously. You were also trying to keep your crush on him under control by keeping a healthy distance. Though, you still always craved his attention. You wanted to spend time with him. Get to know him. Now was the time to perhaps learn something new about him.

Ghost held his chin in thought for a moment before grabbing the remote off from the coffee table. It didn’t take him long to find the movie he thought would be best for the both of you. Your small smile turned into a large grin as he started Casablanca.

“Is this your favorite movie?” You inquired curiously.

“It’s the best romance movie in my opinion. Not particularly my all time favorite, but it’s up there and a first choice if I’ll be watching a romance. Besides, it would probably serve as a good film to study alongside Psycho since they’re around the same era of film.” He explained, not realizing how easy it was to talk to you about his personal opinions.

You snuggled back into the couch, getting cozy once again for a new movie. The both of you sat in comfortable silence as the film played, feeling a sense of ease in each other’s presence. As the film progressed, you only became more and more entranced in the wonderful story on screen. 

It was hard not to sympathize and empathize with Ilsa. To swoon with her, smile with her, and cry with her. The acting was impeccable. It almost felt real. Especially when Ilsa asked Rick for a kiss for the final time without him knowing. A sharp pain went through your heart as they closed the distance, your notebook and pen falling into your lap. The bittersweet romance made you think of your own inexperience. 

You haven’t thought of it much before. Yes, you did read a few contraband romance books here and there. However, there were more important things to you besides finding a partner you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t until the event with the Duke that you began to think about it a little more each night. You were a grown woman. A capable, smart, curious, and slightly rebellious woman. Yet, you still haven’t had your first kiss. It was starting to make you feel like you were missing out on something in life.

“Hey, you okay?” Ghost called out to you, noticing how pained and distracted you were. He paused the movie for a moment so he could completely focus on you. 

“Ah, pardon me. I was just thinking about something serious.” You apologized, your cheeks flushing a bit. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered, causing your cheeks to turn even more pink. While you have been feeling more comfortable talking to your bodyguard, it was still a little embarrassing to talk about the romantic things on your mind. It was hard to refuse him though. You knew that he was genuinely concerned about you. 

Curiosity was getting the better of you too. You wanted to know what kissing was like. If Ghost had ever kissed someone before. He probably has given his age and ability to actually see the world. The image of him kissing someone made you a little sick to your stomach too. Oh god, what if he has a girlfriend back home? Or a wife?!

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your silly anxieties. If this were to be truly resolved, then you needed to speak up. Hopefully Ghost won’t judge you too much. “I. . . I was thinking about how I haven’t had my first kiss yet. . .”

He quirked a brow under his mask, not expecting that confession to come out of your mouth. He didn’t even occur to him before that you thought about those kinds of things. “Something like that bothers you?”

Your cheeks began to feel like they were on fire. He didn’t say it in a judgemental tone, but it was still very embarrassing to admit. “It doesn’t so much as bother me, but I do feel like I am missing out on something. Most women my age have already had their first kiss. Probably a lover. Some may already have children. I know that I’ve been locked away for most of my life so it isn’t my fault. Still though, I can’t help but wonder about it.”

“I can understand where you are coming from. Most people get curious about things like that eventually.” He reasoned, hoping that his understanding would make you feel better. It was obvious that you were getting uncomfortable talking about something like this with him. Your shoulders were tense, your cheeks were pink, and you stared down into your lap where your thumbs twiddled. 

“May I ask how your first kiss was?” You pried in a cautious tone.

Now it was Ghost’s shoulders that were tensing up. Besides feeling the instinct of keeping his privacy that he so strongly protects, it also didn’t feel entirely appropriate to talk about his experience with you. You were still a princess by nature. Plus he was still working.

It was hard to say no to you though. 

With a deep sigh, he leaned back into the couch. “I was a teenager. There was a neighbor who’s granddaughter came to visit every once in a while. She kissed me one night when we were hanging out. We fooled around until she left to go to college. Haven’t seen her since.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you listened to his story. A part of you was glad that he left out the more intimate details. Another part of you wanted to know what his true feelings were within those moments. “Were you heartbroken when she left?”

“Not particularly. I already knew what was going to happen by the end of that summer. We didn’t really kiss out of mutual feelings either. It was more so just. . . curiosity.” He elaborated further, somehow finding it easy to tell you about these things than he expected.

“Have you ever fallen in love then?” You asked before you could think. 

This caused Ghost to tense up again, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know why, but the first thing that came to his mind when you asked was your name. Not even a yes or no. Just your name that danced at the tip of his tongue. 

He felt his body grow warm as he swallowed your name down, not ready to acknowledge what it probably meant. “I had a girlfriend several years back. Hard to maintain a relationship with my job.”

“I see. My apologies.” You lowered your head, somehow feeling like it was your fault that your bodyguard can’t settle down with someone. Like you were keeping him away from a lover that didn’t exist. 

He noticed how depressed you seemed about his answer. He didn’t mean to make you feel bad. ��It’s just part of the job. And I won’t say that I was completely innocent in the breakup.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, unsure how to respond to his confession for a moment. You never really asked about his work before. All you really knew was that he was in the military and was one of the best at his job. Now that you thought about it, though, he probably had to move around a lot. He had to travel all the way to your country after all. 

“Did you want to experience your first kiss?” Ghost asked, switching the attention back onto you. The question made your heart feel like it was tripping over itself with how fast it pounded. At the tip of your own tongue, you wanted to admit that you wanted to experience your first kiss with him.

“Um. . .” You hesitated, feeling the butterflies in your stomach turn into a hurricane. It felt like your brain was malfunctioning. Still, Ghost waited patiently for your answer. Silently. 

He didn’t mind waiting. It just meant that he got to see just how flustered you were. While he did feel partially guilty for being the reason why you were embarrassed, he also secretly enjoyed it. It was too much of a treat to see just how pink your cheeks could get. It made him want to tease you. 

Finally, you raised a hand up to your face to try to cover your blush. You were just getting way ahead of yourself. “It’s not nice to tease a princess, you know?”

He wasn’t expecting you to say something so cute and cool at the same time. 

At that moment, Ghost wanted to pounce. Hover his weight above your body and give you a kiss you would never forget. Nibble on your kissable lips while you shivered underneath him. Or he could pull you into his lap and slide his tongue into your pretty mouth. Slide his hands along your waist as he tasted you. You probably tasted devine. Sweet.

He had to bite his tongue hard in order to get his mind out of the gutter. After that, however, he couldn’t help but chuckle. You were so much more full of surprises than he realized. 

Your eyes widened as he laughed. What could be so funny? Was what you said really that comical? Thankfully, your bodyguard was willing to explain. “Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to laugh at you. What you said was just cool. I didn’t expect it.”

The attention went back to you, Ghost clearly not willing to let this go just yet. It was a little strange. You have never seen your bodyguard so playful before. Relaxed. It made your insides feel like they were melting. While you couldn’t see it with the mask, you knew he was smiling. At the very least, you could tell he was through his eyes. “Anyway, do you?”

You almost forgot what you were talking about until he brought it up again. It seemed that you weren’t going to escape this. “Well. . . yes. However, I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“What about with me?” Ghost slipped up. He gauged your reaction swiftly, trying to figure out if you heard him or not. If you didn’t he could save face.

You did hear him though. Loud and clear. It wasn’t like there were many distractions that would cause you to miss what he said. The movie was on pause. There was no sound but the conversation at hand. 

This was dangerous territory. Saying no would result in losing your chance to not only experience your first kiss, but also miss a kiss with your crush. If you said yes, then the professional boundary of princess and bodyguard would be broken. That could lead into a whole whirlwind of issues if things were to progress. Or if the kiss was found out.

No, you could keep a secret. You have been keeping secrets for years. There were even some secrets that Ghost didn’t know about yet. You were sure that with his occupation and general character, the lieutenant could keep a secret to his grave. 

Could you excuse the kiss for research purposes? Accepting a kiss would satiate your curiosity on the subject. For now at least. Besides, the safest way to explore this was probably with the man that has been keeping you safe. He wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with or even sure of. 

This was your chance. You couldn’t miss it. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. . .”

It took everything out of Ghost to not pull you in right then and there. He didn’t even think you would say yes. However, he had to be sure. You had to be sure. “You positive? There’s no taking it back once it’s done.”

You seriously considered it again for a second before nodding, not much more confident and sure of yourself on this. “Yes. Only if you are willing.”

Oh, he was willing. He craved it. Slowly, he took off his mask, allowing you to see the face you didn’t even realize you missed. Your heart picked up speed. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as a surreal feeling took over. Was this really happening? Your first kiss? With your bodyguard?

As much as you wanted to just keep admiring his handsome face, you closed your eyes, waiting for him to make the first move. You felt the cushions on the couch shift as he moved to a more comfortable position. You felt his body heat become more noticeable as he got closer. 

You flinched slightly as his hand cupped your cheek, the feeling of his skin on yours sending fireworks through you. Ghost was feeling the magnetic pull too. Just as he thought, your skin was silky smooth. Your lashes were delicately long and your lips begged to be kissed already. He felt his own heart thud loudly within his chest as he got closer and closer.

He let his lips lightly brush against yours, not wanting to startle you too much. At first contact, your heart soared. Naturally, you leaned forward to really close the distance, feeling your bodyguard’s lips perfectly fitting against yours. 

Soft, sweet, thrilling. You wanted more. You really wanted more. Ghost felt the same way as he got lost in the way your lips felt. So perfect. So flawless. Without thinking, he deepened the kiss, pressing his lips firmer against yours. 

A subtle moan came from your throat, pleasure spreading across your body. Your lips moved in sync with his, despite this kiss being your first. It was amazing how warm you felt, how sparks flew. It was exactly what your romance novels described. It made you want to try the other intimacies you’ve read too. 

As much as Ghost wanted to keep kissing you, he had to pull back. He was getting too lost at the moment. Any more and he could completely lose control. This was meant to give you new knowledge. A favor. He couldn’t enjoy it as much as he was. 

The absence was devastating though. As soon as his lips left yours, you felt a terrible pain in your heart. It broke your heart that this could be your first and last kiss with him. Your bodyguard felt that strain too deep within his soul. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, trying to relieve the romantic tension that still lingered in the air. “Well, was it what you were expecting? Gonna write it down for your notes?”

You scooted back, creating distance between the two of you. It felt like he was an ocean away. “It was pleasant. I see why people like doing it. I may write about this a little later.”

An awkward silence fell as the both of you tried to ignore the magnetic pull. Ghost scolded himself for getting too close. He really shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. His attraction to the beautiful princess next to him was consuming his mind, body, and soul. The kiss only heightened it.

You reached forward towards the remote and put the movie back on, hoping that this would distract the both of you from your intense attraction.

It helped somewhat as the movie audio filled the silence. However, while your eyes were trained on the screen, your mind was as chaotic as a hurricane. You loved kissing Ghost. You craved it now just like how you have been constantly craving his attention. 

This didn’t feel like this was just a crush on your bodyguard anymore.

Bittersweet, romantic music swelled as Ilsa and Rick said their final goodbyes and finally reached closure with each other. Ghost turned towards you once again, watching your reaction to the end. As he waited, he couldn’t help but gaze upon your lips. 

You felt his eyes on you, something that you were getting better at detecting. Turning your head to meet his gaze, you realized that he seemed closer than before. Did he move closer without you realizing it? Or did you?

Credits began to roll, the sweet music still filling the quiet. Before he could stop himself, Ghost had cupped your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your skin. God, you were gorgeous. A princess from another world. Away from his world. Just looking into your sparkling eyes helped him escape the traumas in his life. 

On his own, he saw blood, guns, death everywhere. With you, he saw life blossoming from the ashes of the world. 

His lips crashed into yours, no longer caring if this was crossing the line. For now, he wanted that temporary escape. That fantasy of being with you. Of you being his.

You closed your eyes as he kissed you greedily, your arms looping around his neck. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as he kissed you how he wanted. A real kiss. His kiss. You could feel every cell in your body melt under his touch. 

His hands moved down to your waist where he lifted you into his lap. Straddling him gave you an exciting rush of pleasure that traveled all the way down to the tips of your toes. Strong, large hands felt you up, sending shivers down your spine.

He nibbled your lower lip for a moment, making you moan not so subtly this time. Taking advantage of the situation, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. The pace wasn’t as greedy as he tasted you further. He slowed down to not startle you. But god damn did he want to take all of you. He wanted to take all of your firsts. This was shown with just how deeply he kissed you.

Your grip around his neck tightened as your tongue slid against his. Your chest pressing against his didn’t help the now sexual tension growing. His body felt amazing. Strong, defined muscles with the perfect touch of softness. True strength and power that has protected you. 

You could feel your sex tingle with need.

Ghost pulled back to give you a moment to breathe. He also was feeling himself responding to the sexual tension. It took everything in him not to start grinding into you. The side effect of holding back was gripping your hips tightly to hold you close. 

Feeling weak and out of breath, you leaned against him further, your head pressing against his shoulder. As the both of you began to calm down, his grip loosened. His hands now traveled around your back and waist, hugging you to provide more comfort.

Once your breath became steadier, he placed a kiss against the side of your head. He could tell that you were tired now. He did just take a lot of energy from you. “Why don’t you go take a nap in your room. I’ll be getting some work done.”

Your brows furrowed out of his vision. It hurt that he was sending you away so quickly. But, you did need a moment to think. Regain some energy too. With that realization, you then realized that Ghost was just being courteous to you. 

Slowly, you got off of his lap and headed to your room, fighting the urge to turn around. At the same time, Ghost fought the urge to pull you against him again. As soon as he heard the closing click of your door, he gave a loud sigh. He was really in it now.

You laid yourself down onto your bed, the phantom touch of Ghost still lingering. It felt like his arms were still wrapped around you. Like his lips were brushing against yours. You rubbed your thighs together unconsciously as you recalled everything about your sudden makeout with your bodyguard.

It didn’t take long for you to bury your face into the pillow, muffling your moans as you touched your slick pussy to the thought of him.

Before you were a princess, you were a woman after all. 

[sunaluv]

can you write e1610 miles if he found out his gf has a symbiote (like venom)?

miles was out on night patrol when a loud crash in an alleyway caught his attention. swinging to the source of the scream, his brown eyes widened under the mask upon recognising you, his girfriend, frantically running down the street with three bleeding cuts down your arm.

"hey miss," cleared his throat and made his voice deeper. "is everything alright here?"

startled, you yelped before trying to catch your breath. "yeah, everything's okay," you waved him off. "i was trying to feed a cat that comes to my window every night, but i guess he got startled and scratched me up."

he reached for your arm. "well are you alright? let me see."

he noted the sudden tense in your arms, hoping he didn't see the last of the black slime that seemingly had shrouded your cuts, leaving your smooth, now scarless skin on display.

but he did notice, how could he not? your arm was bleeding profusely just a moment ago?

before he could question, you stepped back and tugged your sleeves down, making a beeline for your house before he could get a word in.

that was a week ago.

now, as he lay beside your sleeping figure, he pokes and prods your sleeping form in hopes that whatever that was would show itself again.

"stop poking me."

"i'm not touching you," he replies, finger jabbing you in the side again causing you to jerk.

"miles."

he hummed.

"go to sleep." your voice came stern.

determined to continue his experiments another night, he sighed reluctantly, wrapping an arm around your waist and tried to drift to sleep...

... until something bit his wrist?

"ouch!" he sat up alarmed, "what the hell was that?"

groaning for the umpteenth time this night, you turned around, eyes widening at the symbiotes' face who was now glaring at your wide eyed boyfriend.

miles said your name carefully. "what the hell is this?"

welp. cat's out of the bag. "uhhhh..."

"venom" it replied.

"nice to meet you?" miles held his had out, hoping to make peace with the...venom attatched to you. venom appeared displeased, moving to take his whole hand off this time.

"venom!" you scolded. "you can't go around biting people without asking me first, we've talked about this!"

it had now turned to you, glaring its eyes at its vessel, only backing down after you had sent your own challenging glare.

as if communicating telepathically, miles watched at the symbiote let out one more displeased grunt before disappearing into your flesh, just like that one night.

"are we not gonna talk about this!" he watched you turn your back to him once more, pulling the blanket over you and drifting to sleep.

"we talk tomorrow." your voice held too much normalcy for his liking. "go to sleep, miles."

and so he did, to the best of his ability with that creatures face replaying in his mind whenever his eyes shut.

[littlest-w01f]

Healing Fires

Eris Vanserra x Feyre Archeron

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 6: Retellings

Summary: Rhysand asked for Eris' help to heal Feyre UtM, and he did.

Cw: Mentions of Rhys' assault, mentions of Eris' assault

Feyre lay on the floor of her cell, eyes barely opened, covered in the mud and excrete from the Wrym's labyrinth, the bone in her elbow poking out, infected, while quite a few were broken, many severe cuts and bruises all over her body, her dirty clothes stuck to her skin.

She was passing in and out of consciousness, had a high fever, and didn't think she would survive, not even a little. She managed to let out a shaky breath when she saw a pair of boots approach, Lucien finally came for her, to save her. She seemed to relax when she tilted her head slightly, seeing the tips of bright red hair.

"Ugh... You stink worse than I imagined, human." The male sneered in a mocking tone, it made her blood chill, Lucien wasn't here, the haunting thought dawned on her, but one of his brothers, the brothers Lucien hadn't been able to say one nice thing about was there.

Feyre croaked as she asked, her voice dry from dehydration, "W-who-?" The question died on her tongue.

The male gave a mocking bow, which made him appear in her eye line, bright red hair, same as Lucien's, perhaps even more vibrant, eyes that looked like they had been carved of amber, a sharp face and posture, and a sneer on his rather scarless pale face, "Eris Vanserra, sweetheart. Lucien's eldest."

Why are you here? Feyre wanted to ask, but words failed to come out of her throat, dying on her tongue.

"Tamlin's pretty human doesn't look so good..." Eris cooed, easily stepping inside her cell, making Feyre hope for the first time that the guards were nearby, "You look like you're in need of help, little human..."

Feyre gasped softly in reply, whether she wanted to tell him to get away or beg for his help, she, herself didn't know.

Eris crouched down to her, tilting her chin with his finger so that she could look at him, cringing at the dirty floor under her, and making her cringe at the crack of bone she heard from her neck. Eris chuckled, reading all her inner turmoil easily, "Don't worry your pretty little head, silly human." Eris smiled and Feyre was sure he mirrored his father on how he had looked gleefully as she was lowered to the labyrinth, excited by the prospect of her death. Feyre couldn't stop the dry scream that tore through her as Eris pulled at the shard of bone in her broken arm, twisted it, popping the bone back into place, not caring to be gentle like Lucien had been with her nose, "The guards aren't coming."

Feyre closed her eyes in pain, she felt like she was floating, and soon she felt heat spread through her, panic set in her as she realised Eris had set her on fire, and her eyes snapped open as she tried to use her slightly better arm to set the flames off.

Eris rolled his eyes, using one of his hands to keep hers off her body, while he used the other to cover her legs in his fire, "Stay still, my sweet, my fire is healing you, it won't be set off by your hand, it will extinguish when you're healed."

Feyre was soon covered in fire, the fire not burning through her clothes, but healing her cuts and broken bones, reducing her fever too. The fire was a pleasant warmth, not as hot as she'd imagined the Autumn fire would feel, and not as comforting either.

It reduced on her throat and neck, and when it did, she left herself able to turn her head and speak, "Why are you... Helping me?" She asked, her voice hesitant.

Eris sat beside her on the ground he had earlier crinkled his nose slightly, eyes on his fire as he sighed, "Why does any male do anything?"

"Please, did Tamlin sent you-" Feyre asked, but was cut off by Eris

"Why did Rhysand asked me of all people to help you?" Eris continued, and Feyre paused, wanting to hear what he said, "Me? The rightful heir of Autumn, helping a pathetic little human," Eris snorted, but then his face turned serious, and the way he looked at Feyre made her tense, "A human that's going to free us."

"You seem to have sudden faith in me." Feyre retorted, their eyes meeting, she didn't look away, but she couldn't help but wonder why Rhysand had been the one to send him.

Eris hummed, "Well, Rhysand had faith in you when he gambled, it earned him large sums of money from everyone around here, including my father," He shrugged, "So consider this my gamble."

Eris moved right to Feyre, stroking her dirty cheek, grinning fox-like when she didn't pull away, "Besides, if I did something Rhysand asked, like this," He flicked the grime that had collected on his fingers and motioned to the fires healing her, "...Then he would owe me."

Feyre sighed at that, of course, he was doing this to get a favour from Rhysand, but he continued, "And I feel as if I owe you one as well..." Eris trailed off.

Feyre managed to move a brow up at him, "Dare I ask, how so?" Her voice was laced with genuine curiosity.

Eris' eyes go soft, just like Lucien's and their mother's had been while looking at her, but still quite amused, taking her by surprise, "With you winning, my father lost a large portion of his money, that he was hoping to invest in some sketchy places that I didn't like, your win in the trial against the Wyrm caused a large kink in his plans, sweetheart." He laughed in a way that Feyre saw his mother's resemblance in him instantly, "That led to his whining that I quite enjoyed, perhaps the first ranting of his that I liked to hear. Oh, the insults he called you, pretty." He laughed heartily.

He watched the fires slowly melt into her, completely healing her, burning away the dirt, grime and stink off her too, "Then he went on about how you would probably die from your state..." He found himself helping her up, not missing how she was still slightly weak, mostly from being denied food after pissing Amarantha off by winning, "And what better way to fuck with him than being the one that heals you?"

Feyre leaned against his chest, gasping at how warm he was, he was far warmer than Lucien and she found herself seeking that warmth feeling it slightly rough, "So you helped me to get a favour from Rhysand and just piss off your father when he sees me alive...?"

Eris moved her hair from her face, smiling softly, "Perhaps, you're not so dumb, little human." For the first time, he said 'human' like it wasn't a derogatory slur he was spewing. "And I was guessing, the reason Rhysand asked me was because he knew I would come around."

"Where is Tamlin...?" Feyre found herself asking, while gaining more questions about Rhysand.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Eris scoffed and rolled his eyes, but it was playful, "You are snuggling into an Autumn male, an heir no less, and you're thinking of another?"

Feyre sat straight, not even realising she had been snuggling into him, but her head pained at the sudden movement, her body didn't have the energy for, not noticing how his tunic was not even buttoned above his abdomen, completely showing his chest, a few scars littered over it, whip lashes, cuts from knives.

Before she could ask him, Eris spoke up, she could see the discomfort on his face, "I don't know shit about what Tamlin's doing. Rhysand approached me, told me Amarantha wanted to "congratulate" him for his win." He scoffed lightly, "I don't understand what he's protect so hard that he's stopped fighting back completely. It's this image he's created for himself when she kept coming back, he's such an asshole that he leaves me stunned, much more of a pain in everyone's ass he was before." His normal demeanour came back to the surface, "And I bet you've heard I am quite the asshole."

Feyre frowned, hearing his words, and the implications they made, she didn't know what to say. With her head dizzy she fell back.

"Oh, there there, clumsy human." Eris laughed softly, catching her in his arms, "Your boyfriends can handle themselves, you worry about you, ok? Can't have you falling all over yourself, can we?"

"Rhysand not my..." Feyre groaned in his chest at even the implication, now realising that the roughness was his scars, "...How did you get these?" She quickly changed the conversation.

"Some in battle," He took her hand to trace a few cuts on him, "The other my father lovingly gave me."

Feyre gasped softly, tracing a particularly harsh whip mark going down diagonally on his chest, "Your father did this?"

"You should see my back." He joked, then shrugged, "There is a reason I find happiness in his sorrows and losses, love."

"What Lucien told me of you... You were cruel... You're not as horrible to me as you were to Lucien, why?" Feyre found herself asking before she could stop herself, mentally hitting herself when she did, and Eris stiffened, his arms tightening around her.

"I... I've made plenty of mistakes that I wish I could fix." Eris frowned, her mentioning Lucie seemed to truly sadden him, "I can't fix the past... I can't bring Jess back... Can't erase my part in it." He tiled Feyre's chin up so she'd look at him, his eyes showing true vulnerability at the mere mention of Lucien, "But maybe I can make things a little better by keeping his human friend alive, the very human he got hurt for over and over again." He cupped her cheeks, and he looked over her face without distante from the first time, "And maybe... I can see the need for helping folks 'lesser' than us now, something Lucien could always see. I want to help you."

Feyre's ears were ringing from his words, eyes wide from the way he looked at her, she searched for a lie but found none, her cheeks were burning, and she didn't know if it was her blush or his power that did so, "Please don't look at me like that... The reason I'm here is to save-"

"Save Tamlin, I know..." Eris sighed, looking away, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that... I just... I am hoping to fix things between myself and my brother, perhaps see the world the way he does, only if a little."

Feyre nodded sitting up without his support, knowing what he wanted from her, "When we get out of here... I'll tell him, I'll tell him you helped me."

Eris pressed his hand to the cold ground, his power flowing through, warming the cell, "Well, until we do, I shall help keep you as comfortable as I can."

Feyre didn't stop the sigh that left her lips at the warmth of the floor, leaning back to rest on the floor completely. Closing her eyes in content at the sudden warmth in the cell, not caring how she looked to him, sprawled on the cell floor.

Eris watched her with a smile forming. He got up from the floor, eyes softening when he saw that Feyre had passed out the second the floor was comfortable enough, "It may have been the full reason before I came here... Now, not so much."

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

Honarary Feyris tag for Eris week @nocasdatsgay

[yoursminehourss]

i feel so weird when ppl draw dazais arms bare. like ??????? completely scarless???? theres actually no fucking way

[odetodilfs]

A work of art

A/N: This is honestly the cutest thing I've wrote in a while, happy pride month and enjoy this! Happy pride month btw!!

Pairing: ftm!Din Djarin x gender neutral!reader

CWs: Nothing but mentions of reader having scars (any kind)

Summary: Din doesn't like his chest, his top surgery scars specifically, and in a warm night where getting shirtless is the best option, you decide to comfort your man and reassure him that you love him.

Takes place probably in his little hut in Nevarro.

PLEASE REBLOG AS IT MOTIVATES ME TO KEEP WRITING!

Din’s body.. a piece of art, nothing short of an intervention from the gods. Such a broad back, beautiful muscles on his arms that made you feel safe in them. Some muscle on his neck and a good stomach that was perfect to lay on and kiss. His face as well, beautiful brown hair and eyes, an arched nose that you loved to feel nuzzling your neck, pouty lips that you yearned to kiss every second of the day as well as his mustache. Hands that always wanted to be on you, and you let him, you loved his hands as much as he loved using them to touch you.

But Din didn’t think the same about himself. One main thing held him back: his top surgery scars, he found them so ugly, he thought they ruined his body, that line running across his chest, he just couldn’t look at it for too long, it made him hate his own body. You were kind of aware of this, and this was why he hated warm nights, which was what tonight happened to be. 

“Din, seriously, take off your shirt” you pleaded, the man was becoming a human ocean next to you, “I’m fine” he said, obviously not

“You’re not, please, do it for me..” you pleaded with puppy eyes, his insecurities clashed against your requests. “But I’m so ugly without it, I wouldn’t want you to sleep on-” “Din, I genuinely don’t care about your scar, it’s part of who you are, the beautiful cluster of things you are…” you said, taking off his shirt and revealing his slightly toned body, the white line across his chest, “How can you not hate this?” “I don’t see any issue, we all have our things on our skin, I’m not scarless either, you know?” you chuckled, laying him on your bed and putting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He had a deep blush all over his face, did you.. did you seriously not care about his scars? You were laying your head on them, not caring at all, just enjoying him with all the love you had for him. He felt light kisses on his chest, “You’re so beautiful..” you muttered on his chest, “A work of art..” you kept complimenting, kissing along the line on his torso, 

“Ah- y/n-” Din blurted out in shock, you loved him this much? “I’m telling you, I don’t care, you’re beautiful, you’re my soulmate and I’ll take everything that comes with you… you’re not ugly, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen..” you lovingly told him, massaging his hair as you leaned in to kiss his lips. 

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” you asked, he just nodded, feeling too happy to speak, you laid your head on his chest, taking in the sight of his biceps, “I love you..” a faint voice came from above you,

“I love you too..” you whispered as you went to sleep on his chest, Din definitely grew more confident after that.

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 11: "Frost Over Charcoal"

Legend learns that he's really bad at saying no when someone is being sincere and genuine, especially when he trusts that someone.

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 8: "Why won't it stop?"

Read On AO3 Warnings: Implied Character Death

----

"What happened in there?" Warriors asked, his voice so uncharacteristically soft that Legend just--He didn't know how to respond.

They had found the black blooded monsters on the road from that town to a larger, merchant village (Mabe Village, Hyrule said that it would survive to his era remarkably. Legend did wonder why that village had been the one to appear on Koholint) that would've had the information they'd need.

From there, a portal took them to the usual places of eras between their times.

They got to a local inn, but it only had two rooms with two beds each. As a result, they split into two groups with Time going with the four youngest heroes if Legend was excluded from the list, though none of them actually knew how old he was except for Wind. Either way, that left--and Legend was certain it was on purpose--Sky, Twilight, Warriors, and Legend in the other room.

Legend inhaled slowly, trying not to break down again. "I cannot emphasize how much I really do not want to talk about it."

He knew it was obvious, especially since he felt their eyes on him when he changed not five minutes ago. It didn't help that his current outfit was short sleeved either, and didn't have the really high collar he used to wear. 

He knew his new scars were obvious, but he also knew that they weren't too familiar with his old ones that they shouldn't be able to tell just how many of the new scars were actually new. All they knew was that not a single stretch of skin on his arms and torso was scarless anymore.

"I know," Warriors promised, and Legend wondered why he was the one taking point in this conversation when both Twilight and Sky were harder to look in the eye and deny anything. Warriors, Legend just had the instinct to deny him everything out of pure spite.

Legend realized how wrong he was when Warriors approached, careful and slow, and guided him to sit. Legend just sort of stared, he didn't want to snap at anyone. He really didn't want to be sharp, driving them off was dangerous now. If he drove them off, who could he look to, who could he hope for see, if he ever got captured again? Besides, those almost three months of being separated put into perspective that yeah, he actually cared about them.

So he couldn't snap, he couldn't drive them away during what little time they'd have together. How could he taint such memories when soon enough those memories would he all he had of them?

Warriors had him sit on the bed beside Twilight. Sky was sitting just opposite them.

"I'll make a deal with you," Warriors said gently, "if you just answer three questions for us, a simple yes or no will suffice, we won't bring it up again unless absolutely necessary."

You see, Legend had teased all three of these heroes for being mother hens, for being fussy and worrywart's, he teased them and called them the group's "big brothers" to Time's group "dad" thing, the others even agreed!

This was just unfair. All three of them ganging up on him and even though he thought Warriors would've been the easiest to shut down, the earnestness and sincerity was almost overwhelming, combined with Twilight leaning into his side, warm and grounding, and Sky just being there and offering an encouraging smile.

He didn't break, but he huffed and had to look away and curl in on himself as some kind of measure of defense.

"Fine," he bit out. "Three questions."

"Are you--Is it okay?" Sky spoke up immediately.

He didn't respond for a long moment, debating lying. Finally he just quietly shook his head and muttered, "No."

Warriors squeezed his hands gently and Twilight's arm wrapped around his shoulder. It made the pressure behind his eyes worse but he really tried to ignore it.

"Those tools on the table--"

"Yes."

Warriors' mouth clicked shut and the soft look was briefly replaced by something blazing and violent. Legend flinched into Twilight just as quickly as that look was snuffed out and replaced by something sad.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Twilight asked.

Legend shook his head, not pulling away from how he had curled into him as a result of Warriors' anger. "No. Just--stay."

"Of course," Sky promised. "You’re stuck with us, vet. I don’t think the Rancher's going to let you go anytime soon anyways."

He snorted, forcing the amusement out more than anything to just please, get rid of this heavy atmosphere. Stop all this worry and claustrophobic caring.

Warriors cracked a small smile. "I guess we know how the bedding situation's going to be."

"Shut up, you’re just jealous I get the kid," Twilight retorted playfully. Legend startled a bit as the second arm wound around him and pulled him into the warm chest behind him, but he knew who it was so he didn't jump too bad.

Warriors huffed. "As if I'd want to share a bed with him, he kicks."

"Like a bunny," Sky commented, a grin on his face that had Legend immediately squawking.

"Not if you cuddle him enough," Twilight chimed in and hugged him closer.

Legend felt his face heat up as he tried to escape. "I will kick you right now--let me go."

"Aww, don't be like that, bunny," Sky teased.

"Don’t call me that!"

Sky cackled and Twilight and Warriors both laughed too. Legend squirmed but couldn't escape Twilight's grip without actually trying.

Eventually he just gave up, and about that time conversation shifted to something far more calm and casual.

The older heroes mostly talked between themselves over Legend's head. And older they were, none of them were secretive about their ages. Sky was the youngest of the three at 23 and was six years post his adventure, Twilight came next at 26 and eight years since his last adventure, then Warriors was 28 and ten years in the aftermath of the war. Legend just relaxed into Twilight and let their voices become a white noise as he played with his magic in his hands until he ended up falling asleep first.

The three older heroes knew what had happened in that cell. Twilight had told them that Legend confirmed it was his torture cell, and they had an idea of what tools had been used, and they knew that he wasn't okay in its aftermath.

Thankfully, as promised, none of them said a thing to the others. As far as the younger heroes and Time knew, Legend just lost his cool and ran off into the woods before he exploded the rest of the building like he did the front door.

After a few more unnamed eras, Legend stepped through the portal and was immediately greeted by the familiar magic of his era.

But when he opened his eyes, his blood went cold.

They were on a path just outside Kakariko, but the late afternoon sky was darkened by smoke rather than the setting of the sun. A huge plume of black and darkness filling the air, he turned too slowly, despite getting whiplash from the action.

The billow came from the wrong direction.

Fire should not be burning that high that way. Ever. That kind of fire was a forest fire, a house fire, it was something damaging and dangerous. That was no campfire.

"No," he breathed.

"Vet? Whe--COLLECTOR WAIT!"

He did not, in fact, wait.

Instead he ran headfirst toward the forest. He ran right where that fire was burning.

Showing up far too late, Legend came up to a large crowd that had already formed. He shoved through, people yelping and beginning to scold him before going silent as they realized who he was.

He reached the front of the crowd and the edge of the property and he stopped.

Oh goddesses, no.

A farmhouse too familiar for his rabbit-fast heart to handle was burning sky high. Deep red and orange marring the oaken walls, staining it black and eating holes through the wood, windows either blocked by flames or burned beyond transparency.

"Link?" Someone called. "Is that--Link, I'm so sorry--"

"Where are they?" He demanded, searching the faces of Kakariko's villagers. "Where--My grandparents, they're not--"

"We hadn't seen them leave, but they may not have been home," one of the ladies--Elizabeth, the wife of the mason-- said.

Legend inhaled sharply. He couldn't lose them--Not them too. Not like this. He couldn't--

He ran toward the burning farmhouse ignoring all the cries for him to wait and stop as if this wasn't his home, as if this wasn't where he grew up and it wasn't where his grandparents may be dying or already be dead at.

He never wanted to return home to this.

The fire had started in the house, it was spreading but the plants were well trimmed and the ground well worn from walking. It did not spread easily to the pasture, but the barn was caught in it. He threw a blast of pure magic at the cucoo coop as he passed it. He saw the pasture empty and hoped to the goddesses that Epona and the cows had ran by now. The fowl were escaping quickly and Legend was about to slam his whole body weight into the burning front door.

Someone grabbed him from behind.

"Vet no! You can't--"

"Let me go!" He fought against their hold.

"It's about to collapse! You'll die!" 

He didn't care. He had to find them. He needed to find them. They were all he had left! They weren't supposed to die like this! They were supposed to grow older, maybe even be there when he finally settled, they were supposed to live to their natural ends! He had to--

The farmhouse that Legend spent half his formative years in collapsed. The burned walls giving in to the weight of the upper floors. It crashed to the ground and whoever grabbed him pulled him close and curled their body around his protectively.

A rush of ash and soot surrounded them, turning the world dark.

The dust settled and the fire still burned, though it was more of a huge bonfire that tried to spread.

Legend shoved Twilight away and grabbed the Ether Medallion.

Winter came early in that moment, an explosion of frost and ice exploding off him and leaving every person untouched but the flames were subdued.

He wanted to collapse, magical precision like that was exhausting, but the muddled voices stopped him. He couldn't break, he couldn't fall and scream and beg the goddesses to just please, let him have someone.

Why did they need to take everyone from him? Why was he doomed to lose them all?

He couldn't. He couldn't break. There were people here and he was still the hero. He had to stay strong, be that damned pillar of strength and courage for the world that was out to break him.

Link?

He turned, looked down, and a little ash covered cucoo was approaching him.

You came back, Piyoko clucked, nudging his leg. I'm glad to see you... I don't know what happened, one moment things were fine then the next the house was burning. Your grandparents had just gone inside for dinner too.

Legend sighed softly. "Gather the others. I'll get you guys to safe farmers."

Piyoko clearly had her own opinion about his response but thankfully didn't push it. She chirped and went toward wherever the other animals had run to. Legend turned to head back to the crowd, his throat trying to close up and his eyes stinging.

It's just the smoke, he told himself.

"Link? Are you..."

"I'll see what animals survived and check on the crops," he told them as calmly as he could, and a few--people who knew him--looked even sadder. "I'd--I would like to see it cleaned, but I don’t have the time do so, though I'd be willing to pay for it to be done. If you’re willing to help out, or willing to take what surviving animals there are, then I'll be here tomorrow morning by dawn."

The heroes looked confused and a bit against that decision, but Legend could care less. Most of the villagers gave him looks of pity, some mixed with concern, others with contempt.

"Everyone should get back home before it gets dark, monsters still roam these parts even if it's rarer than before."

Murmurs seemed to agree with his statements and the townsfolk left, some muttering about how sorry they were for the fates of his grandparents, others promising to be back in the morning. None of them actually referred to them as his grandparents, only calling them by name and telling Legend they were sorry.

Then they were all gone and left the nine heroes in the melting aftermath of the fire.

"Why'd you promise that?" Wild asked with a frown on his face. "We have a job to do, can't the family's next of kin handle this, or maybe the nearest town's mayor--"

"I'm the next of kin."

The following silence was horrible and it further ripped at his chest as he directed his carefully crafted blank look at the champion.

"This was my grandparents farm. Go hunt monsters if you want, I have things to handle right here and that starts with finding the animals that survived while the rubble finishes cooling, that ice is still steaming after all."

This time, nobody stopped him when he turned his back. Twilight and Hyrule both followed him.

Piyoko was on the edge of the survived forest, the fact that none of the surrounding trees were caught in the fire... There were four cucoos, Epona, and a cow. More than Legend expected frankly.

They saw him approach and he knelt down in front of them. Piyoko was quick to press against him and Epona nuzzled his face. Ali, the cow he had won in Labrynna and sent to the farm, drew closer too.

What now, Link?

He let out a steady breath. "Hopefully some of the other farmers around will take you guys in. You guys know as well as I do that I won't be... Rebuilding to stay here."

Epona nudged his head. We know. We'll stay with you, I can keep up.

We'll go, don't worry. It isn't a surprise, Autumn, a russet hen, cooed.

He got a headcount. All the hens intended to go, Piyoko stubbornly insisted on staying with him, and Epona promised she'd follow him too. Ali assured she'd be fine on a new farm.

After that he went and got them all under shelter, he didn't care what the other heroes were doing, he just made sure the shade out by the pasture wasn't about to collapse and then collapsed there with the remaining farm animals.

Twilight and Hyrule had been nearby, but they didn't come too close. Twilight did, eventually, but he just sat beside Legend while Hyrule headed toward the small orange glow over by the nonexistent front gate.

"I'm sorry," Twilight said quietly.

Legend tried desperately to keep himself in check. "It's fine," he managed. "I don't--They're... They were inside when the fire broke out, I-I can't--Why didn't you let me go in?"

There was a chance they were still alive before the building collapsed.

"If you went in, you would've died. It was about to collapse and it did seconds later. If you'd gone inside... I'm sorry about your grandparents."

If he'd gone inside maybe he'd have stopped killing all the people he's cared about.

"Go join the others," he grumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

"I'm not leaving you alone right now."

"I'm not alone. I have Piyoko, and Epona, Ali, Autumn, Britt, Nettle, and Thorn."

"I'm still staying. I promised to help you and that's what I'll do."

Oh he was unsteady. He had to keep strong, don’t break... He's broken too much this adventure, too many times.

Twilight wound an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug slowly, giving him plenty of time to escape but he went rigid and didn't quite process what was happening until the rancher was holding him to his chest, a hand in his hair and carding through it gently.

Oh.

He buried his face into his chest and sobbed. The dam broke and so did he.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay. We're all here and we'll help you get through this."

"I-I can't--I--" Legend gasped, choking. "I can't keep doing this," he forced out.

"I know--"

"Why doesn't it stop? Why won't it stop?" He begged, he needed to know.

Why did he still hurt? Why did every single person he cared about get hurt? How could he protect them if he's the reason they're hurt?

"Why won't it stop?"

Next>>

[maleficore]

How many references of the same damn character can I make before I get bored?

Yes.

Some design and related rambles below because I'm in A Mood

There's uhh, selfharm mentions in there on top of the typical Durge shit. Just in case anyone needs a heads up.

I keep tweaking his design every time I draw him, but I think I'm decently happy with it now? It's mainly the burn scar that has been annoying me because I both want it to unique but still somewhat fit the game texture..

I wish I knew how to mess with texture maps to make him custom ones so that all the scars in game match The Lore, but ughh learning that is way too much work.

The scar run down so far:

THE BURN SCAR is a souvenir from Cania. It covers almost the entire upper left half of his body, but on his arm it ends abruptly at the elbow because the explosion that caused it took off his whole forearm so the limb is "brand new" and therefore, scarless.

Yes, he can regrow limbs like an axolotl. However here, I think healing magic was involved too. Just because of how extensive the damage was. I'm imagining his forearm blown off and what's left of his arm charred nearly to the bone. Same with his face, his cheek was definitely gone. An absolutely terrifying image and one that's for sure seared into Gortash's brain forever.

THE VIVISECTION SCAR is Kressa's work of course, but its shape is pretty atypical for how most of the fandom does Durge's scars. The arms of the Y incision don't extend towards his shoulders and go underneath his pectorals instead. It's mostly because his organs have fuck all to do with the tadpole Kressa was studying so I headcanon those experiments to have been done purely for sexual gratification, not scientific at all. Which makes cracking open his ribcage feel like too much of a hassle to me, she can still get in there for a rummage through his stomach after all.

THE SMALL STOMACH AND CHEST SCARS are all stab wounds. I like to think they would've healed fully long ago, but Ezra subconsciously keeps that from happening because they're like mementos to him. It was... a religious/masochism thing between him and Helena. A tad messed up, but he liked her a lot okay.

THE THIGH SCARS are self inflicted. Some are cuts, some poor, frenzied attempts at flaying the skin off to maximise the pain. They start to fade and heal post tadpole because he forgot about the habit thanks to the orinbotomy, but he used to pretty much selfharm his emotions away. Sad? Pain. Affectionate? Pain. Guilty? Nothing some more pain can't fix! It started in his youth when selfharm was his only way to get some clarity of mind when the Urge started to muddy his thoughts and it escalated from there to using it for everything.

THE HAND SCAR is also of the self inflicted kind, but that one is really old. He was around 12 when he stabbed his hand out of fear that if he didn't use the knife he was given to hurt himself, he was going to cause harm to someone else. It was pretty soon after killing his foster parents so the panic was understandable, got him banned from the kitchen for years tho. The scar never faded completely because he was really weak and sickly as a kid due to not feeding the Urge, which messed with his healing abilities (amongst other things) making it stick.

THE HEART SCAR is an another old one. It's from the wound he was killed with when he transformed into the Slayer for the first time. It's symbolic and one of those scars that don't heal because he doesn't want them to. It marks the death of the person he was before Bhaal and serves as a reminder of that whole event. The paladin who killed him (a close friend and mentor actually so that's fun) ran him straight through with a sword so there's a matching scar on his back too.

Those have all pretty much always been there and the only change is the lore of the stab wound scars, though. I just felt like talking about them because I like giving those things A Story.

And since I'm already babbling, I also added some stuff!

He didn't use to have his nails painted post nautiloid, but I had the bright idea of Shadowheart seeing the remnants of chipped off nail polish and because of that offering to do them for him at some point. Probably not until act 3 when they finally reach civilization, but still!

I once mentioned in passing that he collects rings and never implemented that into his design, but here it is now! It's mostly a case of him feeling like he should wear a ring out of habit and ending up going a bit ham with it.

Old wedding band mark :) only sticks around for a bit post nautiloid and eventually disappears, but I still included it anyway for the angst. You understand.

One day I'll do a proper colour reference and decent art of his clothing to go with it, but this will do for now. I just love him so much, he can fit so much lore on him and it's driving me a bit crazy. My beloved hairy bastard man.

[theworldvsyoshiko]

A current state of affairs, since I haven't posted an overall update in a while:

The settlement hasn't changed shape much. The main update of note is those tunnels off to the east. One thing with this map: the exposed area is a relatively small crater in the center, with one real narrow route in or out. This makes it incredibly defensible against people attacking on foot. Against drop pod raids and such, though, it means that there's very little available space for them to spawn. Most drop pod raids end up landing basically in the middle of the base, even ones that are balanced around not doing that. This makes them the biggest threat by far, and there isn't much I can do about them in the current setup.

So, the girls are starting to migrate underground. (With lots of chokepoints built in to mitigate the risk of insectoid infestations.) This will be a slow as hell process, because all of the rooms they're going to spend much time in need to be smoothed out to make them not ugly, and this is a group genetically dispositioned to be bad at Construction.

Almost everybody has the gene for Psychite dependency now, because it's basically free metabolism. Yeah sure I'll make my biochemical processes dependent on a special easily-produced tea in exchange for eating 40% less food.

Almost everybody also has a Bionic/Archotech Eye and genes for quick wound healing, slow bleeding, and Scarless, which is already a pretty solid combat loadout.

Karina McClain

Look don't ask me what's going on with the Very Diligent Student trait.

Karina's decent at basically everything but art. I think her Crafting skill purely came from making clothes before Cupcake was old enough. Despite the 20 Shooting, she's only the main combatant because of her mechanitor stuff. Otherwise, that title goes to...

Karina "Cupcake" McClain

Sure, Cupcake's a bit worse at shooting than Karina, but she has some other advantages. For one thing, Trigger Happy, which makes her shoot twice as fast for a bit of an accuracy penalty. Since she isn't using her utility slot for a mech pack, she can also use a ranged shield belt, which makes her much safer to venture out of cover. She's got an Archotech Arm, which combined with her tail gives her 142% Manipulation for fighting and crafting. But also,

Outside of combat, Cupcake's also the lead researcher and crafter.

Karina "Damage" McClain

Damage is also good at everything. Being giant means that she's a nice big target, so she also has a Painstopper (0 pain), a Healing Enhancer, and a Toughskin Gland. Damage currently has higher armor than Karina, who's wearing marine armor. But then also:

... and then the snake tail gives her an extra melee attack, and being giant gives her a shitton of health. She should probably pick up Robust to balance out Wimp, but frankly it hasn't been an issue yet. Damage can take a truly ridiculous amount of, uh, damage.

Karina "Kitten" McClain

Kitten inherited Evil Twin's genes. The last memory of Karina's ex-wife...

Kitten doesn't have a lot special going for her just yet, but she does have

Karina "Scratch" McClain

Like Kitten, Scratch doesn't have much to distinguish her yet. Apart, of course, from

... if I give this kid six bionic/archotech arms, I assume that she'll be the fastest worker on the planet. High Manipulation makes most things faster, but bonuses to quality and such tend to be capped around 100% Manipulation.

Karina "Shorty" McClain

is baby

The only really notable thing about Shorty at this point is that they got a minor mutation in the cloning tank, and came out with like 10% more melanin than the rest of the group.

Spider and Lustthrist

The resident ghouls. Meaning: they're incapable of basically everything that isn't hand-to-hand combat, but they feel no pain, don't sleep, don't have any non-food needs at all actually, and regenerate ridiculously fast. Melee shock troops, basically. They've both got armor plating bolted right onto their skin, metal barbs jutting out of it, a nuclear stomach that makes them eat 1/4 as much in exchange for bombarding them with radiation that they don't mind, and their heart has been replaced with one that drops a lot of that pesky 'blood' stuff to generate acid for them to projectile vomit.

Once the girls have a little more research done, they'll be replacing some of the ghouls' limbs with weaponry, and other fun things like that.

[diseaseriddencube]

*stares at your blank scarless arm* promise you'll start, for me

Azusa x Cutthroat x fem Reader

word count: 1933

content: self harm, it's not smut but there is moaning, and kissing, there's non con stabbing, also con stabbing 😍

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

The bed shifted slightly under your combined weight as the vampire next to you leaned closer, a light finger stroked down your bare arm. You nearly flinched, you had not been treated well by anyone over the years, let alone vampires, but his touch was nothing but gentle, nothing to be concerned with. 

“Promise….you’ll start…for me….” he whispered, his cold lifeless breath barely scraping your ear. You shifted back a millimeter, “...start what exactly?” you hesitated to ask. The answer almost revealed itself as fast as he produced a knife from who knows where. 

“You want to cut me?!” you nearly shrieked, but he placed a gentle hand upon yours, shushing you softly. 

“No, I want…you…to cut…yourself” 

Myself? Was he insane? Scratch that question, he revealed that aspect long ago, but wanting you to mar yourself was a new level. 

His gaze was captivating you with puppydog eyes as he slipped the handle into your fingers, wrapping his hand over yours. Your combined hands lifted, placing the blade across your other wrist, you felt almost numb, this situation went from relaxing to such a quick progression into madness you could barely process how far into the rabbit hole you had fallen. The slightest bit of metal kissed your skin, not cutting, but you flinched; sharp movements, skin on blade, blade in skin, his desire had been met all too well. 

The cleaving of your flesh had not been as deep as you feared, only a single drop of blood beaded to the surface. You released the knife, letting it fall into Azusa’s possession once more, in order to inspect your wound. He leaned back to give you room, though he was very obviously glancing at the damage he inflicted, and barely holding back his smile. Footsteps outside of the room barely registered in your head as you dabbed your finger in the blood, playing with the quickly coagulating surface tension. Sweat dribbled down your neck as the door creaked open, on the edge of your conscious attention. 

“I smell blood,” a low but playful voice called across the room. The shock of it almost made you fall backwards into the mattress, though you held composure well enough, your arm had flung back though, sending a single drop flying to stain the bed sheet. And this intruder’s eyes locked onto that tiny speck of red like an eagle hunting its prey. 

The tall man entered the room, cloaked in white. This was no vampire, as pale as he was, or as deathly as he seemed, there were no fangs in that mouth. He was an oddity, stranger so than your situation with the vampires, they just let him stroll into their manor; they never sucked his blood, they never spoke to him. You had suspected him to speak with Azusa on occasion but you could never truly confirm this. He never told any of you his name, and so he became known to you as the Cutthroat. The vampires were certainly an odd bunch, but they could not compete with Cutthroat. Not a vampire, yet he returned home with new blood staining his clothing every night. You had a guess as to what was wrapped up in those bandages, and chances were that he and Azusa could surely bond over it should your theories prove to be truth. 

He stalked closer, silent as a ghost like his clothing imitated him to be, he glided across the floor, almost landing in your lap. He was deadset, focused on one thing only, the wet wound that was crusting upon your arm. His intentness scared you, he spoke not a word, even Azusa merely watched in curiosity as he picked up your arm to inspect it. His hands were freezing, though you knew him to be surely human. 

He mouthed a word, again, and again, staring into your wound, already darkening and coagulated. He became almost audible, yet breathy and silent, red, red, red

There was a strangeness in his eyes now, not that he ever looked quite okay in the head, but you certainly were unsure of this particular look. 

“Can I cut you too?” he breathed, his mouth opening made your stomach churn. His teeth, they were perfect, white as the rest of him and straight like a military cemetery. But they were wrong, like an uncanny valley, too perfect for human, they should’ve been fangs, rows of shark teeth would suit him better. 

You shrunk back, looking to Azusa for help, you shouldn’t have taken your eyes off him for even a moment. 

For the second time today, a knife pierced your flesh, so deep into your arm it stuck out on its own when he released it. You screamed, your voice scraped against your throat and you scrambled back, tangling yourself in the fabric. Cutthroat pounced on you, reclaiming his knife from your tender flesh, opening a new pathway for the blood to flow. Your juices streaked the blade, the fire in his eyes reflecting in the metal, and your terrified face staring back at you on your respective side of the knife. He lowered it just below your eyelines, but his attention snapped away just as quickly, looking over his shoulder at the vampire tapping him. 

“If…she doesn’t…want it……you can…cut me…instead…” he offered, oh so kindly, to save you from this madness, though more likely to bring himself a greater ecstasy of pain that you could never willingly provide him. Cutthroat snapped up this opportunity, dragging a blade across the skin Azusa so proudly presented to him. Blade went through bandage, strips of white fabric dropped to the floor, alongside drips of bright red liquid. Azusa let out a soft moan of happiness. 

You squirmed back even more, trying not to make yourself noticed in their preoccupations of pain and blood. You would’ve gotten up and run, but something told you, a knife would be thrown at your head if you tried to escape this bloodbath. So you watched, a deer in the headlights, as the wolves went at each other only a pace away. Cutthroat didn’t hold back, he was more hardcore than any slasher movie villain, Azusa’s arm would be unrecognizable in seconds if he didn’t stop soon. 

You were shocked that he wasn’t making a fuss over Cutthroat cutting over his beloved scars, the ones you heard him talk to as though they were his friends. But Azusa seemed to be in too much absolute bliss to notice. 

Azusa withdrew his arm, drenched and dripping with thick blood, and tugged on the bandages under Cutthroat’s sleeve. Staining them as he unraveled them, pushing up his sleeve as he did. Cutthroat didn’t object as his arm became exposed to the world. Scars littered his arm, so heavy and deep they changed the silhouette, his entire arm may as well have been pure scar tissue, it was a shock he could even operate it anymore. 

Azusa’s blood dripped upon his arm, running down and settling in the grooves of his scars. You had expected something like that to be hiding under his bandages, but you could have never anticipated it to look so extreme, even Azusa’s scars could not compare. Azusa was practically glowing as he sized up a new surface to inflict pain on, as a loving gift to return to the one who shredded his own arm. 

He was far more purposeful with his cuts, in extreme contrast to Cutthroat’s messiness, neither seemed to mind it. In fact, mid-cut, Azusa moves his head closer to the other’s. Leaning in, Cutthroat not leaning away, were they going to- 

Lips collided, fangs pressed deep in his gums. This had already been a sick display, but it had veered straight into absurdity, did they have something going on? Is this why he was allowed into the manor so freely? Azusa pushed his knife in, eliciting a muffled moan from Cutthroat, deepening their kiss. You could see blood, and you could almost guarantee tongues were being exchanged. You felt a gag rising, and you so foolishly let it become audible. 

In an instant, their eyes snapped to you, suddenly reminded that you were a participant in this madness. They withdrew from each other, eyes still locked on you, bloody saliva still hanging between their jaws. 

Cutthroat broke the silence, “You should join the fun, shouldn’t you, darling?” his voice was deceptively light, if it was out of context, you’d assume he was inviting you to a playdate, but with all the blood on the floor, you felt your fate being sealed. 

They both crawled over to you, each pinning one of your arms before you could shuffle away. You squirmed under their grasp. Your eyes were clenched tight, oblivious to Cutthroat raising his arm, and bringing it right down on your stomach. The adrenaline surged so hard you hardly felt it, yet you struggled harder. 

A small laugh to you right side, “isn’t…the pain…wonderful…?” and a gleeful whisper to your left, “it’s red” 

You cried out, yet your sobs only seemed to stretch the edges of their smiles. Though you felt numb, the sound of a knife hacking into you was a sound from beyond your wildest nightmares, it reminded you of cutting watermelons, a dull chop, the splitting of flesh and juices spilling. The fabric of your shirt opened to accommodate every stab, and became heavy and warm, slicked with your own blood. Cutthroat laughed, his awful laughter echoed against tall ceilings. His laugh was melodic, almost beautiful in any other context, but here and now, it was grating, horrifying, it seeped into your bones deeper than his knife ever could. If you died here and now, you were sure that laugh would haunt you right into hell. 

The stabs stopped, and you squinted your eyes open as your right arm was released. Cutthroat continued to laugh, he continued to stab, but not into you, right into Azusa’s chest. 

Stab,

Stab,

Stab,

Azusa didn’t look so happy anymore, the famed masochist of the household, and he looked….afraid, like this was a game he was happy to play until it no longer went his way. 

You thought vampires were unkillable, but as Azusa went limp over your own dying body, you were suddenly unsure. You were almost drowning in the bed by now, weighed down with Azusa’s body and Cutthroat’s death grip on your arm.  Blood from all three of you soaked down into the layers of foam, if you were more lucid about the situation, you may have felt bad that Azusa would have to replace his bed, but fortunately, mattress shopping would have to wait until you weren’t actively bleeding out under the hands of a madman. And this madman just had to be a little more mad, by leaning down to scoop blood from Azusa’s wounds onto his tongue. 

Carefully cupping the blood in his mouth, he brought himself to your lips, pressing them against yours. His hands had moved to grip the sides of your skull, forcing you to accept the brutal kiss. His tongue weaved its way into your mouth, transferring his and Azusa’s  ‘gift’ down your throat. You choked on the blood, the kiss was suffocating, but that would quickly become the least of your concerns.

You felt something along your neck, and warmth flowing down your body, new blood gurgled in your throat to mix with the gifted blood. Your last sight was the faintest reflection of a red ring in his eyes as he finished slitting your throat, allowing you to join Azusa. 

[lulu2992]

Thanks again, @asgawario, for sharing this video I didn’t know existed!

The description says this post-credits scene for Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon was cut from the game a month or less before its release. I don’t know if anything in the name of the original file clearly said who the character in the TV is, but this person does look a lot like a younger, beardless, “mohawkless”, maybe scarless (I can’t tell; it could just be a shadow), and probably drugless Vaas Montenegro! He’s even wearing the same tank top and necklaces, and he has a piece of red cloth tied around his left arm.

And it seems unnecessary at this point because we have enough evidence already, but if we compare his face to Vaas’, I think we can see the resemblance (except his features were still unmarked by… well, everything).

Now, I’m really curious why this was cut, what the devs’ original idea was, and if they wanted to include more references to Far Cry 3 in Blood Dragon. The only one I remember is Sloan saying, “They sent YOU boys after me? Now that right there, is the definition of insanity” (and at first I didn’t know about it because that’s not what he says in French).

I suppose this post-credits scene implied Blood Dragon exists as a game/movie in the world of Far Cry 3 and that Vaas played/saw it when he was younger. Even if the plan simply was to include this at the end of the game as a fun cameo with no further context or explanation, I still think it would have been nice!

[quietplace26]

Solving the Future au (2)

It's been a whole month since Akito found himself back in the past, and he's been very busy since then.

First thing he did was tell Mari EVERYTHING. She didn't really believe him at first, but seeing how odd her brother was acting, how happy he was to see her, practically crying as he hugged her, it made her believe.

Oh, and the glowing lines on Akito's hands certainly help her believe him as well.

When she pointed this out to Akito, he was shocked to see the familar glowing lines on his hands. But that shouldn't be possible since KK wasn't possessing him anymore!

He quickly goes to test things out, seeing if it was still possible for him to be able to use KK's etheral weaving. To his shock, he could still weave!

Wind, Fire, Water, he could still use had them all! Also, unlike before where KK's etheral weaving was gold in color, Akito's was silver instead!

Mari stares down at Akito's hands in awe, lightly poking at the glowing lines in curiousity before looking up at her brother. "So what now Aki?"

Akito sighs and tugs Mari in for a hug. "For now lets start looking for a new place to live." He wasn't taking any chances of the fire happening again! "And... we'll go from there."

After that, it was a slow process for Akito. He had to get used to having Mari with him again, and that wasn't counting his aching body.

Wounds from all the visitors he fought in the last timeline now covered his once scarless body. One of which was a giant scar in the center of his chest where Hannya had shoved his arm through.

When Mari accidentally saw his new scars for the first time she cried... and then became enraged.

"So not only did he try to use MY body for some freaky ceremony, but he also hurt you! I'm gonna-" Needless to say, if Mari ever got her hands on Hannya, Akito got the feeling it wouldn't end well for the other man... Not that Akito cared.

Speaking of Hannya, it brought up the subject of what Akito was supposed to do with all the information he had. Should just stay out the way and let things run their course?

Akito... didn't like that idea. That would mean knowingly letting Shibuya fall into chaos, letting people get hurt or even killed, and... letting KK die again.

But what could he do?! There was no way he could just walk up to KK, who didn't even know him, and tell him, 'oh, I'm from the future'. The older man would probably laughed at his face and tell him to fuck off...

His answer finally comes to him one night while he was eating dinner with Mari. She suggests that maybe he should help from the shadows.

Help from the shadows... That could work! He could help KK and the older man's team from the shadows of the background!

He could do this! He could help KK, keep him alive this time!

"Mari. You're a genius!"

"I know, right? Now then, teach me how to fight monters, bro!"

"...What."

In the end, Mari wouldn't back down, so Akito reluctantly said she could fight. But only if he was their with her! He couldn't lose her again...

Now with a battle plan, Akito sets his sight on getting some weapons and talismans.

Originally, he had the bow KK leant him and some talismans, but when he found himself back in the past, both the bow and talisman disappeared from his person.

He could break into KK's apartment and steal the bow, but that was too risky, so Akito turned to the next best thing. The Nekomatas.

Using his knowledge from the past timeline, Akito quickly manages to gather up some of the relics the Nekomatas once asked for, and with Mari by his side, the siblings went hunting for a Nekomata merchent.

"Oho? You're an odd human~" The Nekomata merchent purrs out as he stared at Akito in interest. Akito just smiles, politely asking to see the Nekomata's goods as he set the relics on the table.

Akito ends up buying two divine bows, one for him and one for Mari, and a bunch of tailsmans. He even bought some katashiros just in case.

"Aki? Can we get these masks?" Mari holds up two masks that had feline like faces carved into them.

"Sure." Akito thought they looked cool, and besides, he and Mari needed something to disguised themselves with. Can't risk either KK or Hannya seeing their faces while they were out hunting!

Mari suddenly makes an odd sound. Akito glances at her in worry. "What's wrong?"

She points behind him, her eyes wide in shock. "B-Behind you."

Thinking there was trouble, Akito whips around, prepared to fight when- "Mmrr?" A tiny, TINY paw pokes at his nose. The tiny, TINY paw belonging to a tiny, TINY Nekomata. Was this a Nekomata kitten?! It was so cute!!!

Behind him Akito hears Mari squeak in delight when more floating kittens started appearing around them, all purring and very curious of the humans.

By the time, the siblings were done shopping, there was purring and cooing Nekomata kittens all over them. The kittens just seemed to adored the siblings, and neither of the humans were complaining in the slightest!

The Nekomata merchent seemed very amused by this. "Not everyday do you see humans covered in Nekomata kittens and enjoying it~"

Sadly though, the Nekomata merchant ends up having to break up the fun and shoos the kittens off. The kittens quickly start whining, saying they wanted to play with the nice 'nii-san and nee-san' more!

"Well, if it's alright with your parents, me and Mari could come back to visit you later on, okay?" Akito suggests as he looks over at the merchent and older Nekomatas for their approval.

The older Nekomata didn't mind thankfully. In fact, they even offered the humans a small job. "Watch the kittens every now and then and we'll give you a special bonus everytime you buy our goods, okay~"

Now that they had weapons now, Akito could move onto the net step. Training Mari to fight visitors. Oh, he wasn't a veteran yokai hunter like KK, but Izukis learn fast, so Akito had no doubt Mari could pick up using the bow fast like he did in Shibuya!

And learn fast she did! The younger girl had no trouble aiming, and barely ever missed! But even so, Akito still stood by decision that Mari could only fight if he was around! He had etheral weaving on his side, she didn't.

Besides training Mari, Akito also trained himself. He no longer had KK in his head to guide him this time, so he had figure out how to weave himself.

It was hard, as he had to be careful with his body. His old wounds, even though they're healed, ached, and if he wasn't too careful, he'd actually start coughing up blood!

He hasn't told Mari about this yet. Hell! He hasn't even been to a doctor yet. Like, how could he? There's no way he could explain to a doctor how he got all these wounds and sound sane!

So instead he goes to the Nekomatas and is taken straight to a healer.

"Hm... You've been through quite a lot, haven't you young one?" The elderly Nekomata healer hums as he looks Akito over, eying all the human's scars. "A normal human would've been dead with half these wounds."

Akito lets out a nervous laugh. "G-Guess I was lucky..." Or had a wraith that healed everything...

After the check up, the elderly Nekomata healer gives Akito some special medicine for him to take. A whole box of it! "Make sure to drink a bottle of medicine everyday, and the pain should go away gradually."

Akito thanks the healer and goes to pay when the elderly Nekomata wave his money away. "Bah! It's on the house! You and your sister have been a delight to us yokai folk, so considered this a gift between friends~"

Another month passes, and Akito knew it was time. They had a few months before Hannya could enact his grand plan in Shibuya, and Akito planned to do everything in his power to stop him!

He had too! For Shibuya, it's citzens, and for... for KK.

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 18. battered and bruised

indelible scars, pivotal marks, blue as the life she fled. - Taylor Swift, Carolina

S E P T E M B E R   2 2 N D   2 0 1 1

As I stood before the mirror, I examined my reflection with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. My eyes scrutinized every detail, tracing the intricate patterns of scars that adorned my skin like a map of my turbulent journey. Each scar told a story, a narrative of the challenges I had encountered and the battles I had waged.

In the faint glow of the room, the scars seemed to whisper tales of adversity overcome and hardships endured. Some were stark and jagged, hinting at moments of intense struggle and pain that I could barely recall. Yet, their presence served as a reminder of the resilience that dwelled within me, a testament to my ability to persevere in the face of adversity.

Among the scars, the ones on my wrists stood out the most, their deep indigo hues a stark contrast against the pallor of my skin. They bore the imprint of my struggles against the restraints that had confined me, each bruise a testament to the desperation I had felt in those moments of captivity. Traces of bruising, fainter but still visible that had encircled my wrists, echoed in the gentle contours of my ankles.

In the bend of my arm, a lone blue speck caught my eye amidst a swirl of vibrant hues. The colors—purples, greens, and yellows—melded together in a captivating dance, a vivid reminder of the IV line that once snaked through my veins. It marked a chapter of resilience, a testament to my body's fight against adversity.

Around my middle, layers of bandages formed a protective shield over a wound hidden from view. Here, nestled in the core of my being, a bullet had grazed me, leaving behind a scar that spoke volumes of the precariousness of life. They said I was lucky, that fate had spared me by the narrowest of margins.

Yet, it was my face that revealed the deepest scars of the journey I had endured. My once scarless complexion now bore the intricate webbing of stitches, tracing a path from the edge of my hairline on the right to the gentle curve of my left eyebrow, weaving through the strands of hair that framed my face. The split lip, though healing, retained traces of its battle, the bruises lending it an exaggerated appearance of injury.

Dark circles pooled beneath my eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights and ceaseless worry that had plagued the last couple of days, or weeks, however long it'd been. They held the exhaustion worthy of a thousand people.

To further underscore the toll of my ordeal, my underwear hung loosely on my frame, once snug now billowing with excess fabric. The oversized bandage wrapped around my waist served as a stark reminder of the physical toll exacted upon my body, a tangible symbol of the sacrifices made in the struggle for survival. Each aspect of my appearance spoke volumes of the battles fought and the resilience shown in the face of adversity.

I discovered that the wounds cutting deepest weren't etched into my skin but rather embedded in the very fibers of my mind. They weren't the result of visible harm but rather the silent grip of uncertainty and absence that clung to my thoughts like relentless shadows. It wasn't the memory of pain that haunted me, but the void left by forgotten faces—the names and stories of those who I'd spent my time locked up with, now lost in the fog of oblivion.

This cloak of unknowing draped over my existence like a shroud, casting a perpetual shadow of unease. Without recognition, I felt perpetually exposed, teetering on the edge of an uncertain abyss. The fear of being taken, snatched away by whoever had taken me, became a constant specter haunting every moment of my waking life, an unrelenting anxiety gnawing at my soul.

Even amidst Alex's promises of unwavering devotion and protection, the specter of uncertainty lingered. Despite her vows to shield me with all her might, doubts still whispered in the depths of my mind. Though she offered reassurance, the shadows of doubt left me trapped in a state of perpetual watchfulness, never fully able to let my guard down.

A gentle rapping reverberated through the bathroom door, its delicate cadence a soothing balm amidst the turbulent tempest of my thoughts. And then, like a wisp of fragrant breeze, Alex's voice drifted through the keyhole, a tender whisper laden with concern and compassion. "Are you okay?"

In that fleeting moment, as her words hung suspended in the air like delicate dewdrops, I found myself grappling with the complexity of my own emotions. Was I truly okay? The question echoed in the recesses of my mind, its resonance a poignant reminder of the uncertainty that pervaded my existence. Though I longed to offer reassurance, to affirm my well-being in the face of her genuine concern, the truth remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

I was okay, but I wasn't quite fine.

I didn't want to add to her worries, so I assured her I was okay. Yet, even as the words slipped from my lips, a pang of guilt prickled at the edges of my conscience—a silent acknowledgment of the burden I carried, knowing she cared.

As I draped myself in the hospital gown, its sterile fabric a stark reminder of my vulnerability, I felt the weight of uncertainty settle upon me like a heavy shroud. With trembling hands, I struggled to tie the gown's intricate knots, the task made all the more challenging by the soreness of every inch of my body.

With a soft chuckle that cut through the quiet of the room like a gentle breeze, Alex offered her help, her voice a soothing salve for my troubled soul. "Come here, let me help you."

As I turned to let her help with the tangled gown clinging to my back, I sensed her gaze on me—a quiet observer of the scars etched into my skin, each one a reminder of the battles I had fought and survived. In that vulnerable moment, I dared to lower my defenses, allowing her a glimpse into the depths of my pain.

"Is it bad?" I asked tentatively as I heard her breath hitch. Despite the doubts swirling in my mind, Alex's response was swift and steadfast.

"It's alright," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody that reached into the depths of my being. "It'll be okay, I promise." Yet beneath her comforting words, I sensed a hint of uncertainty lingering.

A delicate shiver ran down my spine as Alex's fingers gracefully worked to tie the gown. Her touch was gentle, yet it sparked a cascade of sensations that swept through me. The contact sent a wave of goosebumps across my skin, each one a sign of the intense mix of pleasure and pain coursing through me.

But just as I began to succumb to the overwhelming feeling, a sudden spasm gripped the muscles in my back. It was a sharp reminder of my body's vulnerability. With a gasp, Alex pulled back, her face reflecting a mix of concern and regret of what she had just done.

"Oh God, I hurt you, didn't I?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with remorse. Her eyes met mine, pleading silently for forgiveness, and I felt a pang of sympathy.

I turned around and reached out to her, my fingers trembling as they brushed against her shoulders. "Alex, it's fine," I reassured her, trying to calm the storm of guilt that clouded her expression.

But she shook her head, adamant in her belief that she was to blame. "No, it's not okay," she insisted firmly. "I hurt you."

I held her gaze, feeling the weight of her words. "You weren't the one to hurt me," I countered, my voice firm yet gentle. "Understood?"

Before she could respond by saying she was indeed the one to hurt me, I jumped in, my hand cutting through the air to emphasize my point. "No," I urged, the intensity clear in my voice, "Understood?"

Her reply came softly, a whispered agreement that seemed to hang in the air between us. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible in the vast room.

But I wasn't satisfied with a simple acknowledgment, not when the truth was so crucial. "Yes, what?" I pressed further, urgency creeping into my tone.

"I didn't hurt you," she clarified, her words a declaration of innocence that echoed through me.

"Good," I affirmed with a serious nod, the gravity of my words settling between us like fallen petals. "Remember that."

A hesitant smile played on her lips, a hint of uncertainty shimmering in her eyes as she absorbed my words. With a gentle release, I loosened my hold on her shoulders, giving her room to explore her own thoughts.

As I settled back into the comfort of my hospital bed, I watched her closely, noticing the subtle shifts in her expression as she delved into her inner world. "Penny for your thoughts?" I inquired softly, inviting her to share her thoughts with me.

Turning her attention towards me, Alex took a seat beside my bed—a silent guardian watching over our intertwined destinies. The chair had become hers in this hospital room—a promise she would not leave my side.

"I was just wondering," she started, her voice carrying a soft note of uncertainty as she edged toward her own vulnerability, "if you remember anything from the days you spent in the shed."

A wistful sigh slipped from my lips, laden with the heaviness of unspoken yearning as I succumbed to the relentless current of lost recollections. "I don't much," I admitted, my words fragile in the vastness of the sterile room. "There are glimpses, but it's fuzzy. I don't really remember."

With a feeling of acceptance, I looked around the plain walls of the room, its starkness providing little comfort in the face of my own uncertainty. In this clinical space, there was little that felt personal—except for the two of us and a lone photograph resting on the small table beside my bed. It captured a moment frozen in time, a scene captured by Alex's skilled eye—a reminder of the closeness that bound us together amidst the chaos.

In the photo, we relaxed in a hammock, with only 'The Catcher in the Rye' to keep us company in the tranquil stillness. Yet, as I studied the image of our intertwined forms, a sense of emptiness crept over me—a quiet acknowledgment of the absence lingering on the edge of my consciousness.

"I've got a feeling I wasn't alone," I whispered, my words hesitant as I confessed the uncertainty swirling in my mind. "Someone else was there."

A soft smile touched Alex's lips as she confirmed my suspicions, her voice a comforting presence in the quiet of the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her words carrying a weight of truth. "James and Ira were there too."

In the depths of my thoughts, fragmented memories stirred, like whispers in the dark, teasing at the edges of my consciousness. Images of James flickered into view, his figure held down by restraints like my own—a silent witness to the turmoil of our shared confinement. Yet, unlike my own memories, his face remained untouched by the violence that marked my own. It was a detail that tugged at my thoughts, a puzzle piece waiting to be fitted into place.

"Is he okay?" I asked cautiously, my voice barely audible amidst the uncertainty that surrounded us. My concern for his well-being weighed heavily on my mind, a silent plea for reassurance in the midst of my own turmoil.

Alex nodded in response, her expression tinged with sadness that echoed in her voice. "Physically, he's fine," she confirmed solemnly. "But his pride took a hit after he realized he was engaged to a lunatic."

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to process her words. Seeing my bewilderment, Alex offered an explanation, her tone gentle and understanding. "He was engaged to Ira," she clarified, her words carrying the weight of revelation. "The woman who held both of you captive."

After she told me, I felt like a dam broke inside my mind, and all these jumbled memories rushed out. Each one felt like a piece of a giant puzzle, showing bits and pieces of what we went through together. But there was this one big gap, like something important was missing.

"I never remembered a woman being there," I admitted, still trying to wrap my head around what Alex had just said. In my head, I kept going over those memories again and again, hoping to find something that would trigger more.

"It'll come back to you," Alex comforted me, her words a small light in the darkness of my confusion.

I looked at her, feeling a mix of worry and acceptance. Her words felt like they carried a lot of weight, lingering in the air like a thin trail of smoke disappearing into nothingness. "Should I want it to?" I questioned out loud, my voice barely audible in the quiet room.

She paused, deep in thought, trying to figure out how to answer my question. But before she could say anything, the sudden arrival of someone else broke the peaceful atmosphere we had.

As the figure stepped into the room, my whole body tensed up automatically. It's like some primal part of me, learned from all the bad stuff we've been through, kicked in. I was scared, really scared, every sense on high alert, warning me that something might go wrong.

Alex glanced at the newcomer, her face showing the same fear I felt as she checked out this unexpected visitor. But when she turned back to me, her touch kind of calmed me down, taking the edge off my anxiety. Still, I couldn't shake off all the emotions swirling inside me.

"Take it easy," she said softly, her words like a warm hug, easing my nerves. Her hand slipped into mine, her fingers intertwining mine, a silent message that we were in this together. "Maile, meet Special Agent Derek Morgan."

As the fear slowly faded away, I could feel the shaky nerves calming down, like when the fog clears up after sunrise. I gave a hesitant smile and reached out my hand, trying to show that I was sorry for freaking out earlier. "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me," I said, my voice still a bit unsure. "Hi, I'm Maile."

Derek took my hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze that helped ease my lingering anxiety. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm Derek," he said, his voice like a comforting melody in the air. "Alex told me a lot about you."

I couldn't help but smile a little at that, feeling a warmth spread inside me from his words. "All good things, I presume," I remarked, a playful twinkle in my eye. "Any other thing she told you, lies."

Derek let out a hearty laugh, filling the room with a sound like distant thunder. "All good things," he said, nodding with a smile that made his eyes crinkle at the edges with amusement. Then, turning to Alex, he got serious. "Sorry to break it to you, Blake, but we've got a case."

Alex didn't hesitate for a second. Her response was quick and strong, showing her determination in the way her jaw tightened and her eyes blazed with intensity. "I'm not going," she said firmly, refusing to budge in the face of duty.

I looked at her, feeling a mix of surprise and respect for her resolve. Her decision weighed on me, but in the midst of it all, a thought popped into my head, a brief distraction from the chaos of the moment.

"Seems like it," I told Derek, my voice a gentle reminder of the bond between Alex and me. Then, I turned to Alex, asking for a small favor to lighten the mood. "Hey Alex, could you grab me some jello?"

With a nod of appreciation, Alex got ready to leave for the errand. Her readiness to help showed how caring she was. "Sure thing. Anything else?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

I shook my head, smiling softly to show I was okay. "Nope, just jello for now. But make sure you grab something for yourself too. You've got to eat," I said, reminding her to take care of herself in the midst of everything going on.

She responded with a playful eye roll and a laugh, understanding the underlying message in my words. With one last look at me, she got up and left, leaving me with Derek and the thoughts forming a plan in my head

As Derek confirmed that Alex was on her way out with a nod, I saw my chance to put our plan into action. My mind raced with thoughts as I spoke up, urgency lacing my tone as I laid out the details of what we needed to do.

"Okay, when do you guys leave?" I asked, eager to get things moving.

"Tomorrow morning, 6 AM," Derek replied, his voice steady, like an anchor keeping me grounded amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

"Excellent," I said, satisfaction creeping into my words. "She'll be asleep here. So, around 5 AM, come by. Bring someone else if you need to. Come take her while she is asleep."

Derek looked at me, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he absorbed my plan. "You've done this kind of thing before, haven't you?" he asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

I shook my head, a bittersweet smile forming. "No, not exactly," I admitted, feeling the weight of uncertainty between us. "Anyhow, she sleeps deep. I've noticed. So, it shouldn't be too hard to get her out without any trouble."

"Hmm," Derek mused, his expression thoughtful as he considered the practicality of our plan. "I'll see what I can do."

As our talk wound down, Alex came back with a single orange in her hand, a small break from the seriousness of our conversation. "They only had one orange left," she told us, her words bringing a bit of relief to the tense atmosphere. "Consider yourself lucky."

But then, her tone shifted. Alex's question cut through the quiet like a sharp knife, her voice carrying a hint of jealousy underneath. "Has he been flirting with you?" she asked, suspicion evident in her narrowed eyes as she looked at me. I couldn't help but smirk a little at her question, recognizing the underlying tension between us.

Turning to Derek, she got straight to the point, demanding answers with an authoritative tone that brooked no argument. "Did you hit on her?" she asked sharply, her eyes fixed on him with a challenging stare.

Derek's response was quick, his hands going up in a gesture of innocence as he tried to reassure her. "I wouldn't dare," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, almost like he couldn't believe she would think that.

Alex seemed satisfied with his answer, her expression softening a bit as she looked at him with cautious approval. "Good," she said firmly, her words carrying a warning that hung in the air, promising consequences if he dared to cross any lines.

[ratsoh-writes]

(Who gives Pepper a run for his money as most beautiful monster?)

Lol between the skeletons, the top five “attractive” by monster standards are

Pepper of course. Literally still gets offers begging him to go back to modeling. His height, full figure, spotless scarless bones and his bright vivid wine red ecto is irresistible to monsters

Jupiter. He’s a very pretty monster with his color, freckles and muscles.

Sugar. He’s another attractive skeleton monster with his bright ecto color and his soft figure. He doesn’t quite give off the “power” the first two do

Rhythm, he has scratches along his arms and legs from dance accidents but his figure is great, and he’s got a pretty cute face according to others

Harpy. Her color is a bit too earthy, like her eyes to be considered model grade, but she’s very strong, and her face and physique is considered very attractive.