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rememberwren · 6 months ago

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A Dichotomy of Thought || 1

Warnings and details: disabled!Johnny; established Ghoap future Ghoap/reader; domestic abuse (not Ghoap); heavy themes of suicide, violence, abuse, poor coping mechanisms, prescription drugs. I’m not sure if I have anything here, let me know if anyone is interested in this series.

A helicopter goes down in the mountains of Kazakhstan and it takes a piece of Soap with it. They never recovered the arm—nor the three service members who lost more than their arms in the crash. The thought is one that Johnny’s mind cycles back to often, in moments of quiet or while he lies awake at night feeling tremors in an arm that’s no longer attached. Suddenly he’ll wonder: what are those bones up to, buried in snow and ice so deep the sun will never touch them again? Do they miss me?

Fuck, he misses them.

After the accident, the world is very black and white. Mostly it’s black. Blackness at the edge of his vision threatens to creep in when he stands too long, when he stands on his own, when he turns his head too fast. Anytime his blood pressure rises over that Goldilocks number of 120/80, it threatens to drop him faster than Simon used to during their first weeks of training together in the 141.

The doctors say that he’s a miracle. The traumatic brain injury had his brain swelling and pushing at the confines of his skull like water freezing in a bottle. Give him a little longer in the cold and maybe his cap would blow off. Except it hadn’t; he was still dealing with swelling all over: in his thalamus, his hypothalamus, in his cerebrum, all the words he’d never bothered to learn in school and couldn’t fucking remember now no matter how hard he tries. He gets the point. Simon does too. Johnny should be dead.

Instead he just wishes he were.

Even now, when he can remember his name and Simon’s and even (more often than not) the name of the waitress who serves them chicken and waffles at the local diner every Saturday, there are still more bad days than good. Still more darkness than light. Still more nights waking up to the sound of helicopter blades slowing, the relentless hum becoming a deafening chop chop chop like the thrum of his heartbeat. There’s that moment of weightlessness when the helicopter goes down and he has yet to go with it that makes him wake in a cold sweat, nauseous and looking for something to be sick in.

Through it all, Simon is there. Simon is the light. He’d laugh if he heard Johnny say that—though a laugh is probably too generous. Simon doesn’t laugh much these days. Not when he spends three fourths of his time taking care of Johnny and the other fourth thinking about how better to take care of Johnny. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny would have done himself in by now. There’s a thousand ways to do it; plenty of arms and munitions in the apartment they share together. Or there are the pain pills, if he wanted it to look like an accident. A few too many of those and he could crawl right through that darkness in his vision and find out what’s on the other side. As soon as the thought crosses his mind (and it crosses his mind more often than that fucking chicken crosses the road), the guilt comes, like anyone and everyone can read it on his mind: his mama rest her soul, Simon, Jesus on the cross. After all of the work that has gone into him, into saving his broken body and mind, into rehabilitating him, how can he even think of throwing in the towel?

Turns out it’s pretty fucking easy to think about it.

As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about it the first time he meets you, when you nearly do the job for him.

It’s spring, cool, and he’s working up a goddamn sweat anyway. Simon stands in the alleyway, smoking and pretending not to watch as Johnny hobbles up and down the length of the parking lot with his forearm crutch. His armpit throbs. His knee throbs. His head throbs as he continues along, beating out a strange little rhythm on the concrete—thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump. He says all the curse words he knows and dreams up a few new ones too. It’s supposed to be getting easier, but Simon just pushes him harder to make up for the ground he covers. That’s one of the shitty parts about loving an ex-military man; he never goes easy on you.

Johnny’s thinking about the tub upstairs, just big enough for him if he curls in on himself. Sometimes a hot bath helps the knots in his muscles, but sometimes when Simon leaves the room to get a washcloth Johnny will slip beneath the surface of the water and see how long he can hold his—

Then you come out of absolutely nowhere in your shitty little four-door and nearly hit him. As a matter of fact, you do hit his crutch, sending it sprawling out of his hand and sending him clattering to the ground on his bad side. For a moment, he thinks: this is it. This is how I die. Not in a helicopter in Kazahkstan but here, now, today, and he can’t tell if it’s relief in his belly or regret. Then your tires squeal like pigs on the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air, and he is face to face with you and your horror, close enough that the air from your hasty turn brushes along his body and sends his heart pounding.

“What the steaming bloody fucking Jesus do you think you’re doing?” he finds himself shouting, pain lancing all along his side from his fake knee to the stump of his arm. Simon is there all at once, cigarette abandoned to smolder to ash in the alleyway, putting his hands under Johnny’s armpits and lifting him like a child even when he yelps in pain like a kicked dog. Johnny leans against him heavily. The edges of his vision are turning black. He bangs his fist against the hood of your car. “Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in? ‘That’s the cunt right there, beam him with your car’? Did he tell you that?”

You reluctantly get out of the car, not even wearing a goddamn seatbelt. The car’s soft, insistent alarm begins to remind you with unending politeness that the door is open and your seatbelt is off while you stand there, pallid, eyes huge and watering in the face of Johnny’s shouts.

He sees then that one of your eyes is swollen almost completely shut, blood turning the white sclera pink like the fine mist of blood over the snow when they finally pulled Johnny free from the helicopter. No wonder you didn’t see him coming, with a single functioning eye. He’s opened his mouth to tell you so (and to tell you a dozen other fucking things) when he nearly swoons, the rug of the world being tugged under his feet by the hand of God.

Simon slips a firmer arm around Johnny’s waist.

A man gets out of the passenger side. He begins to berate you for not paying attention, for nearly killing Johnny. Johnny agrees, but is annoyed all the same. He’s the one who almost died; leave the shouting to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, tears dripping near-constant from your eyes. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Let me get your—”

“Done enough, haven’t you?” Simon asks cooly. It sends you reeling back into the car where you sit with both hands over your mouth, chest hitching with your panicked sobs.

“Hey, is he, like, okay?” your partner asks.

“Fuck off,” Simon says, deftly ushering Johnny over one shoulder and holding the crutch in the other. He carries them back to the elevators without breaking a sweat, and Johnny cries on his shoulder from the pain of it, the sheer embarrassment of it the whole way home. The day before Kazahkstan he couldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he cried; now he cries every fucking day from one reason or another.

“I’m fine,” Johnny says when they make it back to the apartment and Simon eases him down into a chair. They arrange his knee in the one position that has it throbbing less, but then Johnny bats Simon’s hands away. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t need you hoverin’ over me.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck off with yer alright.”

Simon doesn’t say anything. Johnny hears his footsteps leading toward the bedroom they share—hardly a bedroom, how long has it been since they slept there together peacefully? Since they fucked? Johnny can tell you how long it’s been. Since before things went black and white. The footsteps stop then.

“You stepped in front of her, Johnny,” Simon says, his voice low but not quiet enough to count as a whisper. “I watched you do it. Don’t think you’re so fucking slick.”

He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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gor3-hound · 7 months ago

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promise i'm working on content right now but here's a drabble because uhh... it came to me x

corrupt cop leon !! 18+ content

tw: non-con, lil mysogyny and filming. fem!reader

Leon thinks you're cute. Real cute. He'd happily take you out to dinner and treat you real nice if Irons wasn't working his ass to the bone. He barely has enough time to eat or sleep as of late, let alone take the time out of his day to take a pretty girl to a fancy dinner. Not that he could afford to on his payroll, even if he wanted to. City life sure wasn't cheap, something he had to learn the hard way.

He's not a scary cop, not on the surface. He can see the way you instantly relax as you see his face after he pulls up next to you. He's still all baby-faced and bright-eyed, his gaze shining as he looks over you.

"Late night for a pretty girl like you to be out," he had said, shooting you a disarming smile. He'd gotten you to talk for a while, nodding and acting all interested until he got your guard down enough. He didn't have to sweet talk you, but he was nice enough to at least try and get the girl compliant enough to go along with him.

Didn't last long, though. You really started to kick up a fuss as he got a little too touchy with you. All girls like you were so stuck-up. How many dates did a guy have to splurge on to get into some panties? What ever happened to a good old-fashioned backseat blowie? The Internet really fucking ruined women. They all thought they were 'too good' for a quick fuck. Like that'd stop him.

He has you pushed over the hood of his car in a few seconds flat. Cop training came in handy, made him real good at restraining the pretty girls he wanted to stick his dick into. Had you cuffed with his hand cupping your mouth before you could even think about screaming, fumbling with his belt for about 30 seconds before he's hiking your skirt up and tugging your panties to the side.

He thrusts into you with one quick snap of his hips, groaning loudly as your tight heat wraps around his cock. You're not really wet, but the warmth and snugness makes up for your lack of arousal. It makes his cock twitch as you cry out into his hand, the feeling of tears gathering against the skin as they trickle down your cheeks making him grin. He always loved it when they cried, made him feel like his cock was really doing some damage.

"Can you do me a favour, sweetheart?" He murmurs, pressing wet kisses down your neck as he thrusts into you, his balls slapping against your clit repeatedly. Still not enough to get you dripping for him. Jeez, you were a picky one, huh? He had a pretty cock, most girls at least had the decency to get wet after a while. You're lucky you're just his type, or he would've dumped you on the side of the road by now.

"See that light right there?" He breathes out after a beat, his free hand tapping the window right where his dashboard camera sits, recording his every move. He grins against your neck, pretty blues peeking through his lashes as he stares at the camera. "Look at it for me, baby. Wanna be able to watch your pretty face on video when I fill you up."

His words seem to make you panic a little, your cunt clenching around his dick as you start to sob, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe against his palm. You're drooling all over him, and he's starting to wish he decided to fuck that pretty throat of yours rather than your cunt, cause that's the only thing on you that seems to know how to get wet. Oh, well. He's too close now to bother pulling out.

It only takes him a few more thrusts before he spills his seed deep inside of you with a whimper, his eyes squeezing shut as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He pulls out a minute later, tucking himself back into his pants, leaving your trembling body bent over his patrol car. Takes him a moment to catch his breath, then he unlocks your cuffs and rubs your wrists - all sweet and gentle.

"Up you get, sweetheart." He pats your ass before helping you up, straightening out your skirt with a sweet smile on his face - like his cum wasn't dripping down the inside of your thighs. He pulls out a wad of cash, stuffing it down your top just to get an excuse to peek at the tits he never got around to touching.

"Money for a taxi, cutie. There's some really nasty men lurking around this time of night."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you

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gilverrwrites · 4 months ago

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Hi friend!

Would you be interested in doing a NSFW alphabet for Bruce? Just read your black mask one and damn heheh

Bruce Wayne: NSFW Alphabet

AN: Thank your so much, glad you enjoyed! And yes I would be interested.

As always readers; please take whatever you vibe with and leave what you don’t. It’s all in good fun.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It really depends on your existing relationship, and its level of intimacy.

A hook-up is getting the bare minimum to keep his image where he wants it to be. He’ll help you get clean, offer you his bathroom, and if he can, he’ll help you redress and get you out asap. If you decide to stay, he’ll be cordial; he’ll do the pillow talk, let you wear his shirt, make sure you’re fed and watered or whatever but he won’t hold you, and he won’t be there when you wake up. He will however leave a note with some half-truth about having to leave for business, and money/gift cards for a coffee and an Uber.

If you’re more than that (dating/married/so on) then it depends on how well you’ve voiced your needs to him, and how much time he has. Let’s be real Bruce is a hypocrite, he wants you to tell him in explicit detail how you need to be cared for, and if you don’t he’s profiling you until he gets it right, but he ain’t saying anything about himself.

So provided he doesn’t have to run off to save the day, or your escapades haven’t coincided with a routine patrol, Bruce is excellent at aftercare.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Him: Bruce is highly critical of himself. He’s not blind, he knows he’s physically fit, widely intelligent, and highly attractive, but there’s also always room for improvement.

But if he had to choose, it would be his brain. He enjoys being able to look at you and knowing in an instant that you want him. Knowing if it’s a right here right now, or a tease me till I’m begging kind of want. Knowing exactly what you need to hear or where you need to be touched. Being able to predict and acclimatise to your desires is such a big thing for him.

As for you: It’s all in your eyes. You may or may not think you’re quite stony-faced, but not to Bruce. He just loves how expressive your eyes are. Yes, when he’s analysing you; looking for those dilated pupils and heavy lids. But also just the delight when he surprises you with sneaky kisses, when the skin around them grows crinkly as he growls something totally scandalous, or how they grow wide and doe-like as he’s stretching you out, or when they twitch and roll when he’s fucking you just right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not particularly vocal about it unless he’s really lost in the heat of the moment but; breeding kink. He wants his cum buried as deep inside of you as your body will allow. He wants you so full it’s spilling out and leaking down your thighs, soaking into the bedsheets. And then he’s gonna scoop all those stray drops up and push it all right back in.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

At his age, he doesn’t really get the terms that people use in sex nowadays. That information wasn’t easily obtained in his prime but if he had to identify with something he’d claim soft/dom and/or a brat-tamer, and he’d be right.

But sometimes he likes to switch roles.

He’d never admit it, because he’s a goddamn control freak, he considers (his own) submission as weak and at best he’d be a power bottom but damn it’s so comforting and so hot to be at your mercy or just taken care of sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ooh ho ho. Brucie has been around many blocks, and back again.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I have no explanation for this, I just feel it in my bones but he’s so into doggy. Especially when it’s a hook-up and/or a quickie. By extension, the flatiron because it offers that really deep penetration that has him cumming right against your cervix.

Also the eagle and the leg lock/missionary, specifically with a pillow under your hips and one of his hands pushing on your stomach so that he can keep you in place as he punishes your g spot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very rarely goofy, at least not until he’s at a level of familiarity and intimacy that would allow him to let those walls down. He’s not without a sense of humour, it helps if you’re goofy first.

Blow a raspberry on him, and he’s pinning you down and giving you 10 back. Give him a ridiculous nickname and he’ll start testing new ones out on you. “Ohh Brucie boo boo, that feels so good.” “You like it when I bend you over and fuck you like this honey bunny?”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s thick and dark, but well-trimmed. In his younger years, he waxes off his happy trail and chest hair, but from his mid-late 30s, he starts letting it grow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This again is widely dependent on your relationship.

If you’re a hook-up it’s just about fun really. It’s sensual, borderline pornographic but ultimately impersonal.

But if you’re more than that, then sex is very intimate for him, and he’s surprisingly passionate.

He struggles with voicing his emotions so this is how he shows you his appreciation for all that you do. It’s how he apologises for being gone so much, for making you worry. Your body is where he takes out his frustrations but also where finds respite and comfort.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not something he particularly enjoys, but it is a necessity. He’d rather the real thing, but if that’s not accessible when he needs to let off some steam then so be it.

There have been many, long frustrating nights that have ended with him beating it in front of the batcomputer, unable to focus, and wishing it were you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As previously mentioned, breeding kink. (See c for cum)

Bondage: I’m specifically talking about him being the rope bunny here. Nothing extreme, soft ropes holding his wrists to a chair or a bed frame while you grind on him. Yes he could break out at any minute, but he doesn’t, that’s part of the submission, the fun.

This can be flipped, he’ll tie you up if that’s what you want but he prefers to pin you down with nothing but his own strength and body weight.

Roleplay/primal play: His interest in the whole cat and mouse (or bat and cat) has never been subtle really. He likes being the predator, catching the prey and taking his reward. Ties in closely with the brat taming too if you’re a fighter or mouther.

Extending on prev, I think he’d also like interrogation play: again both ways but primarily he likes to be the interrogator. To hold you down, tease, and question about whatever subject matter, probably what you want to have done with you, until you beg him to make good on all your confessions.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He’s boring in this regard; the bed. It’s a comfortable, safe environment where he can let loose.

If you wanted to do it in the cave or the Batmobile he’d comply, but explicitly when off duty with low risk.

But if it was up to him, he’d keep you all locked up in his chambers, squirming in his sheets, eyes rolling back to look at his ceiling. It’s like he’s claiming you, inside and out, full and scented by him and his bedsheets.

Maybe, with the certainty that nobody will be home, he’ll find other places to fuck you; the marble stairs, the hot tub, in front of the fireplace.

But be prepared for the unmitigated guilt and humiliation of traumatising at least one of his kids when they inevitably stop by unannounced.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He often comes home in the early hours of the morning still full of adrenaline and looking for relief.

Outside of that, he’s highly receptive to teasing and shameless levels of flirting. Clothing too; he likes skimpy, short skirts low cut tops but that’s not always necessary. Just knowing you’ve got nothing on under that flowy outfit, or that he bought you those shoes, or that’s his button-up will do it for him.

And then there’s domesticity. When you bring him food during a long and intense research session. Seeing you be really good with Damian, or helping Cass with her ballet hair, or scheduling dinner for the two of you with Babs and Dick.

Just you clicking so perfectly into his life, predicting and meeting his needs without being asked, makes him want to show you just how much he appreciates it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want to call him daddy that’s fine, he can be your baby daddy, but you are not his baby.

You can be his baby momma though. He wants to fuck a child into you, not fuck a child, even in a fantasy capacity.

If he wanted a child he’d be adopting you, not sleeping with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

50/50

He rarely gives oral when hooking up, because he’s a fucking beast at it. Wet and sloppy, just going to town, which affords him a lot of women wanting to ride again. But in that same vein, he doesn’t expect these people to give him anything. If they’re gasping for it, he’ll oblige but otherwise, he just avoids the whole oral thing.

But when it’s his love, there’s no stopping him from spending an afternoon worshipping those perfect hot, wet folds. Drinking you up until your fluids are dripping down his neck, until his scalp aches from your grip and you’re seeing stars.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies of course but preferentially 70/30 rough/sensual with a lot of crossover.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As mentioned in J for Jack-off, if he needs to release some tension quickly, and you’re available then he’ll take you. Bend you over the nearest surface, bruising you with his vice grip, no sound but for his grunting and the salacious slap of your skin against his until he’s got everything out of his system and can get back to the job at hand.

But otherwise, he’d rather take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you’re an adrenaline junkie, then sure he’ll take risks for you.

That said, the risks he takes are calculated, and he is good at maths. He won’t bore you with the statistics, just know that he’ll always find a way to give you what you want.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No average human can keep up with Bruce Wayne’s stamina, let’s be real. But that’s okay, when you’re all spend and cock drunk and too weak to move, he’ll make sure you don’t miss out on anything. He’s strong and fit enough to do all the work for the both of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Holy utility belts Batman!

For all his gadgets and tech, I want to say he has sex toys galore but honestly I really don’t think he does.

He probably has the classics: retrains, cock ring, remote control vibe, plug, dildo and/or strap.

And some more out there things: electro collars/low impact tasers, clamps, a swing.

Heaven knows he can afford anything and everything. But beyond that, I don’t think he reaches for them often, nor does he seek out or experiment with new ones. Not unless something sparks it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Are you kidding? The moment he sees his opportunity he’s laying the teasing on thick. Sneaking touches when nobody is looking, speaking to you in that voice, calling you while you’re busy to tell in explicit detail what he’s been thinking about doing to you since he saw you in those pants this morning.

And when he finally gets you alone, he’s 100x worse.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Noisy but not loud. He has such a low, deep voice. So when he groans and coos in your ear it’s certainly clamorous to you. All the filthy things he says bellows.

But nobody outside the room you’re in will hear him, not unless he wants to be heard anyway.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

With time and experimentation, Bruce knows what turns you on better than you do. Kinks you’ve never thought of. Subtle touches you barely notice, getting just close enough for you to smell his natural musk. He moves his body in precise ways, and uses really specific words that have your mind racing.

He’ll play you like a fiddle and have you thinking it was your idea.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s packing, and we all know I don’t mean guns.

And that's when it’s soft and in the cold. At full glory, I’d say at least 8 inches, above average girth. Cut, with some very prominent veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fair to moderate, adrenaline heightens the senses and emotions and can be an aphrodisiac which is where a lot of his drive comes from.

But removing that from the equation, he’s trained himself not to think about you or anything that turns him on when he needs to focus. So when he gets to relax or when he sees you again, all that pent-up denial comes running back to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on his mindset. More often than not, by the time post-climax hits, after an already long night, he’s out like a light the moment you’ve signalled that you don’t need him any more. Sometimes sooner.

But if something’s on his mind, a series of clues that aren’t adding up, a villain that shouldn’t have gotten away, when he’ll be up all night thinking about it. In this scenario, it’s not uncommon to find his side of the bed empty within an hour or two.

#dc #gilverrwrites #gilverranswers #reader insert #headcanons #hc #nsfwalphabet #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #batman/reader #batman x reader #Batman #wandalfnation #divider by @anitalenia

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demonpiratehuntress · 1 year ago

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fictional boys (Monster Trio + Ace, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader

summary - their reactions to finding out you have a crush on a fictional character

warnings - slightly angsty in Sanji's part but otherwise none

a/n: Kaku is severely underrated and there is a shocking lack of fics for him

ZORO

You're always reading. This was normal for you, but Zoro had never seen you this engrossed in one before. You spent more time with that damn book than you did with him these days, and even napping with you was a pain because you always had it with you. And he didn't understand your obsession with it, until he overheard a conversation between you and Nami.

"So who's your favourite?" The orange-haired navigator asked excitedly, leaning forward for the gossip.

"(Random Name)," you answered just as eagerly, your eyes lighting up excitedly. "He's the coolest!"

"Right?" Nami agreed, a dreamy smile on her face. "And the hottest."

"Oh yeah definitely."

"Who's the hottest, now?" A familiar deep voice cut through before you two could get any further than that. Zoro stopped by the table, crossing his arms and looking unamused.

"A guy in this book," you answered your boyfriend, unaware of the hostility in his tone, "He's this really cool knight who-"

"I'm cooler."

You looked up at him in surprise, not expecting him to cut you off with those words, "What?"

"Your stupid knight," he clarified, "I'm cooler than him. And hotter."

You looked at Nami, who was trying her hardest not to laugh. Then you looked back at your boyfriend, who was looking at you expectantly. Waiting for you to agree.

"Zoro-"

"Oh, so you like him better than me?"

"No! I never-" You stopped, starting to smirk. "Wait...are you jealous?"

He glared at you, "I don't get jealous."

"Oh, alright then," you sat back, deciding to tease him. "Then I can tell you more about his heroics, if you'd like."

A growl followed your words, and the book was quickly pulled from your grip and tossed overboard. The silence was only broken by a splash, before you finally reacted.

"Zoro! What-"

"Mine," he suddenly lifted you up bridal-style, "All mine." He carried you off to his room to show you - remind you - who you belonged to.

"I'm way better than that shitty knight."

ACE

The last time Ace had seen you, you were reading. The next time he saw you, you were still reading. He had gone and had a whole island adventure while you'd apparently just lay on your shared bed with your nose buried in a book. He wondered what was so special and interesting about it, so when you went to go do something he picked it up and read a little bit of it.

"Ace? Are you actually reading something?"

You giggled from the doorway, watching as the second division commander jumped, startled, and dropped your book. He looked up at you, pouting slightly.

"Just wanted to see why it's more interesting than I am."

"It's not more interesting than you are," you denied, coming over to the bed. You sat down next to him, picking it up and checking if you still had your page marked.

"But you're ignoring me to read it!" He protested, crossing his arms. With that and his pout, he looked like an upset child. It was cute.

"I'm not ignoring you! It's just..." You sighed. "There's a character I really like and I want to see where his story goes."

"His?"

You realised your mistake too late. Ace's eyes narrowed, looking from your face to the book. For a moment, there was dead silence, before he suddenly burned your book to a crisp. Your eyes widened and you were about to scold him for that, but he quickly engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"You don't need a stupid book boy, you have me."

"Portgas D. Ace, are you jealous of a fictional character?"

"W-what?! NO! I just...you know...you don't give me any attention anymore!"

"So you're jealous. Of a boy who doesn't exist."

He groaned, keeping his face buried in your neck so you wouldn't see the embarrassing blush that fell over his cheeks, "Not jealous. Just want you." Before you could tease him any further, he leaned up to kiss you deeply.

"I'm the only one who's allowed to have you, no one else. Not even some damn fictional character."

LUFFY

He doesn't think much of it when you spend most of your free time reading. He doesn't feel threatened by anything or anyone when it comes to you, but he is also very confused by the concept of fictional characters. So when he hears you and Robin gushing about one, he is only intrigued by what you guys are talking about.

"Did you get to the part where..." Robin was asking you, rambling on about one of the scenes in the book.

"I did!" You gasped, "And I loved it. Especially what he did."

With Zoro napping, Sanji cooking, Chopper making more rumble balls, and Franky and Usopp working on the ship, Luffy had nothing better to do than come sit and listen to you and Robin. When he heard 'he', though, his interest was piqued.

"Who's 'he' (Name)?" He asked curiously.

You blushed at his question, unsure of how to explain this to your boyfriend, "He's, um, he-"

"He's (Name)'s fictional crush," Nami answered for you, shooting you a playful smirk. She knew damn well what she was doing, and your eyes widened.

"Luffy-"

"What's a fictional crush?" He blinked, confused.

"Nothing!" You quickly responded before Nami could open her mouth again, "It's really nothing, it's not important."

"It means (Name) likes a boy in the book she's reading," Nami continued, "The same way she likes you, Luffy."

"NAMI!" The glare you shot her could make sea kings tremble.

"But why?" Luffy questioned, "(Name) said I'm the only one she likes like that."

"And that is true," you agreed, smiling as you gave him a quick but loving kiss on his cheek. Sometimes you were grateful for Luffy's obliviousness.

"Good, because I would have just fought him for you."

SANJI

Sanji was happy to see that you had found something to occupy yourself with while he was busy, so he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving you alone so much. He would bring you snacks and refreshing drinks while you read, happy to serve you and keep you satisfied while you enjoyed your mental adventure. But a conversation between you, Nami and Robin changed everything.

"(Random Name) is so hot," you were gushing as Sanji arrived with another tray of drinks, "Like, unbelievably hot. And he's so sweet, too. Definitely boyfriend material."

While Nami and Robin eagerly agreed with you, Sanji almost dropped the tray he was holding. His eyes went wide at your words, and he felt his stomach churn.

"My love...who are you talking about?"

He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but why would you openly talk about some other man in front of him? Is this how you felt when you saw him give attention to other women? He swore he would stop right now if it meant this person wasn't real.

"A guy from the book I'm reading," you smiled up at him, but faltered when you saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and forced a smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying the book, love."

"Sanji, he's just a fictional character," you turned to face the cook completely, "I wouldn't really date him, even if he was real. You know I only love you, and you alone."

Your words were reassuring, and Sanji was grateful it wasn't any real person, but the words 'boyfriend material' rang in his head again. He set the drinks down. Then, unexpectedly, he got down on his knees and clasped his hands together in a begging gesture.

"(Name), my sweet, beautiful girlfriend that I love more than anything else in the world, I promise to stop looking at and flirting with other women if you stop reading that book!"

You raised an eyebrow, realising that he really was jealous of (Random Name), "You really mean that?"

"Yes yes yes! Please!"

"You better keep that promise."

"I will, because I'm only yours and you're only mine."

KAKU

With Kaku's job being...what it was, you spent majority of your time at home in Water 7 alone. He was almost always away on missions, leaving you with nothing to do but turn to books to occupy yourself during the day. So in the absence of your boyfriend, it was only natural you would be drawn to fictional men as a way of receiving affection.

Kaku didn't expect to come home and find downstairs neat but empty.

"(Name)?" He called out, frowning when he got no response.

He came upstairs, finding you asleep on the bed with a book clutched close to your chest. He looked at the title - it was a romance. That made him feel guilty; he knew you didn't like romances, and that you only read them when he wasn't around. He tried to remove it from your grip so he could cuddle you instead, but this action stirred you and you slowly sat up.

"Kaku?" You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, then smiled softly, "You're back. Hi."

"Hi," he replied sweetly, returning your smile. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright," you reassured him, "I didn't realise I fell asleep. Must have read until I passed out."

He chuckled at that, before gesturing to the book, "What were you reading about?"

"This?" You looked down at the book. "Oh, I just heard from a friend it was good. And that the main male character is swoon-worthy, which he is. I can see why she liked it."

At the mention of the male MC, Kaku felt an unjustified and unnecessary bout of jealousy swell up inside him. You liked the guy in the book? Maybe if he had been here you wouldn't.

"You don't have to be jealous you know," you started to smile playfully. "He doesn't compare to you."

"I'm not jealous," he tried to deny it, but his rosy cheeks gave it away. "It's a fictional character, why would I be jealous?"

"'It'?" You teased, pulling him closer to you. "So jealous you can't even give him a pronoun." You laughed, and the sound relaxed the tense CP9 agent.

"Ha, ha," he replied dryly, wrapping his arms around you. "Come here."

"I love you, and only you," you smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Good, because it will only ever be me and you."

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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hayatoseyepatch · 1 month ago

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: There was always something about seeing Kafka transformed, something that piqued your interest. Maybe it was the glow in his eyes or the sharpness of his claws, all you knew is you wanted to take his Kaiju form for a ride.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Hibino Kafka (Kaiju No. 8)

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.3k

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Kafka. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Monster Fucking, Marking, Blood, Cunnilingus, Size Difference, Man Handling, Penetrative Sex, Dacryphilia, Tummy Bulge, Cumflation.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: I am so sorry this one is so late!! I had some stuff come up in my personal life and it threw me all off whack. I will work to be back on schedule. Thanks for bearing with me. This was so much fun for me to do, its definitely much different than anything I've written before and I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ Also, oops its late. The full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

“Are you sure about this?” Kafka’s voice shook with uncertainty, the last thing he wanted to do is hurt you, but even he couldn’t deny the way his cock hardened at the prospect of what you were suggesting. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of it before, imagined the look on your face as he took you in *that* form. He had a bit more control after joining the first division. He knew he could switch back in an instant if need be but after losing control once he was too scared to risk it. As if reading his spiraling thoughts he feels your hands cup his cheeks. “Kafka, baby, it’s still you. And I love *all* of you, no matter what form that is.”

Your sweet words spoken against his lips were enough to dispel any concerns he had. His lips met yours in a desperate kiss, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as heat consumed your very beings. Kafka wasted no time after pulling away, your eyes locked on him as he transformed. He was careful, quite aware of his strength in this form as he hovered over you. His eyes darkening as he watched the way the smallest of touches had you bouncing off the mattress from the force he admitted. He caged you in, the difference in size clear as day. You felt so small as he hovered above you, heart hammering against your ribcage in anticipation.

The next moments go by in a blur. Your clothes ripped from your body by sharp claws, leaving them in shreds on the floor next to the bed. A thick thigh between your legs, one that you ground your hips down on, desperate for friction as his long tongue caressed your neck. Kafka made his way down your body, wet appendage wrapping around one of your pebbled nipples, careful of his teeth as he nipped on your sensitive area. One hand groping the other, sharp nails pinching your skin. However, it seemed he was just as desperate as you were as large hands gripped your waist, hoisting you with ease up the mattress until his face was positioned between your legs.

Your eyes cross, rolling to the back of your head from the pleasure you were receiving from Kafka, large hands gripping your hips as his long tongue moves deep within the walls of your cunt, the sheer length of the appendage allowing the base of his tongue to rub against your clit with every pass. The sensation of feeling so full on his tongue alone sends a shiver down your spine. You spare a look down cheeks burning at the intense gaze from those glowing blue eyes, locked on you as he buries is tongue over and over inside your cunt. The protruding boning at the top of his head resembling horns allowed you enough to grip, using them as leverage to fuck yourself back on his tongue. “Fuck Kafka, so deep, need more.”

Your response comes in the form of a growl against your cunt his tongue picking up speed, noticing the way your hips stuttered against his face as your orgasm approached. He had never managed to bring you to the brink this quickly before, if he was honest that and the sounds falling from your lips alone were a huge boost to his ego. His hands dug into your hips forcing your cunt further on his tongue, the claws digging into your skin. A mixture of pleasure and pain from the blood pooling from the wounds enough to throw you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you cum against his face with a cry, hips rocking against his face as you rode out your orgasm. Chest heaving with heavy breaths as you come down from your high. Preparing to pull away, Kafka prepares to move, only to have your hands grip his horns. “Kafka, please, need you inside me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the tone in your voice coupled with the desperation clearly painted on your expression left no room for argument. Sitting back on the balls of his feet, his eyes practically roll to the back of his head with need when you part your thighs once more, your fingers parting your folds to present your cunt to him. No words needed to be exchanged for him to know exactly what you wanted. With one hand poised on the base of his cock, he angled it at your entrance. Running the head of his cock along your fold, collecting his own saliva and your wetness for lubrication before beginning to slip inside. Barely even a few inches in he watches as your back arches off the bed.

Full, you felt so full, knowing that he wasn’t even remotely in the sheer size of him made you feel stuffed. Tears glazed over your vision as he continued to enter your depths. Your fingers gripped the sheets as you nodded, encouraging him to keep going. It was taking all the self-control Kafka had not to slam his hips forward and impale you on his cock, you were always tight, but this was an entirely new experience. After a few more moments of this, he let out a heavy sigh as he finally bottomed out inside, waiting for you to give an indication you were ready for him to move. “Fuck, Kafka..”

You whined, rolling your hips against his own as he split you open on his cock. He took this as the initiative to move. Pulling nearly all the way out before bottoming out once more. His hips set a steady pace, the squelch of your cunt ricocheting off the walls like a symphony. His heart raced in his chest as he watched your every reaction to fucking you. Towering over your form as he fucked your tight little cunt, growling with the exertion of holding himself back so he didn’t hurt you. “More Kafka, please fuck me harder I can take it wanna feel you.” You sounded absolutely wrecked but it did the job, Kafka picked up speed his hips slamming into yours with reckless abandon.

Claws bit into your skin as he gripped your waist, his increased strength being used to his advantage as he manhandles you. The way he had a hold on you, forcing you deeper on his cock in time with his thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last long, the familiar tightness building up in his stomach as he fucked you. You desperately gripped onto his shoulders, the way he was hitting the deepest parts of you while using your body as if it were a toy, not having to move a muscle as he manhandled you. He bounced you on his cock, hips stuttering as he got closer, and he wasn’t alone, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as white blurred the edges of your vision.

“Please, Kafka, feel you in my tummy. Gonna… Need you to fill me up, Kafka please!” You were already so drunk on pleasure, words coming out in a babble not even you were sure you understood as you released, body trembling violently as you came with a cry. Your juices sprayed him as you squirted on his cock. He was only moments behind, sharp teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your shoulder as he came. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he rode out his high, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. Filling you so much the cum seeped out around his cock as it had nowhere else to go, your tummy bulging with not only his cock but the copious amounts of cum that you were sure would be dripping from your cunt for days. Kafka’s tongue soothed the bite mark on your neck, the metallic taste filling his mouth as he cleaned your wound. He wanted to panic, pull away and apologize for losing control, but the way your ankles locked together to keep him in place he was sure you didn’t have a problem with it and that this night was long from over.

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘��𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

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for-ests · 11 months ago

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Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Pairing: Gojo x reader Warnings: none for this part, later violence and sexual themes Wc: 6k+ Summary: When you show up to Jujutsu High on nothing but a hunch to find your long-lost brother, you get more than you bargained for when you meet his handsome teacher. Who seems interested in you not only for your abilities but also your body. Please let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist. This story is also on my ao3 and wattpad. COPE fic alert. some things will not be canon accurate please keep in mind!

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

There was no way this was the correct address.

Truthfully, you had already forgotten how you even made your way into the stunningly vibrant complex with historically accurate landscaping and architecture—but you were somehow there. The path had turned from gravel to stone within one step, leading you toward decorated buildings and temples that seemed to tower into the sky. When you finally looked up, even the clouds seemed more plush.

Birds were chirping loudly, and you heard faint voices in the distance. Confused, you turned your head and looked for your car but found it had vanished. The path you thought you traveled down was no longer there and was replaced by a forest that stretched for miles. You hadn’t walked miles; you had only taken one step past a threshold that only someone like you could see.

Something was off, and you knew it deep within your bones. But as your eyes scanned your surroundings, you found no hostilities, ghosts, or curses. A sigh of relief left your lips at that. Wherever you found yourself seemed inviting enough, so you would persevere.

But that didn’t matter. You were there solely to reunite with your supposedly long-lost brother. A sibling you didn’t learn of until a month ago when you were sorting through the boxes in your adoptive parents' basement. It wasn’t fair. You were only twenty-six and had lost two sets of parents, your adoptive perishing in a car accident a few months ago, and your biological parents were still unknown. You were only ten at the time and hardly remembered anything, yet the need to solve their case was always in your mind. The suspicious death of a pregnant woman never went unnoticed, so you always had an inkling there was more to the story. A story you were now beginning to piece together a decade and a half later.

None of this made sense. The child your mother was carrying did survive, and instead of keeping the two of you together, they ushered you into the foster system? It was all so jumbled together, undoubtedly buried in layers of secrets. You were told you had no extended family, let alone a full brother. You’d been led to believe your life was as every day as possible, only to find you’d been lied to by the couple who took you in.

The curses were the only hint that something was off. But you’d never spotted any around your adoptive parents. And because they were oblivious, you refused to burden them with the knowledge. Instead, you practiced secretly, exorcizing what you could to keep your new family and friends safe.

You would do the same for your brother if he would have you.

Determined, you kept walking down the cherry blossom-decorated path, desperate to solve whatever mystery you’d been thrown into. Jujitsu High made enough sense, and the suspicions were confirmed when you saw through the spell. When you saw the DNA test results, all you had was your brother’s name. Weeks of searching on the internet led you to find the school he was enrolled in. There was no other address, and you found that strange. It made you suspect he was forced to suffer through your same predicament.

When you realized this high school was for sorcerers, it all clicked into place. Maybe he could see curses, too. He could have similar talents or be even stronger with practice. Did your sibling also have the same ability? Was he here for a reason? Maybe you had gotten your hopes up; perhaps you were hallucinating. You panicked and checked your phone, only to find no signal.

Why does this always happen to me?

You stopped abruptly under a sakura tree, the scent it emitted more enchanting than you ever thought possible. For a brief moment, you closed your eyes to take it in, only to realize it was not of cherry blossom. It was a musk of amber and turmeric.

Your eyes drifted down the hidden path that led off campus. It intrigued you. Somehow, it called you. A piece of the puzzle that you were trying to solve. You were about to indulge until you suddenly felt the presence of another.

“How did you get in here?” someone asked, the tone half accusatory and half amused. The deep, alluring voice caused you to stiffen.

And when you turned, your breath stopped. The man was striking, somehow able to captivate you by the faint smile on his lips. You could not see his eyes through what you presumed to be a charcoal-tinted blindfold. He stood a few feet away with his hands shoved in his pockets, radiating confidence and power. Before you could even muster a reply, the white-haired man swaggered toward you, somewhat curious but also cautious.

No words left your lips as he approached you; all you could focus on was the aura surrounding him. It was blaring, basically engulfing him, possibly the strongest you’d ever been able to comprehend.

It was as if you were suffocating, wasting precious air as you tried desperately to configure all he entailed. All that he was. He was far past your understanding, spiritual, bewitching, and commanding. His looks could kill. The black uniform was not concealing enough, and you fought past the spell he seemed to cast on you, making you fathom what was underneath.

Lucky for you, your determination cleared the haze he left you in.

“I’m here to see my brother.” That was all you managed to reply, but it was enough. Somehow, you knew that was what you needed to say. You were grasping at strings but understood that being truthful in a realm you couldn't fully comprehend was the best option.

The stranger was standing too close, towering over you as if inspecting every fiber of your being. Even if you couldn’t physically see his eyes, you could feel them all over you.

The intensity of his concealed gaze almost made you gasp out loud.

Silence passed before the man asked, “Do you even know where you are?”

Blinking yourself out of the embarrassing way you were staring at him, you reached into your purse and pulled out a piece of paper, brandishing it to him as a defense. “Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College”

“Ahh.” He plucked the paper from your fingers and took a step back. Since his eyes were covered, you didn’t even know if he read the contents. Regardless, it was your proof that you’d been led there thanks to Google Maps and your own detective work.

Frowning, you watched him closely for a reaction. The initial energy you witnessed was now barely a flicker. Was he a teacher? He seemed friendly enough but also shocked—as if you were trespassing.

“What's your name?” You practically squeaked, internally wishing you could display more confidence.

“Maybe you can help me.”

“Gojo Satoru,” he replied, folding the piece of paper and handing it back to you, suddenly becoming unbothered as his hands stretched above his head, a yawn threatening to escape his lips. “Not that I don’t enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, but you aren’t supposed to be here.”

Something in you fluttered, but it didn’t diminish your sudden panic. “I would have called, but there was no phone number!” You rushed out, trying not to sway nervously on your feet. You were antsy, knowing you were so close to finally getting the answers you’d dedicated the last couple of months of your free time to.

It was the only thing that had kept you strong through your mourning.

Gojo crossed his arms. That wasn’t a lie, but there was definitely something you weren’t sharing. Notably how virulent your cursed energy was and why he had never heard of you. “Why don’t you just call his phone?”

You slumped in defeat, knowing you had set yourself up to be trapped. But you needed to be honest to find the answers, to find your baby brother. That mattered most at the end of the day, and you would make this man help you whether he liked it or not.

“Look, I just figured out I had a brother, okay?” You paused for a moment and shifted your purse farther up your shoulder. It was hard to gauge his reaction when you couldn’t see his eyes. That was your specialty; it was how you saw the true intent of someone’s soul. “I just want to confirm he’s here and I’ll set up a meeting with his guardian. I know I showed up unannounced but I just need to make sure he’s alive…”

“What made you think he wasn’t?”

“I don’t know. It was hard to find him.” You glared. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Maybe.” He smirked.

“Maybe?” You scoffed. “What more proof do you need?”

“A few things…” He tapped his chin as if it was apparent. This man was being far too playful with you.

“Can you fucking help me or not?” Your question was laced with venom, so much so that you were shocked. Being toyed with about something so profound to you caused all your manners to vanish. If he would keep you from seeing your brother, you would find an alternative.

“Tell me why you’re suppressing your cursed energy.” Gojo shrugged, like admitting something so personal was an everyday experience.

After the initial surprise of his statement passed, all you managed to do was tilt your chin up in defiance. So, he was like you. Though in a different way.

“Take your blindfold off, and I can show you,” you replied back just as casually.

He whistled mockingly, but the way he stepped closer to you ensured he was impressed. And he was wondering if your previous anxiety was just a well-played facade.

“What a feisty little thing you are,” he whispered, dipping his head down, invading your personal bubble. “But I keep it on for a reason.”

Instead of backing up like your instincts told you, all you could do was stand your ground, trying to stare through the thin fabric, imagining what color they would be and what you would find once he let his guard down. All you needed was a glimpse of his soul.

A long stillness passed, and the stranger was way too close, but you were unbothered. You knew he was teasing you, possibly trying to flirt with you, and it took all of your strength to hide your bashfulness. The reason you were there mattered much more than your sudden curiosity for him.

“I want to see my brother.” You tapped your foot against the stones anxiously.

Sighing through his nose, Gojo finally asked, “What’s your name?” His hands fell back down to his pockets, demeanor relaxing now that he acknowledged you were not a threat like he initially anticipated, only demanding and impatient.

Your eyes were focused on him, analyzing his movements. A debate was ongoing in your mind. Part of you wanted to keep everything a secret, and the contrary was willing to admit everything. It was obvious, even to someone inexperienced like you, that this man could have killed you already if he wished.

So, possibly against your better judgment, you took the first step and entrusted him with information.

“My given name was Y/N Itadori.”

…Itadori?

Gojo’s entire reality almost collapsed at your reply. There was no way you could be related, not even a chance. Extensive background checks had been put in place, and an immense amount of effort was put into ensuring that Yuji remained a secret at Jujustu High. Yet somehow, you managed to appear.

A woman, an older sister that Yuji didn’t even know about. You looked nothing like the youngster. You were far too beautiful. It wasn’t just that, though. It was in the way you held yourself, the power pulsing through your veins, the way you smelled—your voice and your eyes. No woman had ever piqued his interest the way you currently were. Perhaps it was because something else about you was impossible to configure.

He was so stunned that his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. You could only see his eyebrows, but that was the hint you needed. The hesitation was expected and revealing—his reaction displayed that he was closer to your brother than you thought.

“So he is here,” you pried further, crossing your arms and shifting your weight to a single hip. Your snarkiness was blatant, and that was because you felt naturally drawn to play whatever game he had in mind.

“Maybe?” He shrugged, gritting his teeth, left hand raising to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You better tell me where.”

“I can show you if you ask nicely.”

“Absolutely not,” you hissed but didn’t make a move to retreat. There was no way you were going to make the first move. Whether you were leaving or staying, you needed to be cautious. Even if he was playing with you, your eyes did not lie. He could be dangerous if he wanted to be. And you wanted to be nice, but God, was he pissing you off.

“How rude.” He frowned as if the potency of your tone actually wounded him. “I’m trying to be nice, and this is how you repay me?”

What you initially wanted to say was definitely discourteous. But that would get you nowhere. Instead, you tried your initial approach. Honesty.

“Gojo,” you said his name bitterly but managed to lower it to a hush. “I can see that you’re powerful, but you also know who my brother is.” You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nerves rushing back. Your brother was close. He was there, within reach. “I’ve been traveling all day…So please, show me where he is or let me find him myself.”

Your sudden shift surprised Gojo. Maybe that’s what he wanted his teasing to unveil—your true desperation to see Yuji. It became apparent that his dramatics would not work on you. His suspicion was also correct. You could see curses, and you could see his power.

“He’s here, and he's under my supervision,” Gojo replied, analyzing you again as he contemplated what to do. He shouldn’t let you meet your brother, as that would only cause more problems for him and the higher-ups. But you…could be useful. You could be something special. Despite his initial curiosity for you and the way you blinded him with your beauty, he wanted to know you as more than what you could be. He didn’t just want to use you. “He can’t leave. You still want to see him?”

You nodded furiously, hope appearing back in your radiant doe-like eyes. “Please.”

Gojo cursed himself for making it disappear in the first place, even if he had to. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to apologize. Why?

But instead of apologizing, Gojo gestured behind him and turned on his heels. He didn’t need to ask you to follow him, knowing you were going to anyway.

He led you down a winding path, and you tried your best to remain focused. It was hard not to become distracted. His physique and the power radiating from him were engulfing when you let yourself notice.

The breathtaking nature surrounding you was also impossible to ignore. This compound was picture-perfect. If you had another reason to be there, you would have pulled your phone back out of your pocket.

The air was crisp, not heavy like the city air. No curses were around, and you felt a foreign sense of peacefulness.

You followed Gojo into a building and then into a long hallway. You tried your best to trail the path but came up empty-handed. That was when you realized you were trusting the white-haired man too much. Far more than you would have ever anticipated, but your gut wasn't twisting. The hairs on the back of your neck were not prickling with warning. It felt safe.

When he finally spoke minutes later, you registered just how desperate you were trying to pick him apart with your mind.

“This is my office,” Gojo said, sitting in the chair behind the desk, kicking his feet up nonchalantly. “I’m a professor here, or an equivalent.”

“It's nice,” you replied, trying to hide your wandering eyes as they scanned the office. It would be nice if you had a blindfold as well.

You didn’t exactly know what you were looking for but were satisfied to see nothing suspicious. There were no clear signs of deception. An empty office with a few decorations. There was only one picture frame on the desk, presumably with students. One had black hair, and one had pink hair. You couldn't help but smile once glimpsing it, as they all looked so happy. Gojo was in the middle with the biggest smile on his face.

You wondered if he would ever smile at you like that. Your stomach flipped with warning the second you realized what you wished for. What was wrong with you? Who was this man, and why did he have such a hold on you?

“I already texted your brother,” he finally replied, face focused on yours. He knew exactly where your eyes were wandering. And that was what gave him confidence. It made him aware that his flirting attempts were successful. Whatever the two of you had going on, it wasn’t just him that felt it. You did, too.

Thank God. He was lucky his eyes were hidden. There was a mystery even with what he expected your abilities to be. Gojo was already craving for you to be underneath him, and he hated himself for it. Those thoughts definitely had a time and place.

“How long?” You asked, finally sitting in the opposite chair and away from his propped-up shoes.

You hadn't even asked for clarification on your brother's name. Still, your stare was so intense that Gojo couldn’t help but be physically flustered, his usual nonchalant behavior mending into something more severe in your presence.

At least Yuji had already replied to him. But Gojo did not know how to respond back. He didn't learn how to navigate a situation like this. Yuji would take the news of a long-lost sibling the best out of everyone, but Gojo was still nervous.

“Any minute,” he rushed, staring at the door, trying to ignore the beauty that commanded even the power of his six eyes.

There was no way you weren't feeling the same fervor he was. He could see it in your eyes, the way you chewed on the inside of your cheek. He was making you flustered, but he could be wrong. A few years had passed since he'd been intimate with a woman, let alone interested to this degree.

You had a facade he'd never seen before. You acted like you had a secret, even as you admitted the truth. When he pried for the truth, you gave it. So… what were you hiding?

You were looking at your hands, but Gojo was entirely enticed by you.

Studying your features, he almost lost himself in them before the door slid open—revealing Yuji Itadori. His student, your brother. A catalyst that tied your souls together.

If it was possible for Gojo to hear your heartbeat stop, he did. Your aura immediately changed, and all the sassiness you threw his way vanished, replaced with shyness and uncertainty.

“Yuji!” Gojo greeted enthusiastically to compensate for your silence, finally sliding his feet off the desk and sitting up straighter.

It took extreme willpower not to start bawling on the spot as you finally glimpsed your long-lost brother. You just knew it was him, and it made your eyes sting. They stung for all the months you’d been searching, for all the years you missed out on, and all the times you couldn’t be there for him. You wanted to reach out to him, but you were frozen. You couldn’t formulate a single word as your mouth hung open, embarrassingly so.

He casually greeted his sensei before glancing apprehensively at you. “Who’s this?”

A moment passed when nobody said a word. Gojo was waiting for you to say something, anything, but it seemed you’d short-circuited. How cute.

“This is your sister, Y/N Itadori!” Gojo almost yelled, throwing his arms up and pointing at you in a V-shape. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Gojo’s exuberant nature snapped you out of your internal debate, realizing what he had just admitted.

“Really?” You snapped your head at Gojo, eyes wide with disbelief but your lips pursing with contempt. “That’s how you’re going to tell him!?”

The sorcerer dropped his arms in defense. “You weren’t saying anything!”

Frustrated, you returned to Yuji, who stood in the doorway with analytical eyes that were boring into you and trying to find any sense of a joke. You tried to think of something to say, but it was fruitless. No excuse or apology seemed sincere enough. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind.

He stepped closer to you, oncing you over and putting the pieces together. “You have grandpa’s nose,” he finally said. “Which means you also have mom’s nose.”

“Yeah…” You slumped in your seat, slightly out of relief. At least he believed you. And because of that, you chuckled to release the tension.

“You’re really my older sister?” he asked, apprehensively pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down. “I didn’t know I had one.”

Whether or not you should have invaded his personal space, you couldn’t help but reach for his hands. And when he didn’t shy away, you gave them a squeeze. “I can explain everything to you, if you want.” When you released his hands, you leaned back in the chair. “Or at least the pieces I’ve put together.”

“Of course I want that.” Yuji smiled, but there was a sadness behind it. Undoubtedly, he was thinking about everything you’d been stressing over. Right then and there, you decided you would do everything you could to make it up to him.

A tear escaped your cheek before you even realized it. He was a handsome young boy; he was strong and intelligent. He was everything your parents could have ever asked for, and it made you miss them even more. “God, Yuji,” you faltered. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raising in distress at how quickly your mood shifted.

You nodded, wiping your tears and laughing again. Too many emotions were racing through your body, and you didn’t know where to start. You took a moment to compose yourself and decided to start from the beginning, knowing Gojo was listening but not really caring. It would be beneficial for him to know as well.

Taking care of your brother was something you would forever be indebted to Gojo for.

“My adoptive parents were killed in a car accident,” you started, feeling your throat tighten at the memory of getting that police call. “I was sorting through their documents, and I found a folder from my adoption…”

Everything poured out quickly after that. You even gushed about how excited you were about having a little brother when your parents broke the news to you all those years ago. You told him about the good and the bad, about the struggles, about your sadness and belief he was dead. You told him about how angry you were when you found out that he’d been alive the entire time and how the adoption system failed both of you.

An immense amount of relief filled your being when you finished the story. Yuji hardly asked any questions as you spoke, and Gojo sat there perfectly calm, listening intently. Just being able to tell Yuji about his past was satisfactory enough. At least he knew. At least you were able to find him and be at peace that he was alive.

You glanced at the documents sprawled across Gojo’s desk. The proof was all there, and so were your intentions. “I’d love to be in your life, Yuji,” you said somewhat nervously. “If you’ll have me.”

Your brother’s face was blank for a second but then cracked into the warmest, brightest smile you’d ever had the blessing to witness. “Of course I will, Y/N!”

And before you could muster a reply, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you. You giggled, returning the embrace, holding him extra tight, cherishing such a tender moment. The best possible outcome. A healthy brother.

But when you pulled away and got a better look at him, you let the curiosity overtake you. The power inside of you couldn’t resist taking a closer look to truly know if his soul was untainted, if it was pure, and what the future had in store for him.

Within a split second, hardly a glimpse, you peered into Yuji’s eyes and beyond the surface level of his corneas. You broke down the barrier to see into his soul, desperate to know the color of his heart, the essence of his being.

Sunset orange.

But there was something else, faint but there. Crimson and black, ancient and all-powerful. Deadly and evil—from the deepest pits of hell. It wasn’t your brother, though. It scared you, the foreign essence constricting around your brother’s soul. And as you tried to look deeper, you brushed the barrier and were met with black and soulless eyes, feigning death and domination.

“How dare you try to see me, pathetic woman senkensha.”

Panicked, you came back to reality. You could barely even gasp before standing up, hands slamming down at the table. You were not going to blame Yuji for it; you would direct your anger to Gojo.

“What's inside him?!” you hissed, finger jetting out and pointing with malice. For a split second, your eyes were able to bore through the black blindfold that covered Gojo’s eyes, and you saw them widen with shock. The color filled your senses, but it disappeared before you could process it.

Gojo and Itadori glanced at each other.

“How do you know there’s something inside him?” Gojo asked, harshness blaring in his tone for the first time, covering up for that millisecond where you infiltrated his fortified barriers.

“I don’t know,” you said curtly. “I just do.”

“Wait…why do you assume it’s my fault?” Gojo asked as the surprise and pique faded away.

“Can you see curses too?” Yuji questioned somewhat excitedly.

You nodded, still on edge, as you glanced back to your brother. “Since before you were born.”

But Sukuna was different. Gojo knew that. A sorcerer, let alone an ordinary person, could not sense anything of Sukuna in the first place. You had also slipped through his own fortifications, closer to his infinity than he’d ever felt before. Did you have an ability he couldn’t sense?

“Doesn’t explain how you know there’s something inside me.” Yuji narrowed his eyes.

At the slightest hint of contempt from your newfound brother, your voice's hesitation and accusatory tone vanished.

“I can see souls,” you whispered. Neither Yuji nor Gojo replied, but you could feel their gaze as you fiddled with your thumbs. “I don’t like to. It’s invasive. I only do it as confirmation.”

“Of what?” Gojo asked.

“That I'm making the right decision.”

How extraordinary. With all the power you wielded, you could use it for good. You had kept it a secret, had lived among those who were weaker with no hunger for anything more.

But Gojo could see more than you could ever imagine. He could see your potential bubbling, strengthening each time you gathered the willpower to use it. Did you even know you could scramble someone’s mind with a technique like that?

“I just needed to know, Yuji.” You bit your lip. “Forgive me.”

“It's fine,” he replied. “You’re right.”

You lifted your head.

“I'm a vessel,” Yuji said. “There’s a demon inside me.”

“What!?” Your voice raised in concern.

“Its under control for now,” Gojo interjected. Before you could say anything else, he continued. “Yuji, its getting late, go back to your room. We will talk later.”

He nodded and rose from the chair immediately, which shocked you. “It was nice to finally meet you, Y/N.” Yuji lowered his head respectfully.

“Wait, Yuji!’ You stood up and rushed toward him, handing him a post-it note you snatched from Gojo’s desk with your phone number scribbled.

“If you need me,” you whispered faintly. “I’ll be there.”

Smiling brightly once again, Yuji took the note from you and embraced you. “I’ll see you tomorrow sister, yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured, watching him leave and sliding the office door shut. Your head turned with his footsteps as they pattered down the hallway, only hoping he got back to his bedroom safely. What you had learned was nothing short of terrifying, but if he allowed you to be there every step of the way, you would.

“There's an extra room for you,” Gojo said after a long silence. “I think you should stay.”

“I’ll be alright.” You smiled. “My motel is only a few minutes away.”

Gojo had a horrible feeling about it but knew he couldn't do anything to stop you. It would be impossible to convince you of things you couldn’t understand. Even if Yuji was your brother, he was still a stranger. So was Gojo, but he was wary of letting you leave now that you knew part of the truth, possibly one of the best-hidden secrets in the world. The least he could do for his sanity was give you his number and a few incentives to make you return and remain comfortable.

“How much is the motel room?” He asked nonchalantly.

“About 10,00 yen.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy.”

Reaching into his pocket, Gojo pulled out his wallet. You watched him with a confused expression as he separated the bills and handed them to you. “This should cover tonight, but after that cancel the room.”

Hesitantly, you let him place the bills in your hand. “Gojo, I don’t-”

“If you want to learn everything I can teach you, what I’ve been teaching Yuji-” he paused momentarily, awkwardly reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. “You may become a target. You’ll be put in danger, so I need you to stay on campus.”

You took a moment to mull over his words and how he said them. His once confident posture had become somewhat humble, and you thought over your answer as Gojo turned to grab a post-it note and scribble on it.

“Preferably… as close to me as possible,” he faltered but pinched the paper between his fingers and brandished it to you, waiting for you to take it, to accept the deal he wanted to make.

Snatching the note, you saw that it was his phone number. And next to it was nothing less than a winky face.

Your eyes shot to what would be his, immediately searching for any signs of a prank. Yes, it made complete sense for him to give you his number, but your heart sensed an ulterior motive behind it, and you couldn’t help but blush, finally understanding what he said.

Gojo grinned at your stupified expression.

Tilting your chin up, you recovered from your hesitation.“I won’t trust you until I see your soul.” Was all you said, but then you went to pull out your phone and save his number in your contents.

“You can’t see it now?” Gojo smirked.

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you began to take your leave, only looking over your shoulder once you had slid the door back open.

“Take off your blindfold,” you requested again.

“Not a chance.”

You chuckled, nodding your head in acceptance. It did bum you out, though, as you suspected the eyes under that blindfold to be incredibly mystifying. A pair that would only cloud your judgment, if anything. Gojo had already flattered you enough for one day, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up that the flirtatious sorcerer wanted something more.

It would have been easy to tell if he took that blindfold off. Perhaps it was the mystery that intrigued you. A mystery that would eventually torture you if you couldn’t solve it.

“Goodnight, Gojo.”

And then you left, stepping through that barrier like you had only hours ago. But this time, leaving felt much more intimidating. The safety you felt inside was no longer surrounding you, and you were left in the middle of a forest, standing on the decaying steps of an abandoned cabin, with your car only meters away.

The crickets were loud, and so was the wind. It was cold and dark compared to what you’d witnessed being so close to Itadori and Gojo.

But it was too late now, and you had too many belongings inside that motel room to lose. As you walked to your car and started it up, you ruminated over the proposal Gojo made. Staying there couldn’t be that bad, right?

For some reason, you felt the urge to send Gojo a text before departing. Perhaps he’d instilled a new fear in you, but you also learned to listen to your intuition when your gift was absent. Your mind was in shambles, your instincts convincing you that something bad would happen if you left.

Stay. Your mind blared. Stay the night.

Taking a deep breath, you ignored the warnings and theorized them just to be the intrusive thoughts that came with being in the presence of an attractive, powerful man.

Y/N:> Leaving now, thank you for the money.

Annoying ass teacher guy:> Let me know when you get back ;)

Y/N:> fine

Annoying ass teacher guy:>I’m open to pictures as well

Annoying ass teacher guy:> I mean

Annoying ass teacher guy:> As proof that your safe

Y/N:> you’re*

>Contact Name Successfully Changed

Yuji’s sister?? </3 :> it’s gonna take more than 10k yen to impress me

Annoying ass teacher guy:> noted

Shaking your head, you tossed your phone in the passenger seat and drove off. The teasing made you smile enough to etch a giggle from your lips. Embarrassing. It had been way too long since you’d flirted with someone.

Your giddiness only lasted for a few minutes, though, as the further out you drove, the stronger your trepidation felt. You turned your music up louder and glanced at your GPS. Only a few more minutes. A few more minutes and you would be in your room, safe and sound.

Down the long stretch of road, you could see the light illuminating through the forest, the neon-lit sign peeking over the darkness of the trees.

Shoulders relaxing, you were about to admit you were only paranoid before the hairs on your neck stood up. It made you gasp, the sudden alert of evil eyes on your frame, location, and vulnerability.

With one hand on the wheel, the other desperately reached for your phone. You quickly opened it and tried to type a coherent message with your thumb.

Yuji’s sister?? </3 :> something is wronfgg

And when you glanced in the rearview mirror, your heart almost stopped at what was barreling down the street toward your car.

“Fuck!” you screamed, only seeing the mass gain a staggering distance with each significant, inhuman stride. A curse. A large one, an intelligent one. Something way more advanced than your current capabilities.

You barely managed to press call before watching its arms reach out, seeming to stretch misshapenly, its mouth opening with a deadly, vengeful smile.

Instinct took over, and you slammed on your brakes, screeching to a stop. The force of its body colliding with your car caused you to lurch forward in your seatbelt and slam against the wheel. Coughing, you looked up and saw its body fly over your car and smack against the pavement. It rolled, seeming to break into pieces before they snapped back together.

The curse jolted, and you heard it scream.

All you could smell was the burnout from your tires. You were frozen in place, hands gripping the steering wheel with so much force that your knuckles were starting to cramp. Your foot was still pressing the brake to the floor.

“Y/N?!” You heard Gojo’s voice yell through the phone speaker. “Are you okay?”

You coughed again, struggling to breathe. But his voice snapped you back into place, the adrenaline fading only enough that you were able to speak.

“No,” you whispered, unable to think of an explanation for how to describe the situation to him.

“Where are you?!” Gojo asked a little louder, a little more frantic.

But his questions faded into nothing as the ringing in your ears grew louder. The curse shot up from the ground, its neck cracking back into place, flexing a total of six arms. That same decrepit smile was still on its face. You couldn’t even fathom what it was and what it could possibly want with you.

“On the road, just by the motel—!” you rushed as a sob of fear rose in your throat.

There was no way to know. The why didn’t matter when you were the prey. You wouldn’t even live long enough to ask.

“I think I’m gonna die,” you whispered as the curse took a wobbly step forward. Despite its imbalance, the ground still rumbled from the weight and force.

Its mouth snapped open, revealing layers of razor-sharp teeth and a decaying uvula. Its mouth consumed its entire face, causing you to scream in fear.

Then, the creature lunged as you slammed on the gas.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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yuesya · 8 months ago

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Humans are fragile.

Weak, helpless creatures that they are. If they bleed too much from being injured by a wild beast, then they die. If they stay out too long in the cold, then they die. Sometimes it feels like all he does is blink, and then they die. He knows this well.

Decarabian stares impassively down at the crumpled form of the white-haired human child buried in the crimson-stained snow.

… It appears as if this child has had a rough encounter with a monster of some sort, although Decarabian does not know of any monsters in these parts whose claws resemble knives more than talons. Perhaps the wild wolves…? But most of them remain close to their lands much farther in the north-east, where their newly-crowned wolf-god has recently staked out his territory.

“This is what happens when you raise animals into gods,” Decarabian murmurs, disapproving. The former Lord of the North had been a powerful, ancient god whose dominion over Cryo was –perhaps, by the slightest measure– more masterful than the control that Decarabian himself commanded over Anemo. He cannot fathom what the other god had been thinking, relinquishing the full might of their divine power and bequeathing it all to a beast, but such matters are not his to intervene in.

Even if the result is the swift rise of a beast-god who despises humans. Something that should be anathema to gods, whose very natures are fundamentally predisposed towards loving humanity…

Just as Decarabian himself does, and he is not one to deny his own nature.

The child in front of him is dying. That much is clear from the severity of the wounds that she bears, her body flayed with bone-deep gashes to the point where it almost seems as if something had tried to turn the child inside-out. This is not the work of a beast that attacked in hunger –this is the work of something that aimed to hurt, for nothing more than bloodthirsty enjoyment.

There are no older humans in the nearby vicinity. Animals will abandon their young who are too weak to survive. Decarabian had not realized that humans also followed that same practice.

This child is dying. Blood continues flowing sluggishly from her wounds, mixing into the snow. A chill wind whistles past, sending red-stained strands of long white hair whipping upwards–

Long lashes flutter, and the child opens her eyes.

Decarabian had not realized that she still possessed the strength to do so.

… The child does not speak. She cannot, for how can she? Who can speak when there’s a long gash splitting their throat open, red and wet and glistening in the open air? It’s a true miracle that she’s still alive, somehow. Even though it’s abundantly clear that she won’t be remaining so for much longer.

Decarabian looks into her eyes. It’s expected that her gaze is unfocused, given the poor condition of her body, and he prepares himself to witness pain. Suffering. Desperation –or perhaps hopelessness. It is only human nature. Weak, and despicable. But beautiful all the same, and it is for that very reason that so many gods–

Oh.

Decarabian has never seen such oddly-colored eyes before. Not on any human –nor beast, nor god. There’s something about these deep blue eyes that are almost reminiscent of the nighttime sky, but not quite. Not when they glow, gleaming with a prismatic, bejeweled light. But it’s not an ethereal sort of beauty; rather, it’s one that causes Decarabian to feel a sudden chill, for seemingly no reason at all.

But more importantly–

“You won’t ask me to save you?” Humans worship gods. Beg them for favors, for blessings, and it is only natural for gods to respond to their wishes. Poor, deplorable humans. Precious, lovely humans.

The child’s eyes are clear. There is no unspoken plea, no mindless terror. From all appearances, this child… does not seem to fear death at all. How curious.

A sudden thought strikes him. Whimsical impulse, that solidifies into genuine interest.

What would she say to him, if she could speak?

…

Decarabian extends his hand towards her, holding it out over her body.

He does not possess the ability to heal. But, there is a certain magic that allows a god to share their power and grant protection to another by bestowing a new name –a new life. He suspects that this is similar to the spell that the Lord of the North had used to ascend that young wolf to godhood. It’s not necessarily Decarabian’s intent, but–

“Child of man. One who has bled upon consecrated ground, who still possesses strength to endure,” he says. The words are slow at first, but begin flowing smoothly as the ancient magic is fully invoked. “Upon the authority of Decarabian, God of Storms, I grant you my blessing. Partake of my power and rise anew, as a daughter of the unfettered wind.”

The next words coalesce on the tip of his tongue on their own.

… For a moment, Decarabian pauses. Because he can feel the power that’s gathering within him –power that rises on its own volition, for it is the necessary price for granting this child new life.

And it’s a steep price. Quite steep indeed. It is… possible… that Decarabian would be unable to maintain a human form anymore after this, or even reduced to an empty voice upon the wind in the following years.

But he will not change his decision, nor renege upon his words. No matter what the consequences might be.

“Rejoice. For I shall bestow upon you the name, ‘Balor,’” he declares, completing the spell. The winds pick up around them, and the human child is enveloped in a bright glow, slowly shrinking down into an even smaller form.

So even Decarabian’s power isn’t enough, is it?

Ah, what a curious child.

“Heed my command, and hear my words –rise.

… Rise, and live.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #genshin au #mondstadt au #archon war au #i was not planning to write anything more for this anytime soon #but there's been some discord fun going on #so here we are!#still haven't made up my mind on how the archon war would actually go though haha

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disarm-you · 7 months ago

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Can I Show You How Sorry I Am?

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Bartender reader

Summary: You and Frank had been hooking up for several months and then he dropped off the face of the earth. Six months later, he walks back into your bar and has some explaining to do.

Word Count: 3,520

a/n: This is smut heavy but nothing crazy. It was intended to be a smutty porn with plot one shot but I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, I have some loose ideas on making this into a series. Diving into reader’s background and exploring what a relationship with The Punisher would look like. How a serious relationship for Frank would play out. If you’re interested in more, please let me know!

I’m going on vacation in a few weeks and then I will be cutting down my hours at work. I expect to get more stories out starting this summer! As always, a friendly reminder that reblogs are the best way to support writers on here. XOXO

Looking up from the bar, you see the door swing open just as your coworker yells out last call. Curiosity sparked- today had been abnormally easy. Or maybe it was a good day made better under the lense of a full night’s sleep. The weather had been beautiful all afternoon-clear skies, light wind and full sun. You were able to relax outside and soak up a few rays of sun before work, letting its heat warm up your tired bones.

Work was comfortably steady and a few regulars left you a larger than usual tip today. Life recently threw you a major curveball but you were set on enjoying the sunshine while it’s here, because the moon will always come around again.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shock of seeing Frank step into the room. It had been, what, over six months since you last saw him? Your eyes were staring at him but you couldn’t seem to focus on one spot. They moved from his deep eyes, down to his black hoodie and the combat boots you loved. You noted that he looked a bit thinner than the last time you saw him and he had one hell of a black eye and split lip. Your back stiffened as you tried to process all your emotions. You were pleased to know he was alive but anger and sadness panged across your chest as you thought about the past year.

You two had never made it official but you had been sleeping together frequently enough that his sharp absence from your life hurt. You and Frank met in the same bar that you were currently in. You were new to the city and Frank was a welcome respite from the coldness New York could offer. He would show up several times a week, somehow always on nights you worked. He would walk you home and you two would enjoy a night cap or three with the evening ending in him making you see God. All of the pleasure and none of the drama. But as time and nature would have it, you managed to catch feelings. You tried to keep them buried, telling yourself he didn’t feel the same. You were too afraid of scaring him off, so you never verbalized your feelings.

However, he skipped a Monday night, which was unusual for him. Concern creeped in when he didn’t visit you three shifts in a row. And then weeks passed and you were consumed with worry about his safety and eventually you began to fear the absolute worst.

Inhaling deeply, you manage to look up as Frank approaches you. “Hey Sweetheart” he says softly, while making eye contact with you.

A flaming arrow shot a deadly blow to your heart as soon as you met his puppy dog eyes. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils and lit a fire low in your belly. Rat fucking bastard.

Tears began to well in the corners of your eyes but you weren’t certain if they were from sadness, rage, or pent up sexual frustration with this big, dumb, beautiful man standing in front of you.

Your coworker walked by, noticing the change in your body language. “Is everything ok over here?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah, it is. Um, actually, would it be ok if I took off a bit early tonight? I need to deal with something.”

“Of course, but you owe me one! Text me if you need anything.” Winking at you before he walked back to his station.

“Hey Frank. It’s nice to see you.” Deciding to err on the side of kindness. After all, he did show back up to see you. You might as well hear him out, even if you did give him your customer service tone.

“I know it’s been a while and that’s my fault. Can we go back to my place and talk?”

My place. The words echoed in your head. Previously, the two of you only ever hooked up at your apartment and even then he rarely bothered to stay the night.

“Yeah, actually that would be nice. Let me go get my things and I will meet you outside.”

____________

“So, this is your place, eh?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you surveyed the area. Noting the bare walls, sparse furniture and dumbbells stuffed in the corner, it was obvious a single man lived here. However, what you couldn’t tell is if this is a new place or if he dropped you for a different fling and was hiding out this past half year.

“Yeah, it is. Want something to drink?”

”Mmmhmm, beer’s good if you got it.”

You two sat on his futon, taking the first sip,

“Why haven’t I seen your place before you?” You ask, nerves building up in your chest as you put off the real questions you wanted to ask him.

Sighing deeply, Frank glances away until finally making eye contact.“When we first met, I knew I wasn’t going to be in town for much longer. I didn’t think that I would be back once I left.”

Frank then sat down his beer, picking up your free hand and cradling it with his. “But I really enjoyed our nights together. And I kept coming around your bar, while I put off the work I needed to do.”

Inhaling sharply you say, ”Listen, I understand that we never had the relationship ‘talk’ but Frank, we were fucking pretty regularly and then you just disappeared. Poof, gone in the blink of an eye. I feel like you at least owed me a see ya later before running off.” You say, taking a large swig of your beer, trying to calm the nerves that swirled in your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hand is shaking as you sit it back down. Or the tears welling in your eyes again. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear your heart thumping as you anxiously waited for him to respond.

“You’re right Darlin’ and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you.” He swallowed thickly and you could catch the slightest gruff in his voice. “I thought it would be less painful if I just disappeared. But when I was gone, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed the way your hand feels in mine. I missedâ€¦ the feelings you brought up in me. When the job was over I decided to make my home here, maybe even with you.”

Sighing roughly, you move to sit back, trying to process everything that’s happening. Frank adjusts so you can lean into his torso.You close your eyes and he moves his arm around your shoulder, which softened a bit of the emotions flooding you.

“You know I waited around for weeks, hoping you would show up. And when you never did, I thought you had died. The worst part is that I didn’t have anyone to ask. You always come in alone and I didn’t even know your last name so I kept checking local obituaries-”

Frank noticed the panic in your voice and brought his free hand under your chin, tilting your face up and forcing you into eye contact.

“Castle”

”â€¦What?” You ask while your brain is trying to catch up.

“My last name is Castle.” He whispers, bringing his thumb up to trace your lower lip. He pauses, looking at you questioningly.

You had so many questions running through your mind but being back in his arms reminded you of all the nights you spent wrapped up in your bed. The smell of him being so close to you was intoxicating. Before you knew it the rush of hormones hit your brain as you involuntarily move your face towards him, locking lips ever so sweetly.

Despite their injury, his lips are somehow softer than you remember and your heart rate picks up as he moves his hands up to cup your face. Frank is taking his time with you tonight, enjoying the brushing of your lips together as if it was the first time he’s kissed you. The moment is tender and softer than your previous encounters.

All too quickly though he pulls away. Your breath hitches and you involuntarily grab at his sweater, trying to tug him close again.

“Can I show you how sorry I am?” Frank pleaded as his lips hovered over yours.

“Please.” You replied shakily as you clamber into Frank's lap, reveling in the groan it exudes from Frank.

You shiver as he runs his warm hands up your sides and along your back. You kiss him deeply, one hand splayed across his chest while the other gripped his hair tightly, hoping that it was enough to keep him here in front of you.

You slowly grind into his lap as you part your lips against Frank’s. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth while shoving your hips together.

“Do you see what you fucking do to me?” He growled as he thrusted his hips up into yours, grinding his growing bulge against you.

You whined in response as you pulled your shirt over your head. Without hesitating, Frank reached up and deftly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and gently cupped your beasts with both of his hands.

Your head dizzying with want, you lean forward to kiss Frank, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as his large hands fondled your breasts.

Breaking away, he kisses down your neck until he reaches your chest. Moving his head to the side, he slips a nipple into his mouth teasing you until you issued your fist moan of the evening.

Chuckling, Frank moves his focus to your other breast and you loudly moan as you feel the buzzing want for him run up and down your body. You so deeply missed the way you just melt into his touch. It had been a lonely six months since Frank’s disappearance, not for lack of desire though.

You were often hit on by men at your job but most of them were a huge turnoff. Drunk and aggressively flirting with you until you declined their offer and getting angry when you wouldn’t give them your number. But you stayed at this job since the extra cash on hand greatly supplemented your primary job.

You did briefly consider yourself spending the night with a gorgeous blonde woman who came into the bar. She had the most beautiful blue eyes that you could get lost in. Except you couldn’t tell if she was flirting with you or if she was just incredibly nice. You were too hesitant to make the first move. That didn’t stop you from thinking about her as you touched yourself that night. But that was last month and you haven’t seen her come back in.

And right now all you were focusing on was Frank and how you don’t think you’ve fully relaxed since he left. You are unabashedly grinding in his lap, arching your back into his kisses as his hands worshiped your body.

“Frank, pleaseâ€¦” you rasped as he popped his mouth off your nipple and brought you in closer to him.

“Please, what darlin.” He whispered as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I just need you to touch me so badly.” You softly whimpered as you pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I got you girl.”

You squeal with glee as he wraps his arms tightly around you and stands up. You revel in the safety of his arms, feeling his huge biceps press you up against his firm chest. His strength was one of your favorite physical qualities in Frank. You felt so secure tangled up in him. But despite his strength, he was gentle with his touches to you. He was far kinder to you then a few men in your past. In fact, Frank never used force on you, unless of course you asked him to.

Your mind briefly wandered back to an intense night where you were pinned to the bed with his leather belt in your mouth, hand pulling your hair taughtly, thrusting into you unforgivablyâ€¦.

Frank placing you down on the bed brought you back to reality. Shamelessly watching him as he took off his shirt. The clinking of his belt reminded you of its taste in your mouth and you hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes.

You attempt to slide to the top of the bed but Frank grabs your legs.

“Oh no.” He clicks his tongue while dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “Just where do you think you’re going Ma’am? I owe you an apology.” He cooed, while kneeling on the floor, kissing your inner knee up to your inner thighs

Your skin prickles and your breath hitches as Frank sucked some of the tender skin on your inner thigh into his mouth. Enjoying the reaction from you, he takes his free hand and traces a finger up the seam of your pussy.

You gasp sharply. “Frank, please.” You desperately begged. “You’re being so mean to me.”

Everything about you was driving Frank wild. Your scent was lingering in his nose, leaving him heady with want, how tense the muscles in your thighs are while you were so willingly spread out for him and finally the desire in your eyes is what drove him to splay you open with his index and middle fingers before he starting flicking your clit with his tongue.

Your moans had him groaning as he continued lapping you up. He moved the fingers that were spreading you open lower, teasing your entrance. He briefly enjoyed your gasps of pleasure before slipping two fingers into your wetness, which caused you to inhale sharply as you clenched around him.

Frank slightly leans back and looks up at you. “Yeah, you like that?” He curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside you. “Be good and take it.” He husked before sucking on the inside of your thigh.

His words sparked an anger in you- how dare this man come back and then act like this but oh my god did he know how to work you up. And that spark was like gasoline on a fire and you were already so close to coming.

Frank could tell by how tightly you were gripping his fingers. Pulling off your thigh with a wet pop, he brings his mouth back to your clit and it was over. Trails of fire ran up and down your body before dissolving into pleasure.

Frank slowed down to draw out your orgasm as much as he could, waiting until you were whimpering with overstimulation before gently removing his fingers from you.

Still breathing deeply, you open your eyes to find Frank looking at you, while sucking your juices off his fingers. His eyes were a blaze with desire for you, which made your heart start pounding again.

“Frank, I want you.”

He barely heard you over the blood buzzing in his ears. Frank stood up and got on to the bed, encouraging you to move back further. He placed the sole pillow on his bed under your head, making sure you were comfortable before kissing you hard.

You instinctively moved down to help remove his boxers. Once freed, you savored the weight of him in your hand. He was deliciously thick and you can’t help but to start firmly rubbing him. You bring a thumb to the head of his cock rubbing the pre cum down his shaft. Now it was your turn to relish in the noises he was making

Frank was so sensitive that just a small amount of touching had him gently thrusting in your hand, lowly grunting with your firm touch. His enthusiasm reminded you how empty you were. You wordlessly guide him to you, teasing his head up and down your sopping folds until pausing at your entrance. He replaced your hand with his and you moved your hips to slot his.

The pressure of him against your entrance was leaving you lightheaded. The gasps you were making had Frank teeming with desire but he was determined to take his time. Pressing ever so gently he pushed just the head of him inside you as he began to lean down towards you. You tried to buck your hips up into him but he stopped you.

Fully leaning over you, he placed one of his forearms to your side, hooking it around the crown of your head. His other hand held your jaw firmly in place. Staring deeply into your eyes he says, “I’m so fucking sorry I left. I won’t leave you again unless you tell me to.” He pleaded as he buried himself in you.

“Oh fuck yes’ Frank.” You cried out as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I fucking missed you, sweetheart.” He roughly whispered.

“I missed you too.” You choked out, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. Frank lowered the hand that was on your chin to the other side of your head as he started rocking into you, setting a pleasurable pace for the both of you. He slowly moves his hips until your breath hitches. That’s when he knows he’s got the right angle. You cry out as he rocks into a little harder, causing you to grab on to his shoulders.

Sweat was beginning to leave a light sheen on the both of you as more heat began to generate from where you two were connected. Frank was applying soft kisses on your neck and the little huffs he was breathing near your ear made you clench around him tighter.

You noticed his chest flushing and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Franks brings one hand down, and slips it between the two of you and circled your clit, while kissing you deeply. The pleasure of being surrounded by Frank- his weight on top of you, cock filling you, his scent surrounding you, his tongue flicking into your mouth- was overwhelming after all this time.

You pull away, wanting to save the moment in fear of him slipping away from you again.

“You’re really going to stay this time?” You quietly stuttered in between his thrusts.

“Yes darlin. I’m always going to be here.” He grunted. He could feel you getting tighter again and your whines were music to his ears as he kept his current rhythm. Your fingers tighten against his shoulder, leaving little half moons in it’s wake and your back involuntarily arches as you splinter once more from reality.

Your pussy is squeezing Frank so hard that he can’t hold himself back any longer. His body stiffens and he groans out as he fills you with his cum.

You can’t stop the tears from spilling out and streaming down the side of your face during your come down. All of the fear, anger and worry that had been pent up all came rushing out and it was simply too much. He didn’t try to silence you or make you stop. Frank simply held you and wiped away your tears.

“I’m sorry I’m crying so much.” You sniffled, trying to slow yourself down.

“It’s ok Angel, are you alright?”

You nodded your head yes as Frank carefully removed himself from you. You winced from the loss of contact but he softly pulled you into him as he laid down onto his side.

Your crying had slowed down and the weight of reality was setting back in. Your mind started racing with questions. Did he really mean what he said? What does this mean for the two of you? Were you ready for a commitment like this? So many thoughts racing in your head and you settle on one.

“Frank?” You quietly ask, face still buried in his chest while his hands were rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Earlier you said that you were putting off a job. What did you have to go do?”

Swallowing thickly, Frank closed his eyes. He knew that coming back meant coming clean and you might not be interested when you find out who he really is. And maybe that conversation should have come first but old habits have a way of dying hard.

“I will answer all of your questions in the morning. Would you like to stay tonight?”

“Can we take a shower?” You ask as you nod your head in agreement, attempting to ignore a new ball of anxiety beginning to form. What could this man be hiding from you? “Or do you only have one towel as well? You teasingly ask, partly as a way to distract you from your own mind.

“You’re in luck because I have two and they are both clean. I’ll go start the water. Come and join me when you’re ready” Frank kisses the top of your head before getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher #the punisher smut #soft frank castle

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interstellarflare · 8 months ago

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Don’t Blame Me || Homelander

-PART ONE-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst, mature themes, 18+.

Summary: After several long and uneventful months since John’s abrupt departure, Vought’s plan to present the Cerberus project to the public as a superhuman taskforce roughly forces you back into working with The Boys. This time, things will be more difficult as new threats arise, and former friends turn against each other. And all for what? Love makes people crazy, and John will stop at nothing to protect you.

Authors Note: SEQUEL SERIES TO BEND AND BREAK. Here it is! The long awaited sequel to Bend and Break. I am so excited to be writing this, I have so many surprises in store that you guys simply aren’t ready for. If time permits with university starting back up again, I plan for this series to be a little longer than its predecessor. Unfortunately the update schedule will remain the same as I will be very busy, but any spare minute I have will be dedicated to getting this series out there. So please enjoy Don’t Blame Me. A tag list is currently open for anyone wishing to be notified for future parts. Gif by @linusbenjamin

John was staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at you like that before, with such emotion, with such -

Pain...there was so much pain.

The air was taken from your lungs as John flinched. Blood splattered the front of his uniform, tiny horrifying droplets coating his skin. A strange warmth suddenly spread over your chest, a deep rumbling cough caused the pain in your chest to increase. Blood dribbled from your mouth. Your blood.

The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, drowning out the terror-filled shouts from downstairs, and John’s frantic cries.

The last thing you saw was his furious expression. His blue eyes glowing a bright red in rage, hatred, and pure madness.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as you sat upright in bed, awaking in a cold sweat and panting heavily.

Your eyes darted around the room as your hands clutched at your chest, your fingertips grazing the scarred tissue of the bullet wound below your collar bone. As the ringing in your ears began to subside, and the echo of the gunshot stopped bouncing off the walls, you released a long and shaky sigh. You buried your head in your hands, trying to dispell the sick feeling forming in your stomach as you sat there motionless, breathing deeply through the nausea.

Over the last month, this had become a regular occurance. The nighmares of your accident had begun to haunt your dreams, and it was something that you couldn’t seem to escape. You didn’t understand why this was happening now. It had been several quiet months since you had been shot, and it was now that your trauma from that moment had decided to come back and bite you in the ass.

Great. Just what you needed.

The nausea had somewhat eased, enough for you to now lift your head from your hands and turn your gaze towards your bedroom window. A single beam of light flowed through the curtains, creating a bright line along the carpeted floor. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with small yawn. The sound of a gentle knock coming from your apartment door caused an annoyed groan to escape your lips. You were tempted to just lie back down and bury your head under the covers, had it not been for the knock getting louder and harsher.

“Y/n? Are you awake? I made some breakfast and wanted to know if you were interested. Max is already inside and he’s about to eat everything if you don’t hurry up”.

You chuckled lightly as Ben’s voice travelled through your apartment, rolling your eyes as you forced yourself out of your bed. Throwing on an old sweater over your pyjamas, you trudged through the hallway into your living room and over to the door, opening it with a half-sleepy smile. You were met with those soft piercing green hues, peering down at you with a gentle grin. “Good morning...” You spoke roughly, clearing your throat with an awkward huff “was Max out here when you came over to ask me?”

“Oh no, he had been knocking on your door for about ten minutes before I let him in” Ben replied, chuckling loudly as you buried your head in your hands out of embarressment. You peeked up at him through your fingers, giggling softly as you shook your head. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear him at all-”

“Don’t worry about it, honestly...” Ben interrupted, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned against your doorframe “the kid is adorable. I’ve got a soft spot for him.”

“Doesn’t everyone” You replied saracstically, giving him a teasing glare as Ben rolled his eyes. Stepping away from your doorframe, he motioned his head towards his open apartment door across the hall “Get inside”.

You laughed, moving past him with a small smile as you entered his apartment. It was nowhere as neat as yours, but it had its own, slightly messy charm that you didn’t seem to mind. It more disorganised than messy, with a few things out of place, and a random jacket or shirt tossed somewhere obsurely in the room. As you lifted your gaze towards the kitchen, you shook your head with a laugh as you spotted your nephew, mouth full of pancakes with cheeks full like a chipmunk. He grinned up at you through his food, speaking a muffed “Good moring!” as he continued to shovel in more.

“Okay, why don’t you slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick” you scolded, making your way over to your nephew’s side and peering over his shouler to give his temple a quick kiss in greeting. Max swallowed, spinning to face you as you made your way over towards the kettle “Hey! I was standing outside your apartment for hours! I’m starving-”

“It wasn’t hours...” Ben interrupted, walking over and placing his hand atop Max’s head, ruffling his hair “don’t lie to your aunt”. You laughed, rolling your eyes as you disappeared into the kitchen, deciding to prepare some toast for yourself. You decided that something simple was best, since your stomach was still feeling a litte uneasy. You could feel Ben’s presence behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“You had another nightmare again, didn’t you?” he asked quietly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the sensetive spot behind your ear. You shivered and sighed, shaking your head with a small groan. “How did you know?”

“I can hear your heartbeat, it’s beating like crazy. Although that could be because of me-”

“It’s not because of you...” You replied shortly, slyly slipping out of his grasp and turning to face him with an annoyed expression, “You can stop pretending you’re interested in me, I know Butcher had you move in here to protect me.”

“You don’t know that” Ben chuckled, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the countertop, “you’re a very attractive wom-”

“You’re also the father of my ex-boyfriend...” You spoke blatantly, choking back laughter at the shocked expression that formed on Ben’s face. His eyes widened, a deer in headlights as his lips parted as he struggled to find a retort. Grinning victoriously, your eyes narrowed into a playful glare as you turned to face the kitchen dooray, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Watch yourself, Soldier Boy. You lay a hand on me that way, and Butcher will have your head.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Ben held his hands up defensively, before his form disappeared from your view as you made your way back over to your nephew. With his eyes wide and beaming, his cheeks stained with syrup and cream, you laughed with a small shake of your head. “Come on you, let’s get you to school...” You sighed, ushering him out of his chair and towards the door, “just give me a minute to go change, and then we’ll get going, okay? Go sit in my living room.”

With a loud enthusiastic ‘goodbye!’, Max raced out of Ben’s apartment and into yours, grabbing his bag on the way. As you walked across the hall and into your apartment, you paused in the doorway and turned back towards’s Ben’s. He was standing in the living room, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a small but respectful smile. “When did you figure it out?” He asked quietly, his head tilting slightly in confusion as he waited for your reply.

You rolled your eyes with a knowing smile, “Which part? That Butcher put you here, or that you’re my ex-boyfriend’s dad?”

“Both...” He replied awkwardly, “the second part isn’t exactly public knowledge.”

You hummed in thought, before replying honestly. “I had my suspicions, but truthfully...I just asked Hughie.”

“Jesus woman-”

“Aw, you thought I was smart.”

“I know you are, that’s what scares me.”

You stuck out your tongue in reply, stepping into your apartment and closing the door harshly. Now in the privacy of your own home, a huge weight began to settle in your chest. That sick feeling in your stomach began to come back as you moved to rest your forehead against the door. You knew that Butcher meant well, by placing Ben in the apartment across from yours. But it still felt strange, especially knowing what you knew now.

With a long and heavy sigh, you pushed away that aching feeling in your chest and turned around to be met with Max’s questioning expression, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he examined your form. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking you over completely for any signes of distress. Nodding your head, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m alright buddy, I’ll get changed and we’ll go okay” you replied, giving your nephew a small assuring wink before disappearing into your bedroom. Changing into a pair of worn shorts, an old t-shirt and an old black sweater you blieved belonged to an old supe friend, you emerged from your bedroom and grabbed your car keys from the kitchen counter. “You ready bud?”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go!” Max cheered, jumping up from the couch whilst slinging his backpack over his shoulders. Your eyes widened and a shocked gasp escaped your lips. “MAX! No swearing!” You scolded, glaring down at the young boy with your mouth open in disbelief. Your nephew folded his arms over his chest, pouting as he moved to follow you back out into the hall. “Billy let’s me swear-”

“Billy is not a role model!” You shrieked, shoving your nephew through the door and laughing loudly whilst Max giggled evilly.

Tag List: @motionless-friction @apollonshootafar @bronze-metal @laceyauandromedus @escritora-de-imagines @life-is-a-cruel-game @sabrinaselina55 @madamestarlight @quixscentsposts @hc-official @bluemarsuniverse @naxxsstuff @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @liajiah @mystical-wonderland-of-me @madhatter2727 @thexhostess @staplerrrr @how-am-i-serpose-to-know @gingerwrites @prurose @the-number7 @miss-puregotti @marcshonda @kahelis @ddeandracnight @morven-aranea @dawnwriterimagines @lost-redstart @firelonewolf @soft-damergrove @clean-soap @coloursunlimited @cynthianokamaria @shilsvampsinger @freshmakertaco @starlight-boo @lauraaan182 @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh @itskatrinahere @morven-aranea @sublimebearalienhuman @unlikelyllamanerd @charmed-asylum @nati-epic-jelly @micksschumi @transformers-insanity @sam-quinn @lover1307 @nerdytif @jinnieats

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander imagine #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #anthony starr

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fenfyre · 7 months ago

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The Beast In His Bones - Part I

Please note that this fic will heavily feature consensual non-consent. It will be negotiated and both Laios and Chilchuck will express enthusiastic consent about trying that kind of roleplay together. The first chapter will be entirely that with both of them enjoying their fantasy about it. The second chapter will feature the actual scene with all that entails. I will give another warning once we get there.

~~~

Chilchuck had no idea how much time had passed. He only knew that the night outside was dark, the air in the room hot and humid and his own skin slick with sweat where Laios' grabbed him to flip him over. One large, calloused hand supported his hip, pulling him up and back to where that cock sank into him again. Slick and deep. Chilchuck groaned, fisting the sheets between his fingers and biting into the fabric.

They must have been at it for hours. Chilchuck's entire body was aching, muscles straining, nearly unable to keep himself up anymore. Not that he had to. Somewhere along the way he had allowed Laios to take over, trusting his lover to handle him with the same care and efficiency he always used when they fucked. Pushing and pulling him into position as soon as Chilchuck's body gave out. Fucking into him over and over again until Chilchuck was floating.

He had always known tallmen had more stamina than half-foots. It was one of the things he had been excited about when this started between them, curious just for how long his younger lover could keep him entertained. Soon he had found out ... and not looked back since.

"You like that?", Laios panted above him, curling in on himself to bury his face in Chilchuck's sweaty hair. "Like when I push you down and take you, yeah? Like when I hold you still and fuck you good?"

Chilchuck whined, straining to push his hips up and back with all the strength still left in his body. Damp fabric slipped from between his teeth as he babbled out his mindless answer.

"Fuck Laios, yes ... yes, make me beg ... beg for mercy ... and don't show me any..."

Above him Laios faltered, the steady snap of his hips slowing for just a few seconds. Then he picked up his pace with renewed vigour, making Chilchuck's eyes cross and his mind sputter out for whatever came next.

"So...", Laios hummed as they laid there after, Chilchuck sprawled out half on top of him where he had collapsed after getting wiped down. For some reason Laios sounded brazenly lucid while Chilchuck was close to nodding off.

"Make you beg for mercy and not show you any ... is that something you're interested in?"

Within seconds Chilchuck was wide awake again, breath catching in his throat and heart skipping a beat. Or five.

Because that stirred a memory. A hazy memory from when he had been near mindless with pleasure. A memory of him running his stupid mouth saying stupid things he really should not have said.

"Uhm", he mumbled intelligently as he tried to scrape his scrambled brain together enough to answer. "It was just ... that was ... just dirty talk. Don't worry about it."

Laios shifted underneath him, arms pulling tighter where they wrapped around Chilchuck's back.

"Are you sure? Because if it's something you want..."

"I said don't worry about it. Go to sleep, Laios." He forced out the words so fast his tongue was stumbling over itself. Before Laios could react any further Chilchuck wiggled out of his grasp to reach down for the blanket and pull it up around his shoulders. Turning onto his side he felt Laios slowly settle down to curl around his back, a careful arm coming to circle his waist and pull him closer.

Chilchuck's heart was still beating a nervous rhythm against his ribs by the time Laios' breaths had grown deep and even.

Morning came slow.

They had booked the room for their few days of rest between expeditions into the dungeon so sleeping in was a luxury Chilchuck allowed himself when he got the chance. By the time he groaned and stretched and blinked his eyes open sunlight was already streaming through the window and the sounds of a busy street were drifting up to them from outside. Taking a few deep breaths Chilchuck watched specks of dust dance in the sunbeams as he slowly found his way to wakefulness.

He had been apprehensive about taking a room at the local inn, way too aware of how rumours tended to spread. In the end Laios had worn him down with puppy eyes and surprisingly sound arguments. The time the two of them could spend together was limited. Too limited to waste sneaking around or travelling to meet up at remote locations. They had done that for months but by now Chilchuck, too, would much rather spend their time like they had last night.

Rumours had already started to spread, of course, most of them outrageous. For some reason though Chilchuck found himself not caring too much about those when he woke up this relaxed after a night well spent.

He stretched again with a yawn, feeling something in his back pop as his sore muscles protested.

"Ugh, I'll be feeling that for days", he grumbled, voice annoyed but body wholly satisfied as he turned around. Then blinked in confusion.

The other side of the bed was empty. Laios never woke up before him.

Sitting upright with a low noise - and oh, his backside had definitely not recovered yet, either - he found the tallman seated at the desk, scribbling something into his notebook. He looked up as he noticed Chilchuck moving, a smile replacing the focused frown on his face.

"Ah, good morning! Hope I didn't wake you up?"

"No, I ... what are you doing?", Chilchuck asked, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. Even if Laios occasionally woke up before him, he usually stayed in bed to get in as much skin on skin contact as possible. Now though he only shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing for him to be doing paperwork instead of clinging to Chilchuck under the covers.

"Just writing up a shopping list for our meet-up later. Oh, I also brought you some breakfast from downstairs!" He pointed at a wooden bowl and a spoon resting on the bedside table next to Chilchuck. "Mala made porridge and I snagged some extra berries for you."

So he had. When Chilchuck, unsure what to reply, reached for the bowl, he found the porridge still hot and steaming. A handful of blueberries and raspberries as well as some sunflower seeds were scattered across the top. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and other spices. But Chilchuck was not quite ready to dig in.

"Alright, what is going on?"

The smile on Laios' face faltered, he looked down, then at the bowl in Chilchuck's hands.

"Maybe you should eat first, the food's getting cold..."

"Laios, you're freaking me out."

The words were terse but not very loud or sharp and still Laios flinched in his chair, shoulders pulling up as he kneaded his hands. After a moment of tense contemplation he decided to turn around to fully face Chilchuck.

A quick, shallow breath.

"I did something wrong, didn't I?", he asked, eyes still focused on the wooden bowl in Chilchuck's hands. "Last night. I upset you."

Part II

#chilaios #laichil #chilchuck tims #laios touden #dunmeshi #lemon

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punkeccentricenigma · 1 year ago

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Can I pretty please request the rise boys having a significant other that knows how to mimic their comfort characters voices? Like a voice impressionist <333

Rise!Boys with Reader, who can mimic voices.

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language, Handling stress in an unhealthy way in the parts with Raph and Leo

A/N:

I'm sorry for the long wait! Lately, I've been under a lot of stress, and I tend to overthink to the point that, while writing, I also translate text, watch YouTube, and anime to replace my thoughts with something better. I apologize again! And I'm sorry if these headcanons suck! And don't worry, I'll fulfill all orders! I won't forget any of them! Please be patient!

Leonardo

◇Let's be honest, after the Kraang invasion, he's traumatized, or at least has many moments of weakness where he needs comfort.

◇During those times, he often immerses himself in various comics or shows to forget what happened.

◇So one day, as he slowly began to stress over memories and didn't have access to the aforementioned things, you stepped in.

◇It's not like Leo didn't know your skills; he heard often and even insisted that you imitate his brothers to make fun of them.

◇Which kind of annoyed Donatello a bit; he didn't like being mocked that way.

◇Anyway, you started by imitating Jupiter Jim's voice, knowing he's one of the boy's parental figures.

"My boy! Don't give up yet! Furry creatures are attacking our base!"

◇Expect a shocked face, and then a wide smile.

"You didn't tell me you could imitate these type of voices!!"

◇He was really impressed.

◇After that, you just started role-playing for fun because why not? Lmao

◇Thanks to that, the boy felt much better <33

Raphael

◇Let's not kid ourselves, Raph didn't handle stress very well when he was the leader of the Mad Dogs.

◇He just didn't want to let his brothers down! His father! April, or definitely you! He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to you because of his incompetence.

◇That's why he often buried all those negative emotions deep within himself to replace them with fake joy or a smile.

◇But since you've been in a relationship with him for some time, and you've known him even longer, you knew something was bothering him.

◇So you often tried to talk to him about it, but the response was always the same.

"Oh, I'm fine! Really, you don't have to worry about me."

◇You didn't want to give up, but was there any way out of this situation? What could you do? You decided to take a break from it.

◇Finally, it came to a boiling point when you started playing Jenga in his room.

◇During the game, you could feel the scent of stress coming from him. You should get him deodorant sometime... Do deodorants work on reptiles??

◇In the end, Raphael lost, but he reacted differently than usual. He wasn't sulky, he wasn't embarrassed, and fired up for the next round... he was aggressive.

◇And he scattered the remaining blocks around his room, cursing.

"Screw this, I've had enough!"

◇You immediately reacted, calling his name in a firm tone.

"Raph! What are you doing!? It's just a game!"

◇He looked at you with a stunningly negative expression, accentuated by furrowed brow bones, and then all of that turned into a suffocating sight of sadness, with transparent tears soaking the red mask. He cracked; he finally cracked.

◇In a slow voice, he began to apologize, burying his head in shame between his spiky arms.

◇Finally, you started talking about what was bothering him, accompanied by his crying at some words. You tried to listen to him, hug him, comfort him with kind words, but you felt that in this situation, it might be too little, much too little.

◇So you looked around, and a risky but interesting idea came to your mind.

◇After a moment of searching through Raph's drawers, you stood in front of him in a proud pose, wearing on your wrists the distinctive spiked bracelets that were definitely too big for you.

"What are you doing?" Raphael asked in a sluggish tone, tilting his head slightly to the side. Emotionally, he had no strength for anything; he just wanted to sleep. [Y.N] had a satisfying smile on their lips.

"Hear this! I will kidnap Peach OVER and OVER until I pull it off! And no one can stop me! Losing is not an option! And neither is giving up!"

◇On his face, just like Leo, a painted shock appeared. You never boasted about being able to imitate voices! Amazing.

◇He's genuinely thrilled with this discovery.

"Oh, here you are, princess! Accept my love, or I'll kidnap you and lock you in my fortress forever!"

◇A genuine laugh escaped from the boy's lips, causing a blush of satisfaction on your face. Even though Bowser was Raphael's favorite comfort character, Peach was second, so why not play out such a scene?

◇And so, for the rest of the evening, you chased each other around the Lair, playing your roles, and incidentally involving the others in the fun.

◇Raph felt at least momentarily free from unhealthy stress, and he's grateful to you for that.

Donatello

◇"Oh fuck, damn it, I'm about to smash this thing--!"

◇Yes, this string of curses was uttered by none other than the teenage genius Donatello Hamato. And why? It's simple; he was trying to improve one of his battle shells, but for the past few hours, he couldn't get anything done.

◇His mind was exhausted, and his three-fingered hands ached every time he took one of his screwdrivers. He couldn't take it anymore!

◇Finally, Mikey suggested he take a break from it all, so Donnie put on his favorite purple hoodie and left the house. Where could he go? Simple.

"Oh, hey D, what's up?" [Y.N]'s voice echoed through their room as they noticed the window opening out of the corner of their eye. Soft-shell didn't respond, and if anything, he snorted softly as he closed the entrance and sat down next to the teenager who was currently sitting on the floor, leaning against their bed while watching an anime he wasn't familiar with yet. "Everything okay?" They asked, this time giving theri full attention to the boy next to them. His face indicated negative emotions, which worried [Y.N.] a bit.

"Not really." that's all that came out of the boy's mouth as he tucked his hands into his pockets and rested his head on their shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know."

◇Now you were quite worried about your boyfriend. Something must have happened, and Donnie needed comfort.

◇You suggested rewatching his favorite series where Atomic Lass appeared, and the boy agreed.

◇You knew that this character was his childhood idol, and knowing from your experiences, every child would want to hear something nice from their favorite character, so you decided to take a risk.

"You can do it, Donnie!"

◇You felt the boy shudder, and he immediately pulled away to look at you with disbelief written on those artificial eyebrows. He had known about your skills for a long time, but usually, they were used for ordinary jokes.

◇You smiled slightly, leaning closer to the turtle.

"Now, will you tell me what happened?"

◇And miraculously, it worked. Your boyfriend struggled a bit, but he finally shared what was bothering him, allowing you to support him.

◇And then there was fun with voice imitations again.

"Oh, oh! Do Dio! Or Gojo!"

Michelangelo

◇Mikey knew from the very beginning of your relationship that you had excellent voice imitation skills.

◇He even used that (with your permission, of course) to dub his webcomics!

◇However, other than that, you didn't use this skill until now.

◇Because your boyfriend was going through a slight breakdown related to drawing, specifically facing an art block.

◇So when he once again threw his pencil and started acting like a sulking child over the lack of a lollipop, you decided to step in.

◇Knowing that one of his comfort characters is Yatora Yaguchi, you decided to imitate him right then.

"Give yourself some time, Mikey!"

◇He looked at you slightly surprised from behind his shoulders, and a moment later, he smiled warmly.

◇Honestly, comforting Mikey is the easiest thing, so after a while, he took a break to spend time with you.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x you #rise leo x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise raph x reader #rottmnt x reader #headcanons

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silverskye13 · 1 year ago

Text

"In the deep dark woods

In the hermit lands

There lies an ancient fortress

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go.

There the trees are tall

And the ice, it bites

See it's buried in the snow

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go."

Scar adjusted his grip on the reigns as his sled continued on through the snow. For the last day of his trip, the ground started doing its best impression of a mountain glacier -- more ice than anything -- and while it made for better footing for the horse, his ride had gotten noticeably more uncomfortable over bumps and rocks. The ground just sounded harder here, and the myriad of jostles made him wince. Still, it was far safer than sledding down the river, which marked itself as a tempting makeshift road, winding through the valley. He could see runner tracks on it, something he was sure the locals found reassuring, maybe even integral to survival in the cold, dark winter. Scar wasn’t from here though, and the rivers he knew were temperamental and treacherous. One fall into frigid water was more than enough to end a life, and had ended several in the town he came from. So he watched the river warily and let his horse pick her way across the snow-laden banks.

"Abandoned by

It's craftsman's hands

And cursed by all that see it

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go

The dungeon keeper

Sleeps deep inside

With the spirits he's devoured

Where the wary dare not go-ee-oh

Where the wary dare not go."

Scar’s sleigh hit a root, or some animal's bolthole or something, forcing a sudden, heavy lurch through the sleigh. He winced at the loud rattle of his supplies as they threatened to tumble out. Across his legs, Jellie let out a low, complaining rumble. The massive white and gray snow cat, currently doing the very important job of keeping his legs and feet warm, cracked an accusing green eye at him, as though it were his fault the ground was so bumpy.

Scar ruffled a hand through her fur placatingly. "Oh hush, you big 'ol lazy thing. You’ve done nothing but sleep all day, anyway.”

Jellie let out a loud harrumph, the white bloom of her breath freezing against her whiskers. Her eye closed again, and she didn’t make another sound.

"Lazy cat," Scar hummed affectionately, and ran his gloved hand across her fur again. He was tempted to take the glove off so he could feel the softness of her coat, but he resisted the urge. Scar has never known a cold like the cold in this part of the world. He knew winter, sure, everyone did, but there was something malicious and present in the way the cold worked here. It was the kind of cold that seeped into bones and rotted there, blueing and blackening the skin, almost sentient in its ferocity. Even lacking any wind save for the breeze of the running sleigh, the air here gnaws and tears like an animal, like peeling skin. Even the trees, blasted and twisted and tenacious, mark the winter wind's passing with the lean of their trunks. Evergreen needles bristled in undulating waves, sparsely broken by the dead, leafless limbs of deciduous trees. Here and there, trunks ruptured and scarred by the aftermath of freezing sap shattering them open stood like gravestones amidst their crowding kin.

It’s the dark remains of leafed trees that Scar finds the most interesting. While seasons do happen here, he had always been told it was too cold in this part of the world for a proper summer. There was only a season where it rained and iced more than it snowed. The fact that leafed trees had even tried to claim these forests was a marvel, here where even the evergreens started dying off the further he went. It was a bitter reminder to him that some of the death from this winter wasn't all from brutal, natural cold.

"In the deep dark woods

In the hermit lands

There lies an ancient fortress…"

Scar hummed to himself quietly, craning his head back to watch the looming, dark shape rising against the sky. The Frozen Citadel glared down at him with toothy, icicle sneers that laced every dark window and balcony. Its great black towers splintered the sky like obsidian blades, and icy ribcages clutched the spine of the road to its entrance. Despite the terror and foreboding the Citadel instilled, Scar felt a thrill of excitement as it grew nearer. It was like standing in the shadow of the corpse of some ancient monster, unfathomably old, unapologetic in its claim to existence. Villages die. Frost melts. Bones turn to dust. The Frozen Citadel remains.

"And we're going to get inside it," Scar grinned, and the frigid air on his teeth made his jaw ache.

Scar’s sleigh found the old cobbled road and glided across it, a flea scaling the trunk of a mastodon. The horse slowed its gait the farther up the road they went, casting nervous glances to the dead and dying vegetation around the Citadel. So close to the great structure, the trees looked more like ice sculptures than any living thing, and had probably died centuries ago, though the layers of ice built around them kept their silhouettes ever still. The world here was deafeningly quiet. All the small crawling, flying things of the forest didn’t dare stir, if they lived here at all. Even the wolves, haunting companions that had stalked Scar across the wilderness, had stopped their howling several hours ago. There was only the creaking of branches, the crackling of brittle snow, and the sleigh. Fanciful things came to him in the silence: the impression of a shout or an echo, the jibber of whispered voices, the refrains of old campfire songs. It was thrilling and strange to know the only thing making a sound around here was him. Haunting, oh, that was a good word. To admit it was haunting though, would be to admit he found it scary, and he couldn’t do that. Scar hadn’t admitted he was scared since he first read about the Citadel in his bedroom as a kid, hadn’t admitted he was scared when Jellie was still vicious and tried to bite his hands when he trained her, hadn’t admitted he was scared when he bought his sleigh and his horse and first struck out nearly three weeks ago. He would not admit he was scared now.

The horse knickered nervously, ears pressing back, and finally hauled them up to the Citadel entrance -- or as close to the entrance as the horse would allow. The gaping, toothy, maw-like doorway yawned open in front of them, showing the glimmer of blue fire within. He tried to coax the horse forward, reasoning to it about warmth and shelter and food, but something about the mouth-like portal made it rear and whinny, and finally give the sleigh a heavy kick with its back hooves.

“Alright alright! You don’t have to be so angry about it, stupid thing!” Scar chastised it, though he wasn’t able to keep the grin from his face. He could make camp outside, that was fine. Or maybe he would just picket the horse out here and make his camp inside. Yes, he liked that idea a lot, actually. Then he and Jellie would be safe and warm as close to the treasure as he could get, and tomorrow, oh tomorrow, he would delve in. Scar rubbed his stiff hands together greedily, and cleared his throat.

“Alright Jellie, time to work!”

At the command, Jellie harrumphed one more time and got to her feet, shaking out her fur. The moment her weight was off of Scar’s legs, a cold chill darted its way up his spine. He wiggled his toes -- All still mobile and full of feeling! -- and pulled his legs over the side of the sleigh.

“Help me down, Jellie,” Scar hummed pleasantly, and the large cat hunkered down beside him, the soft handles of her cloth harness within his reach. In a practiced motion (that had really taken way too long to train in hindsight) Jellie pulled her owner out of the sleigh, supporting most of his weight on her back as she went. When he was secure on the ground, she trotted to the spot at the back of the cart where the smaller toboggan was hooked in place. She pulled it to him, patiently waited as he got situated inside, and waited even longer as he clasped her harness to its tethers with his clumsy mittens.

“Alright!” Scar crowed triumphantly when everything was in place and securely fastened. “Take us in Jellie!”

The great snow cat shook out her fur and started forward, only bristling a little as she stepped towards the shadow of the Citadel’s interior.

“Absolutely not!” a voice boomed suddenly, startling both cat and handler to a stop. “Are you stupid or what? Get-- get away from that door!"

Scar turned as best he could in his toboggan to look over his shoulder -- at the three horses and riders who seemed to have popped out of the snow. Two of them he noticed, with the startled clarity of someone who wasn’t used to being on the business end of a weapon, had bows and arrows trained in his direction.

Scar, for lack of anything else to do, smiled and raised his hands -- partly in greeting, but mostly to keep from being poked full of arrows. “Well hello there!”

#the barking writer #decked out 2 #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimewithscar #decked out 2 au #No Place of Honor #This is No Place of Honor #No Place of Warmth #<- just gonna throw all my working titles there because why tf not #anyway im not working on another big project <- lying

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