#JUST MAYBE IM GOING TO YOU FOR ACTUAL MEDICAL HELP | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inosukijiro · 1 month

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𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ᝰ 𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗢𝗞𝗔

ᯓ 𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 : no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

ᯓ btw thank you so much for all the love and support on my last two posts. literally you all are so incredibly sweet !! ♡♡ i just graduated college so i might have a bit more time to write but no promises!

! 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ¡ : none. giyuu might be a little ooc. and most, if not all of my readers will be referenced from the modern era because i really enjoy that concept. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

thank you for reading !! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

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inkskinned · 1 year

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im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

#i hope you are okay #i wish i could help more #i hope the pain eases soon #and i hope that you stay #ps . to those of you reading this thinking i should help you too: please just dm me #it makes me really #really really scared when it's anonymous #bc i cant check in with u #i am not a professional and i am not actually good at helping ppl through their troubles #this is an exception bc they are 16 #not the rule #ps if u misunderstand ''being a teenager is the hardest thing i ever did'' when i mention briefly that i was in unsafe housing...#trust me. it was worse there. by like A HUGE margin #every person raised in unsafe housing nodding their head like . oh yeah worse stuff TECHNICALLY happened after but leaving that home was #legit the hardest thing i ever did

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

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hihi

I hope you're doing well :>

Can I request a law x reader period comfort fic that's just pure fluff. with the back rubs and all the good stuff??

Thanks!!

thank you so much for your request anon! I actually got two period-related requests, so i decided to combine them into one fic, i hope that's alright! im currently under the onslaught of the red devil myself as of right now, so writing this was perfect for me. i hope its perfect for you both as well!!!

Warm Away the Pain

Law x Fem Reader

Heat pads, chocolates, and painkillers are nice, but nothing helps your period more than being in the presence of the Surgeon of Death.

Warnings: some suggestive language, mild descriptions of period symptoms, menstruation in general! lots of fluff with our favorite surgeon <3

“Just take this thing out of me!” Your tears were streaming rapidly down your puffy cheeks as you forced open the door to the medical bay, clutching your abdomen and hunching over with the agony ripping through your gut. Your cramps had days where they were better or worse, but today seemed to be the most awful they had ever been. You had barely been able to walk from the Captain’s quarters to the medical ward, the force of each step against the cold metal floors of the Polar Tang sending another stabbing burn directly through your uterus. It wasn’t like you were new to experiencing menstruation aboard a deep-sea submarine, either, but today seemed particularly keen on making you as miserable as humanly possible.

Law was caught by surprise when you entered, your voice cracking as you sobbed. His golden eyes were wide with shock as he turned in his chair to face you, ignoring the stack of paperwork he was previously fixated on and immediately standing, crossing the floor in broad steps to capture your face in his hands. His thin eyebrows were scrunched in concern, a prominent crease in the skin above his nose. “Hey, baby, breathe for me,” he coaxed, rubbing your swollen, tear-stricken skin with the pad of his thumb. “Breathe. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You knew you were being irrational. You had dealt with cramps for years before you met Law, but when you had spent the better part of six hours with nonstop scorching irons being driven through your uterus, rationality was the furthest thing from your mind. You sunk into your boyfriend’s shoulder, his lanky arms looping around you to support your weary form, carefully guiding you to the hard examination table in the corner of the medical room.

“My cramps…” you heaved. “They’re so bad. I’m in so much pain. I just want you to take this damn thing out of me. Put me out of my misery, even.”

Law’s tiny smile was sympathetic as he gazed down at you, one hand stroking your forehead and the other placed gently above your lower abdomen, providing fleeting touches over where your shirt covered your skin. Your muscles definitely felt tender, and you were certainly bloated, all tell-tale symptoms of a particularly bad menstruation cycle.

“How about we start with painkillers and some external remedies,” he offered, his usually stoic, cold voice now soft and soothing as he placed a fleeting kiss over your nose. The privacy that the medical bay provided allowed him to comfortably litter you with tender affection away from the prying eyes of your crewmates. “When you start to feel better, and you still want a hysterectomy, we can discuss it.”

Your eyes slowly opened, darting to meet him. “A hysterectomy?”

“The surgical removal of your uterus,” he clarified.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows slightly. “Maybe not…” you muttered. “Let’s go with your painkiller idea.”

Your sudden attitude switch made a small chuckle bubble from Law’s lips as he turned away from you and paced toward the medicine cabinet, procuring a decently sized pill and a small metal cup of water. The white capsule was in the palm of his hand when he returned to your front, holding the items out for you to take. Despite the uncomfortable size of the medicine, you swallowed it with no issue helped by a generous gulp of the lukewarm water from the Tang’s filtration tap. The mild, salty aftertaste of the refined liquid lingered on the back of your tongue.

“That should take about 30 minutes to kick in,” Law muttered, taking the cup from your hand once more to sanitize it. “In the meantime, we can try some other remedies.”

“What do you have?” you asked, gazing skeptically around the dark, sterile room.

“We have a few heat pads that Ikkaku brought with her when she joined, a bath, cinnamon or ginger tea…” he rambled, cleaning out and drying the cup, turning around to lean against the counter to face you. “Massages can help relieve the tension in your muscles. Or you can orgasm.”

Heat rushed to your face. “How do you know that?”

Law’s own cheeks tinted with a very faint blush. “Reading,” he stated bluntly.

The gaze he directed toward you told you everything you needed to know- he had done more than his fair share of research on feminine health as soon as the two of you solidified your relationship. But as much as the idea of being swept off your feet by your doting captain and carried to your shared quarters for some time under the sheets sounded tempting, the rippling cramps flowing through your lower belly silenced the sultry thought almost instantaneously.

“A massage sounds pretty nice… and a hot bath…” you muttered, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers.

You were half expecting Law to simply nod and tell you to run yourself a bath, leaving him alone to continue his work in peace and quiet. The surprise that jolted you from your quiet demeanor was more than welcome, however, when he stepped across the room to plant a swift kiss against your soft lips. His own were curled in a small grin, reserved yet still so genuine that it made your heart flutter within the confines of your ribcage.

“If you give me about 10 minutes to clean up here,” he began, nodding his head in the direction of his paperwork left on the counter from when you originally entered, “... then I’ll meet you in the washroom. Alright?”

With heat thrumming through your veins, your boyfriend’s proximity so close you could feel the way his scent practically blanketed around you, you meekly nodded, barely uttering a peep. He helped you down from the examination table, his calloused hand firmly holding yours, and placed one more kiss against the back of your neck as you exited the medical bay and began your trek to the Polar Tang’s washroom. The entire submarine only had one designated bathing area, with a few shower stalls and a toilet and sink, along with a deep, metal bathtub in the corner. While the crew usually followed a strict schedule for bathing time, it was very rare that anyone would be using the space in the middle of the day.

A grin tugged on your lips as you walked through the narrow corridors.

—

You were already submerged in the bathtub when Law entered, steam rising off the surface of the water as you sunk yourself up to your neck in the hot liquid, a thin layer of lavender-scented bubbles floating around the surface of the water and covering bits of your glistening skin. Your eyes were closed in bliss as the sweet, herbal scent decompressed you from the inside out, but Law’s delicate chuckle broke you from your trance. He had a small, unlabeled bag in his hands which he placed on the sink counter.

“Looks like you barely need a massage,” he hummed, slipping his shirt over his head and folding it neatly on top of your clothes. He had absolutely zero need to remove his shirt if he didn’t plan on sitting in the tub with you, but you weren’t about to complain against the wonderful view presented to your sight.

“I still need a massage,” you quickly quipped back, sitting up straighter in the hot water. You leaned your arms out over the side, hands flexing in a motion to encourage your beloved to come closer and grace your taught skin with the presence of his deft fingers. Your eyes found the bag Law had entered the bathing room with. “What’s in the bag?”

Law took the parcel and, after slipping off his socks, knelt beside the bathtub next to you. He opened the paper container and held it out in front of you. “Milk chocolates.”

Your eyes lit up, a sopping wet hand dipping into the bag to procure one of the bite-sized morsels, an aluminum wrapping surrounding the sweet. You carefully unwrapped it with eager hands and glittering eyes as Law watched, the corners of his eyes creased with his smile. When the chocolate finally passed your lips and sat on your tongue, you melted further into the bathtub, the sweetness of the candy flowing and mixing effortlessly with the supple scent of lavender floating through the air. Law almost dropped the bag to grab your shoulders, afraid you would slip under the water.

“Law, you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, your eyes closed and your lips pursed as you sucked on the chocolate, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

“No such thing as ‘too good’ in my eyes,” he retorted, a playful lilt in his voice. He returned the bag to the sink counter before taking his place behind your shoulders, stretching his hands before they found purchase against your skin.

Law was good at many things, but the way his fingers worked the knots out of your back and shoulders was a level of bliss unlike any other. Sure, food, bathing, and sex were great, but the feeling of your muscles pulling apart and relaxing with each rotation of his wrists and press of his thumb pads into your soft skin was euphoric. He worked out taught portions you didn’t even know you had, your shoulders slowly sinking downward as he rubbed you into oblivion.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low, reverberating off of the metal walls surrounding you.

“Like I could die happily at any moment,” you replied, the chocolate in your mouth now fully melted and gone down your throat. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a god with those hands of yours?”

Law chuckled, the feeling of his shoulders bouncing coming through his hands on your skin. “Once or twice. This girl on my crew likes to tell me that. Not sure if you’ve ever met her.”

Your lips curling into a smirk, you happily played along with his banter. “Hmm… can’t say I have. Describe her for me?”

“She’s really over dramatic. She came into my office this morning complaining about some period cramps. I’ve seen her take hits from swords and bullets on the battlefield with less griping.” A laugh bubbled from his chest as you swiftly pivoted below the water, splashing his bare skin with the warm bath water.

“Well I think she was being perfectly rational!” you retorted, leaning back against the tub and allowing your boyfriend to resume his ministrations against a particularly rough not off to the left side of your spine. “Period cramps are no laughing matter.”

“So I’ve heard…” he mumbled back, his smirk remaining on his face as he worked. “It’s alright, though. She’s cute when she whines.”

More heat flowed through your arteries, unrelated to the temperature of the bath you were submerged in. If you stayed in here any longer, you were convinced you might pass out by overheating. Wouldn’t be the first time, the water heater in the Tang’s boiler room was no joke.

Law leaned forward once more and placed a smattering of kisses along your damp shoulders. “Really, though, how are you feeling? Has the bath helped?”

You nodded, leaning your head back against his tattooed chest, your eyes closed. “I’m feeling a whole lot better… still pretty achy, but I think the pain medicine has finally kicked in. My cramps aren’t nearly as bad as they were this morning.”

Law’s hands traveled from your shoulders to your arms, basically draping his body over you to rub tender circles against your inner wrists, submerging his own hands under the water. “As much as I hate to ruin the moment, it’s not good to stay in a hot bath for too long.” He took your hands from below the surface, holding your palms inward to face you. “You’re pruning.”

Indeed, the pads of your fingers had become incredibly wrinkled with how long you had been bathing. Your palms were showing prominent ridges in your skin. “All good things must come to an end,” you uttered wistfully, leaning forward to pull the plug on the bath drain.

“Not necessarily,” Law stated back firmly, standing up and stretching his lean back. “I have the rest of the day free thanks to Uni and Clione’s watch shift. Whatever you want to do to make you feel better, I’m here.”

You turned toward your boyfriend, eyes widened with pure shock. “Are you serious?”

An affirmative nod and a sly smile answered you. As the water drained from the basin, you gingerly stepped out of the tub and enveloped the Surgeon of Death in your arms, now desperate for another source of warmth as your skin pierced against the contrasting cold air of the surrounding bathroom. “The entire day?” you asked, reaffirming what you had just heard.

“The next 13 or so hours,” he replied, his hands taking up their usual perch against the small of your back, rubbing small circles into the tiny knots situated near your rump just as he had been doing to your shoulders.

“You mean you have time to cuddle? And read Sora? Or make me something good to eat for dinner?” Your eyes were practically shimmering as you gazed up at the captain.

“Well I can’t promise any good food, but the cuddling and Sora I can guarantee,” he offered, releasing you from his grasp long enough to snatch a towel from the nearby linen shelf and drape it around your goosebump-riddled shoulders. “I grabbed one of the heat packs from Ikkaku and put it in our room. I can see who’s on cooking duty tonight to make you a good meal.”

You grinned from ear to ear, your skin thrumming with the bountiful affection your beloved showered you in. You carefully tucked the corner of the towel that wrapped around your body under your armpit to hold it in place, Law’s hands dropping from your shoulders to your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into your pelvic bone through the rough fibers of the aged towel.

“Go get dressed into something comfy,” he uttered, his voice low. “I’ll meet you back in bed, hopefully with some food that you’ll like.”

You leaned forward, trying to ignore the subdued throbbing in your abdomen that returned once out of the warm, soothing bath, and placed a kiss on the tip of Law’s pointed nose. “Aye aye, captain.”

—

The feeling of soft cotton surrounding your skin was beyond blissful as you sprawled out on the bed you shared with Law, almost taking up the entire space with your outstretched limbs. The heat pack from Ikkaku was laid across your belly above the sweatshirt you stole from your boyfriend, providing a comforting heat that relaxed the muscles contracting in your abdomen with every movement. If this was how bad your cramps could get, you didn’t even want to imagine how awful childbirth could feel. You shoved that worrying thought to the back of your mind and let the heat from the fabric pack on your body flow through your veins, leaving pleasant electric tingles on the tips of your fingers and toes. On the nightstand beside your head was a tall glass of water, a bottle of painkillers, and the same bag of chocolates Law had brought into the bathroom with you. Three discarded chocolate wrappers also dotted the tiny table. When Law finally entered your room again, his hands carrying a small tray of food from the galley, you barely had the energy to pick your head up to greet him. Instead, you lazily raised your hand in a small wave before flopping it back down on the blanket beside you.

“How’re you doing?” he asked yet again, moving aside some of the items on the bedside table to place the metal tray down. The smell of some sort of vegetable soup filled your nose- Hakugan must have cooked tonight.

You simply grumbled, resisting the urge to turn your head. Every movement seemed to respark the cramps deep in your belly. “Waiting for the painkillers to kick in again.”

“Is the heat pack helping?” he asked, running his hand gently over the soft skin of your forehead.

“Mhm… kinda,” you whispered. You slowly opened your eyes, finally meeting the golden ones that gazed back down at you. “Did you bring soup?”

“Yeah,” he replied, removing his hand from your hairline and crawling onto the bed beside you, slipping his arm carefully over your waist to hold you close to him. “You don’t have to eat it right now if you don’t have an appetite, but it’s there when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, baby…” you muttered, shimmying closer to his body despite the ache in your legs. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me today… honestly.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Law mumbled into your hair. “I love doting on you. I just wish I could do it more often.” His hand idly stroked your abdomen up and down over your heat pack, applying a gentle, calming pressure over the parts of your skin that weren’t as close to your uterus and wouldn’t hurt as much to touch. “As much as I hate seeing you suffering and in pain, I like days like this.”

“Where you can just relax?” you asked, turning your head to hide your nose in the warmth of his neck.

“Yup,” Law replied. “Relax with you, more specifically.”

The two of you laid in a calm, peaceful silence, the thrumming of the Polar Tang’s engine reverberating through the walls and the steady cadence of your synchronized breathing lulling your muscles into a deep state of relaxation. As the ache in your belly diminished with the onslaught of a peaceful slumber, you felt Law press one last kiss to the crown of your head as your body dozed off, ready to sleep off the rest of your aches for the day.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #request fics

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actuallyverynormalbtw · 8 months

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i dont like to talk about self-diagnosis because i dont enjoy people making assumptions about me, my illnesses, and my diagnostic status. but i will say:

i have self diagnosed and gone on to be medically validated with an official diagnosis. multiple times actually. i was never wrong about my self-diagnoses.

however, i have been misdiagnosed by professionals FIVE TIMES. and let me tell you, a professional diagnosis being wrong is far more harmful than a self-diagnosis being wrong.

if your self diagnosis is wrong, maybe you used the wrong language or put yourself in a box or now feel invalid and whatnot. but if your professional diagnosis is wrong, it can lead to abuse, medical trauma, panic attacks, issues with medication, even suicide.

i was misdiagnosed with BPD when i was 15 by a psychologist that i spoke to for hardly even 10 minutes. this diagnosis was based on my parent's description of my reactions to abuse, and the diagnosis was used to validate and excuse their abuse.

i was misdiagnosed with MDD when i was 12 and put through several different types of anti-depressants. we never found anything that worked, because it was actually ADHD and dissociation, but i did end up with panic attacks and insomnia all throughout middle/highschool!

when i self-diagnosed with autism however, it saved my life. it took me out of active suicidality because i was able to finally able to accept myself after years of feeling like i am just "being a person wrong". i had the knowledge to accomodate for myself and the language to advocate for myself. this was life changing. even if i was wrong, which i wasnt, i dont see how it couldve caused any harm.

my opinions on self-diagnoses arent black and white, and im not entirely settled on them either, but i do think this is important to understand. doctors and psychologists are not all knowing. we live in a time where we can access thousands of dollars worth of university level education on the internet, even the same exact resources medical students use. plenty of people are capable of interpreting themselves and that information to come to a conclusion about what they are experiencing and what might help.

sure, self-diagnosis might be biased. but a professional is most likely going to be just as biased, and possibly less aware of it. its just silly to use bias as a primary argument when it is an inescapable feature of human psychology. there is a reason ADHD is underdiagnosed in women. there is a reason anxiety disorders are underdiagnosed in men.

an incorrect self-diagnosis wont take away resources or your space in your comminities. but professional misdiagnosis can cause real damage.

(i am not trying to fear-monger about professional diagnosis, moreso responding to the fear-mongering surrounding self-diagnosis)

#self diagnosis #psych critical #actually mentally ill #self diagnosed autism #anti psych #anti psychiatry #discourse tw #tw discourse #madpunk #neurodivergent #neuropunk

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years

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Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself.

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities.

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too.

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it.

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you.

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said.

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder.

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest.

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac.

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills.

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case.

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric.

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke.

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you.

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound.

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment.

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound.

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?"

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn.

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again.

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him.

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last.

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again.

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face."

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not.

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared.

He trusted you.

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe.

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so.

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded.

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face.

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.”

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.”

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in.

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again.

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though."

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that."

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too.

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…"

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew.

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting.

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself.

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively.

"Simon your arm—"

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it.

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him.

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered.

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight.

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?"

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod.

"Words love, use 'em."

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You.

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups.

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.”

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that?

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket.

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already.

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.”

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead.

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand.

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach.

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke.

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it.

“Yes Lieutenant!”

“Good. Good girl.”

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you.

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!”

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand.

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself.

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand.

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased.

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly.

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess.

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly.

“Yes ma’am.”

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time.

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick.

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath.

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while.

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it.

“Yeah? You want more?”

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it.

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself.

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries.

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes.

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before.

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.”

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears.

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him.

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too.

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you.

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier.

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke.

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.”

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up.

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently.

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.”

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words.

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley

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zvdvdlvr · 5 months

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Okay but hear me out Hotch's love language is acts of service. That man is a caregiver and maybe I'm projecting because I'm currently taking care of my own stitches but like if you were hurt in the field and got cut by a knife or something he would absolutely go out of his way to clean your wound and rebandage you as needed. Or like if you burnt your hand grabbing a hot pan or something while you guys were making dinner 🥲 he's just so soft

Yes. Absolutely. This is literally him.

Aaron’s always gonna blame himself, no matter if it really is his fault or not; so taking care of you in any way, shape, or form is always gonna be an opportunity Aaron will take.

Even if you aren’t dating Aaron still wants to help patch you up because thats just the kinda guy he is :))

im giggling thinking about being in a relationship woth Hotch and him sitting you down to rewrap a bandage, put vaseline or aquaphor on your stitches, or even putting ointment on a burn.

Boyfriend!Hotch fawning over tou after you burn yourself making dinner for you, him, and Jack!!!!!!! He would undoubtedly drop everything and run over after hearing you hiss in pain and cuss quietly (he admires how you try not to cuss in fromt of Jack). “Oh, honey,” he’d coo and pull you over to the sink. I NEED HIM TO CALL ME ‘HONEY’, YOUR HONOR.

Can you imagine him kissing the bandage too after you cracked a joke about him kissing Jack’s boo-boos?? 😥😥 i actually need him.

OKOKOKOK

imagine you just got cut by an unsub:

It wasn’t Hotch’s fault, no matter how much you tried to reassure him as the medics stitched up the admittedly deep cut on your thigh.

The unsub, you tried to reason with him, was just a hunter with very good aim and a warped mind. But Hotch wouldn’t have it. He literally wrapped your arm over his shoulder so he could walk you out to the medics, paced on the ground outside the ambulance, and refused to let you drive to the plane and hotel without him.

So that’s where you are now: opening your door for Hotch and Jack to enter your house.

“Hi, y/n!” Jack greeted, throwing himself out to hug y/n’s legs. You patted his back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey kiddo,” you greeted, trying to hide the wince on your face before Aaron saw.

But he did. “I, uh, told Jack you got hurt and he… decided he would throw a fit until he came to make sure you weren’t sad.”

That made you smile; yeah, Hotch, blamd it on Jack. “You’re the sweetest, Jackie-boy. No way any one could be sad around you,” you practically sang, picking the boy up. “Come in, Hotch. I see that first-aid kit you have.”

Hotch pretended not to see the way you favored your uninjured leg over the other when you set Jack on the couch, already knowing what movie he wanted to watch.

“Hey,” you said finally, “Jack’s watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier.” You took a seat at the table.

“He was excited about coming to see you,” Aaron admits. “He told me that you’re his favorite because you ‘like Captain America, always have candy, and make sure he’s never sad’, according to him.”

You laugh a little, but your heart is swollen up in your chest like a balloon. You’re Jack’s favorite? “So… tell me why you’re really here, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You pause, seeing Hotch’s eye contact falter. “What?”

“You can call me Aaron. We aren’t at the office, so I don’t see a problem in you calling me Aaron. And my son is on your couch, so…” He trails off, a smile pulling at his lips.

You think you can feel little a butterfly volcano erupt in your stomach. You’re hot boss is smiling at you. Inside your house. “So,” you start again, voice quieter this time, “why are you here, Aaron?” You want to scream. Hotch’s name on your tongue felt foreign but you really wanted to get used to calling him by his first name.

“I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself after getting,” he paused, thinking of the blood staining your pants when he first saw you, “cut up by the unsub.”

“If you want me to take my pants off, you just have to ask,” you scoffed, tugging down your sweatpants to reveal a bloodied bandage wrapped in gauze. Your shirt was oversized, falling to just above the end of the gauze. “I changed the wrap a couple hours ago, but I got bored and moved some stuff around and it probably started bleeding,” you explained, watching Aaron pull set your leg on the chair he was sitting in to rewrap your injury.

“Y-This is okay?” He asked, large hands hovering directly over your skin.

After nodding, you swallowed as you watched Aaron carefully unwrapped the thin gauze and inspected the dark red patterns staining the bandage.

He doesn’t say a word as he rips the bandage off, not saying a word when he feels your hand fly to his shoulder for support- something that makes him flush a little.

“Aaron, I can do it mysel-“

“Let me take care of you,” he interrupts, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes that he does so well and you know you’d listen to him if he told you to rip your heart out of your chest and give it to him just because he’s got you wrapped around his pinkie.

“Okay.”

Despite the movie in the background, you both fall into silence; afraid to break the silence.

He had to admit, Aaron hadn’t felt so giddy in a while. Even here, on his knees in your home, Aaron found himself once again questioning if he wanted to make a move. He felt you squeeze his shoulder a little as he dabbed some cold ointment on the stitches but he wanted to feel your hands on him. Rewrapping the bandage would be the awkward part: having to get his hands very close to your sex.

“Do you want to do it?” Aaron asked.

“I think you should. I might mess it up or something,” you shrug, clearly lying. But Aaron wanted you to lie.

So carefully, gingerly, Aaron wrapped the guaze over the bandage, hands gliding over your thigh to make sure the thin material would stay.

“Done,” he announced. “Does it feel okay? Not too tight? Too loose?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

He looked up at you. “y/n?”

“I think… my thigh’s a little sore. You uh, might need to kiss my boo-boo to make sure I feel better.”

A sly smile grew on Aaron’s face while he watched your face turn red and you avoiding eye contact.

So Aaron leaned over and pressed his lips to the sterile gauze, kissing the material covering your skin.

The butterfly volcano had successfully self destructed, making every body part possible buzz at the sight of Aaron leaning over you.

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buckyalpine · 2 years

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Hi! I hope you feel better soon 💜 I have funny lil request if you are at all interested. So Bucky has a lil crush on the reader, and one day walks by their room and hears something that makes him a bit jealous. He hears the reader giggling, and saying stuff jokingly like "Stop Charlie, that tickles!" or "You're so handsome," and Bucky becomes sad because he thinks the reader has found someone. But then he later finds out that the reader was actually dog sitting for a friend. What happens next is up to you, and feel free to change anything to make it more interesting! I chose Charlie as a random dog name that's also human, but its just an example. If you find any inspiration from this, I encourage you to take it in absolutely any direction you want! (as long as it has a happy ending, bc Im a sucker for happy endings hehe)

okay what I find hilarious and amazing about this is I HAVE HAD THIS EXAAACT SAME IDEA, WHY DID I NEVER WRITE IT. THIS IS SO ADORABLE. This is a sign. From the universe.

The only thing I'm changing here is the name because I find it hilarious when dogs have more common people names.

It started off with your sweet smiles, they’re so contagious, he can’t help but smile back. He starts to find his heart jumping a little whenever you’re around, he almost goes to Bruce to get a medical check up cause why is his heart doing that. Stop that. He can’t control the way you make him blush and he realizes he likes you. Likes you likes you. Its a cute little crush he has that he tries to keep a secret because its just a little crush, nothing to get worked up over.

He’s too scared to ask you out, he gets tongue tied the second he tries to attempt anything.

It all goes sideways he walks by your room one day.

"Daniel, bubba you're too heavy to be lying on me like this!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Maybe he heard wrong.

"Baby, stop that tickles"

Baby? You never mentioned dating anyone before.

"Hey! You can't get away with that just because you're so handsome"

Bucky blinked, his jaw clenching, who the fuck was this Daniel, and why he with you. He wanted to know exactly how “handsome” this punk was, making you giggle and laugh, he should be the one doing that.

"Hmmm, you know you're so handsome don't you baby"

Bucky shook his head, huffing to his room to pout, he had to find out who the hell this guy was. Or not. If was sure he’d probably punch the guy in the neck.

Imagine his surprise when he over hears the team just casually talking to you about Daniel.

With Sam

Sam: So how's Daniel doing? You: He's good, I'm going to see him later today if I have some time, we might go for a walk in the park

Sam: Aww, the weather’s supposed to be nice out, maybe you can even stop by the lake!

With Tony

You: Daniel's coming over later, is that okay?

Tony: Sure, just don't make a mess in the living room like last time

You: Sorry, I'll keep him in check

Tony: He’s great otherwise, you should bring him around more often

Bucky nearly saw stars with that conversation, the last thing he needed was more of you and Daniel. The final straw was when he heard you talking to Steve.

Steve: You think I can steal Daniel from you

You: I’m sure he’d love that, he loves going on runs with you, I can’t keep up with his energy

Steve: He’s great, wish he was around more often, let me know when he’s coming by next

Okay, stealing his crush was one thing, but Bucky drew the boundary at this clown moving in on his best friend too.

*****

“Can you tell me what the hell is so great about Daniel” Bucky huffed, fidgeting with his fingers, sitting on the couch while Sam tinkered with redwing.

“What do you mean what’s so great, he’s amazing! He’s friendly, he’s great with kids, he’s super sweet, gets along with everyone. You haven’t met him?”

“No” Bucky rolled his eyes, every time he thought it was bad, it got worse. Now the guy was great with kids too. Fantastic. Before Sam could respond, Bucky hear you call for him.

“Oh my God Bucky!! You have to meet Daniel!” You ran up to him, bouncing on your feet. Every time Daniel had come by, Bucky had either been called away on a mission or busy with something. You’d been dying for him to meet your favorite baby in the whole world.

“I was busy y/n” Bucky tried to sound grumpy but he just couldn’t with you, pouting like a kicked puppy instead. He might as well meet the guy that seemed to have your heart.

“You were just sitting with Sam, please?” You gave him your best pout and Bucky melted instantly, nodding while you ran back again to show your favorite soldier your best fur baby.

Bucky’s eyes widened at the massive golden retriever that came bounding in, immediately pouncing on him and attacking him with kisses.

“Daniel!!” You tried to pull him off but he wasn’t having it, trying to snuggle himself into Bucky, keeping him pinned on the floor. “Baby, get off him, I told you you’re too big!”

“This-this is Daniel?” Bucky blinked between getting his face licked, too stunned to say much else

“Yeah! Why, who did you think it was”

“Your boyfriend” Sam snorted, watching the scene unfold in front of him, wiggling his eye brows at Bucky.

“I-no-” Bucky blushed, while sitting up slightly, petting the fluffy baby behind the ears, allowing him to sit in his lap.

“Man, shut up, just admit you were jealous over y/n 4 legged boyfriend”

“Did you think Daniel was my boyfriend?” you giggled, sitting down beside him, your heart beating a little faster when he bit his lip. Did he like you back? “Were you jealous?” you whispered, inching a little closer to him, while he smiled softly not meeting your eyes.

“Maybe a little”

You both inched closer and closer until your hand was brushing his, his fingers hesitantly intertwining with yours while Daniel happily made himself comfortable across your laps, his head resting on Bucky’s thigh. Tony and Steve entered the living room looking pleased when they saw how close the two of you were sitting.

“Ah, I see you met y/n’s boyfriend” Tony snorted while Bucky groaned, covering his face. “Cheating on Daniel now are we?” He nodded at your hand in Bucky’s while you laughed, kissing his cheek, making him blush more.

“Hmm, Bucky doesn’t mind a little competition”

“I hate all of you”

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