#if not then it's a very pleasant sensation! would recommend!

[annabelle--cane]

being a somewhat strange person, your friends and family get used to hearing strange things about you rather quickly, until you say something that would knock an unsuspecting classmate or coworker flat but your well-acclimated closer companion simply nods and says "stands to reason," so there's a certain joy in occasionally saying something so unusual that your own mother of twenty-one years puckers her lips in shock and says "marina... that's not normal..."

[honeybuckin10]

Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].  

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

-

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

-

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.  

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.  

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.  

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

-

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.  

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

 Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression.  Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Hi there! This story is a tribute to @redfoxwritesstuff story A Misdemeanor of the Heart. If you have not done so I'd strongly recommend reading it now, this is going to be a bit of a multi chapter series of dreams that slot into the canon placements of Misdemeanor but once Misdemeanor ends I will be making my own little smutty AU world out of it too, so this follows Alastor and You in a kinda blended parallel world if you will.

Cw: smut, non penetrative rutting.

Alastor x Reader.

... A bit of a prelude... This first dream isn't much of a surprise to him, he's had wet dreams before, and he's gotten used to your presence and has even started to feel rather fond of you atp so this won't cause him distress, this is a dream that will start mid smut already.

His dreamscape dropping him right in it but his mindset still controlling the fact that he knows he doesn't want penetrative sex with you due to your marriage so it's a bit of a subconscious desire to see you come undone for him in a way that would be agreeable to him in a very pleasant way.

But also it's a power struggle, he's feeling a bit powerless because he's not used to these sort of enotuons and with you trapped with another man it sets him on edge. (this is a bit early but should slot in around chapter 22)

Here's...

Inappropriate Demeanour. Chapter 1. (Wet.)

Alastor's eyes flash with triumph and delight at your actions, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he feels your warmth enveloping his throbbing cock. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he begins to move in slow, sensual circles, letting you adjust to the pleasure.

"Mmm, that's my good girl," he purrs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "You're learning so quickly. Just let go and enjoy the ride."

Alastor's hands roam your back, kneading and caressing the lush curves of your ass as he grinds against you with increasing urgency. His lips trail kisses along your collarbone, leaving a damp, heated path in their wake.

"You're absolutely right, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin. "This is more than okay. In fact, it's perfect. We can explore all the ways I can pleasure you without crossing that line... yet."

As he speaks, Alastor's fingers skim down the backs of your thighs. He squeezes and kneads the supple flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly against your slick heat.

"Just keep moving like that," he encourages, his voice a low, sultry growl. "Rub yourself all over my cock. Show me how much you crave my touch."

Alastor groans low in his throat as you continue to grind against him, your slick folds sliding tantalizingly along the length of his cock. His hands roam your body with renewed enthusiasm, exploring every curve and hollow, mapping out the territory he's soon to conquer.

He hisses, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the sensation of your warm, wet heat surrounding him. "You feel incredible. Like you were made for me."

One hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in gentle, circular motions, coaxing out more of your sweet juices to lubricate his movements.

"That's it, dear, just like that," Alastor praises, his voice strained with lust. "Ride my cock, let me play with your pretty little clit. Let me watch you fall apart on my fingers."

He increases the pressure, adding a second finger to join the first in a steady, pumping rhythm designed to drive you wild. Alastor's other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he rubs your clit just right with his fingers, determined to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As you continue to grind against him, Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he loses himself in the intoxicating sensation of your wet heat sliding along his length. He lets out a low, guttural moan, the sound vibrating against your skin as he rolls his hips in time with yours, meeting each thrust with a counter-movement of his own.

"Fuuuck, Love," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel incredible... Like heaven in my hands. Keep doing that, just like that..."

Alastor's tongue darts out to lick at the pulse point in your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin as he suckles and nips at your flesh. His other hand slides higher, cupping your breasts and squeezing the pliant mounds through the fabric of your clothes one by one.

"Fuck, I love these," he murmurs, his thumbs rubbing circular patterns over your nipples. "So perfect, just begging to be freed. Maybe later, hmm? For now, let's focus on getting you nice and worked up..."

With a wicked grin, Alastor tugs at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. He increases the tempo of his movements, his cock sliding effortlessly through your dripping folds as he chases his own release.

Alastor's breathing grows more labored, his hips rocking in urgent, insistent thrusts as he chases the edge of climax. He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back to expose the column of your throat, which he devours with hungry kisses and bites.

His fingers dance across your sensitized skin, leaving trails of electric pleasure in their wake. He sucks and bites at your neck, marking you as his own as his hips piston relentlessly against yours. The friction is divine, his cock sliding through your slick heat with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes, darling, just like that," he groans, his voice a low, guttural rasp. "Ride me, take what you need. You're so fucking sexy like this, all desperate and needy for me."

Alastor's breath comes in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure between your bodies. His fingers work tirelessly at your clit, the pads of his digits expertly stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Your entire body is trembling, every nerve ending electrified by the exquisite sensations coursing through you. You can barely think, lost in the haze of pleasure that Alastor's skilled touch evokes. Each grinding thrust of his hips against yours sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, the friction of his hard length rubbing against your slick folds an endless source of bliss.

You whine and arch your back, pushing your chest further into his palms as he teases your aching nipples. Your inner walls clench around nothing, craving more of that delicious pressure.

The feeling of being so thoroughly touched, is overwhelming, and you find yourself hanging precariously on the knife's edge of orgasm, feeling his thick weeping glans and broad shaft sliding through your folds and bumping your clit and his fingers, making you rut even harder against him, like trying to scratch an itch only his cock can reach.

Alastor's fingers on your clit are relentless, circling and pinching the sensitive nub until sparks of pure bliss shoot through your veins. Every stroke, every tweak, every graze of his teeth on your skin sends you spiraling closer to the precipice. You can feel your release building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly like a spring ready to snap.

"Please," you beg, voice barely above a whisper, "don't stop..."

You know it's futile, to plead for mercy. Alastor seems intent on driving you mad with pleasure, and you're powerless to resist.

Alastor's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, the pad of his thumb pressing down firmly on the sensitive bud as his index finger drags circles around it. He knows exactly how to manipulate your body, using every trick in the book to push you closer and closer to the brink.

His other hand grips your hip firmly, anchoring you in place as he grinds his cock against your aching sex with increased fervor. The thick head of his member nudges against your entrance with each pass, the pressure and friction driving you wild with need.

"Look at you," Alastor pants, his voice heavy with lust. "So responsive, so perfect. You were made for this, for me. I can tell by the way you're shaking, the way you're begging for more."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You're going to come for me, aren't you? Right here, right now, all over my cock. I can feel it, the way your pussy is so needy, desperate for my thickness."

Alastor's words send a shiver down your spine, the promise of impending release fueling the fire burning within you. He increases the speed and intensity of his ministrations, his fingers flying over your clit in a dizzying blur as he drives you closer to the edge.

"You're so close."

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he senses your approaching climax. A triumphant growl rumbles in his chest as he redoubles his efforts, his cock sliding against your slick folds with increased vigor, seeking to draw out every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form.

"That's it, sweetheart, let go, he commands, his voice a husky growl. Cum for me, soak my cock with your sweet juices. I want to feel you lose control."

His words are a potent aphrodisiac, pushing you closer to the brink with each spoken syllable. Alastor's cock throbs in time with your racing heart, the head swelling and leaking pre-cum with every plunge into your heat. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious friction that threatens to consume you entirely.

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision. Alastor's tongue laps at your neck, tasting the salt of your skin and blood as he marks you with his own brand of possession, his teeth piercing you just so.

As if sensing your imminent climax, Alastor adjusts his angle, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each thrust. The added stimulation proves to be the final straw, and with a keening cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave.

Your inner walls clench and spasm around nothing, desperate for the fulfillment only his cock can provide. At the same moment, his own climax crashes over him, his thick seed erupting from his pulsing member in hot, sticky jets.

The intense pleasure becomes too much to bear, your body tensing and then releasing in a violent convulsion as you come undone. Your vision whites out, overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax. You throw you head back, mouth open in an erotic cry of his name as ecstasy rips through you.

A torrent of fluid gushes forth from your core, shooting onto Alastor's pelvis and cock. Your cunt spasms wildly, contracting and releasing in rapid succession as your squirt, your hole twitching, the force of your orgasm propelling the streams of clear liquid coating his skin to soak the front of his pants. The sensation is both mortifying and exhilarating, your body seemingly beyond your own control as it writhes and bucks against his.

Alastor's growl of completion echoes through the room, mingling with your own keening cries of ecstasy as the two of you ride out the aftershocks of your shared release. His cock throbs against your slick folds, milking every last tremor of pleasure from your quivering body as he pours his essence over the folds of your sex, your dress an utter mess.

As the waves of your intense orgasm begin to ebb, Alastor holds you close, his strong arms wrapped protectively around your shaking form. He presses tender kisses to your sweaty brow, the bridge of your nose, and your parted lips, savoring the taste of your pleasure on his tongue.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper filled with awe and reverence. "Absolutely stunning. You took that so well, dear. I knew you'd be incredible, but wow..."

Alastor's hands roam your back, stroking and soothing the trembling muscles as he helps you catch your breath. His cock, still semi-erect, pulses against your thigh, a reminder of the passion that just consumed you both.

"You're amazing," he repeats, punctuating each word with a gentle squeeze of your curves. "So responsive, so open to pleasure. I could get used to this, to watching you fall apart for me again and again."

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound rich with satisfaction.

He holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, savoring the taste of your skin and the scent of your arousal that clings to him.

"That was incredible," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. "You came so beautifully for me, darling. Look at all that lovely cream you squirted everywhere."

Alastor's fingers lazily trace the rivulets of your release that coat his abdomen, smearing the clear fluid across his skin. He chuckles, a sound rich with satisfaction and dark amusement.

"And I thought you were going to be such a shy little thing," he teases, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "But it turns out you're quite the naughty girl, squirting all over my lap like that."

Despite the embarrassing nature of your involuntary reaction, Alastor's tone is playful rather than mocking. If anything, he seems impressed and even a bit proud of your responsiveness, the way your body surrendered to the pleasure he elicited.

He gazes down at you with a smug, satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a possessive light as he takes in the sight of you - disheveled, flushed, and utterly debauched.

"Well, well, well," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. "Looks like someone enjoyed themselves."

Alastor's fingers trace the curve of your breast, his touch lingering as he admires the evidence of your passion; the rosy hue of your skin, the slight swell of your chest, the way your nipples still pebble visibly despite the heat of your arousal.

His thumb stroking over the sensitive covered peak. "Such a good girl."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. Alastor's tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance that leaves you weak-kneed and yearning for more.

As the surges of euphoria fade, Alastor's hands begin to wander again, his fingers delving beneath your ruined dress working to help you out of it and carrying you to the bathroom to help you clean up, taking delicate care of you that belied how demanding he'd been and helping you get tucked into his bed, his arms around you, you trace his slightly darker skin with your fingertips admiring how the lean muscles flex and shift under them.

He kisses you gently and bids you goodnight.

Alastor wakes with a gasp, his looks around for you in confusion only to realise he's still alone in his cold empty bed, his sheer rage that someone else has you in there's cannot be quelled, but the wet mess in his pants needs attending to now it seems.

With a sigh he rolls out of bed and drags his feet heavily across the floor to the bathroom, the sun just rising and glowing through the cracks in his curtains as he attends to his mess, aggrieved that you're not there to clean up too...

[captain-mj]

Og Soapghost?? Maybe with bottom og Ghost?

I was talking about a god x human au in my discord recently and this felt like the perfect time to use it!

Ghost couldn't feel much in his body anymore. It hurt. He knew that. But it was so distant.

A man forced him forward and he could feel spikes of feelings through his body that were vaguely like pain. Rivulets of blood and sweat went down his body.

They made him kneel. People were speaking, but he couldn't understand over the drugs pumping through his body. It was pounding through him.

Roba stood in front of him. Knife in hand. "May your soul suffer for eternity. You could've avoided this. If you just... listened. " He looked a little sad. "Such a fucking waste."

It was a relief. To die. A moment of nothingness that made all of it disappear. The ache in his body. All the pain. Gone.

Then it hit him. Pain in a way he'd never felt before. Vibrating through his body.

He laughed a little because somehow, still not as bad as his dad.

His body spiraled further down despite it not feeling like he really moved.

Ghost hit something soft and sank down into puddles of fabric. Where they touched his skin, everything was fine. No pain. Not even from his mortal wounds. It was all just okay.

Strangely, he found himself falling asleep. The dead shouldn't sleep, Ghost felt, but he fell into it all the same.

This had been an expected turn of events. Eventually, Ghost was sure that Roba would kill him and go to hell. It felt expected at least.

All of that led to him waking up in a bed though. A bed with such soft sheets Ghost wondered if they were made of pure silk or Egyptian cotton. They ran through his fingers like water.

His skin looked.... clean. After seven months of the only shower he got being from rainwater leaking into his cell, it was... confusing. To not just be clean, but be... pristine. Even his nails were cleaned up. No longer broken and chipped with blood encrusted into them.

The robe he was wrapped in was similar. Fancy and the perfect amount of coziness. Ghost's body was... pleasant to be in. The aching in his right shoulder from where his dad had yanked him too hard as a child, the harsh ripped feeling with his ribs, even the dull throbbing of his head from dehydration, all gone.

It was startling.

He took stock of his body first, seeing he very much still had wounds, he just couldn't feel them.

The room was plain. Carpeted with soft rugs though. It was a very pleasant temperature. All of the furniture inside had been nailed or screwed into the floor. The only thing in the room that Ghost could hypothetically pick up and use for a weapon was the robe he had on, his only clothing, or a lamp. The lamp itself was not where most of the light in the room was coming from. It wasn't... very clear actually where all the light was coming from. Even the shadows seemed unsure about it, with some moving severely one way and gently in others. Some objects had two or three shadows, none of which made sense.

Ghost had a weird sensation like he should have a headache but didn't.

A man came in. Ghost's height, but just a smidge shorter. Broad shouldered and striking blue eyes and a mohawk that looked oddly out of place.

Blood. It soaked him. His clothes and face and there were clots in his hair.

"Yer awake." The thickness of his accent and the strangeness of the situation meant Ghost needed a second to really understand him.

"Yes."

"Soap."

Ghost stared at him before he continued. "My name is Soap. You're name is Simon."

"Prefer Ghost." He responded quickly now and he said it seconds before he sent the useless lamp hurtling at Soap's head. It smashed into him and Ghost felt the impact like it had hit him. Pain lanced through him and although it was a familiar type of pain, it still made him choke out a noise from the shock of it.

Soap moved closer, unharmed. Smiling. "My dear Simon. While I find that very amusing, I recommend you don't try to hurt me, okay, mo chridhe?"

Ghost blinked at the man, head spinning even faster. He gingerly felt his face for any soreness, but there was nothing. Just...himself.

Soap was in front of him. He gently started to reach for him before stopping, bloody fingers about to dirty Ghost. Immediately, he pulled back. "You don't know me... personally. But you and I have a very long history together."

Ghost stared at him blankly.

"I apologize for my state. A sacrifice? To the concept of pain? Of suffering? Well, it doesn't happen as often as you might think. And there's a lot of things, gods, spirits, concepts that wanted you. But I could never, ever, let them have you." Soap spoke like his words were honeyed.

Ghost had been in hunting in Canada the first time a mountain lion had observed him. It had been the same feeling. Same fear.

"Now, I know you must be nervous. Scared. That's okay. You can be those things." Soap smiled. Dazzling. Beautiful. It hurt to look directly at it. "But please know and understand that I will never, ever hurt you again."

Again?

Ghost tried to string words together. He needed to ask a question, but what would be the right one?

Soap turned. "I'm going to go wash up. Stay here. Rest. You look tired."

Ghost had just woken up. He did not feel tired. He only felt the fabric against his skin. "Where am I?" Not a good enough question.

Soap smiled. "You are in... well. Heaven isn't quite right. Neither is hell. Human souls do not come here often. But you are safe. I'd level the world. Destroy anything that came into my path. Before I let another being lay their hands on you."

Ghost knew he was telling the truth. Instinctively and viciously. His body started to get colder and he wrapped himself in the blanket as he watched Soap walk away from him. There was the sound of water.

Ghost ran for the door. He tried to get it open. It wasn't locked. It just... wouldn't move. He yanked harder and used all of his strength, feeling it just barely creak. Like a cat, he clawed at the door, trying to get it to just fucking budge.

The water shut off and Ghost fled back to bed to pretend he had stayed in the same spot.

Soap was... handsome. He reminded Ghost of someone he knew from high school.

"How do we know each other?"

Soap didn't look happy. "I am a god."

"My mom was protestant and my dad was atheist and I really doubt the Christian God is Scottish."

Soap grinned dangerously. "Why? Think he's a Brit?"

"No. He'd be Jewish. Seeing as Jesus was Jewish. So. Let's say I believe you." "You should." "Which I don't, what are you the god of?"

"Pain. Anguish. Suffering. At the hands of a parent usually but not always."

"Oh."

"So you know me well. Unfortunately. You're not the person to go through the most pain. Shocking, I know. You're in the top ten. But... it was the past few years where you caught my interest."

Ghost stared at him. "Wasn't conveniently when I turned 18 and therefore it's legal was it?" It was a shit joke. One mostly done to throw Soap off. To try to get him to stop staring at him the way he did.

"Nah. You were actually 20 already. You put yourself through more pain and I was there again. I saw you again. And you had... filled out. Got taller. Older I should say. You were... gorgeous." Soap looked at him with literal hearts around him. They formed out of smoke.

Ghost didn't want to know what he considered his love language. If it was anything like what he was, Ghost imagined the next eternity living in agony with the promise of love hanging above his head.

"I see."

"Yes. I will admit that I'm wretched."

"You could've stopped it?"

"No. Not at all. You think I like letting children get hurt? Never. But I am the god of pain and anguish so I am there. I watch and I tip the scales and when I can, I bring karmic justice. But right now, I am wretched for not stopping you from being killed. But Simon, you must understand that I simply wanted to protect you. Now I can. Now I can bring you to my bed. Love you properly."

Ghost felt the floor fall from beneath him. His panic must've been clear on his face.

"Not right now." Soap said it so loudly it made Ghost flinch. He quickly dropped the volume. "For now, it is more than enough to know you are... safe. Unable to feel pain. Within my reach, though not in my grasp yet." He reached forward, fingers gently touching Ghost's cheek. It sent such a visceral feeling through Ghost. His nerves reacted. The touch drowning everything out.

It lingered far longer than it should.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

Ghost gasped, trying to find air for his lungs. "Wait."

"Just rest. Your body is so damaged. It's going to take so much time to stitch you together, but I promise I will do it with all the love and care needed." Soap took consciousness away from Ghost. Gently, careful to let him drift into it. Like threads.

Ghost woke up with most of his wounds healed or healing. They did not all heal cleanly, leaving scars, but they were done. Not even tender.

Soap slept next to him, slowly breathing in and out.

Ghost tried to escape again, scrambling at the door. He so desperately wanted to get out of there. To get confirmation this was fake.

"The door only opens for Gods." Soap mumbled from where he was in the blankets. "Come back to bed, Simon."

"Don't call me that. Whatever bullshit you're using to make this door act like this is probably some stupid trick. Something heavy on the other side."

Soap got up and walked over. "You think you're about as strong as I am right?"

"Probably."

Soap opened the door with ease. There was nothing on the other side but hallways. And a few cats. "Easy, peasy. You're human. My human. So it won't open for you."

Ghost watched Soap close the door. No latching, no locks. He tried to open it and it wouldn't budge. He kept asking for Soap to open it again, trying to find the trick to it. Soap was infinitely patient.

Soap put his hand on the knob. "Turn it."

Ghost turned and opened the door. Easily. He tried again with just his hand. Nothing. The knob was too old to have any fingerprint technology or some other tech thing.

Ghost looked at Soap who just shrugged. "Told you. If you want to go outside, we can go."

"Yes. I'd... like that."

Soap nodded. "You shouldn't go out in just a robe. Let me get you clothing."

Ghost nodded and watched Soap go to a door that hadn't been there before. He got clothing out and got on his knees, helping Ghost who followed the silent orders automatically.

Soap offered his arm.

"No." Ghost was not going to hang off him like arm candy. "I'll walk next to you."

Soap frowned. "Simon."

"No."

"It's to keep you safe. How about we hold hands?"

"No. Don't touch me."

Soap sighed. "I can't say no to you. Just stay close. If someone takes you away, they might hurt you."

Ghost did stay close to Soap. Mostly because Soap stayed really close. Things did watch Ghost. Things that clearly were not human. Not animals.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Soap led him to a kitchen. The doors didn't make sense. Ghost felt the world start to crumble around him.

Oh fucking hell.

This was real.

Soap got him food. It was leaves with something red over it, most likely salad dressing. He added some meat to the side and gently led Ghost back up. Ghost grabbed his arm and followed him.

Soap sat on the bed and watched him eat.

Ghost enjoyed the food. It tasted good. Mostly, he was trying to pretend this wasn't happening.

Soap motioned for Ghost to shower once he was done. His clothes mysteriously disappeared besides the robe. He laid on the bed again, sinking about into the softness. Music started to play. Beautiful music.

Ghost felt Soap laying next to him. Both staring at the ceiling.

"You like the stars, right?"

Ghost nodded. "I do."

Soap flicked his hands and the ceiling started to swirl until they were exactly like his stars from home.

Ghost started to breath harder. This was insane. All of it. But god, it was so nice to not feel pain.

Soap turned to him. "Simon. You're feeling something I don't understand."

"I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're capable. More than capable. What could I do to defend myself?"

"Simply tell me to leave. I adore you. I'll do anything you want. Anything to make you feel comfortable."

Ghost was silent for a while. They laid there a long time. He wasn't sure how long. Must've been hours. Just watching the stars. It was horribly pessimistic. Evil almost. But he knew if he didn't give Soap what he wanted, he'd take it eventually.

"Take what you want."

Soap looked at him, strangely passive. "Alright." He got on top of him, cradling his face. "I love you, Simon Riley."

Ghost looked away and let Soap pull the robe away. Let him trail his fingertips over him. He kept waiting for the pain. For roughness. Instead, Soap carefully prepped him. He pushed in one of his fingers, coated in something slick that felt warm. His mouth stayed busy on Ghost's stomach. With a gentleness that felt so foreign from the literal god of pain, he sweetly opened Ghost up for another finger.

The stretch felt... divine. It got a tiny groan out of Ghost that Soap quickly kissed him to swallow down. "I love you. I'll prove it. I have all of eternity to show you pleasure. To make up for all of the pain you've felt."

Ghost gasped as he felt him go deeper. Pleasure sparked up his spine as he was prepped. It was overwhelming and amazing and it felt so damn good. All too soon, he was pulling out those magic fingers and leaving Ghost empty and wanting more.

Soap hiked Ghost's legs up. "You might feel a bit of pain. I'm sure you're familiar with this."

Ghost bit his lip and nodded. "Be as rough as you want. I'm sure my pain is good for you."

Soap grabbed his hips and slid into him. Slow and steady. "Simon. Simon. Come now. Do I need to come out and just say I want to spoil you?"

There was no time to adjust before he carefully rolled his hips, making Ghost arch from pleasure. It spun and ran through him, too intense to be natural.

Soap held him close and kept going. Loving. The word loving came to mind. It was so focused on Ghost in a way he wasn't used to. There was this dizzying lack of anything but pleasure. He dug his nails into his skin to ground himself but Soap pinned him by his wrists. The change of angle meant Soap just brushed his prostate in just the right way and Ghost slowly felt something in him start to crack.

So good.

So good...

"I'd never hurt you. I only want you to feel pleasure. I'd keep you like this for all eternity if I thought you'd be happy. I'd dedicate my existence to pleasuring you. Whatever you'd ask of me. My mouth, my body, my hands. I've spent so much time learning what I can. What makes men feel good. what would make you feel good. I know every nerve of your body. Ever reaction of the flesh."

Soap twisted his hips and Ghost cried out, the stars in his eyes mixing with the stars from the ceiling. His legs shook where they wrapped around Soap.

"Faster..."

Soap grinned. "There you go. You'll learn to love me. I promise. But until then, whatever you want, you get. I'll spoil you. Ruin you. No one else will be able to compete." He did go faster. It was perfect.

Ghost felt his thoughts disappearing and being replaced with just...

Soap kissed him and stayed at the right pace until Ghost had to turn his head to catch his breath. He reached down to finish himself but Soap pushed it away. "No. Just this. I know you can. Until then, just keep enjoying the feeling okay? You don't do anything but feel."

Ghost whined, feeling the pressure in his lower gut. He needed to finish, but he understood Soap's point in that he didn't want it to end. Maybe he could be happy doing this forever. Just taking and taking and...

Ghost couldn't think anymore. His body just wouldn't let him, taking over his thoughts.

"Soap. Soap. Soap. Soap." Simon mumbled before throwing his head back, coming all over both of them. The moment overstimulation started, Soap stopped, pulling out. He pushed his hair back before going to tuck himself back into his pants. "Not going to finish?"

"Don't see a reason to as long as you did."

"No. Finish."

Soap paused and stared at him before slowly wrapping his hand around his cock. He started to stroke himself but kept eye contact with Ghost. He came all over Ghost's chest.

"Good.' Ghost muttered, relaxing. "I need another shower."

[luimagines]

I actually got one of your Bath day packages on your shop (10/10 would recommend) and I love it it! I think I accidentally bit into soap thinking it was candy, or it might’ve been candy and perhaps it wasn’t to my flavor but either way at that moment I was rethinking my life choices lolol. Anyway it gave me an idea, how would the Chain react to reader eating something that they shouldn’t because unbeknownst to the reader it might’ve been poisonous.

Oh! Well thank you so much! <3

I hope you didn't eat one of the bath bombs by mistake ^.^*

I'll see what I can come up with :D

Masterlist

Immediate Reader!

Boys under the cut!

You didn't quite know what you were looking at.

It was a small red berry that you had seen a few birds and a squirrels pick off of the bush. You plucked a few for yourself and held in the palm of your hand.

Your stomach growled in protest.

You knew you shouldn't eat anything you didn't recognize, but realistically you weren't home. You didn't recognize anything.

But if the animals could eat it, that means it was more of less safe, right? At best you'd just have to wash it before you decided to eat any.

There's a stream nearby now that you think about it.

You make your way over to it, feeling a tad regretful and suspicious. You're not doing anything wrong, per say. But you still have the lingering feeling that you shouldn't be doing what you're doing.

It's quiet when you get to the side of the stream. There doesn't seem to be a lot of other animals around you, but they have proven to be in the area as it is.

You dip your hand in the freezing water, letting it run over the berries. There was a stinging sensation as the water collides with your skin but it was quickly ignored in favor of the juicy fruit in your hands.

You pulled your hand away and began to dry them off. Was the water clean? You hoped so.

It was only a few berries after all. Maybe you just try one and then let the others know that there was food in the area. …and poison yourself in the process? Seems dumb.

But what if it's harmless and you're making a big fuss over nothing. They're hardly the size of your fingernail. Just one berry? For science?

You plop one in your mouth and let it roll over your tongue for a minute.

There's no strange taste on the skin of the fruit. It's smooth and chilled from the water.

You bite into it.

The juices that spill forth is sweet and mildly salty. It's a strange combination but an inherently pleasant one. It would make a great refreshment in the summer time and it would be great on a jam. No wonder the squirrels were trying to stash as many as they could.

A small hum leaves your lips as you reach to plop another one in your mouth. "They're not half bad."

Someone says your name with poorly disguised horror. "What are you chewing?"

***

Sky

You snapped your head in the direction of the voice with wide eyes, freezing in place like a dear in headlights.

Sky sprints in our direction, slapping your hand and scattering the berries all over the forest floor. "Are you crazy?!"

"Sky?"

"Do you even know what kind of berries those are? What if they're poisonous?! You don't just eat things you find growing around you!" He's panicking.

Sky paces the space you. His hands flutter all around you, touching you gently but thoughtfully. He checks your pulse, your temperature, your reaction time- he checks if you're swelling or not.

"Sky, I'm ok." You say after a choked minute.

"Are you?" He checks your forehead again, resting he back of his hand against your cheek. "Are you sure?"

You hesitate to respond. He is very close right now. His nose is only inches away from yours. And his eyes- were they always that blue?

You take a step back.

Sky seems to catch on and gasps. "Sorry. Sorry. I wasn't paying attention. Are you feeling ok?"

Truthfully, you're not but you can't let him know that. You nod. "I'm fine. I already ate one. So I think they're fine to eat. Otherwise, I might be dealing with food poisoning-"

He opens his mouth to interject but you hold your hand up, stopping him.

"-later. I feel perfectly fine right now."

He frowns. "I don't trust it."

"We can bring back a twig for one of the others to try and identify it." You offer, pointing in the direction of the little bush. "I think Wild's Sheikah Slate would be able to figure something out. I saw him use it to name a few animals a while ago. Maybe it can do the same with plants."

Sky doesn't seem to convinced but he can't find an argument fast enough. "...Alright. But I don't trust it. The second you start feeling well, you have to tell someone, ok?"

That actually doesn't sound too appealing to you. "...Why?" You chuckle nervously. "No one has to know-"

"Yes, we do." Sky presses. "Otherwise no one is going to know how to properly treat you just cause you're embarrassed to be just as bad as the Champion."

"In his defense, he's not that bad." You roll your eyes.

"Then tell Twilight what you did."

"Hell no."

Four

You straighten up entirely. Your back and neck go rigid and some berries fall from your hand.

You cough. You gasped when you heard his voice and sent the piece of fruit all the way to the back of your throat. It nearly choked you.

"F-four- ahahack!" You gasp for breath. "Don't scare me like that."

Four jogs forward. "Sorry."

He doesn't sound apologetic.

While you're still trying to get the air back into your lung the proper way, Four takes your hand and grabs the berries from them. He inspects them thouroughly and begins to look around the surrounding flora to find where you might have taken them from.

"Ca-can I help you?" You keep coughing. A part of you is a little annoyed about the attempt on your life and the little care he seems to have for it, but you're also a little concerned by said lack of care. Were you in any danger?

"Where did you find theses?" Four holds the berries in his own hand out to you.

Your eyebrows scrunch and you point just beyond a small thicket. "I got them from the bush over there. I saw a few animals eat them and I-"

"Did you eat it?!" He pales and makes a dash towards you.

You feel fine, if a bit winded so his reaction startles you. "No?? You freaked me out and I coughed it up."

Four waits for a moment as if expecting a reaction out of you before he turns around and rushes to the bush your pointed to earlier.

You follow him, feeling ice cold terror slowly fill your veins. "Is it bad? Is it poisonous?"

Four starts looking at the leaves and stems of the plants before he groans loudly. You're aback again but if he's annoyed then maybe you're not in as much danger as he may have thought.

"No, these are fine." He says at last, plucking a few more for good measure. "You're almost as bad as Wild. Putting things in your mouth that you don't recognize-"

"Hey!" You pout. You had thought about it!....You did it anyway, but it crossed your mind! "I was checking on it!"

"Don't scare me again." He grins, tossing a berry in your face. "Just because animal can eat it, doesn't mean that people can. Be careful."

As if to tease you, he puts a few in his mouth and chews them. "Hhmm... We should take a few back for the others, what do you think?"

You huff and sag your shoulders. "I think it's a great idea."

"You can take the credit for finding the bush."

"I think it's the best idea today!"

Hyrule

"....A berry...." You trail off. Something about this makes you feel uneasy. You didn't think you'd be caught by Hyrule of all people and the energy he's giving off leaves you with little room to doubt that you're in trouble.

He meets your eyes with a flat look. His hands land on his hips and his eyebrow goes up. "Oh really? And where did you find it?"

Whoever taught him this is going to hear form your lawyers.

"I found a bush." You say sheepishly, picking a single berry from your small hoard. "I saw animals eating and then I washed them..."

"Uh-huh." Hyrule takes a few steps forward and plucks the berry from your fingers. He looks over it for a minute before bravely putting it in his mouth. "And then what?"

"Wha- Hey!" You panic and drop the berries in the process. "Hyru- Link! You can't just-!"

"Oh these are fine." He says after he swallows. "For a second I thought that they were Thornbull Berries. But the little stem would have a thorn at the top of the fruit and it would taste metallic."

You stare at him unblinkingly until he bends down, picking up the little berries that you dropped. "...What berries are these then?"

"Sweet Tarts." He grins, putting the berries back in the palm of your hand. "They're safe to eat."

You cough and clear your throat. "Oh... Good. Good. Um... I'm guessing the other one you mentioned isn't?"

"Nope. They'll poison you for sure." He says, all chipper and not at all bothered by the information. "Ask me how I know."

Well now you have to. "How do you know?"

"I ate some." He looks back to you with a grin. "Enough so that I've built up a tolerance to the effects of them. So I can eat a few of them safely. You, however, cannot. So don't eat things you don't know, ok?"

You looks away in embarrassment and tapping your toe on the ground. "...Someone had to."

"We have food back at the camp." He laughs. "Where'd you find these anyway? I want more. Do you think Wild can make a pie while we're out here."

You feel like you've been given whiplash. You lead him to where you found the berry bush and he starts happily picking the berries. Now you're a little put off the innocent berries but if Hyrule gave them the all clear then you've got no problem eating them, right?

You sigh and start to help picking them off of the small bush. "If he manages to make it, I would be very impressed."

Hyrule giggles, unaware of the inner turmoil he sent you in. "I'm sure we can ask. If not, then maybe he can make a dessert instead."

You nod and take out a small bag to put them in. Hopefully there's enough for everyone to enjoy.

Wind

Wind gasps and takes a step back. The look of horror on his face is unmistakable. "Is that blood?"

"What?" You nearly choke on the berry when you speak. The juice runs down your chin and the flesh of the fruit hangs at the back of your throat.

Wind runs to you, hitting your back as hard as he can to "help".

"Wind." Your voice comes out strained. "Wind, please."

He doesn't stop.

You have to swat him away. "Link, I'm fine!"

You certainly don't sound fine. Wind frowns and hovers around you, waiting for any sign to show that you're getting worse.

"Are you ok?" He asks at last.

You have to restrain yourself from glaring at the young boy. "I'm fine. I was eating some berries I found. Do you-" You have to clear your throat again. "Do you need something?"

Wind makes a small humming noise. "I was looking for you. Legend wanted your help with getting Four to agree with him on blacksmithing techniques."

You make a face. "Why on earth does he think I have anything to say about that?"

Wind shrugs.

You cough again and use your sleeve to clean up the remains of the berry, both from your face and your shirt. "I hope the stains come out."

Wind and clears his throat. "What were you eating?"

"Berry." You spit the remains of it out. "I was checking if they were safe to eat."

"By eating them?" Wind tilts his head.

"...." You raise and eyebrow. "Is there any other way?"

Wind opens his mouth to argue but he can't think of an answer fast enough. Knowing that you're more or less saved by the bell, you ruffle his hair and drop the rest of the berries on the ground. Even if they were safe to eat in the end, you don't want to risk your reputation on that.

"Did the Champion say that lunch was going to be ready yet?" You sling your arm around his shoulders. You're quick to change directions, distracting the young hero from the mess you may or may not have made.

"Not yet." Wind says, quickly letting himself be guided away.

You let out a small breath. Oh well, those berries weren't worth it.

Wild

"Wild!" You cry, the half chewed berry spits out of your lips. "Don't scare me like that!"

He snaps a picture.

"Hey!" You swallow the other berry and glare at him. "Get rid of that! I probably look like a chipmunk!"

"A human. A bipedal creature with three dimensional vision, surround sound hearing and technicolor sense of smell." The sheikah slate speaks.

You both freeze and whatever you were about to say get lodged in your throat. "...I didn't know it could do that."

"It's the first time it's happened." Wild chuckles nervously, snapping another picture.

"Wild!" You pout harder. "A warning! Is that too much to ask for!"

"Sweet Tart Berries." The sheikah slate speaks again. "Not to be confused for Thronbull Berries. These berries are sweet and tangy to eat and are known to make delicious pastries, a royal family favorite."

Wild points to your hand that holds the berries. "I'm getting them. Where did you find them?"

"I-in the bush?" You point your finger in the direction they came from. Wild all but dives in that direction as he started to harvest the little berries. "Are we not going t question that your thingy just spoke?"

"Nope." Wild grins, putting the berries in said thingy. "I was just checking to see if my slate to recognize and categorize whatever it was you were eating. the first picture was just a bonus."

You deadpan. "A bonus?"

Wild pauses and his ears flick. "Ok, fine. I actually missed it but I got it the second time. Good find! These are pretty good!"

You feel light headed. enough so that you bring yourself to the ground to sit. "Right...what are Thornbull Berries?"

"I... don't know." Wild moves away from the bush, picking as much as he needed. The taps a few times on the sheikah slate and the voice picks up one moce.

"Thornbull Berries. Typically confused for Sweet Tart Berries, but are poisonous in nature. Known to create a burning sensation in the first thirty minutes of consumption before moving to lose of motor control and eyesight. Victims of the berry can be classified as dead three hours afterwards."

You and Wild slowly turn your head to the bush. "We're not telling anyone else."

"Agreed."

Time

"Spit it out. Right now." Time charges over to you, taking you by the shoulders.

You swallow it.

Time only seems to pale. "What on earth?" He says you're name as if he was scolding a child. "What do you think you're doing?"

"E-eating a berry." You hold out the small bundle in your palm, hoping that he's going to go easy on you. "I found them in the bush-"

"Those are poisonous!" He smacks them out of your hand, instantly checking your pulse and your forehead and your palms.

You're thrown for a loop. You didn't think they were that bad. If anything they were delicious. So it's hard to equate something that tasty into something that's going to kill you.

"But..." You squeak, unable to stay confident in his panic. It was incredibly unnerving to see him in such a state "I already ate one. And I feel fine."

Time pauses, letting your words bounce around in his skull. He checks your face again, looking into your eyes and double checking your temperature. "Are you sure?"

You nod.

"Any nausea? Burning? Pain? Disinterest in fate?"

You start giggling and shake your head. "I'm fine!"

Time doesn't seem to convinced. "Are you sure?"

"If I was in pain or feeling like I was being burned alive, I would say so. I doubt I would be able to hide that kind of thins anyway." You shrugs. "I'm not like Warrior or Legend. those two can fake a broken bone and get away with it. I cry with a paper cut."

He seems to calm down with your words, although he remains suspicious. He keeps an raised eyebrow in your direction as he watches for any change in your reaction.

You calm down as well. Maybe he misread the situation? Sure, he scared the heck out of you the first go around, but now that he's still suspicious despite the lack of results, you feel silly in his behalf. You start to giggle again at the thought.

"What?" Time despairs. "Don't tell me you're feeling dizzy."

You shake your head and instead poke Time. "You're too serious, Old Man. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

You brush him off and start to pick up the berries that fell on the ground. "I'm going to wash these and eat more. You are welcome to join me."

Time runs his hand down his face. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."

"Nope! They're deliciously tart and I'm going to eat as many as I can!" Are you being cheeky? Maybe. But it seems worth it given his reaction.

Time sighs, looking ten years older already. However, you don't feel remotely apologetic. He should learn to live a little, honestly.

Twilight

You instantly feel your heart pause and skip a beat. You swallow the berry instinctively before speaking. "...I found a berry bush."

Part of you wonders what's going through his head. He looks concerned and panicked but not enough to do anything about it, you guess.

"Do you want some?" You try to sweeten the deal. Something about Twilight gives off disappointed mother energy and you don't care for that at all. Is this what Wild has to deal with almost on the daily? How does he not go crazy?

He stares you down and then does something weird. He leans in close to your face and starts to sniff.

"Twilight...What are you doing?" You try to lean away but he only follows you. He sniffs close to your neck and your lip before he reaches down to your hand, taking a berry and sniffs that too.

"Smells alright..." He mutters to himself before he gives a little lick to the berry.

You feel instant shame blast onto your face and you force yourself to look away. "Link please."

"No toxins."

You stop dead in your mental train of thought. "Come again?"

"Where did you find these?" He's ignoring your questions.

You blankly point to where you found the berry bush. He stars heading in that direction without a second thought, sniffing the air still.

You feel weirder now that he's no longer in your direct line of sight. You thought the fur pelt was just for aesthetic of warmth... what's with the dog attempts?

You follow him, unable to think of doing anything other than that. He still hasn't told what he's doing and you feel like you've been slapped in the face with a fish. You need answers now.

"Twilight?" You call out to him and find him crouched next to the bush. He's sniffing that too. You're even more confused. You're almost certain Wild doesn't have to go through this. "Why are you being weird today?"

Twilight opens his eyes and picks a small berry off the bush. He takes the tiniest of bites out of it, keeping another berry (probably the one you gave him) up so he can continue examining it.

"These are safe to eat." He beams at you, waving the small berry in between his fingers. "Good find! I'm sure we can have a few."

"You- that- what-" You're left scrambling. Well considering you feel completely fine, you would assume that they're safe. "Was that what this was all about?"

Twilight tilts his head and pops another berry into his mouth. "What what was about?"

You gape. He can't be serious. Is he gas lighting you right now? "The whole sniffing thing!"

"The nose knows. What can I say?" He shrugs, eating more berries.

You flops your arm uselessly. That tells you nothing. You eat another berry out of spite. You're asking Wild if Twilight has done that before. It's absurd.

Warrior

You start coughing, not expecting to have been caught and by him of all people. You choke on the berry mush within your mouth and are forced to spit it out.

"Captain!" You shout. "Don't scare me like that!"

"I scared you?" He glares. "What about you? Putting things in your mouth without even know what they are!"

"I know what they are!" You shout back indignantly.

Warrior crosses his arms and crosses the distance between you both. "Then what are they?"

"Berries." You pop another one in your mouth to prove a point. "And they're delicious."

Warrior frowns and takes a berry out of your hand. He turns it over once, ignoring the way you glare at him for the near death experience before he also tosses it into his mouth. He looks just as annoyed as you feel before he softens entirely. "Oh."

"Yes." You toss your hair back. "Oh. Hey. The not-hero was right. Go figure. Who knew it was possible? You should listen to me more often."

"Ok, ok." Warrior puts his hands up in surrender. "Point made."

You take another one from your palm and wave it in his face. "They're tasty. I told you so."

"You did." Warrior shakes his head. "You win. What are they called?"

"I have no idea."

"..."

"..."

"So let me get this straight." Warrior is back in his serious mode. "You saw berries."

"Yes."

"You didn't recognize them."

"Yes."

"And ate them anyway?"

"Nice summary of the last fifteen minutes of my life." You eat another berry, making sure to chew it slowly.

You can see Warrior bite the inside of his cheek. It's almost funny, watching him trying to keep his cool around you.

"You're impossible."

"You love me." You flick his forehead. "What's the worse that can happen?"

"They're poisonous.'" He answers without missing a beat. "Which is what I thought at first. They look a lot like Thornbull berries. Smell different though."

"I have no idea what those are."

"....Yeah that checks out."

Legend

You freeze and try to keep your back turned to the hero who's caught you.

Legend says your name again. He's even more stern. "What are you eating?"

You swallow it and turn around. Why do you feel like you're in trouble? It's not like you're doing anything wrong. "I found some berries. they seemed safe to eat so I was just-"

"Seemed?" He stressed the word in a way that doesn't feel right. "They seemed safe to eat?!"

Now you feel indignant. You pluck another berry from the small pie in your palm to show him. "Yes. They did. And frankly, they're delicious."

Then you plop the next one into your mouth.

Legend's jaw drops. "I can't believe you."

"Start believing." You pop two more into your mouth. "They're interesting and I like them."

You wave the last one in his face before holding out to him. "Want to try it?"

Legend frowns, looking at the berry in your hand. He makes no move to take it at first and instead focuses on your face. "How do you it's edible?"

"I saw some other animals eat it." You shrugs, keeping your hand out. "Had to admit, it made me curious."

You wave the berry in his face. "You know you want to~~"

Legend makes another face before tentatively reaching for the berry. The action makes you feel victorious, like you've won some silent challege.

"The Traveler would know if this is safe to eat or not." He speaks quietly, turning the innocent berry over in his fingers.

"But he's not here right now." You press. "Come on!! Don't be a scardey cat. Live a little. If it was bad to eat, I would probably be showing signs of it already."

That seems to win him over. Legend brings the berry to his lip and bites half of it. His eyes light up and his ear move a little bit higher. "Hm!"

"Right? They're good!" You clap his shoulder. "Should be bring some for the the others?"

"Do you think the Champion would be able to do something with this?" Legend bites the other half.

"No clue. But we can always ask."

Legend wipes his fingers on his tunic. "Where'd you get them?"

"They're growing on a bush over there." You grin. "Come on I'll show you."

[daisynik7]

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.    

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend. 

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent. 

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest. 

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life. 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end. 

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it. 

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are. 

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic. 

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.” 

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.” 

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.” 

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.” 

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit. 

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.” 

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable. 

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple. 

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more. 

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush. 

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.” 

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily. 

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can. 

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit. 

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster. 

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join. 

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.”

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all. 

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt. 

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy? 

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification. 

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is. 

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf. 

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you. 

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name. 

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him. 

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is. 

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators. 

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation. 

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet. 

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top. 

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent. 

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain. 

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception. 

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception. 

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor. 

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after. 

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer. 

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.” 

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back. 

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it. 

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires. 

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it. 

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet. 

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.” 

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap. 

“I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties. 

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids. 

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear. 

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head. 

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?” 

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.” 

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in. 

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly. 

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond. 

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain. 

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. 

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it. 

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape. 

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter. 

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out. 

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy. 

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit. 

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment. 

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint. 

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.” 

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season. 

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one. 

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right. 

That is, until today. 

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her. 

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other. 

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess. 

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment. 

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly. 

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.” 

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes. 

--------------------

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜

[reisakumaproducer]

Moonlight - A Wataru Hibiki x Reader Fic

Warning: This fic is a parody fic and not meant to be taken seriously. I do not recommend reading if you are looking for a serious Wataru x Reader fanfic.

Summary: You are going on your first date with Wataru Hibiki! As you spend time with Wataru, you can't help but worry that the brilliant idol might just be out of your reach. (Takes place during the ! era)

You fidget with a loose strand of your (h/c) hair as you stare out the window. Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating your living room and causing your face to glow brightly. Today was a very special day for you. Today was the day you would meet with Wataru Hibiki. 

Yumenosaki Academy was known for having weirdos and Wataru was no exception. You were just a humble student from the general course when you noticed the idol practicing on the rooftop. His loud voice and imposing stature captivated you, like a siren luring in a sailor. Wataru did not take notice of you at first. He was wrapped in the world of theater, reciting poems and lines that you recognized from your Shakespeare unit in English class. You felt your cheeks blush when he finally noticed you. As you spent time with the theatrical idol, you became close with him. Now you are on your first date with Wataru Hibiki.

It was six o’ clock, and Wataru had not shown up at your front door step yet. You sigh, realizing he probably abandoned you. Then suddenly you hear a loud noise coming from outside of your house. You rush outside, your (h/c) hair blowing furiously in the wind. The wind was coming from a blimp in the air.

“Ahahahahah!” you hear a gleeful laugh coming from the blimp. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize that laugh. “My beloved (y/n) ! It is I, your very own Hibiki Wataru!”

Wataru jumps from the blimp and lands on the ground. He stands up as though nothing happened to him, smiling at you with his hands on his hips. “Fufufu, you should check your right pocket! You will find a pleasant surprise in there from your very own idol! ☆”

You put your hand in your right pocket and pull out a bouquet of red spider lilies. “Oh Wataru! This is lovely. You shouldn’t have.” You smell the bouquet and smile at the pleasant aroma that floods your nostrils. Wataru plucks a flower from the bouquet and places it behind your ear. He bows. 

“Today is the day we embark on a new journey of love! Let us take the first step in this new chapter in our lives.”

A ladder from the blimp descends in front of you. You stifle your laugh, appreciating Wataru’s comedic timing. He takes your hand and guides you toward the ladder. He helps you climb up, your hands shaking as you slowly ascend into the air. Wataru notices your anxiety and sings a calming melody as you climb. You feel a tingling sensation on your cheeks as you realise he is looking out for you.

You get into Wataru’s blimp. He takes your hand and you follow him onto the couch. You both sit down, and he lets you lie on his shoulder as the blimp flies into the evening sky. You rest against his silky hair, letting it sift between your fingers. Wataru strokes your back as you do this, causing you to smile as you look into his lavender eyes.

“Your eyes are so beautiful. I can just swim into them for hours on end,” you tell him. You immediately feel a pang of embarrassment in your stomach. Swim in his eyes? Why would you say that! You don’t even know how to properly swim. Wataru chuckles, ignoring your flustered face.

“Your eyes are like the night sky itself! I can see the reflection in them, like the stars across the darkness. Even clowns can be enamored by your beauty.”

Your cheeks turn red. You lean in for a kiss when suddenly, you notice the lighting in the blimp starts to change. As the sun started to set, the moon started to peak from beneath the clouds, casting its milky rays through the blimp’s window. Wataru’s hair started to glow. It was like it was the moon itself, illuminating the darkness of the blimp. You wanted to play with it again. You want to feel his soft strands brush against your fingertips. Yet Wataru was like the moonlight. No matter how much you wanted to bask in it and have it shine down upon you, you could never have it in your possession. You cannot grab onto moonlight, just like how Wataru’s hair would sift through your fingers if you tried to grab onto it. The moon can comfort you with its light while all you can do is admire it from afar. 

Tears roll down your cheek at this realization. Wataru notices your tears and shakes his head. He uses a strand of his sentient hair to wipe your cheeks. His hair feels soft against your delicate skin.

“Do not cry, my dear (y/n). It is a clown’s job to entertain, and a clown is doing a poor job if their audience is drowning in tears,” Wataru quietly whispers. “Your face is very beautiful in the moonlight.”

Your tears dry. You realize you can reach the moon, even if it feels far away.

Wataru stops the blimp over a forest. He helps you descend the rope ladder. You find yourself in a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees and a pond. There is a wooden arch bridge over the pond and a willow tree casting its leaves over the water. You feel a cool breeze flutter through the area. You take Wataru’s hand, his firm fingers interlocking with yours.

Wataru leads you onto the bridge. Its wooden surface creaks with each step you take. You both admire the moon shining into the water below. You lean against Wataru’s shoulder. 

“Wataru, I’ve been meaning to show you something,” You tell him.

“Fufufu, it is my turn to be surprised! What are you planning on showing me, (y/n)?”

“I have been practicing a poem to recite to you. I want to get better at acting. Would you like to hear it?”

Wataru nods his head. You take a deep breath and recite your love poem for him.

“Oh Wataru my dearest,

You are the fairest.

You are like the Sans 

to my Nagito who dances

With glee with his love

Who fits him like a glove.

Oh Wataru my moon,

You make me swoon

I love you.”

You deliver the poem in a completely monotone voice. Wataru claps his hands and sheds a few tears.

“Amazing! The purest of words from your heart have been delivered. I wish I could return them but atlas, I am not good at acting without a script.”

Wataru then kneels down in front of you and retrieves his mask from his back pocket, as though he was proposing to you. This is the purest form of Wataru’s love for you. You reach out to touch the mask, when suddenly you hear a loud crack.

The wooden boards of the bridge break and you fall into the pond. Wataru uses his sentient hair to reach for you. You grab onto his strands, but his hair sifts through your fingers. You become drenched in the cold pond waters. The moonlight shines above you as you desperately try to tread the water.

[claudemblems]

KAT!! omg you're really making me want to rewatch this show 🤣 please 14+15 for william moriarty! it's always the most fun to write about characters you love 💗 💫👍

Moon you watched Moriarty the Patriot??? I just started watching it recently but it's SO good I cannot believe I didn't watch it earlier!!! Thank you YouTube for recommending me a random clip from the show so I could finally be convinced to watch it

And of course, thank you for requesting Moon <3

William Moriarty

Prompt 14: they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose

Prompt 15: ^ placing a kiss on your forehead as they mumble how pretty you are

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

After a long day spent ridding the world of its evils, there was nothing you wanted more than to let your exhaustion melt away in the comfort of William's arms, safe and secure from the perilous city of London.

"That was quite the performance you put on, darling," William said with a soft smile. "You led those villains right to their deaths, and they were none the wiser."

"Well, you were watching, so of course I had to make it a show worth remembering."

William laughed, causing your heart to swell in your chest. That was a rare sound to hear from him nowadays, especially with the way he'd practically been buried in his work.

"You truly took my breath away. We make quite the perfect couple, don't you think?"

"If your definition of a perfect couple is getting away with murder, then I'd be inclined to agree."

"We're just settling the score board one move at a time. With you aiding me, my opponent's king has practically fallen right into my lap. Before long, they'll be met with their rightful checkmate."

You hummed, wrapping your arms tighter around William's waist. When you were this close to him, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, a pleasant reminder that he was still here, living and breathing, not yet taken by the dark powers of this world.

But you were taken by surprise as William rolled on top of you, a yelp involuntarily leaving your lips. He smiled upon hearing it, but instead of throwing a playful tease your way, he took your face into his hands, gazing down at you with a fondness so palpable that it made your heart leap in your chest.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he whispered, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

A blush bloomed on your face, no doubt growing as red as his bright ruby eyes. "Yes, many times, in fact."

"Is that so? It seems to me that I haven't said it enough."

"William..."

Before you could utter another word, William brushed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger there for a few long moments. "You are so beautiful. Every part of you."

Your skin grew warmer at his sincerity, his words almost too much to take in. How was it possible for someone to look upon you as if you were the most precious thing in the world? Who could make sense of the way their adoration for you only seemed to grow day by day, something far beyond the capacity of human understanding?

You may never fully understand it, but all you desired in this life was to be loved by William until your very last breath, and, if given the chance, to love him in the life that came next.

"The angels themselves would marvel at your beauty," William said, giving you another kiss. "Truly, I must be the most fortunate man in the world to have you." Followed by another kiss, and then another.

"I could say the same for you," you replied, laughing at the kisses that left a ticklish sensation against your skin.

"No, darling," he replied, meeting your eyes once again. A determination filled them, accompanied by a sense of complete certainty. "I am the lucky one." With one last kiss pressed against your lips, William smiled. "Because I get to love you."

[maximumzombiecreator]

For the first decade of my adult life, I had undiagnosed ADHD and also uncracked egg. As a result, any time I got really settled into a place and a lifestyle, my mental health fell apart, so I developed a coping mechanism of massively shaking my life up once every 6-12 months. Moving, changing jobs, changing my body and lifestyle, my hobbies, my friend groups, whatever. Just something big and disruptive, frequently enough that I never got so comfortable that I began to rot. That much chaos kept my ADHD brain from getting too bored and my trans brain from pausing long enough to wonder what the constant, deep-seated unhappiness that followed me everywhere was.

This isn't a really great coping mechanism, I don't recommend it. If you're in that position, I would recommend lisdexamfetamine and estradiol rather than picking up a 15 hour per week gym habit or moving to another continent where you don't know anyone and barely speak the local language.

But one positive thing that it did for me was to teach me to appreciate a lot of emotional experiences that were otherwise negative. Being uncomfortable, being confused, unsure, even feeling unsafe were all signs that I had pushed myself far enough. At least for a little while. Each of those emotions kinda sucks on their own, but they were often the first sign of an experience that was going to be important. Not always pleasant, mind you, but discomfort and unease were often the first sensations on the way to growth.

It also gave me the chance to learn how to differentiate different negative emotions, to parse feeling unsafe apart from being unsafe, being confused from being helpless, being uncomfortable from being harmed. Not perfectly, of course, but enough to be able to sit with those feelings and really examine if they were a problem to be dealt with or just a "me" problem that would go away as I learned and got familiar.

I feel like that's an important skillset that it's very easy to not develop. I often see people who react so strongly to being made to feel uncomfortable, who immediately treat the feeling (and as a result, the person or situation that made them feel that way) as a problem to be dealt with. Doubly so to feeling unsafe, and it's incredibly easy to find examples of people weaponizing their feelings of unsafety to harm others. These are understandable, even natural reactions, but they are also, often, the wrong reaction.

And I think if you don't get used to those emotions, then you can't learn to tell when it's a "you" problem, and then you become dangerous to anyone and anything outside your own range of experiences. Because discomfort comes, often, from unfamiliarity. And if you instinctively perceive someone unfamiliar as someone who is harming you…

[bloomfish]

I am NOT endorsing or promoting the use of any recreational drugs. Do NOT do drugs, they are bad. Anyway here's why I think ketamine is great

So a pretty common thing I've noticed among casual drug users is that they very often are for some reason TERRIFIED of ketamine. And this includes people who have done like, Ayahuasca or peyote which I personally am extremely apprehensive about. And I don't get it! I think K is a misunderstood old thing :(

Obviously it's not something I would recommend to anyone without experience of psychodelics. However I think even people who do have experience with psychodelics might have had negative experiences with ket simply because they don't know what to expect going in so they're caught off guard. It's NOT a psychodelic and it shouldn't be treated like one. It's NOT a party drug and it shouldn't be treated like one (at least not until you're used to it). It's a dissociative, which can be unfamiliar. But I sincerely find it like... Mild compared to acid?

I think it's about a) being careful with portions. People who are used to railing massive lines of blow assume that they can handle that with ket and rly to start you should be doing the tiniest bumps possible, you do not want to be trying for a K-Hole at first (I never do in general bc i like consciousness). You build tolerance very fast but always err on the side of less. Whatever you think you can handle, take some off.

b) creating the right environment. As I said, it's not a party drug. It's for chilling on the sofa with your favourite music and a good friend. Take all pressure off and make sure there's nothing you need to actually do. Don't combine it with any other drug (ESPECIALLY not acid!!!!)

c) having the right mindset going in. Two things about this, first the effects of ketamine are over fast. It always passes after a short while, and if you're aware of that you can relax and know you'll be okay because even if you don't like it you'll be fine soon, so you might as well just try and enjoy what you can. Second, as with any drug anxiety and overthinking will make it worse- typically in a situation where you feel like you're losing control I'd suggest trying to relax and find something pleasant about the sensation to focus on until you ride it out. That's why you should make absolutely sure you're in a position where nothing can happen to you except being conked out on the sofa for a while.

All this being said, what ARE the benefits? She's a weird one for sure, as I said it's a dissociative– this means that you kind of feel like you're outside your body. At higher doses people see their body from the ceiling and stuff but I don't think it's necessary to get to that level. At lower doses it's just floaty. Like with psychodelics music can sound like the best thing ever and conversations can be super deep/hilarious in a way that makes 0 sense later. Things, especially your body, can feel really cool and the way you see the world is just weird and different and interesting. I've tried a fair amount of "mainstream" drugs and the best/most enjoyable highs I've had have been with ketamine by far.

An interesting thing about ketamine is that there's not really any comedown nor hangover– unlike something like mdma you don't go through days of depression afterwards. Actually it's kind of the opposite, you can actually feel better about life and the world afterwards. The reason for this in my non-scientific opinion is that being momentarily detached from your body gives you a weird kind of outside perspective on life? And then when you're back on earth things just look different. It's honestly been helpful to me for processing specific things on occasion.

Obviously this is a recreational drug, not a cure for depression nor a long term emotional crutch and there ARE risks just like with any substance. I mentioned that you build tolerance quickly– for me this was an incentive to use infrequently because otherwise you start needing bigger doses to achieve the same effects. That doesn't mean it's impossible to create a dependency or that there might not be risks. Like anything, it's about being careful and safe and knowing your personal limits.

I am also not saying that everyone should go out and try ket. Certainly I would not recommend it to the average Tumblr user. I merely think that she's underrated and could potentially be enjoyed (in a responsible way 🥴) by people who have experience with and know they can handle LSD or shrooms or similar (NOT AT THE SAME TIME. DONT COMBINE KETAMINE AND LSD LOL u probably won't die but it won't be fun 😭). I think if you're used to the feeling of surrendering control for a while and Ur reasonable about dosage it's really like... much less extreme than acid. And can be rly rly fun especially with friends but it can also be nice alone!

[theinkeddragon]

@masschase's boss, Casey Clark!

I'm gonna use these as excuses to ramble about lore stuff, so apologies in advanced-

So, Halos and Aethers!

Aethers are basically the in universe explanation for the weapon wheel, and how people are able to carry weapons on them so discreetly (Aka: Trojan Whores). They're small pocket dimensions for storing objects, unique to the person. Halos are the physical manifestation of aethers, though the aether itself is a cluster of 10 crystals of an unknown material located on the hippocampus; they are unaffected by damage around or to them, making them virtually indestructible, though they will decay with the soul upon expiration. Halos have 16 locations that they can reside on; Top of Head, Tilted over Right Side Head, Tilted over Left Side Head, Behind Head, Behind Shoulder Blades, Right Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Right Wrist, Left Wrist, Around Neck, Back of Right Hand, Back of Left Hand, Above Tailbone, Right Thigh or Left Thigh.

Storing objects in an aether is as simple as sliding it into the halo, and recalling is as simple as placing a hand into the halo and recalling what object you would wish to pull out. Individuals are always aware of what is in their aether, and anything stored in an aether is effectively frozen in time. Though this ability is very useful, it is quite limited, as there are only 10 unique slots for items, objects cannot have a soul, and the items cannot be larger/heavier than something that can easily carry in one hand. Ammunition is counted under the same slot as its weapon, and the individual themselves is the only person who can store or remove objects from their aether. Storing multiple of the same object in separate slots is possible, but not recommended, since similar objects will have various negative complications when either is attempted to be recalled. These can range from either complete failure to recall, one or both objects being voided, the incorrect object being called, or both objects fusing into an amalgamation and being called at once.

An individual will not gain access to their aether until they're around 9 years of age, at which a simple ring halo will manifest over their head. When it first manifests, the ability to recall and store objects will be very weak and unreliable, though this wears off within a year. Up until one turns 25, their halo will change appearance and move location, after which a change in appearance or location requires a large change in personality/life. The color of a halo is determined by soul attunement, which is an entire other beast I'll talk about on a different boss.

Halos are slightly malleable (Like a cheap aluminum bangle bracelet), and can be moved and felt, though the halo will both return to its original position & shape when released; and the sensation of having one's halo touched is neither painful nor pleasant, think if someone grabbed your teeth. Since halos are physical, they can be broken, and having one's halo shattered is incredibly painful; however it is not permanent, and while access to one's aether will be lost for several days, the halo will reform. Some individuals have greater control over their halos, being able to change their position permanently, or even using them as improvised weapons; These cases, however, are considered almost unheard of. Since aethers are attached to the soul, death will dissolve them, causing the halo to dematerialize and anything stored to be lost. Death and resurrection, as well as becoming voidtouched, will cause a halo to crack/shatter. Cracked/shattered halos struggle to store and recall items, and are much more fragile than normal halos.

Creating artificial halos has been attempted, though with only one success, which was on a prototype security cybite. However, the research and schematics for the specialized equipment required for achieving an artificial halo was lost after an incident where the laboratory caved in due to a failure in the power supply, killing everyone inside. Expansion of the aether has also been attempted, though all attempts have ended with volunteers losing their aethers and halos.

[sentimental-apathy]

So last week I had a low dose of shroom tea. It was the best experience ever. I've never felt so zen and tranquil and happy. I think it really helped my depression for sure. I just cleaned my room. Idk I feel just a bit more at peace with myself and a little more inspired and hopeful about the future. The body sensations were a bit intense to me though. I'm definitely glad I had a pool to float in cuz the feeling of weightlessness helped. I wouldn't do it often but 8 think a small dose of 1 gram or less once or twice per year would really help keep my depression and ptsd at bay. I was surprised at how completely meditative I felt. I struggle to meditate or turn my brain off cuz of constant intrusive thoughts. So it was really a pleasant experience to have no issue controlling my thoughts. The visuals were very minimal and basically just made things seem more vibrant. Like looking at the clouds in the sky and they seemed to be vibrating very slightly or the wind blowing the leaves on a tree gave off a sense of vibrancy and aliveness. Just felt strongly connected to the universe. It was comforting and peaceful. I definitely recommend making it into a tea just because it tends to cut out the unwanted nausea and the effects hit within 15-20 min. Also it just taste way better. We just grinded up the shrooms, put a measured amount into a tea bag and soaked for 15 min in boiling water with a fruity flavored tea bag and honey. It was tasty. Here are a few pictures from where I spent my trip:

At one point I was sunbathing and a little blue butterfly came and landed on my hand and chilled with me for quite a while until a strong wind blew it away. But then 5 min later it flew back to me and landed on my shoulder. Wish I'd gotten a Pic but my phone was overheated lol. Was such a fantastic day.

[dailycharacteroption]

Dreamthief (Rogue Archetype)

 The idea of a thief of dreams hearkens back to folklore and mythology of beings that rule over sleep and dreams, everything from the Greek Morpheus to the Sandman of Scandinavian folklore and beyond, painting the idea of a whimsical trickster that grants sleep and pleasant dreams, and even occasionally steals away bad dreams, is a pretty iconic ideal.

In Pathfinder, the so-called dreamthieves are less otherworldly beings and more gifted mortals, in this case, they are those who have a mass of crystalized dreamstuff in their soul which gifts them with otherworldly abilities tied to sleep, emotions, and dreams.

Some may be benevolent protectors, hunting predators from both the Dimension of Dreams and more mundane nocturnal predators alike, while others may be more akin to predators themselves. Others use their abilities as a means to an end as spies, thieves, and the like as well.

Exactly how they came by the shard that grants them their powers varies greatly, some find and merge with it in a rare dream, while others might manifest one due traumatic events related to the world of dreams. Of the latter, some may be survivors of attacks from otherworldly beings, or have witnessed some otherworldly or uncanny event.

Either way, a dreamthief boasts some unlikely but powerful abilities.

 The core, both figuratively and literally, of the dreamthief is their dreamshard, each one of which has an emotional focus similar to that of a spiritualist’s phantom, to the point where they gain the various abilities associated with phantoms of that emotion. Furthermore, they can charge any weapon or strike they make with that emotion, allowing them to add various effects that a phantom would normally add to their slam attack to their ordinary weapon rolls.

As one might expect, these rogues have greater control over their own minds and dreaming selves, both when sleeping normally and when entering the Dimension of Dreams by other means.

With a touch, mystical tricksters can steal away negative emotions and sensations, soothing their allies.

Eventually, they also master magic to delve into the dreams of others to learn things. Later on, they can even use dreams to travel far and wide.

An interesting archetype, combining the skills and tricks of the rogue class with phantom abilities and dream-related powers. What’s more, unlike the Id Rager, this archetype actually works without any corrective homebrewing! Just remember that you’re not getting much burst damage out of it due to the loss of sneak attack, but the otherworldly powers this archetype grants can be quite appealing to those seeking supernatural utility. With that in mind, I’d recommend at least some focus on information gathering and spycraft.

 It’s not a major leap in logic to assume that these dreamthieves would have personalities or emotional baggage that reflects the emotional focus in their dreamshard. After all, in many cases, the dreamshard either is or imprints upon a part of their psyche. However, what about those that gained their dreamshard by other methods? Would they feel like these emotions are thrust upon them? Did the dreamshard seek them because of the emotions they already possessed, or perhaps they have no special connection to that emotion at all?

  Though it has been years since he saw them. Lacu, also known as the Dream Wolf, thinks of his former clan every day, and carries on in their absence, channeling his dedication into protecting dreamers, having become something of a local legend.

 Many a noble lives in fear of the Nightmare Bite, a jorogumo assassin who possesses a knack for slaying her targets as they sleep, avoiding all defenses by slipping in through their very dreams. To protect themselves, many turn to alchemical drugs that induce dreamless sleep. However, there may be consequences to such manipulation.

 Masho was the sight of a great disaster that no one ever saw, for a tremendous explosion, the result of a great conflict, occurred on the ethereal plane, sending shockwaves into the dreamlands that plagued the citizens for weeks afterwards. Since that time, people have spontaneously begun manifesting strange new abilities tied directly to their emotions.

[thetreetopinn]

My ADD Medication Journey - Dec 8, 2023

It's only about 8:30 pm right now, but I'm probably going to go to bed soon so I very very likely won't have any new observations to share.

Observations:

Was not able to sleep. Laid down and put in every effort to sleep, but never drifted off. Full night of insomnia.

Will continue medication but will also take melatonin tonight before bed.

Ate a couple of small granola bars before taking morning dose.

1st dose taken at approximately 8:30 am

No light-headedness like yesterday

Appetite suppression is not as prominent today, will continue to monitor

Kept a bowl of dry cereal (Crispix) on hand to slowly nibble on throughout the day.

As of 11:30 am, can confirm that appetite is very much present as would be normal

This may be due to eating something before taking the 1st dose, or slowly snacking on the bowl of cereal out of a need for calories due to yesterday's lack

Will continue to observe how appetite is affected based on when and how much I eat near, before, or after taking the morning dose

2nd dose taken at 1:15--almost forgot

Did not really notice any symptoms or changes, was far too distracted by work (more running a training class, and then heavy research)

Around 5 pm, started to feel a curious tactile sensation that I can't quite articulate, the best I can try is "I am more aware of my skin now"

It isn't uncomfortable or painful, but just slightly odd, like how I'm processing sensation is just tweaked just a little bit.

Mild fatigue setting in around 6-6:30, assuming the medication is starting to wear off and the lack of sleep is catching up with me.

I did better about making sure I ate today, hand tremors were less pronounced than yesterday, but still slightly heightened, likely because of lower than average blood sugar.

Took a shower and experienced a drastic change in sensation--the feeling of spray on the back of my head, neck, and shoulders was substantially more pleasant and relaxing.

This experience was shocking, taking me completely by surprise. Though it only lasted about 20-30 seconds before it slowly drifted back down to the normal level.

By 7:30, the lack of sleep the previous night was catching up with me. I had planned on doing overtime due to workload at work, but the fatigue has caught up with me so I bowed out.

I'm noticing that it's much easier to get goosebumps. It's not unpleasant or uncomfortable and it doesn't impact my ability to function, but I'm very aware of it.

I had planned on taking a sleep aid tonight, but I may not need it. I will reserve the right to change my mind if I find I can't fall asleep or stay asleep.

Was mistaken thinking I had melatonin, when I have an antihistamine packaged as a night time sleep aid--diphenhydamine 25mg per tablet, following recommended dosage of 2 tablets before bed

[fantasypackerreviews]

Claw - Something Squishy Toys

Size: Large

Firmness: Soft

Claw - Harness - Review rules - FAQ

Packer review list - Twitter mirror for this review of Claw

Shares appreciated! Review under the cut

For reference: here’s an image of three pants types without a packer worn (and also, a reminder to always tuck your shirt when packing with dress pants!)

(Thick -> Joggers -> Dress pants)

Visual

Claw worn, stood neutral:

Claw worn, sat cross legged:

Claw worn, seated

Claw, worn, leg up on stool (had to up the contrast for the first set of pants due to poor lighting)

Claw worn, crouching

Claw poses no problems in any of the test pants, even in high stress posing, packed here against my body for this review:

(Model from Magic Poser)

Despite the length of the balls, I actually did manage to wear Claw both a little higher and lower, but here was about the "sweet spot" where I found him most comfortable to wear.

Size comparison:

Claw doesn't give much shaping, in most positions with every style of pants he wasn't noticeable, which is ideal for folks who want to pack for feel rather than flair - and also a very good shout for folks who wish to feel like they have a smaller penis when they pack.

While the shaft length of the large isn't really that small in comparison to flaccid natal cocks, the long balls do offer the effect if desired!

Wearability

I had no problems wearing Claw, even as someone who prefers some visible shaping I found him incredibly pleasant to pack with. The long base/balls made it so he never fully disappeared from my mental presence, so even if he wasn't visible I was still experiencing him in a way that felt natural.

Claw had a mild sliding issue in my pouch harness, however it was mild enough that I could have easily gotten by without adjusting - I just prefer to give packers a little shuffle back into place, because I find it somewhat liberating to "adjust my balls" as natal cock havers tend to.

Standing, sitting, walking around, etc all posed no problems otherwise!

Drawbacks

Other than being another I wouldn't recommend for a slingshot packer harness, the drawbacks would be subjective in that this may not be the packer for someone seeking a stronger visible profile.

Summary

I'm happy to say Claw is a wonderful packer for folks that want the feel of a smaller cock, but still have a strong mental and sensation presence, a niche I had been worried for quite some time fantasy packers may take a long time to fill.

I would recommend Claw for folks with any level of packing experience, with a slight lean to recommend medium if it would be your absolute first packing experience.

Sounds like your guy? Sounds like you need one!

Here's SST's size chart for their other sizes! This guy really is the hero for those who'd prefer to "pack small"

(And while I don't have one for review just yet, there is a Longer Version of this packer if you like the overall shape but would ideally like a longer shaft!)

[crimsontroupe]

Malleus hands Diamont a few different flavors of ice cream bars. "I thought you might enjoy tasting these. They are best when you have just breathed fire. The sensation is quite pleasant." He is spreading his ice cream agenda. / @fireandfae

"And these are...?" Cold. This he guessed already. Diamont tosses them around, curious about the texture of the still-packaged treats. Malleus does not give bad recommendations, this is something he has noticed. Odd, maybe... but... "Do you eat these? They look..."

Unappetizing isn't the word he is trying to find. Weird. Curious. Strangely shaped. More rectangular than anything else. He looks up for a moment, deep in thought. "We have something like this, back where I am from. It's called a 'witch's finger'." He unwraps one of the ice cream bars, not hesitating before putting the dessert in his mouth. It tastes... Chocolatey. And then a weird flavor.

Some kind of berry. But it is cold. Well, he knew it would be cold. Perhaps not this much, if the face he makes the instant the temperature drop hits him. "Ah. It is very cold." Malleus should probably tell Dia that he is not supposed to eat the entire thing without taking a single break first, though. He looks at the wooden stick that kept the (to him) alchemy concoction together for a moment, before going back to his own explanation.

"It is more like frozen ice, the one I am used to. And when you bite into it, it's warm. A friend of mine got this for me, once. He did not tell me what it was. Anyway, it is shaped like a finger from an old witch. These are different." And with the usual lack of explanation as always, assuming his companion will either question him about the things he is curious about or simply listen to his tale. "But I do not breathe fire," he corrects Malleus after a while. "By your color, I thought it would be pois-- ah. Sorry. I should not make assumptions. Anyway. I can see how it would be good if you were dealing with fire often. For me, it makes me--" He has to take a moment to figure out his own brain.

"It makes me feel a bit tingly. The same way I feel when I use -- well, electricity. But the cold makes me feel it more than usual. It's..." He does not catch himself smiling lightly, pleased with the outcome. "It's... quite fun. Thank you, Malleus."