littledragonkana · 7 months ago
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Wait wait wait-
So my theory was that Raligon will be a guardian since he apparently wont be a cleric. And it makes too much sense now. I'd be really disappointed if I was wrong and he has a different class. Anyway hear me out:
A guardian is someone who supports others and PROTECTS. He died protecting the others. He sacrificed his life for the rest of the group and also the world!
His biggest impact and achievement during the second war of the tyrants wasn't healing. Of course that was very important and they couldn't have done it without him but the healer role was also embodied by Syphride.
What he did in the end was protecting. Guarding. Saving the others. Even though it meant he died.
His class is representing what he DID and not who he WAS because that is what he will be remembered for. Being brave and giving up EVERYTHING to save everyone---
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quilleily · 1 year ago
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@pumpkinpaperweight had a dream and now im suffering with brainrot. The "only sophie got taken so agatha went after her" post, and im not ok, im not ok. I have this plot in my head now, ideas and dialouges, but will i actually do it? idk so here's a couple sketches i did, what i imagined what happens at the aftermath of the kidnapping
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aaaarrghh i want this to be a full blown au so bad you have no idea i am not okkk aaaaaaaahh
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arabellachant · 6 months ago
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army dreamers; kate bush / the end of the line of durin
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wingspiked · 5 months ago
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the real tragedy is knowing that sund.ay will never likely get to confront his abuser (yes im referring to the dreammaster) and perhaps never fully reconcile the grooming and trauma he endured
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simplydnp · 10 months ago
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.
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dramabiscuit · 2 years ago
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Me to episode 13 of Love in the air: so you think my emotions are a JOKE?!?!
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the-purple-possum · 1 year ago
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AO3 is down so now I'm doing arts and crafts.
Only issue is that I forgot how to do arts and crafts and its tricky putting tiny gem stickers down when the glue falls off.
But here's my headphones so far:
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Unfortunately I've run out of Pearl stickers, but the other side will be a spiral to represent my current state of mind.
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blazefirefox · 4 months ago
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i am utterly horrified what the heck
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mydr3aminvi0let · 4 months ago
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oh word you bitch made boy ima make you stand on it. we have nothing left to lose im going to crash out over this one. now you can play the victim and call me a whore even though a.) i never fucked you b.) my body count is 3 c.) they've always been boyfriends only d.) you told me your body count was over a hundred in 2021. i could never even aspire to be a whore like you. love how that's your default insult because you can't imagine someone NOT resorting to whoring because that's all you know how to do. you can't control your dick, your mouth, your feelings, what the fuck is left. you're a fucking child. when you have enough money after your herpes medication and molly consider investing in therapy for your NPD. you're not going to find the validation you need in alt right adjacent circles knowing damn well they will never accept you because you're not white. you're not an idiot you could do so much with your life if you just got a fucking grip and would realize you don't need external validation. but nooo you're at war with yourself and wanna take it out on everybody. feigning moral superiority to argue with randoms for the adrenaline or insulting the last person who gave a genuine fuck about you. you could use your energy and knowledge in ways that could make you money from said interests but idc fuck around. i didn't need shit from you i have everything i need just wanted to see you do good for yourself because i met you in the trenches. going out sad.
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jellybeansmud · 2 years ago
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craving some matcha with coconut cream rn but nowhere to buy it :( literally nowhere in the city sells matcha and cococream is only in big stores and only in big cans. i can't drink a whole can in a few days and have nothing sealable to keep it in it. will go bad :( i ordered some but they're not gonna be here till.at least tomorrow and i wanna it now !!
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lightseoul · 7 days ago
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HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)
pairing. k. bakugou x reader
synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.
cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)
a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?
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bakugou remembers it clear as day.
it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.
he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.
with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.
he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”
that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.
“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.
mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”
he didn’t need to be told twice.
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he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.
the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.
at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.
because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.
the fact that he’s fucking terrified.
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it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.
he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.
words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.
“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.
“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.
“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.
“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”
it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.
some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.
the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.
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masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.
you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.
when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.
she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.
he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.
one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.
just—not now.
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the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.
growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.
sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.
plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.
but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.
it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.
not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
not even you.
but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.
you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.
and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.
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the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.
mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.
when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.
“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”
“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.
“…waddya mean?”
you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.
at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.
“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”
he didn’t say anything after that.
at least, for a while.
finally, he spoke up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”
to that, you only tossed him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”
“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”
seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.
with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.
your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.
and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.
thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.
thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.
thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.
thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.
he fell into a fitted sleep that night.
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after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.
it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.
with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.
he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.
he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.
he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.
it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as the two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.
and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.
but masaru wasn’t having it.
the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou felt indignation creep up his spine.
he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.
so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.
still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wiped off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.
and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”
you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”
he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.
and because he loved (loves) you, he did.
and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.
the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.
and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.
because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?
simple, bakugou thought to himself.
it’s because it feels like he has.
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his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.
he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and sadness have been chipping away at her by the minute.
he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.
he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.
“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.
he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.
behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.
your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”
still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.
“nothing.”
“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”
at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.
“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.
you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.
because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.
his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.
his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.
his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.
because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?
“…katsuki?”
he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.
“huh?”
“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”
the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.
but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.
and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.
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“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”
he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.
his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.
at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.
“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.
at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”
that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.
he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.
before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.
you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”
“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”
“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.
“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.
at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.
the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.
without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.
the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.
“thanks again, kacchan.”
bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”
izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”
he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.
(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.
“she’s been amazing, huh?”
bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.
“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.
a pregnant pause.
“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”
that caught him off guard.
he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”
the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.
“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”
and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.
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later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.
it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.
he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.
“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.
if he only knew.
if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.
there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.
there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.
it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.
what you would make of him.
he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.
he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.
he quickly reached up to wipe it away.
to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.
but that didn’t come.
instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.
he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.
he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he heard aside from his own weeping.
he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.
he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.
maybe tomorrow, but not now.
for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.
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tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon
˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!
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sukunas-wife · 10 months ago
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HI OML I LIVE UR WORKS THEY MAKE ME BAWL MY EYES OUT AH 😭
can you please do sukuna reader and yuji going in the caffe and yuji trying hot chocolate for the first time ?
i literally live you so much <3
🥹 ILL DO IT DO IT FOR BABY YUJI
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“What the hell, why?” Sukuna eyed you suspicious of your question.
“Ryomen Sukuna-” covering your toddlers ears you gave his dad a look. “You walk around shirtless with four arms and two faces at 8 foot whatever everyday, I’m just asking you to down size and lose the second pair of arms for maybe 2 hours.”
Sukuna grumbled crossing his arms over his chest taking his son when he reached out for his dad “Shame I’m the only one who walks around shirtless in this house.” Holding Yuji on one arm the ruffled his boys hair, “What do you say brat? Do we go do whatever your mom wants or do we rip our shirts off?”
“Shirts!” Yuji screamed immediately trying to rip his shirt to copy his already shirtless dad. “That’s my boy!” Sukuna cheered him on when he managed to tear the hem slightly, “We don’t wanna go, two against one remember that parable or something you read a cord of 2 or whatever.” Sukuna turned away from your cold glare propping Yuji on his shoulder “It’s not like we really belong in public anyways.”
You huffed, looking down, sniffling, the tears burning your eyes as they start to roll and you took a shaky breath “Ryo please, I just wanted to spend some time with you and Yuji at the cafe where I first saw you. Yuji hasn’t seen the city and I just wanted one maybe two hours of your time but you won’t even do that..” your shoulders shaking as you tried to not cry, Yuji who was piggy backing on his dad’s broad shoulders pulled his hair “You made mommy cry!”
Sukuna rolled his eyes sighing heavily, “crying won’t solve your problems y/n, I said no.” Yuji pouted tugging he dad hair as if they were reigns to a horse, “daddyyy” he whined and leaned over his dads head to look at him.
Sukuna huffed before trying to gently flip his brat onto the bed “Stop you’re not helping.” Yuji giggled before running over to you, wedging his body between your knees to hug your waist, “It’s okay mommy we can still go, daddy doesn’t have too.” You sniffled rubbing Yuji’s back, “My sweet little Yuji.” Your teary eyes broke Sukuna when he finally looked at you, “FINE. Im killing anyone who gets in my way.” You smiled standing up and taking Yuji’s hand, “Good we’ll be waiting at the entrance.” You placed a quick kiss on Sukuna’s cheek and he just looked at you in disbelief, “You turned my own blood on me with your fanciful tears, disgusting.” He side eyed you as you closed the room door not hearing or seeing him smirk “What a woman.”
He stood there before calling for Uraume to come get his robes ready, he’d be needing smaller attire for the day.
❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️
It didn’t take long for Sukuna to alter his appearance. He stood in a simple wide armed white Robe with a printed belt and plain scarf. On his shoulders was a giggling Yuji who kept reaching up to the passing branches his chubby hands smacking Sakura branches making them shake and fall. On the occasion step Sukuna would purposely shake him to make him hold tighter and scream. You’d smile watching until you got to the city, “let’s hurry! It’s just before lunch.” You hugged Sukuna’s arm, looking up at him with that damn smile, he caved “Hold on brat.”Yuji immediately gripped tightly to his dad’s hair as Sukuna hoisted you up, “I’ll make this quick.”
It felt like a breeze to before you refocused and Sukuna was already putting you down keeping Yuji on his shoulders. “Down.” Yuji bounced on his dad’s shoulders. “No, if I put you down you’re just going to run around.” You smiled at Sukuna placing a hand on his arm, “Sit down with him Ryo I’ll do everything else.” Sukuna looked at you with his usual resting face that looked like a frown, Yuji unknowingly matting his dad’s hair while he played with it. Sukuna caved leaving your side to sit in a corner booth away from everyone, he crossed his arms over his chest after he put Yuji down to sit next to him. Yuji smacked his hands on the table “daddy!” “Hm.” Looking down at his son “That’s man’s talking to mommy!” He stood up in the bench one chubby hand smacked on the table the other chubby finger pointing at a man talking to you, “That’s the cashier brat.” “…. oh…. WHAT ABOUT HIM!” He pointed to man who was now talking to you, you had a forced smile and almost a sympathetic look, “Go bite him.”
There went Yuji throwing himself under the table running to fight his dad’s battles, “for daddy!” Was all you heard before you watched the man in front of you yelp and shake his leg, looking down you saw Yuji clinging to the man’s pant, jaw locked on his thigh almost growling. “Yuji.” You forced back your smile coughing to cover a laugh. “Baby let go.” He side eyed you when you grabbed his sides and he let go, standing up you held Yuji’s hand, “Like I said this is my son and that’s my husband.” The man turned to find Sukuna staring at hin with more than an intimidating look, “forgive me.” The man bowed his left and quickly moved off, you smiled down at Yuji ruffling his messy hair, “My little knight in shining armor hm?” He puffed out his chest smiling “yeah!”
After you grabbed your tray with drinks and let Yuji carry the paper bag of sweets you ordered, you made your way to the booth where Sukuna was staring aimlessly out the window. Watching as Yuji slid into your side of the booth you set the drinks down, “Black coffee with 6 packs of sugar,” you turned to Yuji smiling pulling him into your lap “I got you some special, the waitress has to bring it okay?” He nodded “okay!” He still hadn’t let go of the paper bag Sukuna had been silently eyes as he drank his Coffee, “hand em over.”
You sighed smiling watching your husband try to pry the paper bag from Yuji’s hands, Yuji who slipped off your lap holding the bag to his chest and turning away, “no!”
“Here are your drinks! Two hot chocolates one kids with extra whipped cream.” The waitress quickly left after seeing how your husband was playing tug o war with Yuji who was standing on the booth seat. “Listen brat-” Yuji let the bag go mouth and eyes opening wide as he saw the pile of cream on the short cup, “What’s that?” Bringing his tiny fists to cover his mouth you could see the sparkle in his eyes, “I want you to try it.” He sat himself in your lap reaching for cup that you slowly put in his chubby hands. He spread his fingers over the cup “it’s hot.” “It is, so be careful.” You guided the cup supporting it from below when he tried of drink from it. The first thing to happen was mushing his face into the whipped cream that made you laugh and Sukuna scoffed with a slight smile. Pulling the cup away, “Let’s try to clear some of that up,” you took a spoon scooping out a dent in the whipped cream to see the hot chocolate, bringing to spoon to Yuji he opened his mouth wide. You watched as he closed his mouth and his eyes widened and he clapped his hands “Is good! Daddy! Try!” You both looked at Sukuna, the smile on his face unfaltering as he rested his face against his propped up hand, “You try it first brat.”
Yuji nodded looking determined “I will!” Taking the cup in both hands, your hand guiding the cup, you saw how he stuck his tongue out to test both chocolate first before starting to drink. You looked at Sukuna who looked equally as shocked when your son started to take bigger brinks. When he put the half empty cup down he let out a loud “Aahhh dalichous.” (Delicious) Your smile couldn’t be held back as your peppered the side of his face you could reach with kisses “Look at my little man,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, “so grown you have a little mustache.” He giggled at your kisses shaking in your hold. “Try it daddy…” Yuji wiggled out of your lap just to run to Sukuna, trying to climb into his lap. Sukuna who wanted to resist couldn’t when Yuji looked at him with those big pleading eyes and pulling and on his sleeve, something he definitely learned from you. Sukuna rolling his eyes let Yuji into his lap grumbling about how he better not get comfortable. You watched as Sukuna opened his mouth, his free hand guiding Yuji’s so he could drink from the cup. Yuji’s closed eye smile making Sukuna waver, “it’s… good.” You and Sukuna both watched as Yuji never shifted off his dads lap, holding his cup with two chubby hands drinking and eating pecan cookies until his tummy with round and he fell asleep leaning back against his dads chest. Watching as Ryo held Yuji against his chest, you couldn’t help but awe.
The rest of your visit with your husband was filled with Yuji’s soft snoring, as you both talked quietly about how much things had changed, Sukuna suggesting another child, preferably another boy. You rolled your eyes and would’ve swatted him if Yuji wouldn’t have been cradled against him. Soon enough you all got up ready to go. The quiet snores because Sukuna had fixed Yuji to let his chest on his, and his head tucked between his neck and shoulder. “You’ll stay warm like this.”
Your walk home was peaceful, Yuji was sleeping, drooling on his daddy without a care in the world and you were hugging Sukuna from his side. His free arm moving to hug your waist and keep you warm and with him, he looked down at you, that mischievous smirk, “So, about that second son-“ he was hit with falling snow that had you laughing so hard you had to stop the breath, “We’ll see.”
🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤
Ty everyone and for my tag list! My Brains been everywhere but i try!
Sorry it’s so long! I need some background lol
@cyder-puff @domainofmarie @satorisgirl @sad-darksoul the other 2 wouldn’t let me tag!
I’m sorry 🤍 but tyty for everything
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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 10 months ago
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the woobification of the lords is something ill never be able to wrap my head around 😭 its insane to me how people can have such a horrible interpretation of events and characters based off of what we have in the actual game
let me start off by saying that ALL FOUR LORDS DID HORRIBLE THINGS (INCLUDING THE DIMITRESCU DAUGHTERS) !
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lady dimitrescu isnt some gentle giant who only hates men and loves women and treats them like queens and she just loves living a quiet life with her daughters, she kills and tortures people 😭😭 she like actively killed her maids and drank their blood 😭 they have a basement that has so much blood in it that it goes up to ethans THIGHS
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they are muderous and SADISTIC, including the daughters
the woobfication of the dimitrescu daughters is always the most confusing to me. their faces are literally covered in BLOOD 😭😭 they chase ethan around and stab him will laughing and giggling, cassandra literally calls it a HUNT, it is fun to them and they enjoy it
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people always try to frame it as ethan breaking into their homes while they are scared and afraid 😭 i can assure you that nobody is afraid of him at first 😭 they dont think hes an actual threat, thats why they toy with him. and dont act like they were unaware of what he wanted. they were all present at the family meeting with miranda, they were all present when they JARRED rosemary 😭 they know what ethan wants, they know who ethan is, to frame them as "minding their own business" is the most absurd interpreation you could make of them
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they were all involved, they all knew what he wanted, and they all HAD what he wanted
you can feel sympathy for lady D, when she cries for her daughters with tears in her eyes, she loved them, they were her family, but you cannot deny the hypocrisy. "how can you kill my daughters for your own!" you have his daughters head in a pickle jar! her daughters werent innocent defenless babies who were scared of big ol ethan stomping around in their house, they have weapons! they wanted to hurt him, and they did, and when he fought back he won
i cannot stress enough that in every single fight, ethan is not the first to strike. he is either backed into a corner where its either his life or theirs, or he is literally being tortured/ chased around, what do you want him to do? these people have pieces of his baby, should he have lied down and died?? 😭
whenever ethan is in a situation where the other person isnt stabbing him in the abdomen 100 times he tries to HELP them 😭 he tries to help absoulute strangers of a village he doesnt even know while he knows his own daughter is missing, even when the stranger is also a jerk to him 😭 he wants allies, he isnt actively trying to make enemys, and before you cry "karl heisenberg!" im getting there...
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the thing that bothers me with how people treat donna is that although she isnt the WORST she gets woobfied the MOST imo, like she is the ONLY lord (other than karl but hes a outlier because he wanted ethan to come over so they could make out on his bed) who actively lures ethan in, miss dimitrescus, yeah sure u could say that he trespassed, same with moreau, but donna literally LURES HIM IN with hallucinations of his DEAD WIFE, then OPENS THE DOOR for him and TAKES HIM DOWN THE ELEVATOR
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she is literally one of the people who ACTIVELY leads him to where she is
she also uses psychological puzzles , like making ethan perform surgery on a wooden doll of his wife and making him run away from a monster that cries like a baby and calls him "dada" 😭 she did not need to do any of that... like at all 😭 she did it because she wanted to 😭 she is by no means innocent at all
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she toyed with him for literally no reason other than her own desire and then ethan doesnt even intentionally kill her. he is in a situation where is his trapped in the house and has to find angie, the doll, to avoid being attacked by dolls with like 100 knives stapled onto them
its only when he defeats angie its revealed that he had actually stabbed DONNA. he didnt even intentionally kill her 😭
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then moreau... poor moreau... 😭
moreau in my opinion is one of the more sympathetic lords. whoever he was in his life pre cadou has no influence or impact on his life post cadou, the cadou just wrecked his brain functions
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all he is is just mirandas minion at this point, he only wants to please her and doesnt really think about anything else for himself 😭
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i dont have much to say about moreau because theres not really many people who woobfiy him or pay him any attention really 😭 though i will say he was very unabashedly evil 😭 he did horrible things, such as eating the fishermen and his experiments with the cadou on the villagers, he did it for mirandas approval but its not a excuse for it, hes still a villian 😭 now we are onto karl.... this guy... the woobification of him is insane 😭 first of all, something i dont see people acknowledge is that he actually HAS killed villagers! no he doesnt just use dead bodies (which btw isnt really a step up 😭 some of u set the bar too low man) the lycan gauntlet that he made ethan run through? yeah, he used that before! he has an entire PA system set up in it! he has lights and huge spikey metal death traps! he did not make all of that just for ethan just to "play appearances" for miranda. there were other people who went through that. and they DIED!
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their deceased bodies are still in there! karl is messed up and eccentric 😭 it makes him fun, let him be messed up and evil 😭 and yes, karl used DEAD bodies instead of killing people who were alive, so surely that makes him far less evil right?
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WRONG! 😭
HE CONSIDERED USING LIVE BODIES FOR THE SOLDATS 😭
karl really isnt a good person, he has reasons for the things he does, he wants to take down miranda and i dont think hed be creating undead zombies in the first place if it werent for her ruining his life but that isnt justification, its just an explanation for why he does what he does. he has a sympathetic back story and motives but you cant erase what he did, hes a villain! he tries to use a baby as a weapon!!! all 4 of the lords are villains, and instead of making other characters worse to uplift your favorite character that did something bad, you can just accept that the character you like did bad things 😭 they are all fictional, if i like moreau it does not mean i endorse eating fishermen 😭 you can like a character that is flawed, or evil, or did insanely messed up things because its RESIDENT EVIL. they are EVIL! they do bad things! like im sorry! but if your fave has a villains wiki it probably means they did some bad things! 😭
i wish people would be able to enjoy a character without entirely dismissing the bad things they did. its okay to like a character that does bad things, its ok to find them interesting and fun! but you cant deny what actually happens in games to try and make them appear as innocent. you dont have to justify every little thing that they do, just accept them as a whole!
of course this doesnt apply to AUs or just posting for fun. you can change media to be what you want to make it more fun. im going to draw lady dimitrescu treating ethan like a unwanted family pet. does that mean that i think she would really do that in canon? no! she would bite him and then tie him up like a pinata and give her daughters blindfolds and bats!
but people need to be able to recognize that fanon is NOT canon.
this post is about canon interpretations,
this is just addressing people who genuinely believe that those kinds of portrayals of the character is an ACCURATE portrayal, because its not.
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sommerbueckers · 3 months ago
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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝
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✰ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮
✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐𝐤
✰ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭...𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY HOW it was supposed to be. All the guests had arrived on time and were clad in an array of pastel colors, the menu had been carefully crafted to cater to everyone's dietary restrictions, and the weather was forecasted to be warm and sunny throughout the entirety of the day. You should've been ecstatic, and yet you could hardly breathe.
You sat hunched over in a chair, a worn bucket positioned in front of you in case you needed to vomit. Tears welled in your eyes, on the verge of spilling down your cheeks and ruining your meticulously applied makeup. The prospect of falling ill just moments before walking down the aisle was a dreadful scenario, yet you couldn't compose yourself. You clutched your hand to your chest, your face contorting in a painful grimace.
"I can't do this..." you mumbled, more so to yourself than to the other women in the room, your bridesmaids, "I can't do it."
Your best friend, and maid of honor, had been at your side since the moment you started feeling sick. Her hand hadn't left your back, soothingly rubbing up and down as she barked orders at everyone. It was always like her to take charge and ensure things remained intact when you started to crumble, it was the reason you two worked so well together. It was the reason you could trust her to put you back together whilst you sat still and helpless.
"Somebody get Paige," she said aloud.
"No!" you cried, looking frantically at her, "No, no I don't want her to see me like this, she can't."
"Honey," she wore a look of sympathy as she spoke to you, "you gotta breathe. I'm gonna leave and she's gonna come in here, you're gonna be fine."
You could only nod in response. Morgan had always been adept at reassuring you, persuading you that everything was fine even when it felt like your world was unraveling. As the room gradually emptied, leaving just the two of you, you finally gave in to the tears, allowing the warm droplets to slowly trickle down your face.
Morgan held you tightly, her own eyes pricking with tears at the sight of her best friend in shambles.
You felt frustrated with yourself. Today was meant to be the happiest day of your life; after seven years of dreaming about it, you and Paige were finally getting married. It was the start of a new chapter you had eagerly anticipated. Yet here you were, on the verge of ruining everything because you couldn't manage your emotions. Why couldn't you just get a grip? Why couldn't you just focus on everything good that was to come instead of everything that could go wrong?
What if this doesn't work out?
What if she falls out of love?
What if she feels like you're trapping her?
Paige could hear your sobs through the door, and her own nerves rose at the mere sound of it. She hadn't been told why you were crying, all she knew was that you had refused to leave the room multiple times. Her hands shook as she grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open to reveal you and Morgan sitting in the corner. She could've sworn she felt her heart break in that moment, she had never seen you this pained.
Morgan stood to her feet, placing a kiss to your temple before approaching Paige at the door.
"What happened?" Paige whispered with furrowed brows, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Morgan and you.
"I have no clue," she shook her head, "she said she couldn't breathe and then she just broke down...I don't know what to do Paige." It was the first time in her entire life that Morgan had no idea how to calm you down, she was beginning to panic as well.
"I got it," Paige reassured her, watching her leave and then shutting the door after her.
As she carefully approached you, she could hear you mumbling frenziedly into your hands. Your bouquet was on the ground beside you, a combination of pink and white hibiscuses all tied together with a blush colored bow. The two of you had gone out to pick them yourselves, Paige wanted them to be just right for you. They were perfect, everything was perfect, why were you crying?
"'M'sorry," you sobbed, "'m'so sorry."
She comfortingly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.
"What happened baby? Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.
"I can't do it," you repeated for the second time that day.
"Can't do what?" she frowned. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, to assume that by 'I can't do it' you meant marrying her. She couldn't lose you, she wouldn't.
"What if...if this is a mistake?" you panted, avoiding her eyes as she fought to catch yours. "What if later on you meet somebody else or you realize that i'm not enough for you?"
It was then that she realized this wasn't about you at all, it was about her. You were scared that she was getting cold feet, that she was having second thoughts, that her mind wasn't made up. She held you closer to her, kissing the top of your head as her own tears began to fall. She wondered if it had been something she had done to convince you that she wasn't all about you, that she wouldn't pick you in a room full of every other woman in the world.
She pulled away from you to get a better look at your face, holding either side of your face with her hands. "Stop talking like that, stop. That shit is never gonna happen and I know that for a fact. I can sit up here right now and tell you that falling out of love with you is several levels above impossible."
You blinked out more tears, staring silently at her as she professed her undying love for you.
"I am so in love with you it scares me. Every day that I wake up and can't be with you because i'm away for basketball or i'm out with some friends or anything else, all I do is think about you. And even when i'm with you, i'm still thinking about you. I can't even keep my hands off of you, like i'd need to be physically restrained for that to happen. You make me wanna do things i've never done before like jump out of a plane or swim in that little ass cage with the sharks around it because all I wanna do it impress you. I want you to stare at me with those big brown eyes and tell me how much you love me, and I wanna record your laugh so I can listen to it on repeat whenever you're not around.
I want you to force me to watch romcom movies that you've seen a thousand times and are only watching again because you want me to see them. I wanna come home really late at night and find you sleeping on the couch in my clothes because you missed me, and then in the morning I want you to tell me how you tried to stay up to see me when I came home. I'm planning to take you to all the countries that you've dreamed about visiting and just haven't had the time yet. I'm gonna be front row at your med school graduation with a huge poster of your face that blocks everyone behind me from seeing you. I wanna go back and forth with you over what to name our first kid, and I wanna combine all of our money so we can build an obnoxiously big house.
I swear to God, and I never swear to him so that's how you know I'm being so serious, I'll be damned if I spend my life with anyone other than you. Nobody else is worth my time. All I need is you baby, that's fucking it."
You and Paige were bawling together, both of your makeup needing desperately to be redone. It would push the wedding back for sure, but that didn't matter now, Paige loved you.
You pulled her in for a kiss, ignoring the way both of your tears were mixing together. She wouldn't touch anything other than your arms, not wanting to ruin your dress.
"I love you. I'm not leaving this spot until you understand that," Paige said firmly.
You nodded your head, swallowing the lump in your throat that had begun to shrink since the moment Paige stepped in here.
"I understand it."
"Do you still wanna do this?"
You shook your head, watching intently as Paige let out a sigh but nodded nonetheless.
"I'm kidding! Fuck, let's fucking do this!"
Paige playfully pushed your shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she stood up. "I'm gonna go grab that fancy makeup lady and tell her to get you right, and then i'm telling Morgan to work her magic and impress everybody with one of her weird talents to buy us time," she explained quickly, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes! I'm fine, now go and fix the mess I made," you laughed.
She placed another quick peck on your lips, hurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with your thoughts again. This time however, they were a thousand times more collected than before. You laughed at yourself, you were silly to second guess Paige's love for you. She had never, not once, given you a reason to. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face was a wreck and it'd take a miracle to hide the swelling of your eyes. But again, none of that mattered.
Paige loved you.
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reidmania · 4 months ago
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ILL ALWAYS COME GET YOU | SPENCER REID
description ;
Drinking your feelings after a bad day isn’t always a great idea, good thing your boyfriend, Spencer will always come get you.
Warnings ;
Fluff, slight angst but nothing crazy I dont think there is any gender mentioned, but let me know if there is, Mentions alcohol consumption, bad day at work, crying, basically spencer just comforting the fuck out of drunk reader. I think thats it.
a/n ;
i need spencer reid to comfort me when im drunk. NOT MY GIF!!
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There was heavy blows of cold air that passed through the streets, the ones which were only being lit by the half broken street lights on every corner.
You could hear the faint sound of the music playing inside the bar that you had just stumbled out of, mixed with the cars driving past on the street. After maybe 5 drinks too many, everything was a little bit blurry, everything sort of sounded the same all at once.
Shaky hands reached for the phone that was buried somewhere in your big jacket pockets. The jacket was big and warm — not enough to shield you from the cold air.
Was it a smart decision to go to the bar and drink your body weight in alcohol — no, but emotional and stressed, you weren’t completely thinking straight when leaving work at merely 5pm, it had been hours, nearing 11.
It was meant to just be a couple of drinks to take the pressure off, then when the bartender asked you if you were okay, and the tear-flood started, every drink after that was a no brainer, soon enough you had enough to no longer worry about the damage the amount of alcohol you were consuming would do to your bank account.
Your hands fumbled with your phone, grateful for face ID since you doubted you would be coordinated enough to type your password without messing it up countless times and ending up locking yourself out of it.
It was a slight struggle trying to press on your contacts, when a few — probably just as drunk people, walked out of the bar behind you, reminding you that you were still stood in the doorway. After you shuffled over slightly, now out of the way. Your eyes stared at Spencer’s contact through blurry vision, considering whether or not it was worth calling — He was still working when you last spoke, maybe he was still at the office, busy, or better yet in bed asleep.
After a small sigh left your lips, the warm air from your mouth contradicting the cold air on the streets, a stem of steam followed your breath, which you found fascinating in your drunken state for a moment, before your attention was pulled back to your phone by the ringing sound.
Seeing Spencer’s contact light up your phone brought a small smile to your sad face, you were quick to answer, yet it took a minute to realise you had to put your phone to your ear.
“Hello?” You heard Spencers voice, softening a piece of your chest slightly. You assumed maybe he had been saying hello for the few seconds it had taken for you to pull your phone to your ear.
“Hi” You muttered back, drunk feet shuffling slightly as your words slurred. There were a few people still wandering around, going in and out of the bar, talking to each other or giving you strange looks which would’ve made you a little more insecure if the alcohol didn’t influence that part of your mind.
“Hey angel.” Spencer said, letting out a soft sigh of relief hearing your voice. “Where are you? You aren’t home” He said, voice itching with slight concern.
Your lips parted as you realised he had come home and you weren’t there — which would’ve been confusing because he knew you finished work hours ago, maybe you should have told him beforehand that you were planning on drinking your feelings in tequila shots.
“Im drunk” You said, not quite processing the question you had been asked.
You could hear Spencer chuckle on the other side of the phone, “I can tell baby, Where are you?” He asked, his voice was so soft and gentle, it almost made you emotional.
“Um” You hummed, spinning on your heels which only caused you to stumble slightly over your phone feet as you looked at the bar, which had its name written across the top, only that was a bit harder to read within your blurry vision.
“I dont know.” You pouted slightly, “That one bar” You muttered, hoping maybe he would know the exact one you were talking about. You assumed he would — it was the closest bar to your shared home, and the one you two went most often.
“Yeah?” He muttered, you nodded. Yet he couldn’t see that. There was a sound of slight shuffling on the other side of the phone, before you heard a door open and shut.
“I don’t think I can drive” You frowned as you looked around to try and find where your car was parked, you had come straight after work.
Spencer chuckled again. The sound was so comforting to you in your drunken state. Maybe it was silly how it made your downturned lips shift upwards into almost a smile.
“Im gonna pick you up, Angel. Just stay where you are for me okay?” He said. You heard another door open and close, which you assumed was his own car door. You hummed softly in agreement.
For the course of the next few minutes there was no conversation had between the two of you, you sat silently watching the cars on the street, while Spencer drove the few minutes down the road to the bar.
Soon the call ended, leaving you to frown as you stared at the phone, seeing it go back to where it was before you answered the call — on his contact. Before you even got the chance to call him back and cry about how rude it was for him to hang up on you like that, you heard your name being called.
Your head turned to the sound of his voice. He was standing there — still in his work clothes, making your frown only deepen, he hadn’t even had the chance to relax or change before he had to come pick you up.
“Hey baby” He cooed, taking your face in his hands as stood in front of you, taking in your puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the soft skin on your face.
You subconsciously leaned into the touch of his warm hands as you looked up at him, “You’re here” You said, sighing softly as you relished the warmth his body radiated.
He nodded, “Of course Im here. You wanna get home? You’re freezing.” He said, shaking his head softly, moving his hands from your face to your hands — which were seemingly colder.
You nodded wordlessly, he took that and wrapped his arm gently around your waist, leading you to his car. You tried not to stumble but it wasn’t working, without Spencer there holding your body tightly against his own you probably would’ve already fallen flat on your face. If he noticed your stumbling — he didn’t say anything.
He helped you into the passenger seat, before leaning over you slightly to pull your seatbelt on, despite your best efforts to do it yourself.
“But my car—” You muttered, sitting up a bit straighter as the realisation dawned on you that your car would be left here, your head turned slightly as the passenger seat door closed, Spencer didn’t say anything, before walking over to the drivers seat.
He got in. He must of noticed your distressed eyes staring at him when he looked over at you, pulling his own seatbelt on. “Your car is fine honey, we can come get it in the morning.”
You chewed at your lip as you looked down, nodding wordlessly at his solution. He drove without saying anything, but his hand sat warmly ontop of your thigh, thumb rubbing up and down gently as your head laid back against the head rest.
When you arrived outside your shared home, Spencer was quick by your side helping you out of the car and into the house, where he sat you down on the couch. The house was warm, which lead you to believe he had turned the heater on when he got home — or before he left to pick you up.
He returned to the living room with a large glass of water. “Drink” He hummed, handing you the glass. His hand stayed holding it till he was sure you had it tight in your grasp.
You nodded, taking a few small sips of it, before lowering it slightly. He shook his head dismissively, “All of it, Honey.” He said, two of his fingers brushing under the glass, encouraging it back up towards your lips.
You sighed, before obeying. Taking a few larger sips of water before the glass grew empty. Spencer hummed approvingly, taking the glass from your hands; standing up.
“Where are you going?” You pouted, looking up at him with a small hitch in your eyebrows. You could feel the heat blowing down from the ceilings, onto your bare legs.
Spencer paused in his movements, giving you a soft smile as he noticed your concern — as if you believed maybe he was leaving. “Getting you more water” He said.
“Spence.” Your tone was warning, dismissive of the idea of having to drink another large glass of water. He just continued walking to the kitchen. You heard the tap turn on and off before he returned, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of you rather than in your hands.
“You don’t have to drink this one all in one, you can just sip it” He said, before taking a seat next to you again, watching your head nod up and down softly.
You chewed at your lip, avoiding his gaze as even in your drunken state, your mind couldn’t seem to stop working over time — which was what got you in this position in the first place.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly, his body turning more towards your own. You looked up at him for a moment. It was a dangerous question he was asking, especially in your current state.
“I don’t know” You shrugged. It was the best you could muster up without spilling every little doubt in your mind. You didn’t know. You guessed that drinking your emotions automatically meant you weren’t okay, but it wasn’t like you were dying, or anything you wouldn’t get over.
Spencer sighed, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you in your own world, living in your head. He knew you did this — overthought everything, worked yourself up.
“Why did you drink?” He asked, realising this may get more of an answer out of you to what was actually the matter — what the cause of your drunken state was.
You leant into his shoulder slightly, head resting on his chest, under his chin. His arm wasted no time wrapping around you shoulder, only pulling you in closer.
Your voice was quiet, words still slight slurred as you spoke — but they had been the whole time. “Work sucked” Your voice was barley audible — Your boyfriend would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying you his full attention.
That was a rare occasion anyways.
“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asked, hand rubbing soothingly over your clothed arm. You were quiet for a moment as you felt the tears reoccur in the back of your eyes. It seemed they had been there all day.
You shrugged, only making his frown deepen. He realised quickly — talking about it was not what you needed right now, what you did need in this moment — he was unsure of.
So he asked; “What do you need honey?”
You felt a hot tear against your cheek at the question. You were quick to wipe it away, a shaky breath leaving your lips.
“Can you just hold me?” You asked, he could hear the sadness in your voice, the need and desperation for some sort of comfort.
He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head, humming in response. “Course I can. Do you want to go change? Get into bed?” He asked softly, pulling you slightly away from his chest to look at your face, his own falling slightly as he noticed the big wet tears on your cheeks.
You nodded as a soft sob rippled from your throat, making his frown deepen. His thumb was instantly wiping your eyes softly. “Oh sweetheart” He cooed at your sad eyes. “Come on, lets go to bed”
Before you could even move to stand, his arms were around your waist, lifting you up gently. His hands holding you close to his chest as he walked to your shared bed room.
The entire way he was muttering sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you that everything was okay, that he loved you.
He placed you gently on the bed as he walked towards the wardrobe, He changed himself quickly into his pyjamas, any other time you would’ve cooed and adored the way he looked.
“Your clothes or mine?” He asked. It wasn’t an uncommon question, sometimes after showing together he would ask you if you wanted to wear his clothes or your own. It was a cute nothing.
“Yours.” You muttered, hand pulling to brush strands of hair out of your face as you watched him nod, grabbing out a pair of your own sweatpants, his t-shirt, and your favourite hoodie of his.
It was funny at first when you discovered he actually owned hoodies.
He was by your side moments later, gently pulling the big coat off your shoulders, before undressing you from the business attire you had been wearing all day, helping you into the clothes he had brought out for you.
Only minutes later your head was resting against his chest — the tears had officially stopped, his arms wrapped around you as your legs intertwined with his.
“Take the day off tomorrow” He whispered softly into your hair. You could feel the alcohol slowly processing away, not enough to be sober but enough to be a little more there.
You would’ve argued any other time, but you just nodded against his chest, before leaning away slightly, reaching over to grab your phone from where Spencer had plugged it in on your beside table.
He chuckled, grabbing your arm, “Tomorrow baby, not now.” He said softly.
You again didn’t argue, returning to your position before, hand scrunching into the fabric of Spencer’s pyjama top gently. “Thank you for coming to get me” You muttered tiredly as your eyes closed, breathing in his scent that only soothed every muscle in your body.
“I’ll always come get you.”
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charnelhouse · 2 years ago
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no promises
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Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (Red Fox) Wordcount: 2.6k Warnings: rough smut. size difference. infected wounds. hangovers. sex on a cot. Summary: The first time. A/N: for all you babes, who been asking for their first sexi time Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist
Ghost is wounded.
It’s not grave. It’s not critical, but it’s a bitch. The kind of pain where, even for him, tears prick his eyes and pressure grows fat behind his nose. 
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck….”
He sits up and the shifting of his weight irritates the poorly stitched slit along his ribs. It’s swollen with infection, the skin puffy and screaming red last he checked. It reminds him of a howling infant. He thinks of howling himself, but the desire to cry out sits firmly at the center of his esophagus. He swallows it before gingerly lifting his shirt. He can’t see it at this angle, but it feels wet.
He lightly touches his side and the pain is excruciating. He chokes. 
“Ghost?”
Red steps through the doorway, the shadows collecting at her edges. The rest of the safehouse is silent and asleep aside from Gaz on watch.
“It’s nothin’,” he assures her before accidentally touching the stitches and jerking again, hissing in agony. Wordlessly, she makes her way toward him on bare feet. They’re pretty, but everything about her is pretty. In fact, the thought of her looking at his purple, pus-filled injury makes him nervous. “Red, it’s not-
“Hush,” she chastises, knocking his hand away and turning on the light. She’s clinical about it. Shirt up. She leans in and the stench wafting from his bandages is enough to curl wallpaper. It smells like a corpse and Simon knows the exact perfume of rot. He thinks of Roba - it screeches through his mind before he banishes it to the lockbox in the furthest corner of his head. 
“Smells like it’s infected,” he says to fill the unbearable silence. 
“Ya think?” The corner of her plush mouth twitches as she tugs his shirt higher. 
Her fingers are cold against his burning hot skin and he shudders.
“Did that hurt?”
“Yes,” he lies.
“I’m sorry,” Her gaze flickers up to meet his. “It’s more than infected, Simon. We need to get you to a medic like yesterday.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Not if it infects your blood, baby.”
He goes rigid as does she. Her eyes are round and expression aghast and he realizes that she had just said what he'd thought she said. He didn’t mishear her. Christ - he gets fucking hard at the pet name and he has to wrestle the blankets over his lap.
She bites her lip. “Um,” she slowly draws his shirt back down. “I meant to say that.”
“Did you?”
“100%.”
“I believe you.”
She shakes her head, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. She looks embarrassed and it surprises him. She isn’t one to trip up or make mistakes that cost her that unflinching coolness. It’s something Soap chases, perhaps something that he already thinks he’s mastered. Soap thinks he's a helluva lot smarter than he is.
Ghost finds Red disarming, an enigma. She can go from perfectly composed to a siren-fury in the space of a second. She can be cold - an ice queen as many others have called her. But with 141, she's anything but. Despite the violence in her eyes, she has a sweetness that she reserves for them.
Her hand on his skin, her quiet voice tinged with concern as she hovered in the doorway: Ghost?
Baby.
“I didn’t mind it,” he says suddenly.
“Mind what?”
“What you called me.”
She smiles with all of her teeth before huffing softly. She leans closer and he knows he will deny her nothing. She slips her fingers against his neck, trails them down to the hard muscle of his chest. “There are a lot of things I’d like to call you,” she confesses before kissing his clothed cheek and calling Gaz for EVAC. 
***
A month later and he’s next to her on a small, yellowing cot. He takes the floor, his back glued to the wall and legs spread out. She’s crumpled on the thin mattress, deathly hungover, completely ill. She twists onto her side to stare at him. 
“I fucked up.”
“I warned yah about that homemade shit.”
“Alejandro said-
“He didn’t know what he was talking about. He’s been hugging a toilet since last night. Soap hasn’t even left the couch, claiming he’s gone blind.”
She sniffles.
“Are you crying?” Granted, he’s a little hungover too, but still…the girl had been shot before. 
“It hurts, Simon,” she whines. “I honestly feel like I’ve been stabbed between the eyes.” 
He hates when she calls him by his name. It sounds too lovely. It sounds like something good.
He wordlessly hands her another cold glass of water, which she takes gratefully. She drinks too fast and most of it lands on her shirt, turning the white fabric transparent. Bleedin’ Christ. He can see her nipples. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to hover over her like a mother hen. She got so drunk, he was worried she’d hurt herself or wander and - 
Well - he fuckin’ likes her. He wants her to be safe. 
She readjusts onto the mattress, legs kicking out at the threadbare sheet. She’s wearing flannel shorts and her legs are smooth and shiny underneath the wane light. After a moment, she asks, “Would you - shit - uh would you lie on here with me?”
At first, he doesn’t think he’s heard her right. He scrapes his hand over his face before turning to regard her fully. “Come again?”
“It would help,” she explains. “It would really help.”
She doesn’t ask the same question. She doesn’t repeat the desire to have him get in her bed and he realizes she’s left the ball in his court. He can pretend like he didn’t hear her initial question and they can continue on like before or - 
To his own surprise, he stands  and awkwardly fits his enormous mass into the bed. He can’t not touch her due to the narrowness of the space, but she seems to love it.  She throws her arms around him, kicks one leg out, tangling it with his thigh. He grunts and he can feel her cheek against his heart. He can smell her hair. 
“You’re like an octopus,” he accuses. 
“Yes,” she replies simply before snuggling her head into his chest. She’s burrowing, pressing herself into him. More. More. Go deep. 
“Is it better?”
“So much.”
He aches for her. That was it. Plain and direct. He ached. 
He throbbed.
He pulses with the same repetitive thump of his organs, the circulating system of his veins. The continuous reminder that he wanted Red in a way that consumed him.
I want her to consume me.
He’s far too big for her and still he imagines her being able to swallow him whole even if he throws her down and claims her.
He’s hard between his legs and he prays she’s asleep. She’s rising and falling with his chest, slipping into the gentle pace like lapping water. 
But then he feels it, she shifts slightly and skates her hand down his belly before she brushes it over his crotch.
It could be a mistake.
She does it again and he twitches. He rumbles.
Silently, he draws his arm back and begins to stroke the nape of her neck, the bare skin of her shoulders. She’s silky and feverish and he can imagine just how hot she is between her legs. 
Wet. 
“It would help,” she whispers and it’s all the consent he needs.
***
It’s terribly awkward at first. They’re both clumsy, both not feeling their best due to last night’s party. He moves on top of her, arm braced above her head, hand clutching the metal frame of the cot. He wedges himself between her spread thighs. 
“You’re heavy.”
“I know.”
He rocks against her, hips grinding down so that the bulge of his cock drags against her clothed cunt. She sighs, arching into him. Her nipples tight and pinched against the fabric of her shirt.
“What if I want to kiss you?” she asks in such a timid voice that it stops him. He studies her for a moment before quickly standing up, locking the door and flicking out the light. He yanks the mask off, breathes deep. It’s freeing. The cool air brushing his skin, the slope of his nose and sensitive mouth and he’s already back on the cot. He’s on top of her and she immediately fists his sweat-damp hair. It’s mussed and unshowered and she grins against his lips.
“I can feel you,” she says, dazed and awed as he rucks her shorts and underwear off her legs. In the gloom, he can make out the shadow of her pussy. He touches it, allows his finger to linger against the warm, soaked slit. He pets at her and she moans. She tries to curl into herself, but he restrains her, pinning her hip and thigh to the sheets. 
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he admits and this is just sex. It’s just about feeling better.
“You can’t see me,” she argues. 
“I can see you.” He lowers his face to her cunt and tastes her. She gasps. “Got eyes like a bat, you know?” He licks her again, savoring the salt of her flesh, the secret part of her. He eats her until she shakes, until the walls of her womb clamp down on his fingers and her clit throbs against his tongue. He does it again until she has to kick him away with her heels. He sits back on his haunches, his hand lifting to circle her dainty ankle. He glances down to study her pretty little foot against his broad chest. “You’re like a doll.” His Duchess. 
“C’mere,” she begs, arms out and as he sinks into them, she wraps them snugly around his shoulders. He turns his head until his lips match up with hers and then they kiss for real. The first true kiss they’ve had aside from the one on his mask last December. He sucks her lower lip between his teeth, nibbles until she inhales sharply. He takes advantage of her parted mouth to thrust his tongue against her own, the slick, warm muscle lazily strokes and strokes until he’s rutting between her spread thighs because it’s driving him into a red-haze.
“Want me to taste you?” she whispers as she holds his face between her hands. Her thumb draws a circle over his cheekbone, digs into the scar that runs underneath it, taking advantage of his nakedness.
“‘Nother time, pet,” he replies as he undoes the button of his jeans. She helps him kick them off and when he finally stands, her eyes widen comically. Her hand falls against her chest, flutters like a bird. 
“Oh,” she says. “Oh - um - Oh.”
He glances down to where his cock has curved up against his belly. He’s rock-hard, nearly ready to blow. Red and twitching. He knows she’s soaked. He’s made sure of that. He’s used three of his fingers on her to get her ready, but she still looks nervous. 
“We don’t have to,” he assures her quickly. “We can just not-”
“No!” she protests, almost hissing. “I want to - I do. There are condoms.” She gestures vaguely to a desk in the corner. “In there…maybe.” 
He gets them and returns to her, her fave still twisted into something weary. “Do - do you think those will fit you?”
He laughs. “Yeah, kid. They’ll fit.”
She lies back down, her legs splayed open and, even in the dark, she is obscenely beautiful. To him. Objectively. To anyone. He’s heard the men say it. He’s felt it. He’s memorized her face and those half-parted lips and used the image to jack off in the shower like a school boy and - 
“Simon,” she says, an edge of impatience scraping her teeth. “Get inside me.”
He rips the wrapper with his teeth and slips it on. He climbs on top of her and he intends to be careful, treat her like something fragile. He’s so big that her legs have trouble wrapping around his waist. His shoulders so wide that she has to throw her arms out to encircle them.
He grips himself as he slides the tip of his cock against her slick heat. She breathes deeply, wiggles her hips and then he begins to press into her. “Hold onto me,” he instructs and she does, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as he sinks to the hilt inch by inch. He can feel himself battering against her womb. Her cunt sucks him in with a near-violence. She grunts, but doesn’t cry or whimper. He can make out her eyes in the dark and they’re trained on his. Determined - as if she’s fired up to handle a drill.
“Good girl,” he praises when his hips make contact with hers. His groin is nestled against her mound, her tits crushed against his chest. He noses at her cheek before brushing his lips over hers. “Can I move?”
“If you don’t,” she sighs. “I’ll fuck you up.”
He laughs before drawing his hips back and driving forward. That particular move earns a yelp from her and then he takes control of the dance. He fucks her in deep, powerful strokes, circling and angling down to hit that fleshy, soft patch buried too far for his fingers to reach. She burrows her face into his chest as she clings to him. The room echoes with the slap of flesh, the wet, dirt noises of his cock repeatedly sliding to the hilt.
“Jesus,” she whimpers as he grips her under the knees and forces them against her breasts. He bends her in half as he continues to thrust, snapping into her with a relentless, determined hunger. The bed creaks, the coils screeching and he’s certain it might break beneath them. It wouldn’t stop him. Not at all. 
“Feel so good,” he marvels as he clasps her cheek in his palm, bends his head and plunges his tongue into her mouth. He kisses her like he’s fucking her and when that’s too much, he flips her onto her stomach. 
Her fingers fist the sheets and he grabs the pillow on the floor and shoves it under her hips. From behind, he spreads her open, spits against her bruised, puffy cunt before sinking to the base. He braces his arm above her head, leverages his weight so that he doesn’t put all of it onto her shuddering form. 
“You got this, kid,” he murmurs as he sucks a mark into her neck. He delivers a sharp thrust that sends the tip of his cock hammering against her womb. It knocks her with the force of a punch and she clamps down around him, rocking back against him as she wheezes: please please please -
“Touch that pretty cunt for me, yeah?” he orders, his own voice broken on a husk. His length drags through her, sears hot and molten, stretching her in two pieces. She’s so tight, but he can feel himself open her up, mark her for himself. She slips her hand beneath her and her lower muscles bear down, constrict like a knot around the base of his dick. “Fuck - fuck - just like that, duchess. Get yourself all wet for me.”
She lifts herself, snatches his forearm and bites down as he continues to fuck her. He groans, hips stuttering against her ass, but the pain is welcome. It centers him, focuses his pleasure as it expands through his limbs. She’s covered in a thin film of sweat, her hair sticking to her back, caught in his hand. Every rut of his cock makes her ass jiggle and he thinks he’s buried so deep that he’ll never be the same. There will be no one else after this and he, to his horror, admits it:
“Fuckin’ hell, Red,” he growls into her ear as she climaxes a third time that night. “You’re so good. No one else like you.”
She’s half-mad. She’s gone and he doesn’t think she’s heard him and maybe it’s better that way. This is about feeling good. This is about comfort and relief and as he reaches his own end, his orgasm ripples through him. It unfurls through his torso, the muscles of his thighs and groin and everything pulls tight and that white scar tissue over his ribs from his infected wound begins to throb, but in a damn fine way and oh - he feels it. He really feels it.  
Her fingers tangle through his, winding like creeping myrtle. He crushes her hand against the metal railing, he holds it down and flat until the bones creak.
"Ghost," she whimpers, and he realizes he's embedded inside her, taken root, left his seed.
He thinks of all the promises he's given her the last few years:
We're getting out of this.
Focus on me, Red. We're good. We've already won.
It's just a scratch. You're fine. I've got yah.
He wants to make another, it scratches his tongue, stings like a burr. He chokes on that unspoken promise until it tumbles down his throat and allows him to pull away.
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