#voltage drabble

[eisukevint]

The Truth Untold

Pairing: eisuke ichinomiya x reader

Genre: angst that we all love / drabble

a/n: no bec i have never ever written and eisuke angst before so enjoy this my loves and this is @cupidocherie approved

»»»»

Bloomed in a garden of loneliness

A flower that resembles you

I wanted to give it to you

After I take off this foolish mask

A maid. That’s all you were. You thought in the eyes of the brown haired millionaire you were more but that was just you deluding yourself. At least that’s what you realised when you coughed up a bright pink petal. Flowers were supposed to be a symbol of love, affection, intimacy, right? So why were you facing difficultly in breathing, coughing out more of those pretty pink petals that belonged on a flower and not in a person’s lungs?

Baba saw you. You were cleaning around a room in the hotel when he decided to surprise you. Though he wondered why you were fumbling around, hiding your face from him until he saw the blood trickling down the side of your mouth. A fist full of bloody petals and your alarmed eyes staring back at him, widened beyond compare. He didn’t say a word, he couldn’t, and instead resorted to putting his arms around you instead until you let all your pent up feelings out in the form of hot tears.

You ended up telling him everything about it except the person in question. The subject of your hanahaki. Baba listened. Of course he did and it didn’t take him long to figure out the identity of the man you were so despairingly in love with. So he decided to keep his mouth sealed for your sake.

Eisuke Ichinomiya was a man of minimal emotions. But you always thought there was something rather special between the two of you. He treated you differently, better, than other women. He respected your wishes, gave you space when you asked for it, didn’t show an ounce of hesitation whenever you went to him for help over trivial matters, he unveiled to you his vulnerability, his cavernous, most nasty scars and you did the same in return. You always believed in that mutual sense of trust between you two. You never intended for more but the universe had other plans. You were the only one who truly knew him inside and out, his fears, his troubles, what he liked and what he didn’t like. How he preferred his coffee and that he hated peas more than anything. Was there any way to evade this rippling adoration for this man who so obviously yearned for the smooth caress of love and affection? No, there really wasn’t and now you were in deep, deeper than ever.

Baba had convinced you to at least tell Eisuke. He was sure that he’d reciprocate these feelings. It was either the disease disappearing for good or you dying from the excess of petals accumulating in your throat. You didn’t want to forget about these feelings for the brown haired man so from a little push from the other auction managers who found out about your hanahaki one way or another, you decided to confess tonight.

You hoped that’s not how your night ended. A night spent crying, at least not due to a broken, sorrowful heart. The last thing you expected was Eisuke walking in with a woman by his side, his hands on her waist as they disappeared into his room. The room you had cleaned countless times before. That was enough of an answer, wasn’t it? Tripping over your own feet, coughing up another load of petals drenched in blood with a tear stained face, you made your way down. They were all down there. Waiting for you like they always had. Their favourite person to talk to whenever they needed to rant when life was hard on them. You were always there for them so to see you all exhausted and ragged because of the man they called their friend, they couldn’t bear the sight. So you told them what had happened. And when you finally gave up and let yourself succumb to the exhaustion and fainted, Baba and Luke rushed you to the hospital to get rid of these torturous feeling once and for all.

It wasn’t until Eisuke walked down the stairs to the lounge from his penthouse that he finally caught up to what was going on. Mamoru and Ota were glaring daggers at him while Soryu grabbed him from his collar and effortlessly slammed him against the nearest wall. Demanding if it was fun leading you on and watching you pin after someone who wasn’t capable of feeling any human emotions. Eisuke was clueless of course so when Soryu spill everything out, Eisuke made a run for it to the hospital. Ears ringing, eyes bloodshot, on the edge of his seat as he speeded to the hospital. He thought of the possibilities, where it all went wrong and most of all, hoped. Hoped that she still hadn’t gotten the surgery. Forgotten about those beautiful feelings you had for him and the feelings he held for you. There was no way he wouldn’t fall for you. Not when you always looked up at him with the brightest, most dazzling eyes he had ever seen. All he did was a mere favour, sleeping with the woman once so the business deal could pass through. He never wished for you to see it, and if he was aware of your feelings for him, he never would’ve done it. He always considered himself way out of your league. Someone so charming and delicate shouldn’t be with a cold and ruthless bastard like him. But business be damned, he’d rather see you smiling from ear to ear, he’d rather be the cause of your happiness, your joy, the reason your eyes shone brighter than the scorching sun itself.

But he was too late. When he walked up to your hospital room, seeing the heart monitor along with several tubes going in and out of your body confirmed his suspicions. And for the first time, Eisuke Ichinomiya allowed himself to surrender to yearning and loneliness and let his tears fall freely. His heart was bursting with emotion but yours was devoid of any.

Maybe back then

A little

Just this much

If I had the courage to stand before you

Would everything be different now

✧

[stardusted-hearts]

┉┅╍─ ✨💎⚡ ─╍┅┉

x ...

      Sonic hadn’t slept. He’d spent most of the night searching, running all over the village and surrounding mountains, trying to find even the smallest clue. Frequently he would return to the Inn, both to check on Harmony and see if there was any news.

      Eventually, the teens had managed to wrangle him into their cuddle pile in an attempt to get him to sleep. Something he protested, but ultimately caved in to for the sake of watching over Harmony. Even if he wasn’t able to fall asleep, he could keep an eye on her and pet her quills, make sure she had the best rest she possibly could given the circumstances.

      The blue hedgehog stared out the window from where they were piled all night. Gazing at the moon and stars as his mind raced, and heart ached.

Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?

      Repetitive thoughts with no distraction were too hard to take. All of this was too hard to take. Tears stung at his eyes, but he kept himself quiet and steady so as not to wake anyone else. As hours ticked by heartbreak and tears morphed into anger. A type of rage rarely felt by the speed demon that burned with the heat of a star in his chest.

      Whoever had taken Volt- and Star was damn certain he knew exactly who- had made their greatest, and last mistake.

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand. 

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how. 

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle. 

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were. 

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. 

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest. 

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.” 

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you. 

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside. 

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition. 

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’ 

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter. 

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[moonpascaltoo]

RICK FLAG

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all rick flag stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

MASTERLIST • DC MASTERLIST • 05/26/24

@foli-vora ⭒ danger high voltage ⭒ lover ⭒ free ground You’d never known panic like this. You’d never known pain like this. “Rick? Eyes open. Please baby. Come on now.” ” He’s okay. He’s okay. ⭒ hear me

@lacontroller1991 ⭒ bull ride ⭒ husband for hire ⭒ you’re not bad

@loverhymeswith ⭒ nothing will ever be the same pt2 Jotunheim has fallen and Project Starfish is on the loose, but all you really care about is Rick.

@darling-i-read-it ⭒ already married Rick and the reader are secretly married

@drabbles-mc ⭒ all settled

@blackbat05 ⭒ different You were always at odds with a certain Colonel. Will Christmas change things?

@coweye ⭒ love hurts You and your lover Rick Flag do some squad conflict resolution.

@seancekitsch ⭒ hot to go Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't take you up on your offer to play a game.

@reveluving ⭒ request

@ohcaptains ⭒ pity me, i need you you’re not read to say goodbye, not yet.

[onsunnyside]

Imagine steve just toying with the kittenreaders clit without doing anymore than that. Lets say that ari lended the kitten to him for a few days and ther first few days he only lets kitten high and dry, just toying, flicking, licking, fake fucking her clit but never really doing anything about it even taking pictures abou how big the clit is with his ministrations for the rest of the boys

He even buys for her a horse toy that has a dick in it but put it on the lowest voltage and just keep seeing the reader begging

And now is the choice send her like this to daddy ari for him to destroy her or himself do it

ok i know this was probably for "put me in a movie" but since that's bunny!reader, why not make a new au for cute shy kitten!reader: *drabble below*

you're Ari's sweet kitten, he's been alone for a long time and decided it was time to get a pet. his friends couldn't have been happier bc your daddy shares you with them, you're their entertainment and little plaything, but since Ari paid for you, he always gets first dibs/the guys have to ask him for permission about certain things. and when your daddy takes a work trip, he drops you off at Steve's house, his closest friend and gives him the green light for anything.

steve has always had a fascination with your parts, not only your kitty parts aka your cute twitchy ears and soft tail but that glorious spot between your legs. whenever you've had playtime with him and your daddy, he's obsessed with your button. he loves watching it swell up, get all sensitive, bc "the puffier it is, the better it tastes," he said once. and being in his care is no different. he's a tease, rubbing you through your panties during breakfast or movie nights, letting you grind against his hand before pulling away when you get close. he loves watching you cry and whine in frustration, it's the cutest thing.

you thought he'd finally give you a break when you woke up to him between your thighs, tonguing your clit over your panties until they were soaked with his spit and your slick. "have a good sleep, kitty?"

you nod with glazed eyes, "y-yes, stevie."

he pulls the cotton aside, groaning at the sight of your puffy kitty button, just begging for relief, "you were moaning in your sleep. what were you dreaming about?"

ever so gently, his lips suckle on your nub, the slow suction is enough for you to fist his hair. "I-I, uh! Don't stop!"

He chuckles against you, sending vibrations through your sleepy body. "just a little bit of—" he licks up your slit, "—and you go dumb. that's adorable, kitty."

ofc, he doesn't let you come that morning, or that afternoon when you ride his thigh. and in those pictures/videos he sends to the other guys and your daddy, you're wearing the biggest pout as he gets a good view of your hypersensitive, needy clit. "look how big it is. I've been teasing her for four days." he says, just brushing his fingers over your bundle, making you squeal, "I'm surprised kitty's love button hasn't exploded with all that blood in it."

now i don't know what you mean by horse toy but let's go with a classic Sybian !! it's a present from him and ari, and steve's responsible for getting a long, loud, wet and messy video of you on the toy, bc "your daddy misses you, kitty. maybe we should send him a video so he knows you haven't forgotten about him?"

[impalaimagining]

Anything you feel would go with this

Jared Padalecki x Reader

529 words

Warnings: semi-public smut, 18+ only

“No time for pleasantries.” His lips are hot on yours, his breath filling your lungs while his body knocks the air from your chest when your back hits the cement block wall.

You chortle, the laugh swallowed by Jared’s kisses. “Pleasantries? What is this, the Middle Ages?”

“Sorry.” Jared chuckles, his lips moving across your jawline. “Forgot to get fully out of character.”

He’s playing a British detective in his new role, and apparently the dialogue has made its way into his daily conversation - into his dirty talk. You cringe at the thought, but you’re quickly pulled back to reality by the scrape of Jared’s stubble against your neck.

“I only have five minutes. We’re breaking for a makeup touch-up.” He informs you, hands pushing up under your clothes.

Your intent was just to bring him lunch. Then you saw his costume, the suit, the fitted white shirt, the tailored pants. He saw the look in your eyes when he met your gaze as the director called cut, and he was pulling you into a dark corner within seconds.

Now his fingers are tucked into the front of your underwear, fingertips taunting your clit while you writhe between his hard, overheated body and an only slightly harder, cool wall.

You nod at his time constraint; no time for pleasantries, indeed. No time for much of anything with the way Jared fucks. He’s leaning against you, pinning you against the wall. You ache for him, clit throbbing under his touch, walls clenching around nothing. He’s hardly touching you.

Jared is teasing you, making you wait for the real thing.

Two can play this game. You reach forward, pressing your palm against the growing bulge in the front of his pants and rocking your hand forward. Just as quickly, you pull your hand away. You pluck at the top button on his white shirt and shove him backwards by the chest.

Jared is quick on his feet, never stumbling, even as you push him. His hands find the remaining buttons and he begins opening them, making a show of partially undressing, showing you his too-toned and too-tanned body.

It’s the middle of February, for Christ’s sake. No one should look like this all the time. But Jared does.

His eyes never leave yours, boring into you while he flashes his chest. Then he’s closing in on you again, but you meet him before he can capture you against the wall again. You spin him around, his back pressed against the blocks, and cup your palm around his cock through the fabric of his pants. With a soft squeeze, you feel his length twitch in your hand. He’s getting hard.

Looking up at Jared, you grin devilishly and stand on your toes to whisper in his ear. “No time for pleasantries.”

You back away, pushing his bagged lunch against his torso until he brings a hand up to grasp it. Jared is stunned, jaw slack, eyes wide. As you saunter away, hips swaying with purpose and pride, Jared makes a silent vow to himself to tease every inch of your body until you’re shameless, begging for him to be inside of you.

Drunk Drabbles April 14, 2023

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @chelseadanielle19 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie280 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @snackles87 @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromjin @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Jared Tags: @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @lizmalfoywayland @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

[whump-queen]

✍️ like 3 months ago u said on discord "I did get an idea about a whumper setting a shock collar to detect whumpees heartrate and go off if it exceeded a certain level… eventually they’d have to force their body to ‘relax’ if they wanted the pain to stop" and i haven't stopped thinking about it since

omg I had completely forgot about this but look what I found sitting in my notes app—

Relax

“How many times do I have to say it, hm?”

content: shock collars, restraints, begging, cruel/sadistic whumper, set up to fail

✧ ─  ༻✦༺  ─ ✧

Whumpee seized as the collar went off again, every muscle in their body tensed and contorted with agony over and over. They didn’t know how many times it took, but at some point they collapsed, limp against the concrete when the current finally stopped.

“P-please—please make it stop.” They let out another choked sob, “I—I can’t do this anymore I—“

Another jolt of electricity sparked straight into their neck and another piercing scream rang out and echoed along the concrete walls.

Whumper only laughed, and when Whumpee looked up at them with those desperate, pleading eyes, Whumper’s lips pursed together and their eyes narrowed. Whumpee knew that look—a mocking gesture of sympathy.

“Awe pet, surely you dont think begging me will do anything, do you?

“I mean,” Whumper lifted their hands up in a universal gesture of innocence, “I’m not even holding a remote right now, am I?”

Whumpee’s eyes widened, “Then how—how are you—“

“I dont control this right now, you do. And if you want it to stop, you’ll need to learn to fucking control yourself.”

It was no use. Their voice kept cracking between words. Whumpee could only let out a pathetic whimper as they sunk limply back into the floor.

Whumper smiled and turned on their heel, snickering when they heard yet another snap of electricity and another desperate shriek of pain.

They reached for the door handle, but a sharp shout from their captive on the floor made their fingers pause.

“Wait! W-wait I— I’ll do anything, I— Please— Please just— just make it st—aaAAGHH—“

Whumper turned to look at the bound shaking figure, twitching with the voltage that never seemed to leave their system for too long.

A condescending smirk slid across their face.

“I’ve already told you. If you want the pain to stop, you’re going to have to relax.”

Whumpee felt fresh, hot tears stream down their face as they watched Whumper disappear through the doorway, locking the door behind them.

✧ ─  ༻✦༺  ─ ✧

there are a lot of scenarios you could do with a premise like this, this was just drabble wip I had in my notes so! may write more of this idea and I invite anyone else to use this idea if you want (if you do, tag me cuz I wanna read it!)

general whump tagljst: @whumpshaped @whumpsday @emmettnet @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @shannon-foraker @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23

lmk if you want to be added/removed from the taglist <3

[corrodedcarpals]

CW: electrocution, being live streamed, torture, masturbating, exhibitionism, lingerie

just a 4amish drabble of shock collar stuff and fox. no gendered language

as always Fox belongs to gatobob c:

imagine a stream where Fox sets up a shock collar, "For nostalgic reasons" and the higher the donations chat gives, the more voltage you receive. Maybe once they've reached a donation goal, then chat gets the oh-so-lovely privilege of getting to watch you 24/7. Or if they reach an even higher goal, they get permanent control over your collar! Just think, the 'safe haven' away from all of the torture Fox puts you through, now invaded by the one thing you needed a break from most. Pain. And the worst part is, there's little to no way for you to tell when it's coming! It's seemingly random. You want to sleep? Sorry! WoundFucker wants to see you writhing against the rank mattress you're laying on at god knows what hour. Oh, you're getting dressed for the next show? Mm, too bad, one good shock and you accidently end up ripping the adorable garments Fox picked out for you! And that's just a shame. You assume Fox would be pissed once he finds out. After a bad day at work, he just might be. But no, even if he is, he should keep control of himself. It's mostly chat's fault, anyway. Or maybe even while you're trying to find what little relief you can all cooped up in this little room. Hand between your thighs, pleasure clouding your mind and your breath coming out in soft quiet pants while you can practically feel chat's eyes on you...Maybe you like to think you aren't doing this for them, that you just want some extra dopamine. But when you feel a long, almost gentle vibration run through your bones causing you to orgasm, there's no denying just how much you've come to love the attention. Of course, the voltage is capped in order to prevent any lethal damage! Fox wouldn't want the show to end early, or for you to pass away while you're 'recovering'. That's no fun for anyone ! No, if something's going to kill you, it will be after you beg him to put you out of your own misery. After all,

Your curtain will fall eventually, but only when the audience calls for it.

[fukanouna]

never again (will you leave me)

Summary: On Earth-838, Natasha abandons her recon mission after she receives a distress call from Captain Carter that her Wanda is being possessed by her alternate self.

A/N: One day I'll expand upon this idea but for now it will remain as a drabble

---

"Nat, if you get this, the Illuminati Headquarters is under attack. The person in question is... Wanda Maximoff, your wife.

She is currently being possessed by another version of her through dreamwalking. Maria doesn't seem concerned and is confident we can handle her, but the Steven Strange we currently have imprisoned and prepped for trial said this Wanda is also known as the Scarlet Witch. There was deep-rooted terror in his eyes as he warned us of the Scarlet Witch's power and..." Static and explosions were heard in the background. "Listen, Nat. If something were to happen to the Illuminati, to me, I have no doubt that you'll be able to stop her. She cannot have that child with the power to jump through universes."

Natasha replayed the message over and over as she drove her motorcycle to the headquarters, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over the agent.

Dozens of broken and torn apart Ultron sentry units were scattered around the front gates and the long hall leading to the lab.

When Natasha found Wanda, the blood-covered woman stood alone among the fallen bodies of the Illuminati with her back turned to the agent. Natasha forced herself to swallow back her tears, knowing that Peggy, her best friend, was gone; she was too late.

She set her Widow Bite to maximum voltage and lifted her arm.

"Stop."

Wanda, with piercing red glowing eyes, turned around with an expression that turned soft. "Natasha..."

"Get out of my Wanda's body and return to your universe." Natasha began charging a taser disk as a tear slide down her cheek. "Please... I don't want to do this..."

With a single wave of the hand, Wanda's magic completely disassembles Natasha's Widow Bites and the components fall to the floor. Before Natasha could react, Wanda teleported in front of her, streams of red flowing into Russian's conscious. Natasha tried to fight her off, but her eyes involuntarily close and she lost consciousness.

Natasha's unconscious body floated into Wanda's arms and she held the woman tenderly, lips pressing softly to the agent's forehead.

"Once I've taken America's powers, I'll take you back home..." Wanda murmured. "And this time, we'll be together. I'll make sure you'll never leave me again..."

[uunromanticized]

It’s been like 15 yearsish and I’m still obsessed with monster highand I’mstill obsessed with Frankie x holt (Jackson’s meh) Can I request some Frankie & holt content, whatever is fine with me :)

i also love monster high so much!! here you go!! im not the best at character x character but i hope you can find some enjoyment in this regardless :)!! g1 frankie, so im using she/her pronouns! just a quick lil drabble :)

high voltage | holt x frankie

one perfect melody is all anyone really needs to start the day..

so imagine just how lucky frankie feels when she gets to experience not only a perfect melody, but an oh so sweet symphony each day that she’s with her boyfriend. just the thought alone of him could send lightning throughout her body.

“oh, i’m so sorry!”

frankie stein happened to have a clumsy streak. in this case, one might just call it her being unlucky, though. with her entire being oriented around electricity, it’s well known whenever she feels something strongly that it manifests outside of her physical body. usually counteracting that through remaining relatively calm, thinking about her boyfriend just fills her with so much happiness it’s impossible to not have some of it spark out!

her unfortunate victim? the exact person she was just thinking about, holt hyde.

“don’t worry about it, firecracker.”

feeling the arms already around her tighten further, she knew she didn’t have to worry. humming in acknowledgment while leaning back against her boyfriend, she raised her magazine to start reading it once more. oh, how she just loved the teenage fashion magazines!

“hey, babe?” the words rolled off of her tongue almost unnaturally. she still was not used to using those kinds of pet names on her own. or in general, really.

hearing holt’s questioning hum, frankie lifted her arms up to show him her magazine. “do you think that she’s pretty? should i get the outfit?” she didn’t mean anything bad or accusatory with her words, she just genuinely enjoyed his input. feeling holts hands hold her own so that he could pull it closer to himself, frankie couldn’t help but feel her face heat up.

“yeah, she is. could never beat you, though, frankie fine. go ahead, you look good in anything.”

[phoenixriley]

YOU ARE NOW VIEWING: VISUAL NOVELS MASTERLIST

MYSTIC MESSENGER

"Perfect for Us" — Jumin Han x F!Reader (one-shot)

Did Jumin and Y/N's relationship move along too quickly? cw: canon continuation, established relationship, fluff, spoilers for Jumin's route

NEKOPARA CATBOYS PARADISE

"Wouldn't Change A Thing" — Cast x F!Reader (one-shot)

You are just trying to sleep like you usually would, but after watching a particularly sad movie with your cat boys before bed, things don't necessarily go to plan. cw: fluff, reference to death

OBEY ME!

"3:43 am" — Mammon x GN!Reader (drabble)

Reader just needs to quickly get out of bed… cw: established relationship, fluff

"4:01 am" — Lucifer x GN!Reader (drabble)

Lucifer returns back to HOL after a long day to find a pleasant surprise. cw: established relationship, fluff, pet names

"8:53 pm" — Beelzebub x GN!Reader

After a long week, reader just needs a moment of downtime. cw: fluff

"Asexuality" — Demon Brothers x GN!Reader (Headcanon)

"Banishment" — Mammon x F!Reader

MC just wants to get her work done, but Mammon wants her attention. cw: fluff

"Black Sheep" — Satan x F!Reader

Returning back to your family home for the first time since being summoned to the Devildom doesn't exactly go as planned. cw: accidental demon summoning, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, family drama, family pressure, mention of depression, mention of pregnancy (not reader), pact marks, reader is mid-20s, references to canon

"Body Dysphoria" — Leviathan x GN!Reader

After a long day cosplaying at a human world convention, Leviathan and reader retreat to their room for the day. Reader is forced to face their reality after hours of pretending to be someone else. cw: angst, body dysphoria about chest, comfort, cosplay, established relationship, feminine anatomy, fluff, gender dysphoria, gn!reader, negative body image, non-binary!Levi, reader with a preference for a more masc. appearance, self-indulgent

"Break Up" — Mammon x F!Reader (Drabble)

Mammon gets broken up with. cw: angst, break up

"Brother's Girl" — Mammon & F!Reader (feat. Lucifer x F!Reader) (Drabble)

Mammon’s true feelings come out whilst intoxicated. cw: alcohol, angst, jealousy, pining, unrequited love

"Crush" — Diavolo & GN!Reader (feat. Barbatos x GN!Reader)

How would Diavolo react if he had a crush on MC, but Barbatos and MC were together? cw: angst, pining, unrequited love

"Diabetic!Reader" — Cast & GN!Reader (Headcanon)

"Error" — Leviathan x GN!Reader

Reader is doing their best to finish a coding project for class after a long day when Levi comes by to visit. cw: Fluff

"injuries" — Lucifer x GN!Reader

Lucifer doesn’t mind getting babied by reader occasionally… cw: fluff, injury

"Periods" — Cast & GN!Reader (Headcanon) (MDNI)

"Reminder" — Satan x M!Reader

Sometimes, Satan just has to take a little extra care of his human. cw: established relationship, fluff

"Simplistic Afternoon" — Lucifer x F!Reader

Lucifer and MC's rare afternoon together. cw: established relationship, fluff

"Too Much" — Lucifer x GN!Reader, Mammon x GN!Reader

The pressure of being a human exchange student finally gets to the brothers' precious human. cw: angst, comfort, established relationships, fatigue

TEARS OF THEMIS

"Diabetic!Reader" — Cast x GN!Reader (headcanon)

"Late" — Artem Wing x F!Reader (one-shot)

When a client calls Artem with an emergency, the attorney rushes out of the firm, hoping he can get back in time for his prior arrangement with Y/N. cw: angst, established relationship, fluff

VOLTAGE INC

"Cleanliness" — Kuranosuke Kiba & F!Reader (one-shot)

A moment that should've foreshadowed to Y/N how things would go with her future husband while living with him. Game Title: Oops, I Said Yes?! cw: accident, co-workers, late night at work, pre-canon, pre-relationship, road trip, work

"Miles Away" — Mitsunari Baba x F!Reader (drabble)

A moment shared between a newly married couple when Baba has to leave again for a long trip. Game Title: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder cw: angst, comfort, fluff, married couple, pet names, references to canon

"Oh God" — Togo Daimon x F!Reader (drabble)

Stuck on the most recent project, Y/N has a breakthrough while speaking with her boss. Game Title: Oops, I Said Yes?! cw: accidental kiss, first kiss, fluff

"Periods" — KBTBB Cast x GN!Reader (headcanon)

"The Final Act" — Kazuomi Shido x F!Reader (one-shot)

Not everyone gets a happy final act to their story. Game Title: Masquerade Kiss cw: angst, character death, injury inaccuracies

[xxsycamore]

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒/𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒/ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 - 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

> (newest->oldest). Check out my writing masterlist here

❄️🎄 SWEET& SPICY WINTERTIME 🎄❄️FLUFFY SMUT PROMPT LIST/CREATIVE CHALLENGE!!

Posted: November 30th 2023 (deadline January 20th)

masterlist of the challenge

browse the tag here: #sweet & spicy wintertime

a list of 10 winter-themed nsfw prompts (general nsft warning for all fanworks.)

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ━ ≪ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ≫

runtime: Oct 1st-31st 2023 ; no deadline

browse the tag here: #visions of temptation 2023

> a kinktober challenge featuring two prompt lists of 62 kinks & 31 dialogue prompts, (general nsft warning for all creations.)

🏖️🌞👙  ► 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒

Posted: August 17th 2023 Duration: August 23rd-September 10th 2023 (deadline October 10th

browse the tag: #late summer rendezvous

masterlist of the challenge

> a list of 15 nsft summer-themed prompts (general nsft warning for all fanworks.)

🎂🎉NAPOLEON BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION 2023🎉🎂

Duration: August 1st-15th 2023 (no deadline)

browse the tag: #napoleon birthday celebration

> a list of 15 questions where each group of three follows a theme that is by itself a prompt to be used in fanworks.

🧡 𝗗𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘, 𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 2 - AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE (AU)-THEMED OTOME CREATIVE CHALLENGE

(cohosted alongside @queengiuliettafirstlady)

Posted: June 9th 2023 Duration: June 19th-25th 2023 (deadline July 23rd)

browse the tag:  #different universe same love ccc

masterlist of the challenge

> a week-long challenge centered around the trope Alternative Universe, with a total of 14 prompts of different settings for the seven days of the challenge.

🌸🔞𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐓 🔞🌸 - A SPRING-THEMED NSFW PROMPT LIST

posted on: April 23rd 2023 (no end date)

browse the tag: #late spring tryst ccc

> a nsfw prompt list of 10 spring-themed prompts (general nsfw warning for all fanworks)

▌𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘔𝘺 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦‼️ —❥ 𝐱𝐱𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

runtime (requests open): February 14th-20th 2023

browse my blog's tag here: #for you my valentine!! - xxsycamore's 1000 followers celebration party

masterlist + thank-you post

> a personal sfw event where you can request drabbles from a list of 20 prompts

▌𝐁𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝟐.𝟎- 𝐀 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐱𝐱𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 @chaosangel767

(co-hosted alongside @chaosangel767)

runtime: February 1st-14th 2023; deadline February 28th

browse the tags here: #be my valentine ccc and #be my valentine content creation challenge

> 14 mixed prompts of scenario & dialogue, all centered around the theme of love.

█2022🔽 ████████████████

▌‘𝗧𝗶𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 CREATIVE CHALLENGE ❄🎅🏻

(co-hosted alongside @voltage-vixen)

runtime: November 23rd 2022 - January 14th 2023

browse the tags here: #'tis the season for love & #'tis the season for love content creation challenge

> a winter holiday themed challenge featuring a fluff and a smut prompt list, 10 prompts each (scenario and dialogue) general nsft warning for the smut prompt list's fanworks.

▌≪ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 ≫ ━𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  

runtime: Oct 1st-31st 2022 ; no deadline

browse the tag here: #visions of temptation 2022

> a kinktober challenge featuring two prompt lists of 62 kinks & 31 dialogue prompts, general nsft warning for all fanworks.

▌𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 3.0 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦

(co-hosted alongside @voltage-vixen and posted on her blog)

runtime: July 17th-31st 2022 ; deadline Sept 8th

browse the tags here: #summer of smut & #summer of smut content creation challenge

> summer-themed challenge with 30 scenario prompts (+ free day), two for each day, general nsft warning for all fanworks

▌- 𝗡𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟮 -

(co-hosted alongside @batteryrose)

runtime: August 9th-15th 2022 ; no deadline

browse the tag here: #napoleon week 2022

> a week-long challenge with 7 one-word prompts & 7 dialogue prompts centered around Napoleon Bonaparte, hosted as a count-down to his birthday.

▌𝗗𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘, 𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE (AU)-BASED OTOME CREATIVE CHALLENGE

(co-hosted alongside @queengiuliettafirstlady)

runtime: June 13th-19th 2022 ; deadline July 5th

[ fandom masterlist can be found here ]

browse the tag here: #different universe same love ccc

> a week-long challenge centered around the trope Alternative Universe, with a total of 14 prompts of different settings for the seven days of the challenge.

▌Spring Bouquet 🌺🍀🐇 Content Creation Challenge

(challenge and banner by @atelieredux - I only lent a hand in the making of this one!)

runtime: March 20-26th 2022 ; deadline April 2nd

browse the tag here: #2022 Spring Bouquet CCC

> a week-long spring-themed challenge with mixed scenario & dialogue prompts, one per day.

▌Be my Valentine - A Valentine’s Day themed content creation challenge

(co-hosted alongside @chaosangel767)

runtime: February 1st-14th 2022; deadline March 6th

[ fandom masterlist can be found here ]

browse the tag here: #be my valentine content creation challenge

> 14 mixed prompts of scenario & dialogue, all centered around the theme of love.

█2021🔽 ██████████

▌𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 & 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

runtime: Oct 1st-31st 2021 ; no deadline

[ my personal masterlist can be found here ]

browse the tag here: #VISIONSOFTEMPTATION2021

> a kinktober challenge featuring two prompt lists of 62 kinks & 31 dialogue prompts, general nsft warning for all fanworks

▌- NAPOLEON WEEK 2021 -

runtime: August 9th-15th 2021 ; no deadline

[ my personal masterlist can be found here ]

browse the tag here: #napoleonweek2021

> a week-long challenge with 7 one-word prompts & 7 dialogue prompts centered around Napoleon Bonaparte, hosted as a count-down to his birthday.

█2020🔽 ██████████

▌𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎

runtime: Oct 1st-31st 2020 ; no deadline

browse the tag here: #VISIONSOFTEMPTATION2020

> a kinktober challenge featuring 31 dialogue prompts, all nsft.

▌- NAPOLEON BIRTHDAY PROMPTS 2020 -

runtime: August 6th-15th 2020 ; no deadline

browse the tag here: #NAPOLEON BIRTHDAY PROMPTS 2020

> featuring 10 one-word prompts & 10 dialogue prompts centered around Napoleon Bonaparte, hosted as a count-down to his birthday.

[krys-loves-otome]

Tis the Season For Love CCC: This gingerbread house just WON'T stay up!

Happy holidays everyone!

I decided to participate a bit in this holiday creative challenge, hosted by @xxsycamore and @voltage-vixen!

Won't be doing all of them or in any particular order as it is a busy holiday season for me, but I thought this we would be a fun one to do and to share.

Below the cut is also a lil drabble I wrote for the prompt.

And thanks again for hosting this event! See you guys on the next round!

-----

"This gingerbread house just WON'T stay up!"

Harr startled a little, hearing the familiar voices to Maddie and Loki in the kitchen. He had been researching Cradle holiday traditions for Maddie and didn't wanna interrupting his two students bonding over holiday projects, but he couldn’t ignore a cry for help as blatant as that.

Peeking inside the door, he saw a mess of broken gingerbread pieces, candy cane shards, and buttercream frosting smatterings across the kitchen table. In the table's center was, what he could guess, was a gingerbread replication of his house, supporting tree and balcony included, recreated with sweet treats. Except that it was laying on its side, frosting dripping sadly.

Harr hid a smile behind his hand, cooling his expression before entering, taking in the defeated faces of Loki and Maddie, both in states of hard battled baking warfare. Where one had flour in their hair, the other also had frosting on their nose and cheeks. Harr waved his hand lazily, his visible eye glowing red, and both his students were cleaned up of their baking warfare.

Maddie was the first to respond, her red cap jingling as her head moved.

"Thanks, Harr."

Loki pouted, looking at the remains of his and Maddie's 'house'.

"It was gonna look so cool, making the house out of gingerbread."

"We might… have been a little ambitious." Maddie said, smiling awkwardly.

Harr studied their handiwork, his bandaged hand resting under his chin as the thought.

"And we thought we could do it without magic, but… well.." Maddie continued, "you see how well that turned out."

"Hmm…." Harr said, choosing his words carefully as was his way. "I commend you for trying without magic, both of you."

"But," he continued, "I think, a little magic can help, if you really want to recreate the house."

"The point was to try and not use magic though!" Loki said, "but…. Yeah. It definitely needs some help."

Harr's eye glowed red once again, familiar runes and circles forming at his fingertips, the house soon having a stronger base of gingerbread, the winding staircase and railings made new with their candy cane decorations, and frosting soon looked like snow on the roof and the tree branches. Both Maddie and Loki looked on in awe. Harr smiled.

"I did build this house with magic helping me, so it wouldn't be cheating if you two had used some to help you too. It's just as much a tool as any other."

"It looks so amazing!" Maddie said, her eyes sparkling. "How did you do that?"

"Well, I did come across something just now that might help you to recreate the spells, if you-!"

He was then hugged from two sides, bright eyes looking up at him expectantly. He felt his cheeks heating up at the sudden attention.

"Clean up the kitchen first, then I'll teach you."

He was then released from his hug shackles, watching his two students clean up what remained of the gingerbread house making ingredients. With a small smile, Harr went back to his study, picking up a thick red tome and started skimming the pages.

[antihibikase-archive]

2023 Art Summary

Some of my favorite written works from last year!

January - "i see the truth" Chapter 39 - Burning Jealousy

February - "i see the truth" Chapter 40 - Amnesia

March - BW/BW2 Rewrite - offering.

April - his heart.

May - Cherenverse - The World

June - Cherenverse - Rising Voltage

July - Mutual Rotting - String Theocracy (Unpublished)

August - Mutual Rotting - Death of The Messenger

September - Untitled Mutualism Drabble - Like A Dog

October - Numeron Code - Piper and The Amusement Park

November - Numeron Code - Lower One's Eyes (Collab)

December - Dearest Cheren Slater

Note: The September drabble says it was published on November, but that's because it remained unpublished up until that point! It was written on September 21!

[impalaimagining]

my kids are asleep and I’m thinking about polishing off the bottle of wine in my fridge. anybody interested in a little drunk drabbling to see if ya girl still got it?

drop a gif/prompt in my inbox if you are!

*I only write spn, and tonight I’m limiting it to Sam or Dean / Jared or Jensen

tags below the cut (assuming tags even still work)