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simonrillleyyysss · 5 months

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*+:｡DRIVING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas!

cw; p in v, masturbation (male) ,pussy eating, squirting, oral sex(m!receiving, it’s fantasy), boob licking/sucking, groping

‘Heading home for the holidays, sir?’

The soft chirp of your voice through the earpiece caused the man’s brows to furrow, cocking his head ever-so-slightly to the side in amusement, soft huffs of cold leaving his chest.

‘It’s good to see your family every once in a while, maybe even sit on Saint Nic’s lap, hm?’

You continued, smiling to yourself.

‘Y’think Santa has me on the nice list?’

It was silent for a bit, other than the soft gusts of wind and the minuscule crackles of his radio, pale eyes narrowing into thin slits as he peered through the scope of the sniper, before your voice re-erupted.

‘Known you for years, I doubt it..but it wouldn’t be unlikely.’

A soft chuckle from the blonde made you scoff, sniffling as the cold air hit you like a truck.

‘Why, you want presents? Don’t like coal?’

‘Just want to see if y’ think I’m naughty or nice, eh?’

You shrugged mindlessly, listening to the gruff voice continue.

‘Y’ naughty or nice?’

‘Depends who you ask.’

Simon hummed, chewing on his lip for a bit before responding briefly, not continuing any further.

‘Yr’ naughty.’

The next few days were eventful, staying in a musty, aged safehouse over the christmas holidays with a bunch of men wasn’t ideally anyone’s christmas fantasy, you’d envisioned yourself sitting in a pub, drinking away merry cheers with mates and friends, yet here you were—sat on a not-so sturdy chair, Ghost’s nimble fingers wrapping the cotton bandage around your bloody calf.

‘Done this before, Lieutenant?’

You enquired, watching his nose scrunch and eyes taper; glaring up at you with disinterest, your lips parting.

‘I have experience.’

‘Lots?’

A grumble left him.

‘Some.’

Then it was silent ,thick fingers tore the wrap apart—stuffing the spare rag remains in his pocket, gently patting your calf as he stood up to his full height again; looking down at your weak , and fatigued figure.

‘Go fr’ a liedown, y’need it.’

‘M’not tired, sir.’

‘I’m not fuckin’ asking.’

With a pout, you staggered up from your chair—hobbling over to a spare room within the area, mumbling under your breath about the man; limping until you were laid on the mattress, metal bedframe freaking beneath your weight as you slung the blanket over you.

Tossing and turning for minutes turned to hours, listening to the distant chatter from behind the closed door of the room, banging of boots against the floor and slams of gear down on the tables, eventually deciding on sitting up; rifling through your pocket for a pack of cigarettes, lighting the marlboro quickly and taking a puff.

‘Y’ve a deathwish?’

Simon.

You jolted for a moment, wincing in pain and cursing beneath your breath as your calf ached—looking over at the man, whom was wedged between the doorframe with crossed arms.

‘Nothing wrong with a smoke.. Especially with how things have been going.’

Snow powdered down from the sky, watching the dark roads lay with a thick sheet of fluffy , white cloud.

‘N’ how have things been going?’

‘Well..Not merry, that’s for sure.’

The male snickered, closing the door behind him as he slunk forward to sink onto the mattress, mask slipping up as he reached to take your cigarette, inhaling the tobacco.

‘What, y’want christmas trees and carollers? Maybe even some gingerbread men.’

Frowning, you slapped his arm and stoked the cigarette back, wedging it between your lips.

‘Comedian, eh? Just want it to feel like Christmas again, like..My christmas follow; Usually out drinking, fuckin’ some lad dressed up in a pub, Buyin’ gifts..It’s christmas eve eve..eve eve!’

His eyes narrowed, tugging the rough fabric of his mask back down over his nose, watching you rant to him—your lashes batting against your cheek; arms crossed as you exhaled the smoke from your nose, cigarette perched between your index and middle finger.

‘Crier.’

‘I’m not!’

‘Big, fuckin’ crier.’

Whining, you reached out to kick his arm, the man quickly slapping your calf—watching your face contort in agony, quickly chugging the cigarette into the ashtray, smushing it.

‘You’re a fuckin’ grinch, Simon!’

‘Grow up, love.’

A scoff followed, before he patted your thigh and left the room, and your hand was immediately stuffed in your panties.

Finally back.

It was a relief, and a blessing to be back at base—immediately welcomed with a much, much comfier bed in your barracks, and the constant chirping or Kyle or Johnny in your ear, finally able to pack your belongings for a decent, christmas break.

‘Packin’ already?’

Ghost interrupted, glaring at you with heavy eyes—arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Mhhmm, need t’get home and fucking go back to normal for a week at least, can’t stay here over christmas.’

‘S’pose so.’

Silence.

‘You’re manchester, right?’

He nodded.

‘Want to stay with me for christmas? Not far from my own town.’

The question caught the man off-guard, his brow cocking upwards as his head tilted forward, pausing for a second.

‘Why?’

‘You’re lonely.’

‘That’s how I like it.’

‘Bet you’d like my christmas dinner more.’

Not even a day later, the barefaced mammoth was trailing behind you as you fumbled with the front door of you apartment, key jiggling for a second before finally pushing the door open, slamming it shut behind you both.

‘Haven’t even got my decorations up— Don’t mind the mess, yeah?’

‘Mm.’

Home, felt weird to say. But good to be back, good to finally be able to sit and bathe in an actual bath, not communal showers—

‘Y’ve a cat?’

He enquired, lifting the furry feline into his arms—looking down at the animal, which he was now practically cradling in his grasp, scratching at its head.

‘Gus.’

‘Gus?’

An amused hum left the blondes lip at that, thick brows furrowed as he tilted the creature upwards, affectionately brushing his knuckles against its furry coat, dragging himself to the sofa to place Gus down, before lifting his things to put them away in your spare room.

Afterwards, the pair of you got to work putting up your decorations, which mainly consisted of simon doing all the work, putting your tree together and hanging up your lights, but you were there for moral support! Making him a nice cup of tea and sitting down on the sofa with him. You watched the beast of a human click through the channels on the tv, Gus perched upon his chest as he sipped at the minuscule mug in his hand, a soft scowl on his face—Turning your focus over to your cat, whom you’d tried to serenade over.

‘Y’got a shower, or are you one of those bath people?’

‘Both. Why?’

‘Need ta’wash.’

The brit grumbled, placing the half-empty mug down onto the glass coffeetable, rising with a low grunt, your eyes fluttering up to accommodate to his height.

‘Down the hall, first right.’

‘Cheers.’

Warmth, Simon felt warm—Properly warm, inside, for the first time in ages. Welcomed, and accommodated for so easily, how trusting were you to let your grumpy, snarky lieutenant into your humble abode so quickly? Even the cold water from the shower raining down on his chest didn’t affect this feeling.

His hands tensed up into tight fists, head hung low and knees bent as he hovered beneath the showerhead carefully, water pouring over his overgrown buzzcut, down his stubbly, scarred face and mizzled down his scarred, sacrificial body, eyes scrunched shut.

You were so quick to come to his saviour, offer him a familial shelter during the holidays, he hated it. He hated you, he hated how he enjoyed it, he hated how you were so willing to let him do anything, let him stay in your apartment, he hated everything. He especially hated how dirty he felt while pumping his cock with thoughts of you, before christmas eve,day meant for joly celebrations.

The way you would be perched on your knees, tongue hanging out like a panting puppy, hands gripping onto the sides of his bulky thighs, so willingly taking him down your throat like you would take him into your home and shelter him.

‘fuck, throats so tight, baby.’

you moaned around him with a gag, pulling back to inhale—giggling as you bobbed your head back and forth along his length, lifting a hand from his thigh to pump at his hard cock.

wetness growing between your thighs, feeling him tap his dick against the side of your cheek, saliva smearing along your jaw, shoving himself back into your mouth without any hesitation, eyes rolling back as he scrunched your hair into a makeshift ponytail, dragging your lips back and forth.

‘Simon?’

your voice rang out, knocking on the door of the bathroom as his cum spurted along the inside of his hand, wiping it off of his palm and huffing out a heavy breath, looking over at the door.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, fine,’

silence.

‘Alright, well, I left a towel on the door for you.’

And, with that, you left again; leaving the soldier to ponder with his thoughts.

Quiet, as it usually was, the man hunched over your kitchen counter, glass of water held in freehand and the other scratching at his neck, soft scowl on his face. Thinking to himself, the soft shuffle of your footsteps on wood catching his attention, a gasp leaving your lips.

‘Holy shit—Simon! You scared the fuck out of me!’

Your eyes danced over to meet his, lips parted and head cocked to the side, brows knitting upwards.

‘You okay?’

‘Peachy.’

‘..Want some drink?’

That’s how you ended up here, slouched on the sofa with the man you’d considered your superior, christmas music strumming out from your alexa, drinking away your sorrows and conversing, watching him cross his long legs—thighs bulging out of the confines of his grey trackie bottoms, jesus, was it getting hot in here?

‘What do you want Santa to get you?’

You cut through the ice, watching his pupils scan over you, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on, sir. Lightening the mood, hm?’

Simon scoffed, clinking his glass down onto the table, your own following suite.

‘I asked Santa for a magic potion.’

…

‘One that makes y’shut up for once.’

‘I’m serious! If you could ask Santa for something, it would be?’

A purse of his lips and a scrunch of his nose made you smile slightly, he’s thinking? shocking.

‘Unlimited drinks, getting laid, decent familylife.’

Nodding, you rationalised his answers, glaring over at him, kicking him with your leg, the blonde running a hand through her hair.

‘Second one’s easy, just go out to a pub n’ find someone desperate enough to fuck you.’

‘Making me sound like a badthing, you think I’m a bad shag?’

A shrug from you, and a snicker from him.

‘Not..Bad, just strange. You’re all battered n’ torn, might scare the ladies off If you’re not careful.’

‘Y’ve not ran away yet.’

‘Why?’

An unsettling stillness gagged you, brow whipping upwards as your hands fiddled with your hair, Why? You have no idea. It could be the way you’re too nice to everyone, or the way you’re so accepting, or the way you finger yourself to the thought of him every night. So many options, yet so little answers, watching Gus skim to your bedroom.

…

‘I like this song.’

‘Driving home for christmas? Yr’ a fan of Chris Rea? Or just this song?’

‘Just this song.’

A hum from him erupted, staring at you with intrigue.

‘So? Why haven’t you ran away yet?’

‘Don’t know—‘

‘Y’hoping to get a shag? Mhh?’

A chuckle from Simon left your thighs clenching together, raising your brow and scoffing dismissively, brushing him off.

‘You wish.’

His eyes narrowed, lips parting.

‘I do.’

That’s how you ended up naked on the sofa, his tongue lapping at your moist cunny, nails digging into the man’s scalp like scissors, his hands forcing your thighs apart for himself; moaning into your pussy, muffled as his lips entangled around your clit, tending to it with gentle suckles, glancing up at you through heavy eyes and a smirk.

‘Oh—Jesus, Mary and Joseph, holy hell—Siimmoonn..’

It was like heaven had blessed you with this mountain of a man who could eat pussy like it was breakfast, lunch and dinner, globs of saliva mixing with your sticky arousal and cum, nose brushing against your cunt as his tongue circled back around your folds, tattooed arm flexing as he pushed you back down into the sofa when you slightly shifted.

‘Simon—Holy..Pull backkk..hnnngfhh..’

‘Mama told me not to waste dinner.’

And within a few seconds, you were coming undone on the man’s mouth again, hips convulsing and gasping as your thighs trembled, soaking the man’s chin with squirt, a soft slap hitting your clit with a whine, looking down at him through foggy eyes— panting like a dog.

‘Simon—Your covered—‘

‘I’m a messy eater.’

Hurriedly, your hands moved to undo the drawstring on his trackies, fingers nimbly tugging down the fabric shielding his cock, watching the bulge press against the confines of his boxers, glaring up at him with doe-like eyes, lips parting.

‘Easy, love. No rush, ‘awrite?’

The man cooed, leaning down to press his lips against yours, hand cupping the side of your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing against your bottomlip once you separated, lifting you up from the sofa to plop down in your place, sliding his boxers off before nestling you back on his lap like a ragdoll, groping at your bare chest.

‘Fuckin’ stunner, best Christmas gift Santa could’ve ever given me.’

‘Sappy, hm?’

You giggled for a moment, watching him roll his eyes before leaning in, tongue rimming around your nipples, rough palms digging into your waist as he manoeuvred you closer, your hair messy and forehead wet with sweat, grinding against him for a moment.

‘Relax, fuck you now, yeah?’

‘Hurry, Si..’

A soft scoff left him, before he grabbed your hip and sunk you down onto his cock, listening to your soft whine, stilling you for a moment.

‘All good?’

‘Fuck—you’re huge.’

A low laugh left him, thrusting himself further inside with a growl, your eyes fluttering shut with a moan, burying your face into his neck, melting together, he was still for a bit, before slowly grinding his hips in your cunt, revelling in the way your walls tightened around his veiny shaft, soft cries leaving your throat each time his cock hit that gummy spot inside you.

‘Bloody hell, yr’ so fucking tight..—oh—Would’ve thought yr’ a virgin..’

‘Mnnggghhh-si—oh, fuck..Si.!’

‘That’s it, love—fuck—Perfect pussy.’

His movements speed increased, rutting his length inside your weeping pussy, thumb rubbing quick circles around your twitching clit, watching your lips hang open, practically drooling yourself dumb on his cock, breasts moving with each fuck into you.

‘M’gonna cum—pleasepleaseplease—‘

‘Yeah? you wanna cum? that’s it—fuck—that’s it, baby, squeezing around me like a whore.’

With a cry, you tightened around him—The knot in your stomach snapping as you collapsed onto his shoulder, his hips slowly with a groan—pulling out and pumping his cum onto your stomach, huffing and puffing.

‘Y’ alive?’

‘Haaah..Think so..’

‘Yr’ alive?’

‘mhhhhm..’

‘Good.’

He nodded, leaning down to press his lips against yours—before scurrying off, arriving back with a glass of water and a damp rag, wiping the splurges of cum from your tummy, holding your chin as you took sips from the cold glass of liquid, huffing after.

‘Merry christmas.’

You smirked as he spoke, arms wrapping around his neck, thumb tracing along the scar icing his throat, leaning down to press your lips against it, feeling his hairy, strong chest against your bare one; melting into a puddle beneath him.

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bestmcrsongpolls · 1 month

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How This Will Work (Pt.2)

link to the first time

All the songs are introduced in the first round, and the pairing are randomized. There are a total of 64 songs; mcr has 58 album songs (including CW) so i added 6 more for the sake of numbers. If you're curious why i choose the specific six and not others send me an ask.

Unlike last time i'll be adding the poll links directly to this post. The (#) is the number of polls that will be posted that week. (The dates are the intended postings if all goes well and for personal reference).

First (10) April 5

Planetary (GO!) vs. I never Told You What I Do For a Living Sing vs. Vampire Money Vampires Will Never Hurt You vs. Heaven Help Us Give 'em Hell Kid vs. Welcome to the Black Parade S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W vs. Early Sunsets Over Monroeville NA NA NA vs. Desert Song Sleep vs. The Ghost of You House of Wolves vs. Hang 'em High Party Poison vs. The Sharpest Lives The Only Hope For Me is You vs. To The End

Second (10) April 12

Skylines and Turnstiles vs. Famous Last Words Disenchanted vs. Our Lady of Sorrows Save Yourself I'll Hold Them Back vs. Honey This Mirror isn't Big Enough For the Two of Us Thank You for The Venom vs. The World is Ugly Teenagers vs. Helena AMBULANCE vs. Drowning Lessons Fake Your Death vs. Cancer Mama vs. Cemetery Drive DESTROYA vs. Make Room!!!

Third (12) April 19

The End vs. This is How I Disappear I don’t Love You vs. Dead! Kill All Your Friends vs. This is the Best Day Ever You Know What They Do to Guys like Us In Prison vs. The Foundations of Decay I'm not ok (I Promise) vs. Boy Division Summertime vs. Surrender the Night It's not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Deathwish vs. The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You Gun. vs. Blood The Light Behind Your Eyes vs. Burn Bright Headfirst for Halos vs. Cubicles Tomorrow Money vs. Demolition Lovers Kiss the Ring vs. The Kids From Yesterday Bulletproof Heart vs. My Way Home is Through You

Week Four (8) April 26

DESTROYA vs. Mama Early Sunsets Over Monroeville vs. Give 'em Hell Kid Vampire Money vs. Thank You For The Venom Disenchanted vs. Helena I never Told You.. vs. House Of Wolves Drowning Lessons vs. The Sharpest Lives ...Prison vs. Famous Last Words Cancer vs. To The End

Week five (8) May 3

Sleep vs. This is How I Disappear NA NA NA vs. The Light Behind Your Eyes Honey this Mirror... vs. The Kids From Yesterday Vampires Will Never Hurt You vs. Blood Summertime vs. Demolition Lovers Bulletproof Heart vs. Dead! Kill All Your Friends vs. Headfirst for Halos Boy division vs. It's not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Deathwish

Week Six (8) May 10

Week Seven (4) May 17

Week Eight (2) May 24

Week Nine (dif 2) May 31

(this is a second account btw, main mcr)

#not a poll #mcr #my chemical romance

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quits-writing · 2 years

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DEATHWISH

sukuna ryomen x jujutsu sorcerer! male reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a smut but i fell out of the fandom so yeah.

cw: gun, mentally ill reader, mentioned violence, gutting out reader threat, pre-sex, cringey old wip, unfinished, NOT PROOFREAD

the man in front of sukuna is nowhere near sane. no sane person would bring up a gun and threaten a person they’re about to fuck, no. scratch that. no sane person would fuck a curse.

are people really insane enough to give a mad man a gun? you’d think there’s no such thing however, the said man was now holding a gun and shoving it against sukuna’s throat.

did they not care enough for the suicidal man to have a gun? certainly they should’ve kept dangerous weapons, especially a gun, from the dangerous man like preventing a child from choking hazards.

no, we’re talking about those damn old jujutsu sorcerers. they couldn’t careless if one suicidal sorcerer maniac kills himself as long as it doesn’t affect them and lessen the troubles. hell, these higher ups would even be glad if the maniac kills himself. for them it was like killing two birds with one stone.

the cursed spirit was already planning on wiping all of the jujutsu sorcerers but looks like those damn higher ups are on his top list once he’s done with this, or IF he gets out of this situation.

a mouth formed in another part of the curse’ body.

“do you know what you’re doing, pest? the guts you have in order to do this to me, the king of curses, is astonishing! although you’d lose it all right after i’m done with you”

the strange man only laughed, pulling the safety trigger and replies.

“you seek for something that’ll excite you. luckily for you, i am here to feed on that hunger of yours. you see, i have a deathwish, my king”

looks like his future plans of mass murdering an entire older generation of jujutsu sorcerers will be held for a moment.

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befuddled-calico-whump · 7 months

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Hand in Hand (part eight)

@whumptober Alt. 12: Broken

cw: broken bones (didn't see that coming did you :) ), death mention, deathwish

prev ///// au masterlist ///// next

~ ~ ~

He's on the verge of sleep when he hears noise outside the room; shuffling, muted voices, the click of the lock.

It's time to act.

Dan knows nothing is optimal about the situation; he'll be outnumbered for sure, and even if he wasn't, he'd already be at a significant disadvantage from his physical condition. Surprise is the only tool he has, and once he uses it, he knows he can't hesitate. It's all or nothing. Escape now, or die trying. Better that than this unlife Swift has him trapped in.

He'll wait for them to unlock his restraints, of course. He'll probably even let them get a good distance down the hall, let them sink into the complacency of routine, then he'll make his gambit. If there's only two guards this time, he stands a fighting chance. Hell, even with three, he might just be desperate enough to pull it off. And if he fails... if he fails, he can only hope that she doesn't let Wes suffer for it for long.

Dan closes his eyes, breathing slow and quiet as the door swings open. If he feigns sleep, will they be put more at ease?

"Good afternoon, Mr. Melchior."

His eyes fly open, and he turns his head fast enough that his previously-subdued headache flares back to life, making him wince.

The guards are here, but they aren't alone. Mercury Swift is at their side, smiling down at him.

A sick feeling begins to coil in his stomach, his body sensing a wrongness before his mind can catch up. It's okay, he tells himself. Don't panic. Let her say her piece and save the plan for next time.

But what is her piece? She's never come directly to his room like this, he's always been brought to her. Is she here to make threats? Tell him how she'll be puppeting him at the next meeting?

"Is it already afternoon?" he replies, the words scraping against his throat as they leave it. He doesn't care.

"Ah, forgive me. It must be difficult to tell the time from in here."

"What do you want?" He's too tired to carry the banter for long. He just wants her to spit it out and leave him alone.

To his surprise, she doesn't chastise him for being impolite. "Straight to the point, then." Her smile widens. "I've been doing some thinking these last few days."

Dan's heartbeat is speeding up, thrumming in his chest. He tries to ignore it.

"Since your little... escape stunt, I've realized it's not possible to be too careful."

Breathe. Keep breathing.

Swift turns to one of the guards. "Alright, send him in."

The Riot King leaves, and Dan's chest tightens. Him. Wes? Is she about to force him to watch another fucking demonstration?

But when the door swings back open, it's just another guard, this one holding a heavy metal pipe. His stomach drops.

"Right leg, I think," Swift says to him, then sits back and watches Dan pull uselessly at his chains as the man and the weapon close in on him.

"No..." He needs to think, needs to find a way out of this. "Swift, please," he gulps down air, mind frantic for any words that might sway her. "You've already punished me for the escape, th-this isn't necessary--"

"It isn't a punishment, it's security," she murmurs, sounding disinterested.

"What about the meetings?" he tries. The man reaches the bed. "What will your allies think?"

"You don't need to walk to be useful to me," Swift says. "And is a broken leg really so uncommon?"

The pipe raises, and Dan isn't sure if it's the Riot King holding it that's dragging out the moment, or his own panic. Any plans he has, any hope of making it out, will shatter with the bone. Forget fighting, how will he walk? How will he carry Wes?

"Please!" he cries, jerking on the chains, causing nothing but a sharp clink. "Please, don't do this, I won't do it again, I swear--"

"It's your leg or your friend's," Swift replies. "Make your choice."

The obvious choice is Wes. If Wes can't walk, that's fine. Dan can take care of him. If Dan can't walk, they're both doomed. But even as he opens his mouth, he can't say it.

Spare me. Hurt him instead. Break his leg, make him scream and tell him it's because of me.

He can't. His body is recoiling more from the thought of that than the thought of being hurt.

He can't be responsible for any more of Wes's pain.

He inhales shakily. "No. Don't hurt him."

"That's what I thought."

Dan closes his eyes.

He hears it before he feels it. A brief whoosh as the pipe cuts the air, followed by a sharp sound that's more crunch than crack.

At first, the pain is surreal. A distant, impossible explosion, so bright it hurts his eyes. The air in his lungs freezes, the air in his throat chokes him, and for a moment he can't even scream. His leg, just below his knee, is engulfed in something jagged and inescapable, like someone is taking a cheese grater to the bone.

He barely feels himself being unchained, trying to hold as still as possible to avoid making his leg any worse, and when a hand closes around his wrist, yanking him off the bed, he doesn't even think to fight it.

His now-broken leg is the first thing to hit the ground, and Dan screams, crumpling into a heap. He bangs his head on the bedframe in his haste to take weight off the limb, but he doesn't feel it. Hands catch hold of him from either side, hoisting him back up, and even though he's careful not to let his bad leg touch the ground, the pain is almost enough to steal his consciousness.

He wishes it would.

The guards start walking, dragging him with them, and every little shift is enough to make him cry out. Every bit of strength that remains in him is devoted to keeping the bad leg off the ground, no room left for wondering where they're taking him, wondering what comes next.

Somehow, there's still room for fear. Not the overthinking, frantic planning Dan's used to, but a blind, pain-driven panic.

The movement suddenly stops, and then he's being shoved forward, into colder air, onto rough concrete. The impact with the ground goes right to the shattered bone, sending a sharp wave of nausea through him, and for a long while he can do nothing but lie as still as possible and gasp for air.

He doesn't know how long it takes for his body to get used to the worst of the pain, his consciousness finally pulling back its focus from his leg as it accepts this as his new state.

He's in the cell. Subconsciously, he already knew that, but now that he's actually aware of it, he lifts his head, eyes sweeping the dim room until they land on Wes. The other man is curled up tightly, with his back to Dan. His ribcage is heavily bruised, his skin layered with unhealed welts. Every breath must be agony, but he is still breathing. Still alive. Dan isn't sure if that's a mercy anymore.

He inches towards Wes, pulling on the concrete with his hands, pushing off with his good leg. The movement, however slow, is excruciating, grating against the fragmented bone like the teeth of a predator, but he keeps going, breathing through tightly clenched teeth, not trying to stop the tears from pouring down his face.

This might be it. This might be the last of the time he has with Wes, and he isn't about to waste it. Inch by inch, foot by foot, Dan drags himself across the cell floor, the pain in his leg building to a howl long before he reaches his friend.

But he does reach him. Shuddering, panting, crying, but he's there.

"Wes..?" He reaches out, carefully lays a trembling hand on his shoulder. There's no indication that Wes is conscious, but his bare skin is cold, so Dan shifts again, wincing through the movement, until he's tucked up behind him, chest to back, one arm draped carefully over his side. His leg is throbbing, but Dan holds as still as he can, not wanting to agitate the wounds on Wes's back, the ones he caused.

Fuck, how did things get this bad?

How could his own men hate him enough to let them both suffer like this? How could Swift be so cruel? How could he be stupid enough to let it happen, to let Wes drag himself into it, to not escape when he had the chance? How?

He's truly lost all control. The plan he'd had was a last resort brought on by desperation, but it was still his, it was still something he could've done, even if it was destined to fail.

Now there's nothing he can do. He's whatever Swift wants him to be, and if he isn't, she has no trouble breaking him apart until he's the perfect puzzle piece. He can do nothing---

He could kill Wes.

The one kindness he has the power to grant. He could kill Wes, and ensure Mercury can't drag this out any longer.

He could, but he can't, he knows he can't. He knows Wes will die either way, but he's still not strong enough to at least make it as painless as possible.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"D...an?" the voice is quiet and broken and small.

"I'm here," he says, trying to keep his own voice steady. "I... I can move though, if y-you want."

"Stay. Please."

Dan doesn't need to be told twice. He inches closer still, pressing his face into Wes's neck, wanting to say I'm sorry again, because it's hard to think of anything else when everything hurts and they're both going to die here.

But he doesn't. Instead, Dan holds Wes close.

"It'll be okay," he lies. "We'll be okay."

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles @shywhumpauthor @whumpsday

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#whumptober2023 #altprompt #broken #oc #fic #death mention tw #broken bones tw #death wish tw #riotkingsau #broken in more than just the physical sense! :D #angst #multiple whumpees #lost hope #captivity whump

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whump-card · 2 months

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DRAGGED: One-shot

A short and sweet little piece for @sunshiline-writes

690 words

CW: gore, dragged by a car, exposed bones, deathwish, slight creepy whumper, character called “boy” is an adult

~~~

0300 hours.

The stadium lights stood tall above them, shining down onto the drag strip, harassed by moths and midges. The white points blurred as Mikalai panicked, on his knees, his hands tied in front of him with thick, strong rope.

“Andrei, I didn’t mean to - I meant no disrespect, I…”

Towering above him - tall enough to tower even if Mika had been standing - was Andrei, his posture mimicking the lights: erect, uncompromising, his head bent to stare down at his lit subject.

“I don’t care,” Andrei’s loud voice trampled over Mikalai’s quaver, “Your foolishness made me look foolish. Now, I have to enact the consequences. You think I want to do this? Mika,” Andrei’s voice softened with affection and he reached out to ruffle Mikalai’s tousled hair, “You’re my boy. I have to train you up right.”

Mikalai shivered under Andrei’s touch.

“Please…”

Andrei ignored him, briskly taking a step back and snapping his fingers. Two enforcers fell upon Mikalai, looping a chain around his wrists - a chain attached to the bumper of a drag car. Mikalai’s car, a cherry-red 95 Corvette, tricked and modded into an angel of speed.

It wasn’t his car anymore.

The engine revved. Mikalai began to babble desperately.

“Andrei, please, God, I’ll do an-anything, anything but this, please Andrei, oh God…” Uncontrollable sobs ripped out of his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the car.

It started to move, rolling slowly away. The enforcers took a step back.

“Andrei, please!” Mikalai screamed - but Andrei remained silent. Impassive. Almost serene.

The chain rattled as the length between Mikalai and the car began to uncoil.

“No, no, no no nonono…” Mikalai jibbered, scrambling to his feet.

He felt the first tug, pulling him along a few stumbling steps.

“Andrei!” he shrieked, still hoping, maybe still believing just for his own sanity’s sake, that this was a cruel trick, that Andrei would call it all off now.

The driver floored it.

~~~

Mikalai didn’t pass out.

He wished to God that he would.

With every breath, his exposed ribs expanded and contracted, glistening pink, red, and white under the stadium lights. His skin and flesh had been stripped away by the asphalt, sanded down slowly until his very bones dragged on the road. His upper chest, though not taken to the bone, was ripped ragged; flayed muscle, a missing nipple, seeping blood.

Mikalai had no choice but to breathe, each movement of air feeling like the movement of tectonic plates, earth-shattering, unbearable, pieces of himself that were not meant to touch rubbing together.

His knees, too, were stripped. One kneecap was missing, leaving behind a spongy mess of meat. The other barely hung on, the white cap looking like a fungus growing out of his leg. The right side of his face was gone; his eye had been protected by his prominent, well-formed brow and cheekbone, handsome features that were now pulverized beef, his sight blinded by the oozing blood.

He tried to blink. He glimpsed the lights above him, so briefly, through a sheen of red. A cough fought its way out of his body; his whole being spasmed, lighting every abrasion, every break, every joint on fire anew.

Both his arms were dislocated. They had been yanked from their sockets by the car’s acceleration, first thing. One elbow had scraped the road so forcefully and long that it wasn’t just the thin layer of skin that was gone; the bone itself had been abraded down to the marrow, the nerves within, never meant to touch air, screaming to high heaven.

One foot was twisted out of place. Somehow, this was the least sickening sight.

Mikalai lay on the tarmac, the low rumble of his car, once a comforting thing, humming nearby. He could taste blood and gasoline fumes in his throat.

He would have preferred to die, honestly.

He would have preferred to go to Hell.

A voice. There was a voice, somewhere in the haze of agony.

“Make sure he lives.”

A presence. Mikalai’s eyes fluttered; the stadium lights were blocked by someone leaning over him.

“A shame,” Andrei murmured, “You were so pretty.”

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #gore #mob whump #gang whump #mafia whump

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bigratsdeservebigpats · 1 year

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Can I request part two for the post "How would they react finding out their S/O cheating on them" for Floyd, Lilia, Idia and Silver

lol I had fun with Lilia’s and Silver’s part. I don’t have a lot of info on them and I think that should change, so it gave me a chance to do a little research on them The previous Cheat scenarios cw: mild angst, mentions of violence in Floyd’s part

Floyd

Do you literally have a deathwish? Floyd isn’t someone to be trifled with (like a lot of other characters), and it’s pretty obvious what the outcome will be. Don’t think for a second that you deserve or will even receive an ounce of compassion.

Floyd isn’t stupid. If anything, the stupid one is the one who misjudged him and what he is capable of. I’m not talking about temper tantrums, or a mood swing, or yelling. I’m talking about a stare more icy that the waters of his homeland, I’m talking about fists tight enough to shake and blood splatters on clothing and a voice so calm that you’ll know that death must speak in that same dull tone.

You’ll make it out alive in that moment, but that’s as far as your luck will take you. Hell hath no wrath like the Leech twins, and time itself isn’t long enough to wait out their fury. There is no escape. No one would dare to extend a hand, lest they also wish to be a target.

Floyd is emotional, to an extent. The only reason you aren’t dead in that moment is because he has so much worse planned, and the second he doesn’t find your torment fun anymore? Well, surely you can guess what comes next. Consider yourself lucky if it’s quick. It’s his final mercy.

Lilia

Hate to say it but Lilia is old. Like, very old. It’s not to say he takes it well, but he takes it better than most (Lucky you.) He’s probably experienced lovers when he was younger, and undoubtedly he’s experienced betrayals. Doesn’t mean it will hurt any less.

You’re young, he won’t blame you for living fast and dumb. He won’t torment you or have someone else bother you, in fact, he acts as if your relationship was just... nothing. Because that’s how you treated it, didn’t you?

The type of guy to still play Connect Four with your dad on game pigeon two years later and it really pisses you off and if you ask him to stop he sends you ‘Let’s play 8 Ball’ and then never responds after. And don’t try going through anyone else in Diasomnia to talk to him, they care for their father figure too much to let a lowlife like you talk to him.

Lilia will still date, of course. When the time is right, he’ll open his heart again. He’s never expected any relationship to last anyway. With his lifespan, he’s drifted apart, watched those he loved die, and more. If he let everything affect him, he wouldn’t have had any fleeting, delightful moments in the first place. Cherish what was.

Idia

There isn’t much that Idia can say except that he expected it. It’s obvious enough with his demeanor that no one would want him, or want to stay with him. He’s a nerdy shut-in, a loser in every sense of the word, and your actions only reaffirm everything he knows about himself.

He’s a genius, didn’t you know? He may be a shut-in, but he can see the way you look at people who aren’t him, even through a screen. What can he do about it? Nothing. He didn’t deserve you. From the beginning, he knew he wasn’t enough. He knew he would never be enough.

He cannot grieve your loss. He won’t allow himself to wish for your return and your love. He’ll throw himself into his hobbies. He’ll tinker with his computer until his fingers won’t function anymore, and he’ll blame every failure on you, on your cruelty and your fickle, dark heart.

Anger is a great mask, but you don’t have to be a sentient AI to see how much it’s hurt him. Ortho almost obliterated you if not for Idia’s intervention, and as much as you can say Idia programmed Ortho to almost kill you, everyone knows that isn’t the truth. He’s blunt, but he cares. Too much, some may say.

Silver

Why would you- like what compelled you- Silver is a very pretty and smart boy who’s just a bit out of touch with the world, but I’d argue that he has superb emotional intelligence. He would notice if you were getting distant or unhappy with the relationship and try to fix things. If you choose to take advantage of his kindness, then he’ll have no choice but to end things.

Sebek is the angriest at the decision. As abrasive as he is and acts to Silver, he does care to some degree about someone he’s grown up with, human or not. Lilia however, is someone with a lot of wisdom. It is he who assures Silver to not turn back, and it is he who’ll make sure you do get your rightful punishment. Don’t ask why your reflection scowls at you, it’s your imagination.

As one of - if not the most - mentally stable students, he isn’t going to need something to help him cope. He isn’t here to seek revenge or key your car. He’ll just return to the days before you. It may take a little, but he managed once, and he will manage again.

Silver will find himself too busy with his duties to find love again. He’ll fill the time that was once for you with other things. And soon, you’ll leave his dreams too. It may not be for a while, but there will be peace. He just needs time.

#ratwrites #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #reader #Floyd Leech #floyd #Lilia #Lilia Vanrouge #idia #idia shroud #silver

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voidselfshipp · 2 years

Text

Goodbye old bad memories, hello New good memories

Cw: swearing, mentions of an orphanage, alusions to being an orphan

Only mutuals allowed to reblog, nice comments are appreciated.

Summary:Ashton Broods in silence over bad memories that came back since now he was back to the city of Bassarus, the place where he was raised,but his lovely s/o reminds them that theres always the possibility to replace those bad memories with New, better ones.

Taglist: @malewifepatrickbateman @tex-treasures @80sboyfriends @mercuryships

--Ash? You okay?-- Jerico called as they entered their shared room at the inn the were staying.

--Oh, babe, hi-- Ashton said sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

They close the door behind them and sit besides their partner-- whats up?

The earth genasi leans on their significant other's shoulder-- guess that bein' here again brings some memories..

--Good or bad ones?-- jeri asked.

--Bit of both..-- ash answered-- I dont think im ready to see The Nobodies again...

Jerico nodded and hugged them tightly-- ash, baby, whatever comes of it, ill be there to support you...-- they press a kiss to his temple-- youve grown so much since I met you, you know?, youre nothing like your past self..

Ashton looked at them with glassy eyes, they dont usually cry, but tonight things were different-- we won the race, you and me togheter in a skirmisher, how cool is that?you did great baby...

--You looked so fucking hot too-- Ashton quipped-- what would I do without you...-- he hugs them tighter, being mindful not to crush them-- when I get The Nobodies back togheter, I know you Will be there for me

--If they try to give you any crap im going to jump in to defend you, I know you are the one that usually defends other people but its time you get some support too-- jerico lifted his head up by the chin and kissed him.

Ash kissed back,pulling them into their lap, letting their foreheads press togheter.

-- hey, how about I pack up some snacks and you take me somewhere where you used to hang out, your favorite spot

--That sounds great...-- Ashton said.

Soon they were out on the streets, walking through darkened alleys and other safer parts of town, to then go up to a seemingly abandoned building, sitting on the rooftop of it.

--I came here when I needed a break from the orphanage-- ash commented sitting on the thick rock handrail, jerico following suit.

He pulls them closer and rests his chin on the top of their head.

--This is a great sight...-- jeri said-- but the prettiest by far is you...

He snorted kissing the top of their head-- fuckin' cheesy, I like it-- he muttered.

Jerico caressed their bicep-- you know...theres no reason to not make New memories here...-- they opened up the basket and pulled out a blanket and some hot cocoa.

-- yeah..guess youre right-- ash took the porcelain mug with gem motifs full of hot chocolate-- I think this is a good place to start...

--I think so too-- jeri agreed.

And so cuddling up under the blanket they huddle closer as Ashton starts talking about the Shenanigans him and the nobodies got into in his younger years.

By sunrise both were absolutely tired, they made their way back to the inn and then to their room.

As Ashton laid ontop of jerico, with his face on their tummy and their legs around his torso, he felt safe, comforted, something he wasnt used to.

Jeris hand, though they were fast asleep, rested gentil on the back of his neck, their hand sometimes moving in their sleep, providing Him with scratches.

He sighed, a smile appearing on their lips. Their significant other was right, there was no reason for them to not make New, better memories, and just that night/early morning he realized he made two New good memories.

He won the deathwish race (sometimes he always wanted to participate since he was a kid) with the love of his life (something he thought he would never find), and he shared a night alone with them, telling them stories he never told anyone.

He had a life full of hardships, and though being back to where all began, Ashton realized he wasnt alone anymore, and now started to see bassarus less as the shithole it was, still shitty, but also as a New chance of sharing a piece of themself with their s/o. And that, gave them some needed peace of mind.

He fell asleep with that genuine smile in his face, feeling safe in the embrace of his beloved.

#cw swearing #tw swearing #cw mentions of an orphanage #cw alusion to being an orphan #tw alusion to being an orphan #🔨💎the most precious gem💎🔨

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