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silverstark · 5 months

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Heavenly Demon Baby Fever pt.4

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3

BingQiu get baby fever. Tentatively rated M instead of T.

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Despite spending most of his time traveling the world carrying out all of Luo Binghe’s roleplay fantasies, Shen Qingqiu tried to set a good example for his disciples by never neglecting his Peak Lord duties. He made sure that his and Luo Binghe’s visits to Cang Qiong Mountain coincided with Peak Lord meetings whenever possible. He usually enjoyed these meetings…meaning he enjoyed opportunity to put on his finest poser act and learn all the Peak Lord gossip he had missed while he was away.

That wasn’t the case on this particular day. Shen Qingqiu woke up feeling ill to the point that he couldn’t even attempt to hide it from his husband. Luo Binghe, of course, fretted and clung and conveniently tried to coax him to stay in bed, but Shen Qingqiu had refused to compromise his morals.

And so, Shen Qingqiu dragged himself all the way to Qiong Ding Peak, took his customary seat by his sect leader, and braced himself for a long meeting. The Peak Lords engaged in their usual chatter as they waited for the meeting to begin.

“Shen-shixiong, try this new wine I made!”

“Is it really appropriate for us to drink before the meeting has even begun?” Shen Qingqiu demurred.

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to drink now. You can drink with us later at Zui Xian Peak! Just give it a smell for now.”

Shen Qingqiu obligingly gave the jar of wine a sniff. He froze then. The one sniff had made his head spin, and not in a good way.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

He stuffed the jar of wine back into his shidi’s hand and then he rushed out of the hall.

“En? What’s wrong with Shen-shixiong?”

“Is that new wine of yours really that bad?” someone teased.

The wine-making Peak Lord bristled. “If shixiong thinks so, then I won’t trouble him to try my wine from now on.”

“Shidi, I was wrong!”

Shen-shixiong was in fact finding a quiet spot in Qiong Ding Peak’s ornamental gardens to puke up his entire breakfast.

Motherfucker. Shen Qingqiu was supposed to be immune from all disease thanks to his regular medical appointments with the Heavenly Pillar. What kind of unscientific bs was this?

He tidied his appearance and made his miserable way back to his seat. Yue Qingyuan had considerately waited to start the meeting until Shen Qingqiu returned. Shen Qingqiu was embarrassed. He’d only come because he didn’t like making trouble for his kind shixiong when he could help it, and look what had come of it!

Shen Qingqiu strictly admonished himself to endure any further discomfort. But he had to run back outside again when it was the Ku Xing Peak leader turn to speak. He liked to angrily wave his hands around when he spoke, wafting an acrid smell around the room. It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, just a side-effect of always meditating using rare incense. But it wasn’t particularly nice either. Shen Qingqiu for some reason could not bear the scent today.

He apologized to Yue Qingyuan under his breath before he fled. His only consolation was that his absence this time was shorter: He had already found Qiong Ding Peak’s ideal secret puking spot! He gave himself a little achievement badge in his mind and then tried to sneak back into the meeting. Yue Qingyuan frowned at him in concern when he returned.

“Shidi, is everything alright?” Yue Qingyuan asked.

Shen Qingqiu smiled tightly as he fanned the cold sweat off his face. He wished Luo Binghe were here. If he were, Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t even have to say anything. Luo Binghe would quietly place before him a tray of mild tea and a light snack to settle his stomach. But Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had mysteriously done away with the tradition of having peak lords bring their top disciples along with them to regular sect meetings.

“Of course. Let shidi continue.”

The Ku Xing Peak leader gladly resumed his diatribe about kids these days who preferred fast-fashion cultivation styles over committing to Ku Xing’s steady, tried and true cultivation style. Shen Qingqiu was a little piqued -since when was Qing Jing Peak’s cultivation style unreliable?- but he couldn’t focus on that once the servants brought forth trays of snacks to place before each peak lord.

A sickly-sweet smell rose up from something on the tray, and Shen Qingqiu had to abruptly leave the meeting again.

When he came back, his fellow peak lords didn’t bother to hide their gossiping.

“—probably from some exotic demonic cuisine.”

“The air can’t be wholesome in those underground palaces either, not when he’s used to Qing Jing Peak’s pure air.”

“And don’t forget those qi deviations he used to have,” someone whispered. “It can’t be good for his core that he’s dual-cultivating with a Heavenly Demon all of the time.”

“Shixiong!” someone replied with a delighted and faux-scandalized gasp.

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat at the door. Once everyone had shut up and noticed his return, he swept a trademark cold look around the table. Then he made his dignified way back to his seat.

He almost made it. As he prepared to gracefully take his seat, Liu Qingge suddenly appeared beside him and grabbed one of his arms.

“…What is the meaning of this, Liu-shidi?”

Liu Qingge ignored him and turned to Mu Qingfang.

“Will you come here, or do I drag him over?”

Mu Qingfang looked at Shen Qingqiu apologetically before glancing over at Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu likewise looked over. Surely Yue Qingyuan would put a stop to this nonsense!

…Yue Qingyuan lowered his eyes to sip at his tea. Before Shen Qingqiu could even voice a complaint over this betrayal, Qi Qingqi had showed up to grab Shen Qingqiu’s other arm and help drag Sheng Qingqiu over to Mu Qingfang.

“Shixiong!” Shen Qingqiu whined at Yue Qingyuan, who ignored him. Shen Qingqiu turned to pout at Liu Qingge. “This is completely unnecessary.”

“It would have been unnecessary, if that disciple had taken care of you the way he promised he would,” Qi Qingqi scolded.

Shen Qingqiu drew himself up in indignation. He got as far as “Binghe takes care of me perfectly well,” before his brain caught up. When had Luo Binghe promised to take care of him? To whom had he promised? Had Qi Qingqi secretly given Luo Binghe the shovel talk? Why had Luo Binghe said nothing of it to Shen Qingqiu, his husband?

By the time Liu Qingge took Shen Qingqiu’s hand and held it out in front of Mu Qingfang, Shen Qingqiu was feeling disgruntled with everyone. He barely even cared about the results of this silly health check. It wasn’t like it could be anything serious: Dual-cultivating with Heavenly Demons was very good for one’s health, whatever that ignorant person had whispered earlier.

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat and said, “Liu-shixiong will have to let go of Shen-shixiong’s hand first.”

Liu Qingge gave Shen Qingqiu a stern glare before releasing his hand as if he thought Shen Qingqiu would flee at the first opportunity. Shen Qingqiu resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. One of these days, he was going to release a nest of demonic hornets on Bai Zhan Peak. See if Bai Zhan Peak Lord could fight hornets. Or maybe demonic mosquitoes. Demonic mosquitoes would be quite formidable after feeding off Liu Qingge’s spiritual energy-rich blood.

Mu Qingfang undoubtedly saw the evil thoughts on Shen Qingqiu’s face and feared that they were directed at him.

“May I?” he asked.

Shen Qingqiu thought it over, realized it would be better to get it over with sooner, and nodded coolly.

“You may,” he said magnanimously.

This dramatic mess wasn’t Mu-shidi’s fault, after all.

Mu Qingfang took Shen Qingqiu’s hand and read his pulse. Everyone in the room, from the peak lords and little An Ding disciples to the servants, scooted closer to listen in on the diagnosis.

Mu Qingfang’s expression was calm as he focused on his work. Then his face turned pale. Then it gradually reddened.

“What is it?” Liu Qingge demanded, before even Shen Qingqiu asked.

Mu Qingfang let go of Shen Qingqiu’s hand and began to cough violently. Shen Qingqiu became a little uneasy. Mu Qingfang had been quite composed when he told Shen Qingqiu about his Without a Cure poisoning. Then again, Shen Qingqiu had been unconscious when Mu Qingfang had made the diagnosis.

…In any case, it couldn’t be anything worse than Without a Cure, could it? Shen Qingqiu mentally went over his activities in the past few days. He and Luo Binghe had…just the night before, after they had arrived at Qing Jing Peak, so what could have attacked him in the course of the morning? Were there really already demonic mosquitos on Cang Qiong Mountain? How could they have dared to bite him with Luo Binghe around?

“Mu Qingfang,” Liu Qingge insisted.

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat once more and managed to pull himself together.

“Shen-shixiong is well,” he announced.

“As if we’d believe that,” Qi Qingqi complained. “What was that reaction for, then?”

Mu Qingfang reddened again. “False alarm!”

Shen Qingqiu opened his fan with a sigh. He appreciated his shidi’s efforts to be discrete even though they were completely useless. He didn’t know why his sect siblings had to be so nosy. It was probably some wife-plot disease that Lou Binghe -or rather, the Heavenly Pillar- would resolve two days from now during their scheduled sex session.

“Stop badgering him. Mu-shidi will tell me in private later and if,” he emphasized, “it is any of your business, I may share the news.”

“Boo,” someone jeered under their breath.

Shen Qingqiu ignored it. He straightened out the little wrinkles Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi had made on his sleeves and returned to his seat. Yue Qingyuan finally re-established order. Shen Qingqiu decided not to worry about it. He had gotten pretty good at dealing with Shang Qinghua’s shitty wife plots, after all.

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#SVSSS #BingQiu #implied mpreg #myfanfic #Shia LaBeouf meme from Shen Qingqiu's previous life: Don’t let your dreams be dreams~

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tadpolebobatea · 4 months

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honestly the best part about getting my buddy into undead unluck is that occasionally he’ll be reading it and I’ll look over and he’s just zoomed in on billys tits.

#the reading method is handing him my phone with the shonen jump app open #uu billy #don’t let your memes be dreams. if you ramble about your blorbos long enough you can get something to read a 100+ chapter series #they just have to be exactly as fucked up as you #undead unluck

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shit-enmu-says · 1 month

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Would you love me if I was a worm? *reverts to Eldritch form* What do you mean I’m taking this too literally?

#shitenmusays #enmu tamio #blood demon art: shitpost #kny #don’t let your memes be dreams

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akkivee · 10 months

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don’t let your dreams just be memes hifumi✨

#this is vee speaking #i’d say find you a man that’ll treat you like a princess but homme’s already got two LOL #if he told sensei and doppo to treat him like a princess or expressed his desire to be a (pillow) princess #you know they would 😌 anything for the real sun of mtr 😌😌😌#so don’t let your dreams just be memes hifumi let your husband and bf know you want to be a princess lol they’ll oblige 😌😌😌😌😌😌

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tvintedspvrk · 3 months

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tag drop part one

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jynxd · 6 months

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main tag dump.

#;all shimmered up | ic;#;that day i let a weak man die | silco;#{ cats out of the bag | ooc }#{ i guess i just meme things up }#{ volatile loose cannon | headcanons }#{ and another was reborn | Headcanons }#{ i'll show them how fun i a can be | dashboard fun }#{ sheesh i’m not that crazy | crack }#{ it’s okay ; we’ll show them all | psa }#{ don’t cry ; you’re perfect | Queue }#{ you’d be surprised what you can pull off when your life depends on it | Headcanons }#;time doesn’t heal all wounds | chem ekko;#;you have to give them what they need to survive | ekko;#{ i think we got off on the wrong arm wanna try the other? | asks }#{ let it forge you into something greater | blog spotlights }#{ which chair should i sit in? | self promo }#{ we shared a vision; a dream | art spotlight }

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gumpistol · 7 months

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tag drop p.2

#❝ i’m not a kid! i’m a man! ❞ — v: foosha village #❝ come on board and bring along all your hopes and dreams ❞ — v: pre-timeskip #❝ eye of the tiger ❞ — v: fighter au #❝ i don’t want to go on a boring adventure ❞ — v: world traveler au #❝ being a pirate is about adventure & freedom!❞ — v: opla #❝ its not like ‘thanks’ are something I can eat ❞ — answered #❝ the same red blood will be shed. ❞ — aesthetic #❝ shut up and let’s do this! ❞ — meme #❝ hee hee hee! you can’t escape! ❞ — closed starter #❝ screw the plan ❞ — ic #❝ don’t you dare make my navigator cry! ❞ — r: nami #❝ being alone is more painful than getting hurt ❞ — r: portgas d. ace #❝ nothing happened ❞ — r: roronoa zoro

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error-silence · 1 year

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#did someone already do this?#am I too late?#eh who cares #it’s a tumblr post now!#feel good inc #one man band #Aaron Paulsen #memes #feel good inc cover #making dreams come true #don’t let your memes be dreams #let your dreams be memes #this was a roller coaster of emotions

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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livurlifesworld · 3 months

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what are they thinking about you + when will you align in each other’s lives and meet? +18

✮ INTUITIVE READING ✮

PILE 1: this person can have a brown skin tone or be of a different cultural descent than you. I don’t know why I heard the greys anatomy meme “pick me, choose me, love me” one of you may be feeling this way towards eachother hinting at some disclosed feelings not yet being shown. Some type of explosive passionate feeling of wanting to let everything out. They want to prove to you they want you. Make love to you, touch you, make you feel the way they’ve been feeling. Holding back. Letting it all out is what I’m hearing. Such a playful energy. Someone may be ticklish. I see being out in a field and having a picnic or a significant moment together. Sharing a moment alone is significant for you two. You need time to let everything out to eachother and listen and cry and feel everything out is truly what I’m getting. Time of alignment between you both may be 3 years from now. I see this because someone or you both may meet when someone moves somewhere. You’re completely enthralled in peace with eachother when you meet. Laughter and love are so significant between y’all it’s like a dream is what I’m seeing. You both are gonna build such a beautiful story together, you act goofy with one another someone may like to dance for real and let loose.

significance: the moon, traveling, and time.

Songs that resonated:

she wants to move - by n.e.r.d and back on 74 by Jungle

PILE 2:

the tension is deep between y’all. When I mean THICK I mean absolutely THICK tension. There’s something significant with lips here and wanting to be able to touch them and feeling fingers against your face. Gazing into your eyes and a lot of physical touch. Could be their best way of showing their love to you. They want you to know they respect you, everything about but they sincerely and severely want you. To cradle you in their arms and to hold l you near and dear to their chest. Caress you and to make you feel seen. One of you may have a hard time speaking up and making your feelings feel heard but they can hear you from a mile away. If you need them they’re there. So so so reliable I’m telling you all. This person may have a more dominant or strong appearance to them. I see their face being more built, masculine, and structured in a sense. They’re beautiful even though they may not see themselves this way. They truly want and love you. May have longer hair that fits their face. It’s fluffy. Alignment may be 2 months or years. Between this time you may be ready to meet and align with each other’s lives. A lot of yearning between this pile, somebody’s gonna break it soon 👀

Significance: purple could be lightening of them room y’all are in (reference album cover of song, that type of purple), age gap, true love

Song that resonated: too deep - by dvsn

PILE 3:

This person has a boisterous laugh and they like to talk. When I mean talk I mean big talk. They seem like a big steppa like come off as a player for real. They may have been at some point but they seriously don’t give a fuck about that once they meet you. You look so fucking good but outside of that you’re making conversation with this person. You sincerely actually speak to them like a human being is what I’m getting. You’re not there for their money or looks. They know how to dress, they have luxuries and live what may appear like a good life but they’re lost. They need you. They need someone to help guide them away from ego, humble them even. They know it too but they’re drawn to what people around them influence them in. A follower even. They’re gonna get out of that as soon as you two have a conversation. This is a spontaneous meeting and conversation. Feels like you two may bump paths or have seen eachother before from somewhere but you can’t put your finger on it. Deja vu for real. You both have a deep and sincere attraction to eachother. You’re very magnetic especially your eyes they draw people in. This person really wants you to forgive them for their mistakes. They feel like a fuck up a lot of the time because they don’t know what they’re doing. They need guidance and self love. Support is big between you both. You may be friends and then become something more. May know eachother from work even. Meeting at a social event or club. Feels like somewhere that may be exciting but you both are so caught up in eachother you eventually leave and don’t care. Be patient with them if you choose to pursue them but hold them accountable. The number 5 is significant here I’m not sure if spirit doesn’t want me to let you know exactly when but 5 months, 5th day, or years. A person is associated with the number 5 though could be family member, sport related, birthday.

Significance: loyalty, support, patience, settle down, marriage, empire. If you’ve heard the phrase recently: “play me like a violin” that may be significant for you.

songs that resonate: girls around the world by Lloyd and confessions pt II by usher

#pick a pile #intuitive readings #tarot #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarotblr #free tarot #tarotcommunity #intuition #intuitive #black tarot readers #+18 tarot

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inf3ct3dd · 7 months

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streamer!ellie headcanons

warnings: yo no se

content : streamer!ellie headcanons 🔥🔥

authors note : the streets r calling and they’re telling me to write streamer ellie hcs….

- def started off as a faceless streamer. she wasn’t really comfortable on camera, and she just thought it would be way easier. you can only see her shoulders-down leaving her (deliciosu. scrumptious. yummy) arms in the cameras view.

- her twitch user is “creeperewman” cuz shes like…discreetly hiding her initials and referencing the best minecraft parody ever 😕!!!

- bought the most random shitty mic and webcam and started streaming 🔥🔥 she never got rid of either of them its part of her odd loser charm

“‘fartmaster69:it’s probably cuz your camera’ it’s probably bc of YOUR CAMERA!!! theres nothing wrong w my camera bro 😞”

“don’t listen to them…ur perfect 🤫 IM NOT TALKING TO U GUYS IM TALKING TO MY CAMERA”

- only had a few viewers the first couple times she streamed, and it was some random 10 yr old who kept spamming “yassss” in the chat and some dude who said she was shit at minecraft 😞 he was LYING

- started off doing minecraft speed runs (or trying to) and got like way good over time

- she randomly started getting more and more viewers, because people kept posting abt her and calling her fine on tiktok , making edits of her hands and her voice 😭😭 (real)

- as she got more and more viewers, she started branching out more with the games she’d play. def loves shooter games like cod and pubg, but she’d also play like indie horror games like faith (omg markiplier fans would know)

- she has a orange cat she named garfield (cuz…of course she does) and he’s always sitting on her lap during her streams or messing w her setup 💔💔

- def put stickers all over her headset and showed them off all proud on stream

- designed her own cute banners and stuff for streams 😞!!!

- def had a subreddit/disc server with her viewers where she’d let them give her game recs or make memes of her

- ppl saw her guitar in the back of her streams and BEGGED HER to play it and she had her own lil concert stream !!! she was so freaking nervous and messed up a bunch the first like minute or two but like after that she was in the ZONE

“‘ewswife: i wish i was that guitar’ oh!! you guys are so…kind!!!”

- when she INSANELY hit 1k, she did a face reveal and she hit 10k the same day 😦 the amount of edits that ppl made was actually insane. ESP ONES MAKING FUN OF DREAMS FACE REVEALLLL

- started doing much more random shit on stream after she got more famous. she LOVES cooking on stream, and she’d start reacting to random shit ppl sent her on the subreddit

- she cut her hair on stream once, and everyone in the chat kept spamming “yo bob…is fye” for like 5 minutes 😪

- “you’re at work watching me? i hope you get fired. i mean. i hope you don’t get fired 😞”

- she gets so many thirst comments and like…is terrible at responding to them

“‘ewleftbicep: you look so vulnerable today’ WHAT”

- she has her own apartment cuz of her awesome streaming money 🔥🔥🔥 soundproofed walls too cuz she’s. loud.

- one day, you were walking on campus to a class. you had your headphones on, listening to your main playlist on shuffle, when you got stopped by someone. you pulled your headphones off your ears and gave the man in front of you a confused look. you looked down to his hands, holding a tiny mic, and another dude holding a camera.

“what song are you listening to?” he held the microphone towards you, awaiting your response.

you quickly responded “uhm, last goodbye, by jeff buckley.” and stood there awkwardly, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

the man quickly thanked you and you walked away, slightly suprised.

- after a couple hours, the video had blown up and the comments were filled with people complimenting you.

pickleluna: jeff buckley girl is so fine

minyonlala: 3rd girl is so bad

rilakkila: I NEED JEFF BUCKLEY GIRL

and unknown to you, someone else found you on their fyp.

creeperewman: guys what is the 3rd girls @. im literally BEGGING BRO PLEASEEE

- ewleftbicep: BEING DESPERATE ON MAIN IS CRAZY

- ewsgirlf: random tiktok girl stole my wife 💔

- elliewilliamsidechick: guys im literally the 3rd girl 😂😂😂

- it didn’t take long for your phone to be blown up with people sending you the video, tagging you in funny comments, and finding your instagram. you watched the video, and saw ellie was the top comment. you checked her profile, and saw how FINE she was, and immediately responded

- y/nmainn: guys 😳😳😳 what if i was the third girl 😳😳

- ellie checked her phone and saw thousands of people tagging your comment, and she wasted zero time following you on tiktok. and your instagram. its not stalking if its in your bio, right?

- you two immediately hit it off, and ellie loved the fact that you had absolutely no idea who she was. to you, she was just some hot girl. not some famous streamer you were obsessed with.

- she didn’t even realize you two went to the same school until she saw you in her astrophysics class one day, and she almost had a heart attack when you waved at her and walked over to sit next to her.

“what a coincidence.”

- she took you out on your first date to a planetarium, and not even a week after, asked you to be her girlfriend.

- she definitely teaches you how to play her favorite games. but she gets wayyyy defensive when you beat her.

“im just letting you win.”

“beginners luck.”

but shes SO COCKY when she beats you

“hey, don’t be so hard on yourself after this. not your fault im a professional!”

“aw, maybe one day you’ll be as good as me”

- definitely helps you build your own pc.

- loves watching you play things like animal crossing or stardew valley, always lays on your shoulder while you’re on the couch.

“why are you being so mean to gaston :((“

“because hes UGLY and he has an ugly house and he’s ruining my village.”

“wowww you’re bullying a little bunny man because he doesn’t fit your aesthetic 😒 so mean”

- if you like more aggressive games like cod, she loves listening to you talk shit while you play and always makes fun of people with you. (she thinks its hot when you’re mean to people)

- her chat absolutely loves you, and every time you stream together its a continuous stream of “me and who” and “when is it my turn 😪”

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