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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

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With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

#cod #nm #nsfw

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

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Regimented Trust

Military | Male | Gay

1,690~ words Content: mostly tame, but please consider the topics to include... trauma, mental health, amputation (leg), solitude, distrust, anxiety, companionship, connections, budding romance.

Captain John Price | Male/GN Reader

!!!SFW!!!

In a support group for military veterans, You and Price navigate the complexities of healing, trust, and camaraderie. As walls slowly crumble and bonds form over the course of many nights and pints, will Price's relentless optimism break through your defences?

You sat there in the dimly lit room of the support group. The building was more depressing than the reality of your life, a thought you had mused every time you came here. The circle of chairs was a little fuller this week, which was always nice to see, but your focus was less on them, and more towards a certain Captain.

John Price sat there across from you, another soldier, but unusual in that he was the first man higher ranking than a Sergeant. His deep brown eyes had a way of boring deep inside you, stirring something you had worked hard to suppress.

Tonight was a rather quiet night, not many people had wanted to speak up. Some nights were like that.

You scratched at the spot on your prosthetic where your leg used to be. Phantom limb, phantom itch. You always felt it around people.

“We're all here for a reason.” Price gruffly mumbled, likely trying to be the leader he naturally was. “War leaves its marks on all of us... and, for a time, I thought all that mattered was patriotism and duty to serve.”

His voice seemed laced with regret and anger.

You felt a twitch in your mouth as you tried to maintain your composure. It was difficult to be here on most days, but the desire you harboured for Price betrayed the promise you had made; never let anyone back in. Don't trust people.

“Trust takes time.” Price continued.

Was he reading your fucking mind? You couldn't help but wonder as he stared at you. You assumed this was meant for you, specifically.

“...that's okay. But we're here to get better, to be better... whatever that may mean, or whatever path that may take us down.” Spoken like a true leader, but you were still unconvinced.

But as ever, Price's motivational speeches had an effect, and some other men in the group began to share things here and there; a nightmare they had. A fallen comrade. Medical discharge from service, and loved ones abandoning them.

That one hit you hard.

That damn itch!

As the group session ended, Price lingered behind as he always did. He checked up on the men who spoke, reassured them as they went on their way, and helped clean up the room.

You had missed the end of the session, being lost in thought. You just sat on the chair, staring into the nothingness as the clean up crew worked around you.

Price had been watching, and gathering the courage, he finally approached.

“Hey.” Price said in his gravelly, commanding voice. “Seems you've been carrying a heavy load as of late. Care to talk about it one on one?” He asked.

Your eyes flickered to Price with a mix of surprise and distrust. Sure you had spoken a few times, participated just enough to not set off any alarms with the other members – or so you thought.

You sat there in silence long enough for Price to deem this important enough for his attention. He swiftly grabbed a chair from the stack. He set it down at an awkward angle from you before plunking himself into it.

He crossed his arms as he leaned back and stared you down.

“I've seen men crumble under some heavy weight.” I said in a factual, flat tone. “If I can help, I want to.”

You sighed and slumped your shoulders, leaning slightly back in your chair.

“Easy for you to say.” You chide. “Always so composed and proper.”

Price gave an amused smile and deep chuckle. “Just a part of my charm, yeah?” He said in a teasing tone. “But I have to be composed and proper, I'm still actively serving, and I do my men no favours by breaking down when they need me the most.” He explains, shifting his tone to something kinder. Honest.

“I've seen too much.” You replied. Why the hell did your leg still itch so fucking much?

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “It's difficult to believe there is anything good left. In me or the military.”

Price leaned a forward slightly and nodded. “Well mate, maybe you just need to look in the right places.” He smiled with a glint in his eyes. “How about we talk a bit more at the pub down the road. A drink won't solve your problems, but might help give you the courage to open up a bit, yeah?” He offered, already beginning to stand.

You resisted the smile that was tugging at your face.

You shook your head and sighed again.

“Gonna make that an order, Captain?” The words had seemed more snarky and less flirty in your head. Shit.

“If that's what it takes, I suppose I could.” Price nodded, his face unreadable. “Come on mate, its a pint with a fellow soldier. My treat.”

“Relentless aren't you?” You chuckled, shaking your head.

Fuck it.

You stood up and grabbed your jacket.

“Age before beauty.” You smirked, gesturing for Price to lead.

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One pint at a pub down the street had turned into two and then three. One night had turned into five, and before you knew it, you were spending more time with Price after support meetings.

You had even braved a few pubs with him on days with no meetings.

Price had managed to loosen your lips and pry a little more information from you during these times, but you still kept your walls up; even if they were faltering.

You were currently running your fingers around the base of your pint, watching the bubbles rise as you got lost in thought again.

“You know,” Price began, snapping you out of your trance. “I never saw my mates as just soldiers. They were... they are family. Brothers and comrades I needed to take care of.” He admitted with a sombre tone.

You couldn't help but look at Price curiously. Why was he saying this now? What was with that remorseful tone?

“I see the same in you.” He confessed before taking a long swig of ale. He sighed and shook his head. “No... its not the same. But you're not just some solider from the support group. We all need someone.” Price cleared his throat.

“Even if its just a mate to share a pint with.” He added quickly.

And another section of the wall buckles.

“Need someone like me?” You said, cocking an eyebrow. “Must be desperate.”

Price laughed deeply at your reply, shaking his head.

“Desperate or not, I've seen some pretty fucked up shit. If I can find someone... people, to care about and keep me grounded, its worth pursing.”

You shifted in your seat, tilting your head to the side as you eyed Price over.

“Pursing, eh? You make me sound like a military operation or objective to complete.”

Price smiled, “Operation: One pint at a time.” He joked.

Price took a drink from his glass, wetting his beard with droplets and foam. You hated to admit it – even if it was only to yourself – but it was a rather adorable sight from such a rugged, gruff man.

“Interesting strategy.” You were trying to keep your voice relaxed and composed, not wanting to give away your amusement and piqued interest. “Hope you have reinforcements.”

Price lets out a playful scoff, waving an arm dismissively. “I don't need any damn reinforcements. I'm an expert at covert infiltration's.” He asserts.

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The night was chilly, the kind that made your breath into wisps of fog in the night air. It chilled you to the bone as you stood outside sucking on a cigarette. Price had declined a cigarette from you when he realized he had left his cigars at home, but stood with you for company.

Price, ever the tenacious man, decided to push the boundaries a little further this night. He moved in closer to you and draped an arm over your shoulder, a gesture that seemed meant to comfort and protect.

You did nothing; admittedly shocked by the sudden token of kindness. Your muscles twitched and tensed, and you still had the urge to run like a bat out of hell, but there was a part of you that simply enjoyed the feeling of his arm around you. You eventually relaxed.

“You know, leaning on someone doesn't make you weak.” Price remarked.

Ignoring what he was trying to say, you smirked and inhaled more nicotine. “Sounds like an excuse to lean on me.” You shake your head mockingly, exhaling smoke.

Price let out an exaggerated sigh. “I'm just saying it takes strength to let people in. Its not healthy for people to bottle it all up.” he continued, ignoring your commentary.

“Taking a lot of strength to hold you up right now.” You enjoyed this banter more than your face let on. You loved it. You hated it. But most importantly... that damn itch was slowly disappearing.

“I'm not used to leaning on anyone.” You confessed. Your eyes stared straight ahead as you spoke. “I don't lean on people.” You dropped the cigarette butt and stomped it out.

Why were you telling him this?

There was something in Price's eyes; an understanding.

He cleared his throat and leaned in a bit.

“Maybe it's time to let people in. Lean on someone.” Somehow you know those weren't the words Price had wanted to say.

His grip on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly.

Despite your best efforts to stop yourself, you still ended up leaning into him.

“Walk you home.” Price said.

Not a question.

You nodded.

“Just don't expect me to invite you in for a coffee.” You replied with a weak smile.

“Understood.” Price nodded.

Price's arm remained wrapped around you as you took the lead and started towards home.

Your heart raced, and your mind was yelling at you to stop. He would leave too, just like the rest did. You were better on your own. You didn't need anyone.

But you wanted someone.

You wanted Price. You wanted him to be different than the rest.

#cod #nm #this fits my niche perfectly YESSSSSSS

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

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Andrew Peter Parker x male Deadpool reader, jus headcanons

TASM Peter Parker x Deadpool male reader

Headcanons

I always love when Peter is extra spidery. Been a while since I watched the amazing spiderman movies ngl.

I imagine this takes place after Peter comes back home after the No Way Home movie, so he has a deeper understanding of just how broad and different his universe is.

He keeps being spiderman like he’s always been, but at maybe you show up as a coworker at his job, or just during the night when he’s patrolling, but soon you two are spending a lot of time together.

Seeing as Deadpool is conscious about being inside a comic or media, I have the idea that you to some degree know this too, meaning you make jokes about the multiverse, or memes that don’t exist in your universe.

You would crack jokes about Peter having gone to a different dimension too, and make comments about villains that don’t exist in your universe, which would be what really caught Peters attention.

The white and yellow voices you have are all for you flirting with peter, as peter and as spiderman, and it leads to you guys having a relationship kinda like comic spiderman and Deadpool.

In the beginning Peter isn’t really sure what to do about you, especially seeing as you kill people, but you are super friendly, affectionate, and call him your soulmate.

Youd grow on him over time, and Peter would start looking forwards to seeing you around. He would even start getting worried if you don’t show up for a bit, even though he knows you taken contracts as an assassin and a gun for hire.

Cue you guys teaming up more and more, and you killing less when he’s around. You can’t fully stop, it’s just not in your nature, but you’ll try for Peter, which he appreciates.

Patrol always ends up with you guys eating something, sitting on the edge of a building, masks pushed up over your noses as you guys talk about whatever it is you can think of. If you have scars like most versions of Deadpool, Peter would be surprised at first, but would never judge you or look down on you for having them.

It takes Peter a while to realize he’s got feelings for you, as there’s part of him that scared to lose you like he did Gwen. Sure, you could heal from an atomic explosion, but that doesn’t keep the guilt and anxious thoughts from existing.

Your always very verbal about being in love with Peter, as he’s your other half and perfect partner, in your own words. Your flirt with him, bring him gifts, ask him on dates after every patrol, or ask him for a kiss when you’ve gotten hurt even though you’re healing.

Imagine your surprise when one day, after you had gotten impaled by a lamppost or something, you have your mask tucked up over your nose. And when Peter asks if there’s anything else he can help you with, after he’s patched you up, you pucker your lips and tell him he could kiss you better.

And for once, instead of scoffing and laughing, he actually leans in and kisses you. You immediately bluescreen, eyes wide as saucers as he gives a little grin and salute before he swings off into the night.

After that you crank your advances even more, and you guys share many more kisses before anything becomes official. You’re both dancing around the subject, but there are clear sparks and feelings between you.

Peter still struggles with the fear of losing you and not being enough, and deep down you have many insecurities of your own, but at some point you guys finally become official.

That’s also the first time you get to see him without a mask, if you don’t know each other during your day life. You swoon, flopping down on the ground with an arm over your eyes and a hand on your heart, gushing about how handsome he is.

Peter leaves you completely flustered when he compliments you in return when you take your mask off, especially if you have the usual Deadpool scars. Your yellow and white voices both agree Peter was the right choice.

You guys start officially dating, and going out during the day as much as you do during the night.

You shower him in gifts, since you have a lot of money doing your gun for hire job, compared to his job of the moment. You have a much better finance than he does, since you can work whenever you want compared to him trying to work a day job and also be spiderman.

Some of his coworkers, or most honestly, think you’re weird when you stop by his workplace if he forgot his lunch, or to bring him something.

But they can also see just how smitten you guys are. They’re more likely to be jealous, since their own partners won’t look at them with as much look as you do when looking at Peter.

When you guys move in together, it’s in a brand-new apartment. Peters isn’t big enough for the both of you, and people who want you dead know your current address.

The apartment is kind of a mess, with all your different accessories, weapons, webshooters, suits, the likes, all over the place. But its perfect for you two and just what you need.

Theres just some kind of peace to be with someone who knows the others’ secret identity, and someone you don’t have to worry will get hurt because of your hero, or antihero, work.

Peter still struggles to hold a day job, since you are as scatterbrained as him, or since your own schedule is super wack, so you don’t notice if he’s late or missing work. You could easily finance the both of you, but Peter being Peter won’t accept being a freeloader in his eyes.

Sure, you still kill people for money and just because you feel like it, but it’s a lot less than you use too, and there are moments Peter needs to step in and reel you guys’ in. But it doesn’t lessen the love you guys have for each other in any way, and when things get tough, you always have one another when it matters.

#marvel #nm

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴛʙᴀ)

✉ - ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ: ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ x ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴅ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʟᴋꜱ, ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘꜱ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ(?) ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀɢᴇ ᴀɢᴇ-ɢᴀᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

ᴘʀᴏɴᴜɴᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ⦂ ꜰᴀɪꜱɪᴀɴ - ꜰᴀɪ-ꜱʜᴀɴ ꜰᴀɪᴀ - ꜰᴀɪ-ʏᴀ 🇫🇦🇮🇺🇸- 🇫🇦🇮-🇾🇺🇸 🇩🇦🇰🇲🇪🇸 - 🇩🇦🇰-🇲🇪🇸 🇶🇭🇪🇹🇴🇭🇷 - 🇰🇪-🇹🇴🇷

Yandere Victory God, who isn’t everything you’d expect a victory god to be. He’s not energetic, cheerful, or even that much of a good sport. What he is is cocky, arrogant, pragmatic, and stubborn as hell.

Yandere Victory God, who has challenged every single major god in the pantheon to duels, games of strategy, or even something as dumb as a popularity contest. He’d always get too into it, sometimes transforming a simple game into a years-long feud that’d only end when he managed to win. None of the gods have forgotten the Faisian Festival of 674, not when it nearly caused the entirety of the island of Faia to sink into the ground.

Yandere Victory God, who doesn’t care for any of the other gods. Not when they couldn’t even beat him, not like you could. You, the God of Mercy, who the world has forgotten ever since your temple was desecrated during the War of Storms.

Yandere Victory God, who is the only god who still remembers you, even if it’s been half a century since he’s last seen you. He hates to admit it, but he misses you and your gentle gaze, your compassionate personality, and your endless patience.

Yandere Victory God, who tires of the endless bloodshed that he caused with his own two hands. He wonders if you’d still love him if you learned of the things he’s done in these past violent years. All the mortal blood that he’s spilled would surely make you hate him, you’ve always loved these foolish little creatures after all, but maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him.

Yandere Victory God who never stops searching for you, despite his mother, the Goddess of War’s orders to stop this ‘fruitless endeavor’ and to focus on his duty in the battlefield. He cannot give up, he’s listened to your stories before. Of friends and fellow Gods who’ve faded away from existence because they were forgotten. He remembers your tears, and how he wanted to kiss them away from your skin. He doesn’t want you to be just another forgotten God.

Yandere Victory God, who catches wind of words whispered between old mortals, that the God of Mercy is in the Ivory Isles. Being held captive by a wretched creature that wants the wars to wipe out mortals forever.

Faius was analyzing the map on his table, he had cleaned it of all the wooden pieces his mother used to mark their enemies. The scolding he’ll receive later will be worth it, as long as he can spot where the Ivory Isles were. Unfortunately for him, the Ivory Isles were considered a cursed location that many cartographers avoided placing on their maps to avoid bad fortune.

As he was tracing his finger through the Gaulree Archipelago, the sound of heavy boots stomping through the dirt, followed by what Faius recognizes as feet being dragged across the coarse ground, snapped him out of his focus and he raises his head just in time for one of his lieutenants to enter the tent with a scrawny old man in tow.

The lieutenant saluted, “Hail, Lord Faius.” He placed his hand on the old man and forced him to kneel, then grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head downwards to the ground like he was bowing.

Faius waves his hand, “At ease,” His amber eyes drifted to focus on the old man, who had his eyes down to the ground, “I take it this is the priest of [Name] I sent you to search for?”

The old man must have been only a young lad during the fall of your temple, and your subsequent disappearance. All the other priests and priestesses were either dead, or had gone senile with old age. This man was his only hope for finding you. If he had no valuable information, Faius would probably gut him then have his corpse tied to a pike as a warning to his men to not be so useless. Well, that's what he would've done if he wasn’t your old priest.

The lieutenant nodded, “Yes, Lord Faius,” He glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye, “We found him at a temple of Dakmes.”

Faius sneered. Dakmes was one of your few offspring, they were the deity of Tranquility, which was the closest thing to mercy the mortals had these days. He was so close to declaring war on them when he heard that they never bothered to look for you, you were their father for gods’ sake!

“You are dismissed,” Faius waved off the lieutenant, who saluted, before swiftly leaving the tent. He walked over to the old man, who was still kneeling on the floor. With his sharp gaze, he was able to see that the old man was shaking slightly.

Faius kneeled down, even in this position he was taller than the mortal, and then forced him to look him in the eyes. Dark brown met amber, and the old man flinched, “L-lord Faius,” The man’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t drank water in ages, “What do you want from me?”

Faius hummed, and then stood back up so he could tower over the old man and really enforce who was in power here, his hands stayed clasped behind his back, “You were a priest of [Name] in your youth, weren’t you?”

The old man nodded, “I… I was,” The look in his eyes told Faius that the man had an inkling of why he was there.

“Answer me this,” Faius pulled out the dagger he had used to pin down the map, and played with the blade. He smirked when the old man gulped, “Were you there the day he disappeared?”

At those words, it was like a switch flipped inside the old man as a realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened, he started shaking his head frantically, “No… no! I promised them. I- I swore I’d never tell a soul!” He screamed. Faius’ eyes widened, who was ‘them’? Was it a deity?

“Who are you speaking of?” Faius bent down in front of the old man, who immediately backed away from him but didn’t get very far considering he was basically crawling backwards, “Tell me, now.” He snarled out, gold energy crackling in the room, and his fierce aura scaring the man still.

“I- I cannot!” The old man cried, tears were now flowing down his face at a rapid pace, “They would kill me if I spoke even a word of it!”

Faius pressed the dagger against the old man’s throat, who winced when a bit of blood leaked from the freshly formed cut, “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll be the one to take your worthless little life,” This was it, he was close. He could feel it. If he knew the deity who dared take you away from him, then he’d rescue you, and things would go back to normal again. You and him, together. Just like how it was meant to be.

“It was Qhetohr!” The old man shrieked, “Qhetohr took Lord [Name]-” But before he could finish his words, the old man froze mid-sentence, and then black smoke started to pour from his mouth and then curled around his neck, and around his head. Faius immediately backed away, but that didn’t stop a bit of the smoke from wrapping itself around his wrist.

The smoke solidified around, and then tightened. Faius winced at the sharp pain, it set his nerves on fire and nearly made him fall to his knees, but he was able to balance himself. Unfortunately for your ex-priest, he did not have the fortune of being a god, and the following sight was visceral.

The black smoke that wrapped itself around the old man tightened to the point that Faius could hear the bones in his neck creaking, and the skull starting to crack from the applied pressure. The sounds only continued, growing louder and more frequent, till with one final wet pop, the smoke slowly receded from the old man. Leaving only a bloody and mutilated mess of what used to be the old man’s head.

Most mortals, even some of the gods, would gag at the sight but Faius only frowned. He could care less about the mess, instead he focused on the old man’s dying words.

Qhetohr was one of the oldest deities in the pantheon, and one of the most dangerous ones too. The deity of destruction and the void. They were the most reclusive of the old gods, yet at the same time the most feared, for good reason too. The gory image in front of him was no doubt their work. Faius glared at the black smoke that still clung tightly to his wrist, it felt like it was biting into him and injecting venom into his system like a snake.

He could worry about it later, a little pain was something he could handle if it meant he’ll find you.

Faius called some of his men to clean up the body, and then went back to his map. He wiped away the old man’s blood from his blade. He admired the engraved dove on its hilt, your patron animal. Faius stabbed the dagger back into the parchment, and resumed his search for the Ivory Isles.

He had a deity to blame, to fight, to kill and now all he needed to do was find you.

“I’ll be with you again soon, [Name],” Faius murmurs under his breath, “Just be patient…”

Yandere Victory God, whose men have noticed that he’s been getting more brutal with his attacks. He always loved a good battle, fighting was something that just came naturally to him as a son of War and Glory, and it was one of the few things that was able to take his mind off of you. But there was something different now. It was like he had gotten hungrier for blood, and violence.

Yandere Victory God who’s started raiding different villages and towns, all in search for a map or a cartographer willing to overlook the curse and tell him where the Ivory Isles were. Were his methods crueler than necessary? Sure, you could say that, but it was for a good cause. If he brought back the god of mercy, then things would become peaceful once more, and he’d be able to have his beloved back in his arms.

Yandere Victory God who has become darker than before. He was never the kindest, nor was he the most compassionate, but he wasn’t like… this. He was harder on his men, pushed them to be more ruthless, and many of them lost whatever humanity they still had left in them that the seemingly ceaseless wars hadn’t taken.

Yandere Victory God who dedicates every head he severs, every village he burns to the ground, and every death that happens at his hands, to you. This was all in his efforts to look for you after all, he wasn’t some bloodthirsty brute who took pleasure in this. No, no. He was your knight in shining armor, like the ones in all of those stories mortals loved to write.

Yandere Victory God who can tell that the black smoke was doing something to him. Making him more sadistic and cruel, but was it really so bad? He could never do this before, not when he was worried about what you’d think of him for killing all these mortals. He still cared about what you thought about him, yes, but he’s sure you’ll be able to understand why he did this. You were always so understanding, that’s just one of the many things he loved about you.

Yandere Victory God who finally found a cartographer willing to sell her soul for a hefty bag of gold coins, and gives him a map that can take him to the Ivory Isles.

Yandere Victory God who wastes no time in taking his mother’s ship and boarding it with some of his men, the crew accommodates him without question and they set sail for the Ivory Isles. His face is like stone, cold and unmoving, but inside he’s like an excited child about to get his favorite treat after waiting patiently to be rewarded.

Yandere Victory God who finally smiles for the first time in a long time when he sees the large pale structures in the distance, the bones that make up the outer layer of the Ivory Isles. You’re just within reach, and soon things will be perfect once more. He’ll rip Qhetohr apart, limb from limb, and offer their remains up to you, his perfect god.

Faius steps onto the cursed land's soil, and immediately shivers. There is an evil energy on this land, no wonder cartographer’s refuse to place it on their maps. He hopes that it hasn’t tainted you, but even if it has he’ll be able to fix it.

He feels the black smoke curl tighter around his wrist, and hum with a renewed energy. He winces as he feels it dig deeper into his skin. It was like an ant biting into his flesh with the force of a shark.

But he steadies himself, he must remain strong if he wants to rescue you after all.

Faius stares off into the distance, where he sees a large, crumbling tower that looks nearly identical to the bones surrounding the island. That must be the prison holding you.

His hand grips tighter on the sword around his waist, “Soon, [Name]... Soon you’ll be back in my arms again,” Faius whispers to himself, “Right where you belong.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#misc #nm #gettin some shadow of the colossus vibes from this /pos

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Text

Marshmallows

Summary:Kids love to put marshmallows on your horns.

Type:Hcs:Fluff:Karlach X GN!Tiefling!Reader: Dammon X GN!Tiefling!Reader: Halsin X GN!Tiefling!Reader: Rolan X GN!Tiefling!Reader

Version:Bg3

Karlach

She'd actually love it

The fact you'd let the kids out the marshmallows on your horns anyways has her feeling some ways

She sees you as a perfect parent figure

But seriously, she'll give the kids other ideas to put on your horns, like salami

She'd giggle as she watched the kids put random things on your horns(that fit anyways)

Halsin

He finds it adorable

He'd watch you interact with the kids with a huge smile, silently reminding himself who'd he'd let watch his kids(or have them)

He'd probably help the kids if your too tall, or your horns are to dull

Another person to suggest other things to out on your horns

Like rings!

Rolan

At first he was confused why you had marshmallows on your horns

Until he saw the kids sticking them on their

Then he finds it amusing, even cute

I think he'd think it was abit stupid at first, especially when you have to clean the goo from the marshmallow off your horns

But he can't deny the smile on his face when he watchs you interact with the kids

Dammon

Probably put the kids up to it

Idk why, I just see him giving the kids marshmallows then sending them off to find you

Laughed at first, he found it funny yet cute that you humored the kids

He'd help clean the goo off your horns, it was only fair

He does find it sweet how you interact with the kids tho

[A/n:I don't know where I thought of this. I hope you enjoyed]

#bg3 #nm

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Text

Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.

Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.

[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]

[Length: 1,480 words]

The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.

A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.

The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.

The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).

Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.

As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.

They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.

In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.

With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.

The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.

They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.

Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.

One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.

It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.

This mission was already hell.

#mw #my work #cod #cod mw #dying light #crossover #captain price #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #gaz garrick #male reader #unspecified male reader #x male reader #cod x male reader #zombie apocolypse au #zombie au #dying light au

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Text

Only their wishes..

Notes: Male reader but not specified much, an au where Reiko basically turns good like Rain's Arcade ending, possessiveness(?), male reader has a 5 people harem. This took about 20 days for me (i got side-tracked i the middle of writing this.)

[_________\\_________\\_________\\_________\\____]

Imagine being born from the blood of a royalty, or even a Goddess's, growing up in the royal house, trained to be a Count, next to Jade. With that, of course the two princesses, a boy who is enthused to become a respected mage, a young lassie warrior of Umgadi, a youngster who is brought in by The General and you, are all raised together. At the time of growing up, they could only have, maybe a major crush on you. And as you and them grow into an independent adults, their yearning would continue on and become much more stronger.

Mileena 🩷

Mileena and her younger sister were the first allowed to meet you and they were cheerful to have another companion, along with Tanya. Mileena, being the opposite of her twin, always tried to hang out with you or Tanya. You expressed only a bit of emotions but oh were you such a good listener. Smiling little by little because her exciting stories about her and her family. Growing up, her former platonic feelings for you deepened. Perhaps because you were showing more about you and your captivating personality, something like no others. Perhaps because you complimented her as in:

"Mileena, you're intelligence is very identical to you. It really distinguishes yourself, and it's amazing." And she could hear nothing else, only the words you just said a few seconds ago. It wasn't a flirt by any means, and even if it was it's obviously not a good one. Nonetheless, her face heated up and she smiled as if she got a high sugar rush. You got a bit worried and asked her if she is alright and not wanting to give away her crush, she replied that she is fine. She certainly but subconsciously made lovesick expression towards you following that day.

Furthermore, her love was unstoppable. As an adult, her mind was more focused than her adolescent years, yet her doting on you was nonstop. You were with her, along with Tanya. During her time of the painful influence of Tarkat, you did what you could do. Always was around her and her sister, protecting, and she loved it. But it was quite saddening seeing you didn't trust Shang Tsung at all, a man keeping her infection down. And she looked at you, shocked when you decided to help Liu Kang, if only she knew of the sorcerer's manipulation. After impermanently losing you to the Outworld's impermanent betrayers, she grew angry, couldn't contain her outrage.

However, after a long and deserved explanation by Liu Kang, she was delighted to have you by her side again, no longer fearing you could possibly have a lover from Earthrealm. After the war, Mileena was throned and became the Outworld's Empress, now making an effort to be the reliable ruler, seeking approval by her people and.. you. Even if her superiority is important, Mileena wished she could settle down with you, her as your beloved for life. She could only dream for now...

Kitana 💙

As said previously, Kitana and her sister were the first ones to get to know you. At first, she shied away from you, hiding behind her older sibling, until you pulled her out of her shell. Growing up, you were determined to make her a confident woman in the future, gradually speaking to her and conversing more and more. Perhaps that made her so close to you in your teenage years, she would ask you and you would give or teach her. This mentor and pupil relationship went furthermore for her.

She didn't realize her hidden feelings when she saw you either with Mileena or Tanya, not hanging out with her more. And she got curious; why was she a bit spiteful towards someone next to you? And naturally, Kitana doesn't hate her sister, she cares but why did she feel envy when she saw you two together? Days and nights passed, as she slowly took in and discovered her love. For you.

Even as an adult it was hard, both natural instincts of romantic and sexual attraction towards you gaining control over her. And while she could deal with those, she still couldn't handle the gentle but somehow intense warmth and intimacy whenever you're near her, talking to her. Kitana wouldn't mind Johnny or even other people flirting with her, but if you do so, she would probably die inside. Some delusional part of her mind would think you'd want to marry her, yet she knows better.

Seeing you, trying to eliminate Shang Tsung was a mix of emotions for her. Why are you suddenly so against her and her family now? Trying to kill the man who's immensely helping Mileena's infection. The princess attacked you, it turning into a fight, she was determined to make you stop but in the end, you were just much stronger than her, powering her easily. And that look you gave her, face turned to bitter look with a hint of sadness..? Kitana thought what did she do wrong just then. That is something she certainly understood after Liu Kang's explanation.

Now after the war? You and her relationship is still the same, friendly companions. Still she contemplates every night, that her commanding over hundred thousand and more soldiers were all thanks to you. You who gave her confidence and courage, and Kitana hopes everytime she'd get married to you. And that is a large piece of hope and ambition..

Tanya 💛

As the born-to-be protector of the two princesses, Tanya was quickly the second to meet you. She already loved the aura you gave off, friendly yet a little strict. Collected, relaxed and still hardworking and so on. Just the combination she respects. You always included her during many hangouts, and it's not like the princesses don't invite her, they do. It's just that in one of the hangouts you asked tons of interesting questions about her. Being born from blood makes you such a compelling youngster, it seems. Different from anybody else.

And blame her never ending fascination because she quite literally stalked and followed you during teenage years. She knows it will get her punished if she's found out, yet she couldn't shake the feels away. You found her out first, and she thought you will immediately call a guardian but you didn't. You and her solved the problem by yourselves and it got her more fascinated. Let's say she was upset she had to be away from you and the princesses, to be trained more.

Generic teenager's crush you should call it, her heart would thump, getting more flustered. Tanya can hold a steady hand to others but with you, it makes her tremble a bit. Even shiver. After all, your status was quite highly, no doubt, and she is lectured to be in her best behaviors around you. The task is difficult when she has a massive feelings for you, isn't it?

Like Mileena, the Umgadi warrior was maddened by your betrayal, helping some degenerate Earthrealmers who tried to stop the princess' mendings. You trusted Liu Kang more than Sindel? More than your dearest friends? Yes, she was furious but confused. (And she might have said some hurtful and rude words to you). But in the end, she was quite relieved, that you saw the actual adequate side of this war. (She apologizes so much, for her meaningless words.)

After the war with Shang Tsung was over, she was put up to a great height of responsibility. Being the Leader of the Umgadi priestesses, was hard at times. And you inviting her for a little break time, massaging her back is the greatest things to feel. At first, she rejected the offer, but you insisted, kindly ordering her to sit on the comfortable chair in front of you. Nervousness evident as you lightly hit at the tired muscles of her back, popping sometimes heard.

You were so kind, and everyone wouldn't have it any other way. If only an Umgadi warrior is allowed to marry a high level like yours..

Rain 💜

He was instantly intrigued by you. Someone with the most divine blood as yours wouldn't really be 'abandoned' by anyone, for The Emperor and The Empress to take you in. When he saw you and your power, your future reputation, he concluded that it is best if he is on your good side. Maybe even greater than that. Even though he's got massive studies to do, to reach his goal, he couldn't help but watch you as your young body and spirit are trained by Li Mei.

You in your teenage years was-hardworking, intelligent, attractive young man- so who wouldn't want to marry you in the future? He thought as he gazed at you. How old were you? About 35? (What i assume is like a teenage years for Outworlders, since they live sooooo long). Still young, and has got quite an intimidating body and aura. Perhaps, Zeffeero could train with you, or be trained by you. And while you were-basically-training him? He rarely talks. Keeping to himself, going over many spells and knowledge over his mind, while lifting heavy weights. It takes you to call his name about five times to get his attention back on track. During training you managed to capture his heart. He's gullible when it comes to love and romance, and he knows it but Rain believes if he ever confessed and you accepted, you wouldn't ever leave him behind-in the dust.

Your training for physical strength and endurance was substantial. He wanted to thank you in every way possible, and you settled for something simple. To look over his studies, in his room, where he never lets anyone get inside. "I'm fascinated by you..". You're fascinated by him? Oh, that's a coincidence! He wants to explore you as well, both physically and emotionally..? Perhaps.

Zeffeero still remembers the day of your first kiss. Silly mistake made by two teenagers. You came into his study room, talked, and all of a sudden you two were kissing each other deeply. At that moment he never wanted to let go. At least be an impressive hydromancer to you. You truly captured his heart and you think he'll forget everything? Possibly, when he saw you siding with the Earthrealmers. Unlike the women, he was determined to be a powerful mage, a future promised by Shang Tsung. After the war, and the destruction of Seido, Rain realizes he was never going to be a reliable mage. Feeling strange cold and regret.

Turning himself in, he couldn't look at your disappointed gaze, but he was surprised to say the least when Mileena decided to put him under your wing. A path to redeem himself, a chance to prove you that he will never betray anyone. It's a long metaphorical journey Rain is willing to endure, if it means he could marry you one day..

Reiko ❤️

He was a bit-let's say-aggressive towards you during both of your younger years. Reiko was like the younger kid in movies who would always doubt the older kid or even an adult to the point of dissing them. You didn't blame him honestly, his family died during the war, but he still crawled out of the Hell and into the safety of the royal house. Under General Shao. You disliked Shao already because of his truculent nature and you didn't wish to find out Reiko being turned into the same man as Shao. So, during younger times you tried to drag Reiko away right after his training for a long period.

For that, he would be confused and at times tried to get away from you. Keyword; tried. You always end up swooping him in your arms again. You two would hang around every forest, marketplace and even spend more time in the large Armory room. When Li Mei found out, she lectured you for a long while. In fact, your lessons and trainings everyday was extended, making it unable for you to drag Reiko away. After a few days, you finally let go and stopped caring about Reiko, which you ended up not minding.

However, for the younger boy, it was suddenly strange and perhaps intolerable. He was so used to walking and talking with you, it turned into an instinct. Now he was the one trying to haul you away from your classes. Didn't care when Li Mei scolded him all the time, he just wanted to be near you as soon as possible. That's why you and Reiko was even told off by the Empress once.

Growing into teenage years, Reiko could only watch you spend time with others. Both of your schedules were tight and the only thing you both could do is greet each other. Reiko was getting deprived but he didn't know what was empty. The greedy wish to be with you forever and away from anyone else was getting to his head everyday, maybe. But he held back, knowing he will be kicked out if he does so.

He was partly glad and partly dying inside, as he sees you help Li Mei and others. Against him and General Shao. On one hand, he wouldn't have to deal with you running around in his head every-time, on the other, he wishes you didn't run into the arms of Liu Kang. But after the defeat of Titan Shang Tsung and the following of the ongoing war of Outworld, Reiko couldn't hold it together. He realized how unimportant killing innocents is anyway and so, he ran away from Shao.

Kneeling for hours on end, in front of the new Empress, he yelled out all of the plan Shao made, to conquer Outworld. In return, he dared to point and ask take who he wanted. You. Commander Kitana and Empress Mileena immediately understood it was a romantic interest, a want very similar to theirs. Thanks to Li Mei, they decided to put Reiko, under the careful watch of Kitana and you. If it wasn't for Li Mei, the sisters were just about to throw him out. Rain isn't happy with Reiko hauling you to spend time away from everyone.

One day, Reiko and you will get married, he's sure of it..

#mortal kombat #nm

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Text

No One Else Can Have You: Nero x Male Reader

MINORS DNI; THIS IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

SERIOUSLY, GO AWAY!

SUMMARY: Jealousy is rather familiar to Nero. The burning glare he gives to anyone whom Nero deems is being “much too friendly with you” is that of a seething devil. However, upon seeing you with someone that he cannot treat with such malice, the white-haired man takes a much different approach to proving how far he’ll go for you.

BEGINNING NOTES: Power Bottom Jealous Pre-4 Nero x Submissive Top Male Reader The reader is in (The) Order’s choir alongside Kyrie Nero has his devil bringer Close to just mindless smut Nipple play; Nero receiving Semi-aggressive foreplay--skipped oral aspect of foreplay (sorry lmao) ⚡❄️⚡ ➟Not sure if it’s talked about (or seen) in DMC 4 but I imagine (The) Order to have a living space akin to a boarding school mixed with a monastery--but with swords! (Haven’t played 4 yet and I’ve only skimmed the cutscenes because for some reason it’s like hard for me to get through idk why) ➟Kyrie is a bit handsy with the reader; she knows about the two of you and is doing it to tease Nero (Kyrie seems innocent and oblivious but she’s very aware; opposite Nero who seems like he isn’t and is). ➟I do tone down how “edgy” Nero is compared to how he is in 4. Hopefully, he’s not too OOC. ➟For anyone who has a hard time remembering: Nero’s devil bringer is his RIGHT arm (I kept having to re-look at him to remember which side lol). ➟This is very VERY shortly before DMC 4; like I’m talking a month or two. Yes, before someone decides to throw a fit, I h/c Nero to be around the age of 19 when DMC 4 takes place--born 22nd September 1999. He is NOT underage.

===

Winter had just hit Fortuna and there was a light layer of snow on the ground, steadily growing from the continuous flurries. Amidst the sea of white, two people could be seen walking side-by-side. Kyrie and you were returning after chamber choir rehearsal, mindlessly chatting about the newest material you’d been given.

The ginger smiled, grabbing your forearm gently, “Come on, please?”

You rolled your eyes, “No way,” a small laugh left your frozen lips, “I’m not duet partner material.”

Her smile widened and she rolled her eyes slightly, hand sliding down to yours, “Oh please, I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

“I’m flattered, really,” your gaze flicked down to your intertwined hands, a small confused furrow adorning your brow, “but there’s a lot of other members who would go better with you.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to work with them; I want to be with you.”

The two of you stopped outside of a hall’s entrance, still holding hands, “I…” you gave a flat smile and shook your head, sighing in defeat, “I’ll look at the piece, alright?” Her eyes held an excited glint as she grabbed your other hand, pulling the pair up with an enthused stranglehold, “Don’t take this as me agreeing; I just want to see what it is first.”

Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing two familiar faces; Credo and Nero. She addressed them both, talking with her brother, while her hold on your hands only tightened. As the conversation drew on, you weren’t listening, being too busy debating if your fingers were dislocated or not.

“Is he alright?” Credo raised a brow, staring at you.

Kyrie’s attention returned to you and, upon seeing how your fingers were losing circulation, she let go of your hands.

Immediately you shook your fingers and pursed your lips, holding back some painful exclamations--knowing that Credo would string you up by your earlobes and beat you like a piñata. Once more, you didn’t really pay much attention to the conversation but, when you looked back at everyone, Kyrie had entered the hall and was walking alongside her older brother, waving goodbye.

Leaving you and Nero alone.

The young man moved his jaw in thought before using his human hand to grab one of yours, quickly re-cutting the feeling to your appendages. Although you weren’t sure what was going on, you could tell Nero was mad--no, he was pissed. He was practically dragging you behind him, not saying a word. You tried to keep up with his pace but were unable to and kept falling behind.

“Nero, what-!” While attempting to catch up, you slipped on some of the newly formed ice and fell.

The white-haired man’s shoulder and arm were jerked downwards with you, which helped break your fall. However, you still hit the ground while Nero remained on his feet, just off balance. Wincing quietly, you stood up and he grabbed you around the waist, still not talking. He hoisted you into his arms and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, confused as to what was going on.

Given, you did have a slight clue from past experiences.

The moment Nero stepped into his room, he threw you onto the bed, locked the door, and began to strip. You mimicked his actions, tossing your clothes into a pile on the other side of the room, until you were in your underwear--matching Nero’s look.

Admittedly, you still got an overwhelming nervousness when you saw his exposed skin. It was as beautiful as it was arousing. To see how flushed his pale skin became from the cold outdoors, the tasteful amounts of silvery body hair that led down to-

Abruptly, Nero shoved you backward onto the mattress and straddled your middle. Typically, he tends to have a fun amount of force to his actions but today was different. Each one of Nero’s actions so far had been nearly contentious, giving you cause for concern. Perhaps he had a rough day with Credo and the others? Before you could question things too much, a desperate set of chapped lips met yours.

The white-haired young man pushed himself against you, his calves compressing your sides tight enough to leave bruises. His hands gripped the sides of your neck, forefinger, and thumb lining the hinge of your jaw on each side. Your hands grasped his thighs harshly, groping the muscles with fingertips just underneath the ends of his boxer briefs.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth. Slowly, his thumbs rubbed your cheeks and Nero took his time exploring. It was his first time doing something more than pecks and soft-biting lips, and it excited him. A small moan left your mouth at the feeling, in turn, Nero’s legs constricted further around you.

While exchanging wet French kisses, the white-haired man slid his hips back, his ass straddling your growing erection. Your hands slid to his back, running your hands along his shoulder blades. His hands drifted as well, one going up to the top of your head and the other to your side. Breaking off the heated exchange left both of you breathing heavily and with a hot overwhelming lust.

Using the hand upon your head, he tilted you so he could have access to the crook of your shoulder and, without warning, bit down.

Hard.

You arched against him, nails cutting into his skin, and let out a loud exclamation of a moan.

Against the new loving mark, he grumbled through gritted teeth, “Shut it.”

Even though it sounded rude, you knew he was right. If the two of you got caught, who knows what would happen? Not only is it against the rules to have any sort of intercourse before marriage, but it is also taboo for men to share such delights. Plus, it was a sort of game between you two; who would break first and allow themselves to get loud--nine times out of ten it was Nero.

Attempting to silence yourself, you bit your lip as Nero went back to working an even darker mark into your soft flesh. You worked your hands down his middle then back up, feeling him up slowly and meticulously. Despite seeing him nude many times, in both sexual and non-sexual ways, you still got an intense nervous sexual joy out of groping his body. Whether it was the heat, idea, or the actual texture, you weren’t sure; all you knew was that you wanted to touch him more.

Once your hands were on his chest, you squeezed his pecs before pinching at his nipples.

“Fuck,” a grunt left his lips as he released his bite.

Nero leaned up, allowing you more access to his chest, which you happily took advantage of. After a minute of debate--while you continued to futz with his tits--you leaned forwards, joining him in a seated position. Cautiously, you placed several kisses on his shoulders and collarbones. Your hands rested at the small of his back and you titled him away from you. Then, with the same vigor and force as he had against you, you bit down on his chest.

A stifled loud whine came from Nero’s nose as he used his devil bringer to cover his mouth, holding onto your back with his other hand. Encouraged by his noises, you bit down on a nipple and tugged slightly. Through his fingers, you heard him let out a muffled--but still loud, “Goddamnit,” he stared at the ceiling as he arched himself into you.

It felt good-- really good. Nero hadn’t ever touched his chest while getting off before and he was starting to regret it. Feeling you let go, he adjusted himself so you had the other side in front of you. You raised a brow at him looking at him from the tops of your eyes.

“Again--harder,” Nero’s face was bright red as he did his best to play confident, despite feeling weird for asking.

However, a sly smile from you and your compliance quickly washed those thoughts away. Nero placed his devil bringer against your back as well, holding you close to him. Against your gut, you could feel his cock twitching at your motions. With each tug and bite, each time you switched sides or bit down on his muscle instead; you felt him grind against you.

Nero wanted you.

You wanted Nero.

It was as simple as that.

Letting go for the final time, you coaxed him down into a kiss. It was intense, purposeful; Nero wanted to get across exactly what he intended to do with you. You bit at his lips lightly sucking and pulling on his bottom lip, making him let out a shaky breathy moan.

Nero leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I need you,” he ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “Right now,” with a loving forcefulness, he grabbed the lobe of your ear with a canine and pulled--puncturing your flesh slightly.

“You sure-”

He cut you off with a kiss, hands grasping and kneading your sides.

Quietly, you mumbled against his lips, hand wandering all over his lower back, “Lube?”

“Yeah,” Nero got up and walked over to a corner of his room, pulling up the floorboard that covered his hidden stash of “contraband” items.

When he went to turn around, however, he was pinned against you; his back to your front. Placing kisses against the nape of his neck, you ran your hands down his stomach and his happy trail. Teasingly, you ran your fingers around everywhere beside his cock. You found his squirming to be amusing while it only frustrated the pent-up man.

The way your dick was placed against his ass, the light ghosting of your touch, hot exhales against the small love bites you were making; it all combined into a mixed drink that was making his head all fuzzy.

And Nero hates feeling fuzzy.

Being the way that he is, he was easily able to overpower your grasp and pivoted to face you. Using his devil bringer, he slowly prompted you to back up to the bed and he picked you up, tossing you again. Then he grabbed your underwear, yanking them off--removing his right after.

Once again, you found yourself pinned underneath Nero. Although he was staring down at you with piercing sea-green eyes, you couldn’t help but look at his dick which was proudly on display. Pre-cum was dribbling down his shaft and was dripping onto yours, which wasn’t fairing much better. With a slight raise to his brows, he smirked and opened the bottle, lubing two fingers.

“Two right away?” Your hands wandered to his thighs, thumbing over them softly.

“Yeah, jackass,” Nero grunted, hunching forward with a slight shiver, “I said what I meant.”

After squirting some lube into your hand, you leisurely moved to his dick, “And what would that be, sugar?” A smirk tugged at your lips at his reaction to the feeling of you frotting your cocks together, “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Through breathy heavy exhales, he growled lightly, “Fuck- you-!”

Smile widening, you ran a thumb between his tip and yours, “If that’s what you want-”

“Shut-- up.”

Staring him in the eyes, you brought your thumb to your lips and stuck it in your mouth cleaning it before humming in thought, “Mmn,” you reached up and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, “I love when you get all feisty,” with a hand on his neck, you met halfway to share a heated sloppy kiss.

Grabbing the lube again, Nero slicked his finger again, adding a third, then, he tossed the bottle in a random direction, leaving it to deal with later.

His original plan was to have you stretch him as he sucked you off, however, he decided against it at the last minute. Although he would never admit it, he was beyond nervous. This wasn’t his first time playing with his ass, sure; but, it was his first time going this far with you. As he fingered himself, he found his mind wandering in a panic.

What if he messes things up?

What if you don’t like how he feels?

What if--

“Nero?” You put a hand under his chin, a concerned furrow on your brow, “You sure you want to do this? If you aren’t ready-”

“No!” He snapped, quickly adding, “I can do this,” then, for the first time since entering his room, he spoke in a softer tone, “I want to try with you,” he removed his fingers and looked down for a moment, embarrassed, “please.”

Giving him a nod, you kissed the corner of his mouth, “I’ll take your lead.”

“Damn right, you will.”

You laughed at his return to a cocky attitude.

Watching intently, you watched him sit up on his knees, attempting to position himself correctly. Helping him by positioning yourself manually, you nodded at him, telling him he could sit back down.

A loud noise somewhere between a gasp, moan, shout, and grunt left his lips. His hands balled up into fists, nails picturing his palms. Tip inside and his mind much too worried, he tensed up at the foreign object.

“Nero,” you hissed, “You need to relax, otherwise this won’t--” you grimaced slightly, “won’t work.”

After a moment, you vetoed him and picked Nero up off of your hips.

“No-” He frowned and glared, “I can do this.”

“Nero-”

“No, don’t “Nero” me,” he was angry at, what he thought was, you calling him weak. Being the cocky assertive man he is, Nero spread his ass and re-penetrated his hole.

A small groan left your lips, however, that quickly turned louder as you watched Nero sink rapidly onto your cock.

Thunderous whiny moans left Nero’s lips as he stared upwards, feeling how your dick was stretching him. It was much different than the small toys he had hidden away. The heat of your body was enough in and of itself to make Nero’s body quiver.

Bit by bit, he fully relaxed. Admittedly, he could’ve cum just from this act alone but he wanted to do some actual fucking first before releasing. His eyes met with yours and, in response, you thrust your hips upward slightly.

“Ngh- What,” he leaned forwards, bracing himself with his hands on your chest, “Fuck...”

Taking that as an okay, you repeated the action, gripping each side of his hips. A moan left your lips as you felt his body giving way to you, allowing you to see a little bit of his submissive side for the first time. Low groans left his lips between uneven breaths at each one of your upward movements. Wanting to up the ante, you picked his hips up and pulled them down to meet your upward motions.

“What are you-- try-- trying to--”

His thoughts were a mess. He wanted to act tough, to resist how good you were making him feel, and to act as if he weren’t impressed but he couldn’t. With each thrust and slight increase of force, it only made him melt further.

The white-haired man leaned back, arching his upper body outwards, and slammed his hips down into yours, “Fuck.”

“Nero, that--” You groaned and matched his fervor, “keep doing that.”

“Tch, sure,” he meant to sound rude but just came off as compliant.

With each slap of your skin against his, Nero felt an odd fiery feeling bubble inside him. It wasn’t the same feeling as when he was close--this was something new entirely. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin with how good he felt.

As his speed surpassed yours, he looked down at you and stopped which caused you to meet his gaze, “Sit up.”

Doing as he asked, you found yourself face to face with his chest again. Although he didn’t ask, you bit down on his nipple as you returned to slamming against him. He wrapped himself around you, arms cradling your head into him. As he bounced against you, he felt his cock rub against your gut which caused him to speed up even further.

However, you weren’t one to be outdone. Without warning, you released your bite and stood up.

“Shit, what are you-! Ah~!” Nero wrapped his legs around your hips.

You moved to the nearest wall--which happened to be right by the door to his room--and slammed his back against it.

“I…” With a breathy huff, you nuzzled your face into his neck, staying there, “I am…”

“Fuckin’,” Nero wasn’t fairing any better, “Cum inside me.”

“Huh-! Ner-”

“Did- I- stutter?” He leaned forward and bit down on the shoulder before him.

Not wanting to waste any time, you sped up and hit your top speed. With a few more uneven jabs, you spilled yourself inside him.

“Nero~!” You hissed at the feeling of his ass tightening and the warm feeling of his cum spraying against your stomach.

“Shit yeah,” he leaned back and let out a bellowing moan, “Fuck that’s good.”

Carefully, you made your way back to the bed and laid him down, removing yourself. A shiver ran up Nero’s spine at the feeling, his body unsure of how to react. You grabbed a nearby towel from the floor--hopefully, it wasn’t too dirty--and wiped Nero off, then yourself.

“Hey,” Nero propped himself up on his elbows, “I…” he stopped, biting his tongue, “Nevermind.”

Sweetly, you leaned over to his forehead and placed a kiss, “I love you, Nero,” you smiled, pulling back to see his semi-flustered wide-eyed stare, “Is that what this was all about? Wanting to hear me say that?”

“I…” he pursed his lips and nodded shamefully, “Seeing you and…” he shook his head, “Just bothered me.”

You swept his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face between your hands, staring him dead on, “I love you, so very much. My sweet cranky edge lord.”

“Pfft,” he turned to one of your hands, closing his eyes for a moment, then spoke softly, “I love you, too; dickhead.”

“Mn, ‘dickhead’, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” his tone returned to normal, “do you prefer ‘asshole’?”

With a click of your tongue, you shook your head, leaning back with hands on your hips, “Well if you’re gonna be like that then I am not going to invite you to take a bath together.”

A small light lit up in his head at your words, “Oh? As if I’d let you do that without me.”

“What?” You raised your brows in a mixture of disbelief and sarcasm, “You’re already hankering for another round?”

His eyes slowly went down and back up your body, “Yeah, but,” he stood up and yanked you close, whispering in your ear, “Why don’t you let me show you what I can do,” he nipped at your neck, “I want to fuckin’ tear you apart.”

===

ENDING NOTES: The Nero brain rot has been super SUPER bad and I'm not sure why lmao Couldn’t call him a “hunter” in this since he’s not a part of the DMC crew and couldn’t call him “(the) teal devil” because he hasn’t triggered before, so sorry if things get a bit repetitive. Yes, the paragraph that ends with “He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin with how good he felt.” has to do with him having the urge to trigger--even though he doesn’t know he can do that yet. ❄️⚡❄️ First time writing a top reader and bottom character; hopefully it’s not too bad. Ngl power bottom Nero has been eating at my mind for a while now and I’m not sure why. It might be TMI but I am not a top (or a switch) myself so writing the reader as a top is weird lmao (which is also why the reader is submissive, can’t change everything in one fic; can I? lmfao) The point is: that this isn't going to be something that becomes like commonplace (unless a request asks for it--which are still closed as of posting this chapter) and is just something I did for fun lol

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

#ect games #nm #nsfw

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Text

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Male!Reader

TW- Being stabbed, blood, canon typical violence

Word Count- 1.2k

Prompt- "Can someone make the ground stop moving?"

Warden Writing Masterlist💚

[CALLSIGN- HYPNO]

[A/N- Need more Gaz/Male Readers fr]

“Pushing into the office now.” You shout into your mic, hands numb from the cold air of winter and the constant shaking of your rifle as enemy after enemy fell in your path.

The warehouse finally clear of hostiles as you rush up the metal stairs to the top floor. Adrenaline courses through you and the rusted metal door slams open under the force of your shoulder. Two men turn to you with their guns raised but you’re faster. You’re moving before the bodies hit the ground. Kicking the door shut behind you to hopefully buy yourself some time.

The 141 had been tracking this part of a terrorist cell for months after a series of arsons and murders that were too similar to ignore. This was it. There is chatter over the comms as you flip through manilla folders. The words between Price and Gaz don’t register as you shove everything that looks of importance into your backpack. The computer screen flashes in the corner of your vision. The laptop and its intel were the target.

The computer sat on the metal table surrounded by folders and scattered maps now splattered with blood.

You turn and hunch over the computer to begin your work. Attaching the flash drive as you start to scour through enemy files. Anxiety grips you as numbers and names fill the screen. Targets, dates, weapons manifests, it was all here. In the back of your mind you scold the enemy for making such important information so easily accessible. Your team would smoke you if you had ever left something like this so carelessly in the open.

Footsteps thunder across the floor below your position. The files were nowhere close to being finished, you would have to hold this position until they were. This was information that you could not afford to lose.

Down to your last mag and you would need that for your escape to the evac. You let loose an annoyed groan and raise your hand to the radio on your vest. “Hypno to Bravo-Six, I’m cornered in the office, gonna need some backup.”

There is a moment of silence before Price’s voice crackles through, “We can’t son, they’ve got us bogged down near the trucks.” Shit.

Grabbing the laptop off the table and sitting it carefully on the ground; you crouch behind the table and prop the rifle on top. Taking in a deep breath as the door bursts open. Three men rush in, carelessly firing off shots in your direction. When you squeeze the trigger the first man goes down smoothly, falling into the one behind him.

This gives you just enough time to fire at the fumbling enemy soldier, the second man falls just as the first. Blood coating the concrete floor.

The third man’s bullets pelt the table and ground around you. Curling into yourself as the bullets fly so close you feel the heat on your skin. One successfully grazing your upper arm as you attempt to fire again.

Sending up every curse in your mind as your gun jams. Moving quickly to unsheath the knives on your belt as the barrage of bullets stops and you hear the click of an empty gun. Not letting him get the time to reload you jump the table and send a knife flying. The man screams, dropping his gun and reaching for the knife now lodged in between his shoulder and throat.

As you watch in disbelief the man rips the blade from his skin, not hesitating to charge at you. Swinging upwards to block his swing, knocking his arm down and away from your face. But the man doesn’t give up. He instead stabs downwards. Your own knife now embedded in your thigh as the one in your hand sinks into the man's chest.

The man slumps forward, forcing the knife further into his chest. A wheezing sound punched from his chest. Blood trickles down coating your glove as you push him back. The body hits the ground with a heavy thunk, dragging the knife in your leg downwards. The knife tears through the skin as it clatters on the concrete.

Ignoring the tingling sensation and heat quickly spreading through your leg, a pop up on the computer's screen draws your attention. A text message? No, A full conversation was being typed out before your eyes.

BREACH- They’re SAS.

BREACH- What do you want us to do?

The most recent message is what sends you into motion. Grabbing the now complete flash drive and shoving it into your front pocket. Slinging your bag over your shoulders and sprinting out the door, jumping over the dead.

ATLAS- Burn it down.

Blood pumping in your ears as you run. The wooden crates that had provided you cover were now burning. Flames spread to everything as you rush across the warehouse floor. Smoke threatens to choke you as you reach the loading dock doors.

Jumping off the platform results in your legs giving from under you and you slide across the icy asphalt. You can’t stop here, scrambling to your unsteady feet you stumble forward. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you run for the trees. Branches tug at your clothes and snow seeps into your boots.

Shouldering through the brush reveals the team standing surrounded by dead soldiers. Blood staining the clean white snow. Your sudden appearance has them raising their guns at you before recognition sets in.

“Bloody hell Hypno.” Price says, stepping in your direction.

You shuffle forward, the blood covering you growing cold while heat continues to spread down your leg. A look crosses the two men's faces as you get closer.

“Where’s that blood coming from?” Gaz’s eyes frantically comb over your form. The pair stands in front of you, why were they blurry?

Your vision swims as you turn to face Price, ignoring Gaz’s question. “Captain, they're… Oh shit can someone make the ground stop moving.” Your knees buckle and then your face is slamming into the hard snow. A searing pain shoots from your leg through your body on impact.

Despite the freezing temperatures there's sweat on your brow. Hands are on you then you're facing the sky, a panicked looking Gaz pressing his hands to the bleeding wound. His mouth is moving but the words don’t reach your ears.

Lifting your gloved hand to his arm makes him look at you, then your eyes close.

… … … … … … …

“Doctor is saying that it barely missed your femoral artery.” Gaz sits beside your hospital bed. His hands are wrapped around your own as he places a kiss on your palm.

You had woken up in a haze, bright lights blinding you before you realized where you were. According to Gaz you had only been out for around seven hours after arriving back at base. The trucks had been set ablaze so your team had to be airlifted out of there.

Other than the stab wound you had several bruises and were borderline hypothermic.

You smile at him, “Yeah well, you should have seen the other guy.” Gaz lightly smacks your chest, clearly not amused with your joke.

“Remind me why I’m dating your dumbass.” He says with a straight face, trying not to smile.

“Because of my handsome face.” you reply with an equally straight face but can’t help it and a wide grin splits across your face. Gaz looks away and shakes his head but you can see the corners of his mouth upturned. He turns back to you and leans in, placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

[A/N- Sorry if this seems off, trying to push through a very tough writer's block. Feedback and Reblogs are always encouraged!]

#cod #nm

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mymreaderlibrary · 4 months

Note

omg yes for the Ghost fic request you can do prompt 3 instead that would be great, thank you. some angst with a happy ending please

Sure thing dude, sorry this took so long, but a happy xmas to you lol My hyperfixation hyperfixated on this so it's a bit long and expositiony but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

CW: NSFW, subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, angst, misunderstandings, gentle sex, making up kinda, confessions, fwb turned lovers, idiots in love,

Simon's apartment is a picture of painful domesticity; your muddy boots sit neatly next to his by the door, two mugs set next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes left on the sink only a foot away from different shower products that have long since mixed together into one giant pile, and a dozen more little things that tell anyone with a cursory glance — 'yeah, two people live here'.

When people wonder why you practically live together when you're just casual, you both just say it's convenient (and ignore how fake your answers sound).

After all; Why leave after he's ridden you to both of your completions when you can just settle on the couch and share a drink over a movie? Why should you waste money on a cab to get back to your own flat when you two can just tumble into bed? Why should Simon wake up to an empty and cold flat when he can do so in your arms, your steady heartbeat remind him you're both alive? Why leave in the morning and miss one of the few times Simon's fully relaxed when you can have a lazy morning, laying in bed and enjoying each other's company until the sun's high in the sky?

Why leave at all?

. . . Simon treasures every moment with you as much as he hates it, every second in your presence like a pretty hummingbird singing sweetly in his ear while it drills holes into his skull. Absolute Hell. Utter bliss.

He knows he doesn't deserve you. Knows you don't deserve to have a living corpse crawl back into your arms every night, nothing but a stranger with Simon's face. But you two have known each other so long it's impossible to let you go.

You met as toddlers when you'd nicked his toy, refusing to give it back until he agreed to play with you, and you've been stuck at the hip since. You two were each other's first kiss, fumbling behind the school bleachers, eager and sloppy like inexperienced lads are. First set of blooming hickeys along his collarbones, Simon's ma giving him a knowing look when she'd noticed it amongst the other bruises her no good husband had left on him. First fuck, quick and rough in a dark janitor closet during basic training, burning with need and heat. First—

. . . Simon doesn't know when the word 'Love' first registered in his brain. Maybe when you tore up heaven and hell looking for him. Maybe when you stuck by him when he did his best to scare you off, all rough words and teeth, unable to form one nice word when violence and revenge was all that was left in his head.

He doesn't know when he registered the word. Only that he looks at you whenever you do something mundane and thinks 'yeah. Love. That fits.'

But love has no place in. . . whatever this is. Hell, he's the one who'd set the ground rule when you two were young and dumb, reaffirming it after he'd come back as Ghost. And you'd never fought against it, agreeing to just be fucking casual, there's no way you want anything more than this. He doesn't want to cock it up, doesn't want to take more from you than he's already done, so he swallows all he feels and ignores how it burns his throat, going day by day like nothing's changed.

He wakes in your arms, deeply ingrained training waking him before dawn but the heat of your body keeps him rooted in place. Distantly he can still feel the cold tight confines of that coffin, of maggots wriggling on his skin, but memories of that nightmare float away before his traitorous mind can latch on to them. He lays in bed, head firmly on your chest so he can hear you, see you breathe. Morning comes too soon and you rouse awake, laying a sweet kiss on his forehead before getting out of bed to set the kettle on.

It's domestic.

It's painful.

. . .

You love how Simon looks. You especially love how he looks in his civies, freed of his armor and no longer needing to be guarded at all times, shoulders relaxed and mindlessly looking around as you talk while you browse the store. He's still gruff, and sarcastic, but you love that about him. You loved him long before he said not to tangle emotions in your meaningless bliss and long after he'd come back as Ghost, each unknown scar on his body taking a chip out of your heart.

And you respect his choice. You'll take what you can get and won't give it up even after your corpse has grown cold, hoping that will be enough to drown out the neediness of your heart. You lost him once and it had nearly killed you, you can't lose him again. . .

God, you're pathetic for him.

You meet miss Betty on your way back from the shop. She's your neighbor a few doors down, a sweet old lady who waters your plants when you and Simon are called back into action. You see her struggling with her bags so you hand your own to Simon so you can help her, "Hold this, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." Simon huffs, but takes the bag without further complaint, walking behind you as you help miss Betty with her shopping, content to listen to you two talk about who knows what. It still amazes him how you've managed to charm all the neighbors Simon rarely spoke to.

"Oh, thank you deary." Miss Betty says as you put her shopping next to her door, holding onto your arm for support. "It's so nice to have a helpful person around here."

"It's not a problem ma'am." You say with a small smile, and fuck if Simon's heart doesn't beat a bit faster at the sight.

"You know," Miss Betty begins. "My grandson's been eyeing you up. And I can see why, you're such a strapping young man."

You feel Simon's gaze fall on you like a dagger, cold, hard, expectant. You try to think of what to say but your words fail you, because while you and Simon aren't in a relationship you can't picture yourself be with anyone else. "I-"

"Oh don't worry deary, I told him he was barking up the wrong tree." Miss Betty cuts you off by giggling like a school girl, "I wouldn't want to separate you two love birds."

The words burning on your tongue escape you before you can filter them. "Yeah, I doubt I could love anyone other than Simon." You clear your throat after, feeling his eyes on you.

Miss Betty just coos. "Oh, to be young and in love." Then she turns, waving her walking stick at Simon like he's an annoying pigeon that flew into her house. "You better treat him properly you big oaf, he's good for you."

Oh, Simon knows. Knows you're too good for him. But all he lets out is a small grunt, and you can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.

You don't think of what you say next, so far away from a warzone your defenses are lowered. "No need to worry ma'am, he's the love of my life and I can assure you he treats me very well."

There's that word again, and the way it leaves your lips has Simon's heart skipping a beat. Fuck, Simon wants to hear you say it until he's deaf. Wants to hold your jaw closed so you don't speak again and stop making him feel this. Wants to pull you close and throw you out of the window at the same time. Wants— . . . he doesn't know what he wants.

"Oh, well I won't hold you up any more dears." Miss Betty says, patting you on the arm before shuffling back to her apartment with her shopping.

There's an uncomfortable silence between you two while you get back to Simon's flat, neither one of you sure what to say about the damn elephant in the room. You take the bags you'd given him, your back to him as you put them on the counter.

Acting like nothing's wrong. Nothing's changed.

But it has.

"An' you say my heart's rotten." Simon grunts, gruff and harsh, too many thoughts brewing in his head to properly say what he's thinking.

You turn to him, surprise obvious on your face. "What?"

"Lyin' to old ladies." His jaw is tense behind his face mask, which you note he hadn't taken off when the front door had closed, back to being guarded around you, something between Simon and Ghost. "Granted, it was convincing. What, did you take some creative writing lessons from Laswell?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, then you feel your jaw tense as well. "Christ, Simon, what are you on about?" You growl, stomping over to him.

His shoulders tense as you approach, but the scent of your cologne calms his body without his mind's input. "Can't love anyone but me?" He asks, something cold and slimy settling in your stomach when you realize he's repeating your words. "Love of your life am I?" Simon scoffs, the skin around his eyes moving in a sardonic smirk. "You're full of shite."

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince here.

You know you should brush it off, go along and say it was just a joke. Say anything that won't clue him in to your real feelings. Hell, not even saying a thing would be good.

But you just have to open your mouth.

"I wasn't lying about that Simon." You say suddenly, open, honest, your eyes meeting his.

Silence stretches long enough to have your nerves crackle with static, your body needing something instead of the nothing he gives you. Then Simon lets out a short, dry laugh, like your words are just a joke.

"Quit it." He huffs, doesn't meet your eyes because looking at you and entertaining the idea that he could have something more with you fucking hurts. "'m not up for your focking jokes." He grows, turning to leave,

Something inside you makes you move before your mind can comprehend it, grabbing his hand to stop him, "Simon I love you damn it!"

Your words are like a slap to the face for him. Simon freezes like a cornered deer, thousands of thoughts darkening his eyes, brows furrowed like he doesn't know whether to be angry or not. "But we—'

"—we agreed, I know. I fucking know." You hiss and damn it you can feel tears prickle your eyes like needles, "But I fucking love you, been in love with you for years and I know we agreed not to but—" You're babbling now, each word leaving your chest feeling raw like an open wound, the weight on your shoulders lessening but it only draws the noose tighter. "—just tell me how I'm supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me."

Silence greets you as you stare into his eyes, that same static gnawing on your nerves the longer he just looks at you without a word, searching for something in your eyes he expects not to find.

But he does.

He spares you, pulls you by the clothes so his lips can crash onto yours, holding you close like you'll disappear. The kiss is sloppy and desperate just as it had been when you'd been hiding behind the school bleachers, all teeth and tongue and care.

Eventually the need for air breaks you two apart, but Simon refuses to let you go far. His rough hands hug you close as he rests his forehead against yours, pupils blown wide. ". . .love me, huh?" He says under his breath, as if he can't believe it.

"Yeah." You breathe out and wrap your own arms around him till there's not an inch of space between your chests, hearts beating fast like war drums but in such a rhythm you'd be fooled to think you share one. "Do you?"

Simon swallows, his throat dry, but the words slide smoothly off his tongue. "Yeah." He says, letting you pull him back into a kiss. It's sweeter this time, calmer, no longer rushing to feel the other. He melts against you, a low sound building in his throat as the sensations of you wrap his mind in silk, the taste, the feel, the scent, all of it making his mind fuzzy. All his now.

You lose track of time, stealing gulps of air between kisses as your minds drown in the other, your bodies moving on their own. You don't know how you end up in the bed but you do, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Simon's body presses against your own.

You part to catch your breath, Simon's head falling back on the pillow with your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He's underneath you, eyes hooded and short hair ruffled, and while usually he'd push you back and wrestle for control, this time he just melts into the sheets, lets you do as you want.

"Fuck-" Simon growls as you kiss down his neck, his blunt nails scratching your scalp as reward for the little hickeys you leave on his throat. Your hands roam across his body, leaving lingering trails of burning heat. "Love, please hurry up." He breathes out, cock already rock hard from just a few kisses and heavy touches.

"Right," You say, because that's all your brain can conjure up at the moment. Blindly reaching for the lube you trail kisses down his front, your lips tracing every scar along the way, his legs easily parting so you can settle between them. You can't help but look him over again, all relaxed and eager for you, chest rising and falling like he's a racehorse. "God you're fucking pretty."

A deep flush spreads from Simon's ears down to his hickey marked shoulders, a little smile tugging on the corner of his lip. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful." You breathe out against his abdomen, rubbing your fingers together to warm the lube. "So handsome." You don't miss how his cock twitches, your lips following his happy trail. "Charming." You hum against the tip of his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at his slit. "Bloody bewitching." His hips buck into your mouth as your fingers slowly circle his puckered rim, putting just a bit of pressure at first. "Irresistible." His body yields, the tense muscles of his rim going lax and letting you slide a finger in.

A low and long groan escapes his chest, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the stretch, tight walls clenching in the rhythm of his breaths. "Read a dictionary, did you?" Simon smirks, heart warm and floaty at the way you wait for him to relax after the intrusion before you move, at the way you look at him when your exploring finger brushes his prostate and makes him moan. "Such a focking charmer."

"Just for you." You chuckle, lightly sucking on his cockhead to make him forget about the lingering pain, your ears pricked to hear every little groan and unabashed moan leaving his lips. "Can you handle two?" You ask, your second finger resting against his rim without trying to push in.

He growls like an animal and pushes his hips down on your hand, "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't hurry up." He warns at your question, his harsh glare softened by the heavy flush across his face and his hooded eyes.

"Not the dog house." You say in mock fear, swallowing his leaking cock a third of the way down in one go as you push your second finger in, your thumb rubbing the space between his balls and ass so his prostate is trapped on both ends.

"Shite-" Simon's hips twitch up, beads of precum painting your tongue as his legs spread open more. "-you wanker." His insult is light, head rolling back as he grounds his hips down in an attempt to chase after that spine numbing pleasure your fingers bring.

Pulling back enough to murmur "Love you too." against his tip you take him into your mouth again. You can't measure how good it feels to say those words honestly instead of sarcastically, your own arousal forgotten as you work him open on your fingers, the constant pressure on his prostate making a small stream of precum bead down your throat.

Simon floats in heaven for, he doesn't know how long, the pleasure making his brain melt through his dick, unable to stop the soft sounds escaping his throat. He cracks an eye open when the tightness in his stomach becomes apparent, barely able to stave off his orgasm when he sees his cock throbbing between your lips.

Your name comes out slurred as he tugs on your hair, "Need you. Now." A little bit of his usual demanding nature comes out, but even then it's born out of desperation to feel you rather than the need to be in control.

You let him pull you off his cock, placing gentle kisses on his thick thighs as you pull your fingers out of his stretched hole. "You have me."

You go to grab a condom but he stops you, too aroused to be embarrassed by his eagerness. "You don't- my physical, I'm clean. If you want, I mean-"

You furrow your brows, your chest tight with how big your heart feels. You could never hide how sick you'd feel at the thought of Simon being intimate with someone else, even when you'd never agreed to be exclusive. "We did physicals nearly three months ago, you haven't. . .?"

He shakes his head, "No," Suddenly he tenses up, his jaw tight like he's expecting bad news. "Have you?" His tone isn't judgmental, but you can hear the edge of hurt.

"No. No. No!" Quick to dispel his thoughts you lean over to kiss him like he's a bout of fresh air and you've been drowning for years. It's not too far from the truth. "You're the only one I've ever. . .done that with." You murmur against his lips, earning yourself another kiss as he pulls down by a hand on the back of your neck.

"Good." Simon tuts, proud, hiking one leg around your waist to pull you closer, your cocks rubbing together. "Fuck me already." He grumbles, his strong arms wrapped around your neck.

"Right, yeah." Despite how many times you've done this suddenly you feel like a fucking virgin, your hands trembling slightly as you lube up your cock. You press the tip against his slick hole, forcing you to bite your lip as you start to push your hips. "Just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon breathes out, feeling pressure of your cockhead against his hole. You both groan when your cockhead pops inside him, your lips on his making him forget about the lingering sting. "Shite, so good for me." Simon hums, looking at you with hooded eyes. Usually he relishes the sting and burn sex with you brings, but he's so loose and lubed the pain is barely a prickle at the back of his skull and he finds himself getting addicted to the unfiltered pressure and weight of your cock inside him.

"Simon," You say, clenching your teeth as you try to keep still so he can get used to you, holding his hips for dear life. "Can I- please I need."

"Focking move it," He nods his head, his head rolling back from the sensation of you moving inside him, your cock brushing against his walls as you push inside him inch by inch until you're fully inside him.

Your nerves a live wire from how tight and hot his hole is, forcing you to rest your head on the pillow next to his as you try to gather your self-control; you'll be damned if you cum before him.

"I'm good." Simon tugs on your scalp, your lips meeting in a lopsided kiss. You pull away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes blown wide and hooded, something about this position so intimate it melts your heart. "Hurry up, 'm not going to last long." He confesses, his walls clenching down on your length.

Words escape you so you just nod your head, slowly pulling your hips back before pushing back in, Simon meeting you half way so your cock can lay consistent pressure on his prostate. You two move like one, your senses full of sex and heat, your ears ringing with Simon's low moans and groans. Moving your hand down you stroke him in time with your thrusts, earning yourself even more moans. Usually Simon's so quiet in bed, but now he lets it all out so freely, low growls and huffs and small 'ah, ah, ah's breathed into your ear with every small movement of your hips.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm approaches, your cock bashing against his prostate with all the subtlety of a tank. "Shite-" Simon throws his head back to moan, leaving his throat open for your teeth to lay even more hickeys. "-I, fuck, yeah, that's the spot- just- I need-" His voice turns higher pitched and needy, his body moving with the force of your thrusts, powerful arms pulling you even closer so his teeth can clamp down on your shoulder.

Simon cums with a shout that's muffled into the meat of your shoulder, whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he paints both of your stomach's white with his cum, his hole clenching down and pulling you along with him. You cum inside him and moan, collapsing on top of him, completely exhausted.

The silence of the bedroom is broken up by your haggard breathing, both of your bodies sweaty and hot. You tilt your head just enough to catch the way Simon looks at you, like a content cat that knows he's safe, and shit if that doesn't melt your heart, nothing will.

"God, that was something else." You say to break the silence, trying to pull out when you feel yourself soften but your attempts are stopped quickly, Simon grumbling something under his breath as he hugs you closer. "What?" You ask.

He throws a light glare your way, but his eyelids droop with exhaustion. "Don't." He says, relaxing when you stop what you're doing. "Want to feel you." He says; it's the most intelligent thing his mind can conjure up right now.

A gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Right." You lean down to share another kiss with him, this one sweet and slow, his tongue gently liking your lips as a way to ask for entrance— why rush when you've got all the time in the world?

The exhaustion weighing on your bones and Simon saccharine kisses lull you to sleep soon enough, your body like a weighted blanket on top of him. "Love you," You mumble just before your eyes close.

Simon fights against his own fatigue for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of being connected in such a primal way, with you in him and around him. He takes in your sleeping face with blurry eyes.

Yeah. Love. That fits.

#cod #nm #nsfw

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