#Factory direct flooring

[soullessdianthus]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During your stop at the abandoned building a shootout with the enemy begins. You cross your paths with injured König who needs your help.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

A/N: I'm here to feed you all, because you asked so nicely. ♡ This part contains POV of the Reader and König's. Also, starring Gaz, he deserves more recognition! Y/C ━ Your Codename Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: dark humor, reader is eastern european coded, desc. of blood & injuries, mentions of unalived bodies, sexual pictures taken, perv!König?

Word count: 3.2k oops

The night had fallen quickly. Faster than one might have thought. During the sunset, when the crickets hidden in the tall grass were the only sound, the manhunt began. 

Task Force 141 and KorTac had to stay for the night at the abandoned factory of sorts, near the forest bordering the village and Austrian mountains – a fortress with many rooms, staircases, exits.

You were slowly getting ready for the confrontation with the terrorist group, the one you’ve been “tracking” for the last couple of days. You sat on the second floor, cleaning your M4 rifle while listening to another story of Gaz. Some of the KorTac soldiers were also following the Britishman's captivating telltales. It was then when you heard the first report of strangers passing by through the radio. Then you heard the shooting. 

Everything happened quickly, the situation was getting worse and progressing too fast. How could they sneak up on you like that? The enemy came to you first, this shouldn't have happened.

You stuck to Gaz as you gathered your weapons and began moving towards the staircase. The sounds of gunshots filled the building and the ground surrounding it. Your mind had to stay highly alert, focused on a few simple tasks – push forward, leave the factory and get to the cars. It seemed like there were too many enemy’s forces. 

Well, at least that's what you thought, so it was hard to estimate the numbers.

It wasn��t possible to count the time that had passed since you gathered your rifle and followed Gaz’s lead. With his help and the Captain's instructions you managed to get to the ground floor, two of KorTac soldiers joined you on the way.

Three bodies lay limp in a puddle of blood underneath them, corpse’s hand gripping their rifles tightly. You took a quick look at their vests, or rather lack of them, and only then you were sure.

━ He hired mercenaries. ━ You stated quietly to your companion, having in mind the man liable for the terrorist group, as Kyle carefully peeked through the closest corner. 

━ Cannon fodder. 

His harsh answer was followed by a dead silence. Even the crickets went quiet as something loomed in the air. 

━ Gaz, Y/C, still on the way? ━ Ghost’s voice called out for the two of you through the radio. 

━ Almost there, sir. ━ Dark skinned sergeant stated, having an eye on the meeting point ahead of him. 

Gaz would take the right side of the van, two KorTac soldiers would worry about the left, while you had an eye on your backs. Seemed easy, seemed to be a quick job. 

When all of you got closer to the vehicle, holding your weapons high and looking out for any danger, something rolled down on the ground. Almost like a metal bin got under the car’s chassis. 

━ Grenade! 

There was too little time to react. Your legs pushed off the ground with all of their strength, your body directed at the building. However, you weren’t fast enough. So were not your companions.

Explosion illuminated the area and the fire consumed the military van in its flames. The recoil threw you a few meters away from the place of outbreak, knocking the air out of your lungs.

The squeak. 

That fucking squeak. 

The agonizing sound was probably the only noise you could hear at the moment as you saw the tongues of fire dancing in the corner of your eye. Right then, your body was reacting and operating on its own. 

Some barely palpable thuds made you realize you lied with your cheek in the gravel and dirt. 

You didn’t know exactly when you grabbed the M4 into both hands or when you stood up on your shaking legs, slowly heading inside the building again. You cursed in your native language, when your head hurt like it would explode on its own. 

There was an exchange of bullets somewhere near you, but still, dazed you couldn’t precisely determine – where and how close.  You continued to run towards the building bent in half. 

Then suddenly you felt a strong grip tightening around your vest’s strap on the shoulder. A pull so powerful that made you turn around and fall onto the brick wall behind your back. 

━ Gaz? ━ You heard the ringing of your own voice, echoing inside of your eardrums. Wait, did you even say his name out loud? Maybe you just imagined you did?

When your back clung tightly against the cold wall (as much as it could, due to your gear), you tried to take a deep breath in. 

First, then the second one. A cold, night breeze filled your nose. Only then you felt like you finally could think clearly again. 

━ Stay close. We’re moving. ━ The strong accent helped you realize it was König who took you out of the ambush. Now that you knew that, everything made sense – the force he pulled you with? Yeah, the Austrian colonel was like a wild bear.  

Quickly you checked your rifle and reloaded it. Your head nodded towards the colonel and he began clearing the way to the nearby staircase. You were going up again, side by side with an Austrian soldier. Well, that probably wasn’t the image of you that your grandparents had in mind. 

You were supporting him from his behind, constantly checking the back. The adrenaline from the explosion made you feel painful tension in each limb. It felt like muscle sores after a rough day at the gym. Or sparring session with Ghost.

There was no option to go back and search for Gaz or two KorTac soldiers. If they survived the explosion, they probably escaped into the forest and were fine. Right?

With each powerful yet quiet step he took, another enemy’s soldier got terminated. With your help König cleared the pathway and led the two of you into a more secluded area. A room, your hideout.

You pushed some old, wooden furniture resembling a cabinet over the doors, so no one uninvited entered. You and the colonel had bored up to wait for the reinforcements. The hooded soldier took a peek through the cracked window as you squeezed the radio’s button.

━ Bravo 0-7, do you copy? 

Thankfully the silence didn’t last long.

━ Y/C ━ Ghost spoke through the radio. Only you knew that he was in distress, because of his voice. Him and Price probably heard the blast from the other part of the building. ━ Fuckin’ Christ, what was that?

━ They blew up the car. Gaz and I got separated near the tree line, I don’t know where he is. ━ You explained as simply as possible. Eventually your eyes noticed the drops of blood on the old floor. It was fresh. Were you bleeding? 

━ Where are you? 

Your boyfriend’s voice ripped you out of the deep thoughts. And at that point you understood that it wasn’t you, who was bleeding. 

━ In the left wing, second floor. Doors locked. Colonel König saved me from the fire. He’s with me.

Austrian man thanked the fucking heavens he had his face covered by the dark hood. Because the moment you called out his name, his heart skipped a beat. Your pretty eyes under the long eyelashes were locked on him. 

━ Stay there until we arrive. Over and out. 

When Ghost's voice vanished into thin air, there was a moment of silence between the two of you. He could feel how warm it got in there. Because it was a hot, summer night, right? 

━ You’re bleeding ━ you acknowledged, pointing his left thigh. ━ It’s your happy day, colonel. You got stuck with a medic. Sit down and let me see. 

Oh, it was a happy day for König for more than the reason he came across a medic while in need.

Because he came across you. 

━ I don’t think it’s an emergency, schatz. 

━ Your pants are soaked with blood. Let me see. 

You put down the weapon and reached out to grab his. He obediently gave you his rifle and sat down near the wall, slowly sliding on its surface. When the emotions began to cool down, his mind began to race. How could he let that happen? How could he, the king, let the bullet of some mercenary damage him? 

You kneeled next to the colonel and placed the “first-aid” bag on the floor. At first you tried to take a look at his wound, but a gap the size of a bullet was just too small. 

━ I have to slightly incise the pants, I can’t see th–

━ Ja, it’s okay. 

König said in a single breath, doing everything in his power not to stare at you for too long. But it was impossible. The way your hands gently inspected the wounded area. The same palms which not so long ago were squeezing the M4 rifle until the knuckles turned white. The same fingers that were holding a child so cautiously a few hours ago. 

You grabbed the material of his beige pants and slightly tore the opening. 

Unknowingly you tilted your head to the side, assessing the situation. König now knew that he was right. Your touch was as gentle as he had imagined it to be.

━ Hm, I won’t lie, this doesn’t look good ━ you retraced your hands from his leg and began preparing the essential tools. ━ The bullet didn’t hit the artery or veins, but it’s stuck in your muscle. I have to take it out and stop the bleeding, sir. 

━ It’s alright, I’m in the good hands, ärztin.

━ I don’t know what that mean, sir. ━ You confessed, a polite smile twisting your dusted cheeks, when you heard unknown German word.

Did he make you blush or was he dreaming? If the colonel was a believer, he would swear to the God he saw you blushing. 

━ A doctor. You’ll learn more German during our… ━ now it was him, searching the right word ━ cooperation, would you like that? 

His blue eyes roamed over your expressions, changing during the seconds passing by. It was bold of him to ask, too fucking bold perhaps. But he had you within his reach, right under his nose. He couldn’t let you slip so easily. 

━ That would be useful, thank you. Now, brace yourself. Take a breath in.

With a pair of gloves you dipped your pointing finger into the wound and scooped the bullet out in an impressive timing.  

━ Scheiße! ━ Colonel cursed, clenching his teeth. During his military career he got shot, burned, bones broken, skin cut, hurt too many times to count. Nonetheless, it hurt like a bitch each time he got his wounds patched. 

━ I know, I’m sorry, sir. I’m almost finishing. 

You took a brand new packaging of gauze and unwrapped it. Swiftly, you inserted the sterile material into the shallow wound with your slender fingers, until the crimson liquid stopped pouring all over his thigh and crotch. 

━ Don’t apologize, schatz. You’re doing a good job here. 

It was a second, less perhaps, but you looked up at the colonel when he praised your work. And under that hood? He had the smuggest grin ever. 

Finally, you tapped the outer side of his thigh, asking him to slightly raise the limb, so you could wrap a bandage around it. You leaned over his lap, two of your hands brushing against his massive legs. 

The voices, the fucking voices, made of him a real disrupted man. 

König had this impossibly stupid idea of sticking his head out just to get shot, so you could patch him up. You would be his favorite nurse and caretaker. If you happened to find yourself in his arms, we would never let you go. 

━ All done. There’s no need to cut the leg off, sir. ━ You jokingly said, leaning back on your knees. The dark humor and sarcastic jokes were your favorite. 

His thigh was bandaged, the bleeding stopped, but he needed a stiching, which you could not perform in the middle of a shooting scene. The big man will survive until then. 

━ Oh, that’s a good news, doctor. Thank you. 

His bright eyes loomed over your figure – neatly sitting on your own knees, clean hands (as you took the bloodied gloves off) resting on the thighs, head facing him. A single strand of your hair that slipped from the braid was stuck to your slightly sweaty forehead.

━ Come here ━ he told you, curling his pointing and middle finger in your direction. The gesture itself meant he wanted you to come closer. So you did, barely narrowing your brows. ━ You have soot all over your face. ━ His giant palm reached your cheek and rubbed the dust and dirt away.

König was used to most of his colleges, if not all of them, being much smaller than him. But it was the size difference between you and him that had his stomach curling with excitement. 

━ Danke [ger.: thanks].

━ Bitte [ger.: please]. 

The moment you two shared was interrupted by the loud steps coming towards the room you’ve been hiding. Without second thoughts, you helped the big bear stand up and handed him a rifle. You quickly pointed at the door and you waited. 

You sucked a breath in. Hold. 

━ Y/C! 

━ Here, sir! ━ You stated, releasing the air with a loud sigh. 

The familiar voice of Captain Price eased the tension. There was no need to continue fighting. Both you and König lowered the weapons and the colonel moved the cabinet aside allowing the team to open the doors.

And there was a group of your saviors – Price and lieutenant Riley at the front. Few soldiers in dark suits followed behind them.

Captain of TF 141 moved aside to allow you to leave the small, secluded area. All of you gathered in the corridor, before leaving the building. 

━ Thanks for saving our girl. ━ Price said in a lower tone to the colonel. To the Austrian man who outstanded everyone else in the room.  

━ We’re a team on this one, aren’t we? 

König’s blue eyes met the cold, death stare of lieutenant Riley. It didn’t sit right with Britishman that he was alone with her. With his girl. Simon didn’t care about the context of the situation, he had a childish problem with the colonel of KorTac himself. It was about his attitude towards you.

Perhaps you didn’t notice that and if you did, you saw nothing bad in König’s behavior. But the lieutenant did and it gave him weird feelings. 

━ Is Gaz okay? ━ You asked Ghost full of concerns, because Kyle wasn’t present with the rest of the team. 

━ Slightly cooked, but he’ll be fine. 

“Shit” you thought. First, there was a little accident involving Soap and broken ribs and now poor, smoked Gaz. Your teammates hadn’t have much luck lately. 

Perhaps, if not König saving your ass, you’d be wounded badly too. 

━ Medevac took care of him ━ Price meddled between you and lieutenant, wanting all of you to gather up and move. ━ We’re headin’ back to regroup, those bastards are gettin’ on my nerves. Also, Laswell’s on the line, waitin’ for report. 

His statement was followed by a quick ‘yes, sir’ and the group of survivors moved through the now secured area. König talked with one of his sergeants, trying to assess how many people he lost that day. 

Ghost was right behind you all this time, almost like a shadow you cast yourself. But you loved your grumpy shadow with your whole heart. 

Without any more issues you got to the untouched by the gunfire cars and left the abandoned factory behind. You took the last glimpse at the building and the lifeless bodies laying around the area through the vehicle’s window. 

It was ironic, as a medic you were supposed to save lives, not to end them. And yet, you were surrounded by bones and corpses. 

When you came back to the base – a part of the building KorTac company lent to Task Force 141, most of you were dismissed to get some rest before the departure at noon. But not the colonel of KorTac.

The Austrian man visited the doctor who stitched his wound up. Medic praised how well the bleeding was stopped, but König wasn’t surprised at all – he saw how skillful your hands were. 

Only if he could feel them on his skin again. Such delicate fingertips sneaking under his shirt, running over his muscles and old scars. But for now, it was only his imagination giving him the wrong ideas. 

You were taken, ja? It was wrong to want you for himself. 

After the stitching, he had to fill out some documents for his superiors – those on a computer and on paper. It wasn’t much, but it took around an hour or hour and a half. When he was finally done, König walked through the empty hallways towards his own quarters.

He locked the room from the inside and neatly put his combat shoes near the entrance. At least he could have some rest. Or so he thought. 

His phone’s screen illuminated the dark room as a notification popped up. The number was unknown. But the moment König tapped with his finger to read the message, he instantly knew who it was from.

His stomach dropped and his jaw slightly opened. The message was a picture with a signature saying “see, how well she’s taken care of?”. 

The photo was a visual of your bare upper half pressed against the masculine torso in the way that covered most of your breasts. Your hand was splayed over Ghost’s chest as his muscular arm hugged you from behind, pulling closer. In bed.

The frame did not catch the lieutenant's face at all, but it showed your flushed (or maybe rather: fucked out) face and eyes pressed shut. You still had the remains of dirt on your face, that’s why König  knew it’s a recent photo.

The Colonel could not help, but feel how his pants got uncomfortably tighter than before as he sat down on his bed. 

König felt the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears and he pulled the hem of his hood over his nose. He had to breathe. “Take a deep breath, soldat” he kept telling himself.

But his hand unbuckled the belt and trousers on its own and when his heavy cock sprung free from its confinement, König knew there was no way he could stop now. 

He began to pump his fist fast, biting on his lower lip, blue eyes glued to the dirty picture of you on his phone. The Austrian man would never get rid of that photo. Never.

Oh, how he wished it was you who helped him calm down after such a mission. 

Ghost could never imagine that his text message would bring the opposite outcome of what he intended – to scare the colonel away.

It only fed König's delusions. 

TAG LIST: (apologies if I missed someone) @nijiru @squidsal @thefightingdragon @emily-roberts @btszn @ladymacbeth1987 @kingjulian0o9 @leonasbunny @bladedriot

A/N: Obviously the ending was heavily inspired by this imagine → | X |, although I planned it to be a picture before. I can't get enough of perv!König and protective!Ghost. OhmyLord~ Thank you for all your notes, reblogs and nice comments! It means a lot to me! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

#reader insert #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #könig cod #konig cod #konig #könig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #simon riley x reader

[kiss-me-cill-me]

It's Always the Quiet Ones

Pairing: Emmett x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: After spending a few days holed up with a rugged stranger, you finally can't take the tension anymore. Things get a little more complicated when he walks in on you.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (f), Emmett walking in on you, quiet sex, biting, begging, one fleeting thought about breeding, some fluff, light angst

A/N: Emmett was honestly the start of my whole descent into Cillian Murphy madness, so I'm really searching for my people with this one lol. He's my sad, scraggly boyfriend and I love him <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

It’s strangely beautiful, in an overgrown way. Vines hang off of the chain-link fence as you push carefully through the jagged gap, just big enough for a person to pass through. The long grass reaches well above your ankles, and plants seem to spill out from the negative space of every structure littering the lawn.

The air has a cool, muted hue; it looks like rain later. Eyeing the building in front of you, you decide to stop here for the night. 

One step, and then a pause. Something feather-light brushes against your ankle. You look down to see a tripwire, and back away slowly in the direction you came. Interesting. It has been a long time since you’ve seen anyone else alive out here. Though the owner of the tripwire could be long gone.

You take a second look at your surroundings, this time scanning for any sign of a human presence. It’s quiet, but of course, everywhere is quiet now. Delicately stepping over the tripwire, you continue on your path toward the large building. Its looming, brick facade is featureless except for long stalks of ivy tumbling from broken windows, and as you advance you can’t help but feel that the building is watching. The sensation of eyes on you is made even more unnerving in the silence.

You pick your way across the lawn, careful to avoid shards of broken glass and open bear traps. This abandoned factory is quite the fortress, if anyone actually lives here. You reach the end of the grass, and step through a huge, weathered green door, left open on probably-ancient and squeaky hinges. The air here smells of cobwebs and must.

Inside, dripping water echoes faintly, somewhere from deeper inside the building. It’s cold by the open door, and it doesn’t get any warmer as you walk down the hallway, still keeping a careful eye out for anything waiting to meet you.

You turn a corner, and there he is, unexpected. Unexpected to you at least; the man in front of you seems quite prepared as he levels the sights of his rifle.

Instinctively, your hands fly up. The man’s face is covered, except for his eyes, which look to be the only part of him that’s still alive. Even his handling of the gun seems driven by muscle memory, as if he’s a sentry with no programming beyond, simply: “Defend.” You don’t breathe as he looks you over; relaxes a bit as he realizes you’re a lone woman, unarmed except for the hunting knife at your belt. He doesn’t look friendly, exactly - it’s hard to when you’re pointing a rifle in someone’s face. But he also doesn’t look like he really wants to hurt you. More that he just wishes you weren’t here in the first place.

As a show of good faith, you point to your knife, and then to the floor. You nod at him, questioning. He nods back. Slowly, you lower your hands to your belt and unclip the knife. The faintest click of steel against concrete is audible as you lower it to the ground. Straightening, you point to the man across from you; his gun.

Now you.

Just as slowly, the man lowers his weapon to his side. You point at your knife on the floor, expectantly.

Go on…

He’s reluctant, but after a moment of tense silence, his gun joins your knife on the ground.

You smile; hope that you look thankful and not threatening, like he’s just fallen squarely into a trap you’ve set for him.

Thank you, you mouth.

Beneath the bandana that covers his mouth and the hat that shadows his face, the man’s expression is impossible to read. His eyes, piercing blue even as they regard you more casually, move over your whole body once again. Checking you for weapons, though you don’t have anything else on you. When he’s done, you take a gentle step toward him.

Stop.

The man’s right hand flies out in front of him, fingers splayed. You freeze in your tracks. Desperately, you want to tell him that you mean no harm. You just want a place to stay for the night. There’s a cold fear soaking in the corners of his body; you can feel it all the way from here. You hold out your own hands, palms forward, telling him to stay calm. Nobody's going to get hurt. Keeping one hand in front of you, you reach around to your back pocket, intending to pull out the pad of paper you keep on you for the rare occasions you need it to communicate with someone.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall. There’s a strong hand clamped around your wrist; an arm pressed flat against your chest, restraining you. And the man’s face is inches away from your own, his eyes wild with panic.

The dust settles around you, and the echo of your body being slammed on the bricks fades away. You drop what’s in your hand and nudge your head to point at the pad and pencil, showing him. The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head when he realizes - maybe exasperation at you, or maybe frustration at himself for reacting so recklessly. He starts to move away from you-

Click.

A familiar sound comes from just outside the factory door. It’s one of them.

Shit.

The man mutters something, barely audible through the bandana, and then he’s running. Deeper and deeper into the building, his hand in a vice grip around your wrist, pulling you along after him. You feel like a mess of  awkward limbs and flapping skirts as you try to keep up. The thing behind you is in the building now, crashing carelessly through the hallways in its pursuit. Your weapons are both forgotten - not that they would be any more useful here than they are back on the ground where you left them. 

Ahead, the man has let go of your wrist and is now running at a dead sprint, trusting you to either keep up or be killed. He clearly has somewhere he’s going. You blindly follow him, out of any other options and brain too high on adrenaline to think about where he’s taking you. The hallway has opened out into a room, and now you’re weaving through huge pipes and tanks. Your lungs are about to explode. You can’t keep up with-

Suddenly, the man veers sharply to the left and smoothly jumps into a metal structure. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing to do but follow. You breathe deep and hold it to stop from screaming as you jump in after him.

Dust. It’s in your throat and your eyes as you fall into whatever is piled at the bottom of the drop. You need to cough, but you fight hard not to. Before you can get your bearings, you’re yanked to your feet and thrust in a direction that seems random, until you reach the lip of the metal tank. The man all but throws you inside even as he’s climbing in after you, and then the heavy metal door is shut and the only sound is of two people breathing.

He tears off his hat and bandana. You watch, mesmerized, as the man’s chest rises and falls, struggling to push enough air into his lungs. Then, he utters the first word you’ve heard him say clearly.

“Fuck.”

The man’s name is Emmett. This you learn as you sit, huddled together but separate, in his makeshift bunker. 

You also learn that he doesn’t want you here.

“Please.” 

Your voice feels tight and painful; jagged around the edges from disuse. It catches sharply in your throat.

“No,” he replies.

The timer on his watch goes off, and Emmett opens the door. His chest is still heaving.

You both step out, listening carefully for any noise above you. The creature, thankfully, seems to have moved on. Emmett stands a little straighter as he turns to face you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here.” His voice is a whisper, and has the same rusty, unused quality as your own.

“I just need a place for one night.”

You beg with your eyes, and Emmett turns away. He won’t allow himself to be swayed by you.

Later, when it’s - almost- sure to be safe, the two of you go together to collect your discarded weapons. The sky outside has turned an awful gray, and sheets of rain pound into the earth. The sound is louder than anything you’ve heard in months, and the wind howls from all directions. 

Emmett sighs heavily, though he makes no sound. He looks up, seeming to question who would have the audacity to do this, and then turns to you.

One. Night. he mouths, holding up a finger for emphasis. 

He looks at you seriously, and you nod seriously in return. You follow him back down to the lower level, and settle in on opposite sides of the room.

One night, of course, turns into two, and then three. It’s nice to have company. Even Emmett seems to soften a little as the days go on. He doesn’t mention anything about you leaving after that first night, and you take care not to prompt him to. Emmett teaches you how to hide in the huge metal tank; explains the timer and watches you try it with your own alarm a few times to make sure you can do so safely. You busy yourself with mending a few things - broken backpack straps and holes in his old sweaters. He thanks you softly as you hand them back to him.

You catch Emmett looking at you a few times, barely getting a glimpse of the strange expression on his face before he turns away. You catch yourself looking at him too. It’s been so long since you’ve seen another person, but even if it hadn’t been, there’s something magnetic about him. His eyes are like spots of fresh ice against his weathered face. 

“I have something,” you say, over the meager dinner you’re sharing.

You go to your backpack and rustle around, moving slow so as not to make any noise. Finally, you pull out a bottle, its dark glass glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Cream soda,” you whisper, with all the thrill of a child showing off an ill-gotten prize from her mother’s cupboard.

The bottle hisses as you open it, and you both perk up, quickly alert for any sound of a threat above you. Safe. You pass the bottle to Emmett, offering him the first sip. It’s simple, but a rare treasure in this broken world.

“What’s the special occasion?” he asks, the barest hint of a smile drifting over his lips.

You watch as his mouth wraps around the bottle's opening, and as he gingerly tips it back to drink. He takes two quick swallows, his throat bobbing twice, then hands the bottle over to you. You take it, fingertips brushing against his for just a moment, and take a quick swig before you can think for too long about how his lips were just touching the rim.

“It’s just nice to have a treat sometimes,” you reply, shrugging. 

You hand the bottle back and Emmett takes it by the neck, letting the edge of his hand linger against yours for several seconds. You make no move to pull away. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Been a long time since I’ve had anything sweet.”

In the very back of your mind, you wonder if he’s still talking about the soda. No - stop that. You don’t need to go ruining the good thing you have going.

You had asked Emmett, on the morning of the second day, if he was alone. He’d paused for a moment before answering.

“Yes… Well, I mean… Yes.”

You'd decided not to prod any further. 

Now, as you look down at your hand ghosting against his, you notice again his wedding band, firmly wrapped around his finger. It's hard not to notice, and it's even harder to ignore the dozens of sketches that litter the room, pinned and draped on every surface. All of them show the same young boy. He could be a son, or a nephew, or just some random kid that something terrible happened to - you haven't wanted to ask. Everyone is beyond traumatized in this new world, and far be it from you to question whatever brings anyone comfort. Suddenly feeling guilty, you let go of the bottle and look away as Emmett takes another sip.

"Hey," he whispers. Your head snaps back up to look at him. "I have something too."

Emmett puts the soda down between you, methodically clears the table, and pulls out a very weathered deck of cards.

"You ever play Gin Rummy?"

The next morning, Emmett is up early. You stay in your sleeping bag, pretending that you haven't woken up yet, and watch him pull on his hat and boots. He slips on a pair of heavy leather gloves. You stir, "waking up," and Emmett walks over to you.

"Gonna go check the traps," he explains, kneeling down. "I'll be back."

You're struck by the way the moment feels almost domestic; as if he's promising you he'll be home for supper. Your eyes trail over him lazily, taking in the firm shape of his bare arms and the way his hands are abruptly covered by the work gloves. The thought of him roughly grabbing you by the waist flashes through your mind; the material rubbing your skin as his fingers sink into your sides. You swallow heavily; blink a few times.

"You should wear a jacket," you whisper.

Emmett has already started to walk off, but he turns around and smirks at your words. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something. But it passes, and then he continues in the direction he was headed, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.

Once Emmett is gone, you have the place to yourself. Scant sunlight filters through the opening in the ceiling, giving you just enough light to read by. You pull out a well-worn book from your backpack, and settle into the chair Emmett's jacket was on to read it.

Quickly, the words start to swim on the page; falling forgotten into the margins. You can't get your mind off the image of Emmett leaving, blue eyes barely visible under the brim of his hat as he looked back over his shoulder. Had there been a teasing look to them, or was that just you imagining things again? Your mind flashes to an image of Emmett giving you his jacket, wrapping it around you, tight and safe. Pulling you close to him, and-

Okay, time to be honest. Emmett has been driving you crazy the past few days. And not in a bad way, but in an "imagining him tangled between your legs" kind of way. You know you shouldn't think like that. Your relationship with him is undefined and shaky at best; you shouldn't go risking it. But it's getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reaching out and snaking your fingers through his hair; against the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve; sliding them down past his belt and-

Stop.

You practically have to bite your lip as you beg yourself. You listen for a moment to the silence. Emmett should be gone long enough. And under three feet of solid concrete, you feel safe to relax a little. You desperately need to let out some frustration.

But still, it feels too open out here. Too exposed. Even if you are alone, you just want some more privacy.

Your eyes drift to the steel bunker.

Okay, you can be quick. You have your watch and can time it and be careful. With how horny you are, this shouldn't take long at all. And in the worst case scenario, Emmett will be back soon and can let you out if you get stuck. This is a perfect idea.

You climb inside, set your watch, and close the door. Keeping your head by the entrance in case you need to rush the exit, you don't waste any time getting started.

You touch yourself, shocked at how wet you are already. Might as well take advantage of the sound-proof tank. You hiss as you slide a finger between your folds, finally not bothering to keep quiet.

"Oh, fuck, Emmett."

You desperately wish these were his fingers instead of your own. You plunge two inside yourself immediately; revel in the delicious sting. Legs squeezing together, trapping your own hand, rutting up against your palm. You imagine him hovering over you, blue eyes staring into yours as he watches you fall apart.

"Oh, fuck!"

Above your head, the door swings open. You freeze, hand still plunged sinfully down the front of your pants and hips bucking halfway off the steel floor. Next to you, your watch alarm beeps, calling more attention to your shame.

You look up, and suddenly Emmett staring back at you isn't a fantasy anymore.

"I'm… uh," you stammer in a hissed whisper, searching for any words. But the power of speech has left you. It seems to have left Emmett as well.

His mouth is practically hanging open, and after a moment of shocked panic, he quickly tears his eyes away. 

Taking the opportunity, you sit up and try to arrange yourself - although it's impossible to look presentable after you've just been caught fucking your own fingers to the thought of the man standing in front of you. 

"I'm sorry," Emmett whispers, frantic. He’s pacing; tears off his work gloves and throws them to the ground. Tosses his hat onto a table and runs a hand through his hair. "I thought something happened, and I wanted… well I didn't think - not that it's anything to be ashamed of. Everyone has urges."

"Do you?"

The sound of your voice shocks even you, despite the low volume you're speaking at. Your legs are dangling out the open door of the bunker, and you watch as Emmett stops in his tracks. 

“What?” he whispers.

“Everyone has urges,” you echo, placing your feet on the floor. “Do you?”

“I don’t know what you…”

You stand up, taking a bold step toward him. Emmett takes a half step back. His eyes are blown wide, fear and confusion, as you take another step. This time he stays.

You place a hand on Emmett’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath.

You’re only inches apart. One more step and your body would be pressed flush against his, just like you’ve been thinking of these past few days. From this distance, you can hear the shakiness in his breathing. 

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare; a challenge; a bald-faced lie. You look up at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stay quiet. To not stop you. To keep going. 

“Tell me to stop.”

You’re on your tiptoes now, lips hovering right in front of his. Emmett swallows hard, and you can feel it reverberate through his whole chest. Looking you right in the eyes, he shakes his head.

No.

Emmett pulls you the rest of the distance. His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you like you can stop him from drowning. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it. Emmett has to hold you to keep you from falling to the floor. 

Gently, he eases you down. You’re desperate, pulling at him, trying to bring him to you faster. Your legs open to wrap around his waist. God, you’ve needed this. 

Emmett is scrambling to take off his jacket, and even though it only takes a few seconds, it is an eternity. To exist without his body pressed against yours. You hastily unbutton your pants, and Emmett tears them the rest of the way down.

There’s a pause, and you look up at him. Emmett is transfixed, but seems to quickly snap out of it when he notices you - embarrassed. You lean up on your elbows, but Emmett stops you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. 

Be quiet.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Emmett straddle you; reach his hand down between your legs. 

Oh, fuck.

His fingers are even better than you’d imagined. Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Emmett’s face is stoic with concentration, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him. 

After teasing your entrance for a moment, Emmett slips a finger inside you. There’s that weightless feeling again; it’s like being drunk. You could ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you.

Desperate, you scramble for something to hold onto. There’s nothing on the stone floor. Emmett is your only lifeline, and you grab at the hem of his shirt, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. 

Panting. You’re actually panting as he pulls out of you, instantly missing the way his fingers curled up inside of you. You’re still holding onto his t-shirt for dear life, and he gently removes your hand. You can’t see straight, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being undone, and a zipper loosening. When you look up again, Emmett is hovering over you, his body planted between your legs.

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you.

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s plunged into you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache.

“Please, Emmett.”

The fingers on your waist tighten, digging into your side. For a second, you worry you’ve upset him, but then he looks up at you, eyes blazing with lust. He looks like a man about to lose himself, and you smile as you move your hands up to his chest, gripping at his collar to pull him close as you whisper again. 

“Please.”

Emmett is pounding into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Emmett lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck, Emmett.” 

You whisper in his ear, breath brushing the strands of hair that fall around his face. Emmett brings his own lips right to the side of your cheek; his words tickle as he continues to fuck you.

“You know, you have a dirty mouth,” he tells you. “And here I thought you knew how to stay quiet.”

You whimper, and a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Emmett leans in to whisper to you again, devilishly. 

“Bite down if you need to.”

Fuck, he’s going to be the death of you.

Emmett is grunting, softly, as he fucks into you just a little bit faster. The sound of him coming undone is enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down onto his hand, muffling the sound of your cries as you orgasm. 

If he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it. Emmett continues to rut into you as you bite the side of his hand, trying desperately to stay as quiet as you can. You want him to hold you down, breed you, spill everything into you with no care for the consequences. Emmett pulls his hand away and plants it on the ground, trying to balance himself.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

His words are breathless; you love hearing him like this. You bask in them, arching your back against the floor, not answering.

“Where do you want me to- Fuck!”

Emmett pulls out of you, trying and failing at the last second to cup a hand around himself. Cum gets everywhere, dripping from his fingers to the floor, coating the insides of your legs. He looks down at himself for a moment; shakes off his hand before wiping it on his pants, still halfway on in his rush to be inside you. 

“Now you decide to be quiet, huh?”

He’s leaning over you again, whispering teasingly in your ear. He pinches your waist and kisses your cheek before pulling away, showing you the mischief in his eyes.

Somewhere above you, there’s a crash followed by a loud screech. Maybe you weren’t as quiet as you’d thought.

“Shit.” Emmett yanks his pants up and pulls you both to your feet. The sounds of something getting closer are clearly audible. You should be scared, but instead you’re excited.

“Let’s go.”

You tug at Emmett’s wrist as you lead him toward the bunker. Two minutes and thirty seconds - that’s how long you have before the timer goes off. You tumble, pulling him in after you. The door closes behind you with a soft thud.

You want to hear him scream.

#emmett x reader #emmett a quiet place x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #emmett a quiet place 2 #emmett a quiet place #emmett smut #emmett a quiet place smut #LemmyFics

[runnning-outof-time]

Hi K! I have another prompt I’d like to send in. This time with Tommy. “I believe this is yours.”

I also decided to make you something so be prepared to expect something soon!

Hi Daisy! Thanks for sending this prompt in also! I hope you like what I’ve done with it - I had the temptation to be a little devilish with it….I hope it makes sense! Sorry I got a bit carried away with it too…. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

From Another Angle

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: some suggestive actions…nothing graphic

Word Count: 1318

Summary: (Y/N) takes a different approach to get Tommy Shelby to change the way he runs his factories.

(Y/N) walked confidently across the factory floor, making her way directly to the office where she knew she’d find the man she needed to talk to.

She didn’t bother answering the man who questioned her presence. Instead she asked a question of her own: “is this Mr. Shelby’s office?”

“Ye-yes, it is. But why are you here, ma’am?” the confused worker asked, but he was not answered.

(Y/N) simply nodded and made her way to the closed door. She knocked on it, turning the knob and opening it before the man inside could call for her to enter.

The entrance that was made had Tommy expecting to see one of his family members. Upon looking up, he was surprised to see a woman he’d never met before. “Can I help you?” he questioned, his eyebrows raising as he removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose.

“You can,” (Y/N) answered, making her way to one of the chairs that were positioned in front of his desk.

Tommy watched her all the way in, his eyebrows still raised as she took a seat, crossing one leg over the other as she then stared pointedly at him.

A staring match ensued, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. It was like they were sizing each other up; trying to work out the others motives and weak points.

Eventually, (Y/N) spoke: “I was sent at the request of Jessie Eden. You know her, don’t you?” she asked, her one eyebrow lifted in intrigue.

“I do,” Tommy answered with a single nod of his head.

“She’s a comrade of mine. We’re in the fight together,” she then explained the connection between her and the aforementioned woman.

“Well a friend of Ms. Eden’s a friend of mine,” he played cordial with her.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume my friendship, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) warned him, her red lips curving up into a smirk as she spoke.

“What can I do for you…?” Tommy trailed off, hoping she’d fill in his blank with her name. He also took this time to run his eyes over her figure, certainly not missing the fact that she was dressed for this occasion, her blouse and skirt tailored to her frame nicely.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she happily shared with him, “I want to speak to you about the prospect of equal pay for the women who are employed in your factories.”

A scoff left Tommy’s lips upon hearing the reason for her presence. He shook his head slightly before waving his hand, “what I said to your comrade still stands, Ms. (Y/L/N). I have no time, nor care, to negotiate.”

Most would have caught the abruptness in his tone and left right there, but not (Y/N). No. She was ready for the fight…truthfully, she was hoping for it. “I know what fields of business your family and yourself are in, Mr. Shelby. I know that you are well off and that you have enough money to own the whole of Birmingham, yet you are pitting your workers against each other, cutting the men close and the women even closer to wondering how their families will eat. Something needs to be done about it.”

“If I needed help figuring out how to run my factories, I’d ask for it. Now, Ms. (Y/L/N), if you could please…”

“Mr. Shelby, your 12:30’s here,” the same man that had directed (Y/N) to the office announced as he stuck his head into the room. Tommy looked past (Y/N) for a moment, nodding to the man before he stood up from his head. (Y/N) stayed seated.

“I have a meeting,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“I wasn’t finished,” she bluntly replied.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at her answer, his mouth opened slightly as he tried to get a read on the woman in front of him. She clocked his stare, smirking under the intensity of it. He rested his knuckles on the desk then, his eyes still focused on her as he hoped she’d crack under his gaze.

“Mr. Shelby,” the man chimed in from the door, cutting into the staring contest that was happening.

“Tell them I’ll be done in a minute,” Tommy responded to the man without removing his eyes from (Y/N). For once, the huff that came in response just before the door shut didn’t bother him…right now he had other things in mind.

“Jessie Eden told me about you, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) finally spoke, her smirk still present as she stood from her seat to move even closer to him.

“And what did she say?” he questioned, intrigue flashing in his eyes.

“She said you had a peculiar way of going about business…that you’re not below going down avenues that others wouldn’t dare to even think of in order to meet an end,” she elaborated, setting her palms on the desk so the she could lean forward, knowing that she’d give him a better glimpse of her cleavage as she did so. She loved that his eyes dropped to her chest almost instantly.

“Why did she send you, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” he asked, his eyes flitting across her figure again, getting stuck on her dark red lips for more than a moment before returning to her eyes.

“I thought that it’d be beneficial to try things from a another angle,” she answered, leaning even closer. At this point, they were close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“What’s your angle, eh?” he questioned, intrigue present in his tone. His fingers were itching to reach out and take hold of her chin; to hold her in his grasp and secure the upperhand in the situation they both know was coming. But he kept them on the desk, his knuckles now white from how hard he was pushing them down.

“I am also not below going down those avenues to make sure business gets done.”

A smirk was present on (Y/N)’s lips as she closed the rest of the distance to press her lips to his, hooking him into a searing kiss. Tommy allowed his hands their freewill, wasting no time in taking hold of her jaw so that he could deepen the kiss. (Y/N)’s hands were busy finding something else.

Despite his grip, she was still able to break away from him. He let her face slip from his grasp, his hands dropping down to grab the desk again.

“Not bad, Mr. Shelby,” she commented, looking at him through hooded eyes as she ran her thumb along her bottom lip to make sure the her lipstick wasn’t messed up. She took a quick glance down at her other hand before letting out a breath of a laugh. “Oh…” she trailed off as she looked back up at him, “I believe this is yours,” she stated, holding a packet of papers that had the breakdown of wages written on them. It was the same packet that she managed to grab amidst their exchange.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, a dumbfounded look now present on his face. Seeing it made (Y/N)’s grin grow. She now had the upperhand, and he knew it.

“I’m going to be taking a look at it…to make sure that us women get our fair pay,” she said before turning from the desk and walking to the door of his office, making sure to sway her hips as she went.

(Y/N) exited the office without another word being said. The grin stayed present on her face as she walked away knowing that she’d just left one of the most powerful men in the city speechless.

“Mr. Shelby’s ready for his meeting now,” she announced to the man who interrupted her earlier, her grin growing as she saw his reaction.

Damn, she was having too much fun with this.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

[pin-k-ink]

knife’s edge // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, implied age gap, dub-con, punishment and reward system, power play, dom/sub relationship, blowjob, fingering, begging, hair pulling, degradation, mentions of violence and injuries, spanking, facial, belt whipping, praise kink, face fucking

wc ⇢ 6.7k

a/n: i am not happy with this one at all

The inky blackness of night cloaked the abandoned factory district in deep shadow, the dim glow of the waxing moon filtering through shattered panes of grimy glass offering little illumination. Your ragged breaths echoed sharply in the cavernous silence, each rapid footfall sending plumes of dust and grit swirling into the still air in your wake.

You risked a frantic glance over your shoulder, heart hammering a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. The curse's formless shape undulated through the gloom behind you with horrific, boneless grace—an amorphous mass of writhing miasma capped with wicked curved appendages that scraped in screeching arcs against the cracked concrete hallway with each slithering surge forward. Jagged claws of solidified cursed energy aimed to ensnare, tear, and rend any flesh within reach.

A fleeting memory sliced through your mind's frenzied whirl — Gojo's voice carrying that unmistakable lilt of teasing amusement as he'd drawled something about being on your "best behavior" during this training exercise. His smug confidence had rankled you at the time, fueling your burning desire to prove yourself more than a bumbling student constantly needing rescue from their mentor.

But now, harsh reality crashed through those foolish delusions in waves of cold, jagged terror. You were hopelessly outmatched and ill-prepared for confronting this particular curse born of manifested nightmares. Its presence alone incited paralytic dread laced with a phantom ache of crushing loneliness echoing from some primal depth. Heedless of the stunted whimpers tumbling from your trembling lips, it closed in with relentless, inexorable hunger.

You redoubled your pace, lower legs shrieking with the exertion of maintaining your panicked sprint. Up ahead, the hallway fractured off into a labyrinth of shadowed corridors and forsaken antechambers. Fighting the icy lances of panic penetrating your frantic thoughts, you arbitrarily flung yourself down the second passageway on the left, restraining a scream as the curse's barbed tendrils whipped around the corner in pursuit.

How had you allowed yourself to be lured so far from the staging area where Gojo awaited your safe return? Stupid, stupid overconfidence. Surely he would berate your rashness before grudgingly coming to your aid...if you survived this ordeal long enough to earn his scorn. You swallowed back a hiccuping sob at that grim prospect, legs pumping harder in sheer desperation.

When the next turn presented itself, you instinctively banked hard to the right, hurtling through the decrepit doorway of what appeared to be some kind of dilapidated manager's office. Dim moonlight filtered through the filth-streaked windows, casting the skeletal shapes of rusted desks and chairs in stark silhouette across the debris-littered floor.

You twisted in mid-sprint, fruitlessly hurling the few feeble cursed tools you'd had on your person towards the curse as it rapidly filled the doorway. Their meager defenses ricocheted off a shimmering barrier the curse erected with mocking ease. Your breath sawed from your lungs in panicked bursts as those razor-tipped appendages sliced through the space you'd just occupied, sending shreds of plaster and splintered wood exploding in all directions.

There was nowhere left to run. In blind panic, you scrambled backwards on your hands and feet as the curse's oozing grotesquerie filled the open doorframe, blocking any hope of escape.

Suddenly, something sharp and unyielding sliced into the meat of your palm, causing you to cry out in pained surprise. You looked down to see the jagged remains of some kind of metal pole or rebar protruding from the crumbling floorboards—the very shrapnel strewn across the office that your desperate retreat had led you straight into.

The unforgiving shard of rebar punched clean through the soft center of your hand in a blossoming spiral of agony and blood. Your scream hitched in your constricted throat as scorching lances of whitehot pain lanced up your arm. Tears blurred your vision, leaving the curse's steadily encroaching form obscured and wavering in your sight.

The twisted groaning of stressed metal snapped your gaze downward just as the compromised floor buckled beneath your weight, splitting like a crumpled Jenga tower along the lines of its pre-existing fractures. The gore-slicked rebar came suddenly free from its entrapment with a meaty slurping sound, pitching you backwards as your already precarious perch vanished from beneath you.

You plummeted in a dizzying freefall, the decrepit office warping and careening away above you in smears of grey and brown and black. Instinctively you flung out your arms, mouth gaping in a soundless scream as you plunged downwards into the bottomless unknown of the abandoned factory's shadowed depths.

Time itself seemed to unravel into surreal slow-motion as your trajectory carried you into the diffuse path of moonlight slanting through a shattered window high above. Silver-edged debris tumbled alongside you—jagged splinters of wood and twisted scraps of metal glinting like macabre confetti amid the freeze-framed droplets of your blood blossoming in faint crimson blurs.

Then, with a violent percussion of displaced air, something rocketed into you from the side—a solid, immense force that knocked what little breath remained from your lungs in a strangled wheeze. Powerful arms like bands of steel locked around your torso, violently arresting your plummet as your failed to process what was happening.

Head spinning, vertigo graying the edges of your vision, you dimly became aware of the world blurring past in streaks of shadow and dim light as you swung in an upward arc, abruptly changing trajectories with dizzying velocity. The whiplash intense enough to make you cry out hoarsely as cold panic lanced through you anew.

Just as abruptly, the disorienting rush of movement slammed to a boneshaking halt, your body folding in on itself with the force of the deceleration. You found yourself crushed against a solid plane of warmth and wiry muscle, every nerve ending screaming in protest as your savior's bruising embrace constricted tighter around your ribcage. The guttural growl rumbling through the steel-banded arms holding you immobile reverberated straight into your rattled bones.

"Dammit, girl—you make trouble follow you around like a hellhound on a scent trail, don't you?"

The familiar, sardonic drawl finally pierced the roaring in your ears. Gojo's distinctive smokey timbre ignited a fresh surge of tremors— though born of relief rather than mortal terror this time. You sagged bonelessly against his chest, quaking with reaction as the abyss you'd narrowly avoided plunging into slowly reasserted itself in your reeling awareness.

Gojo simply held you pinned flush against him, stance braced with preternatural solidity despite the physical feat of force he'd just exerted. With your face pressed into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, his unique scent of sandalwood and citrus enveloped you in a cloak of reassurance. You clung to that steadying anchor desperately as you struggled to rein in your haywire senses.

He seemed content to allow you that reprieve, not bothering to immediately extricate himself as the pounding of both your thunderous heartbeats gradually subsided to a more measured cadence. At last, when you'd stopped trembling quite so violently, Gojo shifted infinitesimally—just enough to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up towards his.

"Y'know, when I said to be on your best behavior, I didn't mean to go seeking out new and perilous ways to get yourself killed on my watch, bad girl."

Gojo's voice still maintained that undercurrent of sardonic cool, but you detected the faintest hints of...something else bleeding through. An edge of anxious relief perhaps, buried beneath the outward mask of nonchalant irreverence he always wore. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw with maddening tenderness at odds with his tart rebuke, sending your pulse into a frenzied gallop once more.

"Gojo-sensei, I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, scarcely daring to draw breath too deeply in his embrace for fear of surrendering to the urge to bury your face against his neck and simply exist in that space for a thousand reassuring moments. "I got overconfident and careless and put myself in danger by wandering off. You were right, as usual, and I—"

He cut off your self-flagellating apology with a gruff tsk, index finger pressing firmly against your parted lips. "Hush now. I can already see those pretty eyes filling with crocodile tears that will make me go all soft and stupid again."

The sardonic smirk he flashed you ignited a spark of bristling indignance in your chest—but it was a welcome reprieve from the icy terror currently waning through your system. Gojo's gaze roved downwards, searing gaze flickering over you in a blatant sweep from head to toe. Whatever he saw in his obscenely casual inspection made his jawline tense perceptibly.

"Looks like our little curse didn't take too kindly to you wandering off the beaten path either," he remarked, deceptively mild drawl betrayed by the subtle edge of strain hardening the words.

You followed the weighted path of his hawkish regard to where the tattered remnants of your uniform clung in bloodied tatters, entire swaths torn away to reveal expanses of gashed and rapidly-purpling flesh glistening with crimson. A vivid flush bloomed across your cheeks as you hastily sought to cover yourself, hissing as the incidental movement tugged at your lacerated skin.

Gojo clucked his tongue again, more chidingly this time. "Easy there, slugger. Let's not go scrambling around until we get those battle scars properly dressed."

Before you could protest, Gojo was moving again - shifting his grip to cradle you securely against his chest with one arm while his free hand extended outward, palm glowing with an ethereal purple luminescence.

One disorienting transition of vertigo later and the ruined factory surroundings had been replaced by a cozily appointed interior.

The incongruously homey space you now found yourself in appeared to be some kind of living quarters - though imbued with distinctly more luxury and refined appointments than the standard student dormitories would allow.

Rich hardwood floors were covered in plush area rugs of deep crimson. The walls were adorned with elegant-yet-minimal furnishings and intricately patterned tapestries in jewel tones suggesting an Eastern influence. Various artifacts - porcelain vases, statuettes, and inscribed metal wall-hangings - were interspersed with a few strategic pops of color and indirect lighting to cultivate an ambiance of cultivated tranquility.

"Comfortable?" The rumbling baritone against your ear made you start slightly as Gojo carried you towards what appeared to be a bedroom sectioned off by opaque partitioning screens.

You opened your mouth to reply, but any words withered on your tongue when he shifted his hold to deposit you with infinite care atop the bed - as though you were the most precious of fragile burdens. The sheets were a sleek dusky charcoal hue offset by the warm burnished glow of brass lamps casting flattering illumination across the space.

Gojo crouched in one fluid, boneless motion beside where you lay, all lazy power and effortless masculine grace barely restrained beneath that veneer of irreverent cool. His gaze was immediately drawn to the sluggishly bleeding gashes marring your exposed skin, sharp azure irises hooded beneath lowered lashes.

"Let's get you decent first, hmm?" He lilted in that sinfully smooth timbre, already working to divest you of the tattered remnants of clothing still clinging to your mangled form.

You flushed hotly, opening your mouth to offer token protest, but his pointed look swiftly quelled any objections before they could sound.

"Don't get shy on me now, pretty girl. I've already copped an eyeful of everything you've got thanks to that curse taking talons to your outfit." One corner of his lush mouth quirked upwards in that irresistible smirk that never failed to spark a flicker of defiance in your core. "Might as well make the most of the situation, neh?"

With deft efficiency and hands belying an almost reverent delicacy, Gojo stripped you down to your bared skin, blatantly allowing his piercing gaze to map every purpling contusion and seeping laceration in the process. You remained motionless, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of shattering this suspended reality into shards of mortified embarrassment and pining desire.

Gojo clicked his tongue in a noise of disapproval as his inspection catalogued the extent of your injuries. His thumb traced the lurid weal of a deep gash carving across your ribcage, featherlight and ghosting over the sensitive abraded skin but eliciting a shuddering exhalation from your parted lips all the same.

"Such a mess you've made of yourself, babygirl," he chided in a low, dark purr that seemed to resonate straight through the shallow surface of your flesh and delve molten paths into the viscera below. "Clumsy, clumsy girl wandering off and courting disaster like it's a favored lover. Maybe you need reminding why it's safer to stay close...and who exactly you belong to."

Gojo stood and moved across the room, giving you a momentary reprieve from the heated intensity of his presence. You watched him retrieve a wooden basin and an array of glass jars and cloth wrappings, absently tracing your fingers over the stark patterns of blooming bruises and lacerations. Though the sting of your injuries still pulsed in time with your elevated heartbeat, it felt muted somehow - a distant discomfort overshadowed by the lingering warmth of Gojo's touch and his dark, heated words still reverberating through your mind.

When he returned to your side and crouched on the plush rug once more, you couldn't help but tense slightly at his proximity. Gojo's lips curved in an inscrutable half-smile, as if privy to the chaotic whirl of your thoughts. Dipping a clean cloth into the basin of herbal-scented water he had prepared, he began gently sponging away the streaks of blood and grime from your abused skin with meditative focus.

"You know," he began conversationally, breaking the weighted quiet between you. "I had a feeling assigning you to run solo for this particular exercise was inviting disaster." His gaze remained fixed on his ministrations, calloused fingertips brushing featherlight over the shredded gashes scoring your abdomen as he cleaned each one with almost ritualistic care.

"You've always had a penchant for acting first and regretting the consequences later." Gojo's tone was a strange blend of wry affection and pointed reproof. "That wild spirit and impulsive bravery are what make you such a marvel to train...but they're also what consistently lands you in hot water requiring my intervention."

You wanted to protest, to insist that this time you had been cautious and level-headed right up until the curse overwhelmed you so unexpectedly. But the words shriveled up unspoken on your tongue as memories of your rash overconfidence resurfaced with a flush of shame. Gojo was right, as infuriatingly often seemed to be the case when he turned that penetrating stare and spark of dark wisdom upon you.

"I cannot even begin to fathom what could possess an otherwise reasonably bright girl to forsake all her training at the first sign of danger," he continued, words hardening into a disapproving rasp. You flinched inwardly, knowing the scolding was deserved but still bristling at being spoken down to like a petulant child.

Gojo's touch stilled abruptly, his thumb and forefinger capturing your chin in an uncompromisingly firm grasp that forced your gazes to lock. The vivid azure of his eyes bored into you with searing intensity from beneath his silvery lashes, commanding your rapt focus.

"Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you tonight?" His words emerged in a gravelly undertone that seemed to reverberate somewhere deeper than mere sound.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke over your stillborn attempt with quiet yet immutable authority. "Too close. Far too close for comfort, little one."

Gojo's thumb traced the plush arc of your lower lip with deliberate reverence, the blistering heat of his touch raising delicious sparks of sensation despite its apparent innocuity. "I don't take kindly to situations where I am mere inches from watching light fade from those gorgeous eyes of yours. Do you understand me?"

Any residual defiance flickered and died beneath the scorching promise of intent blazing behind the shrouded azure regard holding you hostage. All you could manage was a tremulous inhale and the barest fraction of a nod in acknowledgment.

Something indecipherable flashed across Gojo's expression - both a subtle easing of the taut line of his jaw and a perceptible deepening of the shadows clouding his eyes. His hand slid from your chin to cup the back of your neck, fingertips lightly caressing the sensitive skin as he pulled you forward until the briefest whisper of distance remained between your brow and his.

"Let this be a lesson to you then," he murmured in a voice rendered incalculably darker by its lowered register. "Stay close to me from now on where you belong, understood? No more foolish detours or reckless stunts serving only to test my stamina in constantly retrieving you from harm."

You found yourself mesmerized, lashes fluttering in a hapless series of blinks as his breath fanned warmly over your parted lips. There was simply no other response than a breathily murmured, "Yes, Gojo-sensei. I understand."

The barest ghost of a smile - one of grim satisfaction rather than mirth - curved the edges of his sinful mouth. "Good girl."

The heavy-lidded intensity of Gojo's gaze seemed to scorch straight through to your very core as the silence stretched taut between you. His thumb traced idle patterns along the racing flutter of your pulse just beneath your jawline, touch tantalizingly light yet possessive all the same. You shivered at the implication behind such a disarmingly tender caress coming from your mentor.

"You test me at every turn, don't you, my pretty thing?" The words emerged in a low, molten rumble tinged with thinly veiled exasperation and something infinitely darker—a banked smolder of bone-deep desire he made little effort to conceal. "Never quite able to simply mind your place and stay obediently out of harm's way, constantly seeking new ways to throw yourself into the line of danger until I'm forced to intervene..."

His fingers trailed lazily down the sloped column of your throat, following the racing thrum of your pulse until his palm settled in a burned brand over the thundering cadence of your heart. You couldn't help the tremulous hitch of your breath as his calloused thumb grazed the swell of your breast, the barest suggestion of weight behind the touch.

Gojo's eyes glittered mercurial beneath the fan of his silvery lashes as he watched your response with rapt attentiveness, gauging your reaction to his calculated escalation. You were pinned motionless beneath the heated intensity of his undivided focus - the blazing epicenter of a storm waiting to break.

When he spoke again, his graveled baritone had lowered a ruinous register, each dark rumble seeming to sear across your feverish skin like a scorching caress unto itself.

"I'm sorely tempted to finally take you firmly in hand once and for all, babygirl. To show you exactly what lies in store each time you defy me so recklessly and necessitate my...intervention." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, delicious suggestion laced through the subtle rasp of hardened fingertips grazing the taut bud beneath the thin fabric covering you.

Your spine arched in an involuntary bow of pleasure-edged shockwaves, a broken whimper falling from your lips before you could bite it back. Gojo watched the display of responsiveness with naked hunger flickering across his austere features.

"Yes...that's what you crave, isn't it?" He mused in that same sinful, smoke-ruined tone that seemed to curl molten tendrils of liquid heat low in your belly. "My undivided attention and reprimand for each infraction, each reckless display where you've failed to heed my instruction..."

Gradually, with agonizing deliberation, Gojo shifted to loom over you with coiled dominance thrumming through every steel-banded muscle. His free hand traced a scorching path down your torso, insistent fingertips hooking beneath the thin fabric at your hip and exerting gentle but implacable pressure.

"But such willful disobedience cannot go entirely unpunished, can it?" He purred, pupils dilating as his gaze raked over your form with incandescent hunger. "Not if you're to finally learn some modicum of discipline and self-control..."

With deft surety, Gojo relieved you of the final scant covering as his sinful lips curved in a lush, dangerous smile. A fraught moment of charged suspension stretched between you as his reverent gaze roamed freely over the newly bared flesh. Then, with infinite tenderness at odds with his thunderous promise, he cradled you against the scorching plane of his chest and lowered you back to the plush bedding in one fluid motion.

"Perhaps a few lashes from my belt are in order for the way you've acted out, my willful little girl," Gojo rumbled as he braced himself above you, gaze devouring the way your thighs reflexively parted for his settling weight. "And you will count each one aloud and thank me for it, won't you?"

Your lips parted in a soft gasp at the sheer filthiness of his implication. Your pulse thundered so loudly you were certain he could hear the erratic drumming. Yet, with a heady thrill of realization, you discovered that you didn't want to resist - didn't have the strength of will left to resist him in this.

Gojo's hand slipped beneath the sleek fall of your hair, fingers curling around the back of your neck in a deceptively light but immovable grasp. The gesture was an unspoken command, an assertion of control that demanded your total surrender.

"Say it, kitten." The words emerged with the softness of a blade honed razor-sharp. "Tell me how badly you need to be taught some much-needed obedience...or else we'll simply have to continue these exercises until the lesson sticks."

Your breath shuddered from your lungs, eyes fluttering closed as a delicious shudder rippled through your entire body. It took all your remaining shreds of willpower not to arch into the heated cradle of his hips already settling against the apex of your thighs.

"Please, Gojo-sensei," you finally managed, voice quavering with need. "Teach me a lesson. Punish me until I've learned my place..."

A soft exhalation escaped Gojo, half-swallowed by the faint rustle of the bedsheets. His grip on your nape tightened fractionally as his other hand slid down the slope of your ribcage and across the dip of your waist.

You were powerless to resist the slow roll of his hips - the delicious pressure grinding against your exposed core in a way that made your lashes flutter with dizzying pleasure.

"My good girl," Gojo praised with a wicked glint in his azure gaze. "Now let's see how long you can keep up the obedient act before you're begging me to stop, hmm?"

With a sly, predatory grin, Gojo rolled off of you to stand, leaving your body buzzing with anticipation and the phantom heat of his weight pinning you. You lay there, breathless and quivering, as his fingers flicked open the clasp of his belt with a metallic snap.

"You remember the rules, don't you, kitten?" Gojo rumbled, leisurely tugging the belt from its loops with a sinuous slide of leather and metal. "No counting or pleading until the very end, or else I'll start over."

He stepped towards the edge of the bed, looming over you in a manner both protective and menacing. Your pulse spiked into a rapid tattoo as the coiled length of leather whispered through his palm in an anticipatory slide.

"Spread your legs and arch that ass up for me like a good girl," he instructed. "You've earned a good punishment for nearly getting yourself killed, haven't you?"

The words sparked a jolt of hot shame deep within you, but that only fanned the flames of your desire. Your body reacted before you could think to deny his command, thighs parting and hips canting upward until the vulnerable curve of your rear was bared and presented to him.

"That's it, my perfect little toy," Gojo crooned, the soft sibilance of his words underscored by the telltale shift of leather and metal in his grip. "You've always been such a good listener, haven't you?"

A tremor rippled through your muscles, the instinctive flinch of anticipation, and a ragged whimper tore from your throat when the first blow landed with a deafening crack. You bit down on the knuckle of your thumb to silence the cry, a futile bid to restrain the sound.

"No no no, pretty girl," Gojo chided, his low baritone rife with dark amusement. "Those sounds belong to me. Let them out."

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to deny him, even though you knew it was impossible. His free hand settled in a proprietary weight between your shoulder blades, pressing your upper torso flush against the mattress.

"Don't be stubborn now, kitten," Gojo chastised, voice a husky purr as the leather of his belt slid across the abused skin of your ass. "You know the rules...and I'm going to make you scream those numbers for me."

The leather snapped again, a blistering stripe of searing agony lancing across your exposed flesh. The cry ripped from your throat sounded foreign and primal, and you were suddenly grateful for the muffling effect of the thick bedding.

"Count." Gojo's tone brooked no argument.

"Two." You managed the word past gritted teeth, hands fisting the sheets with white-knuckled force.

"Good girl," Gojo purred, the sound rich and honeyed as the cool leather whispered over your abused skin. "Let's try for three, hmm?"

A third searing swat landed, and then a fourth. Each one wrung another pained cry from your lips and brought your hips straining against the restraining hold of his palm.

"Five," you gasped, barely registering the tear that slipped down your cheek. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."

The next lash was gentler than the ones before it, but no less effective in eliciting a breathless gasp and a shudder of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"S-six," you stammered, barely able to string the syllables together.

"You're doing so well, baby," Gojo murmured, his words a soothing rumble that belied the merciless sting of leather as he brought the belt down across your flesh once more.

You lost count of the swats, each one a searing brand and yet an exquisite pleasure in its own right. With every number that fell from your lips in a broken sob, your thighs slickened further with a shameful gush of wetness. You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the press of his palm between your shoulder blades, grounding and comforting and unbearably hot.

"Shh, sweet girl, it's almost over," he murmured, his voice a velvet purr that seemed to seep beneath your skin and burrow into the core of you. "Just a few more. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," you whimpered, tears slipping free despite your efforts to stop them. "I can do it, Gojo-sensei."

His chuckle was a dark rumble. "My good, obedient little girl. Always eager to please, aren't you?"

His hand moved from between your shoulder blades to stroke gently along your flank, fingers tracing idle patterns across the bruises marring your flesh. A sharp contrast to the stinging burn still radiating through your abused flesh.

"Are you ready for the last one?" He asked, the question almost playful.

"Yes." You breathed the word, the single syllable a soft exhale.

"That's my girl," Gojo murmured, his approval warming the pit of your stomach. "Let's see if we can make this one really count, shall we?"

The leather snapped against your ass in a devastating strike, eliciting a cry that was half pleasure, half pain. Your thighs trembled as your back arched, body instinctively seeking more contact with the unyielding surface of his palm.

"Seven." The word came out sounding more like a moan.

Gojo's hand smoothed over the abused flesh of your ass, his touch maddeningly gentle and yet still stoking the flames of desire within you. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers teased the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, the feather-light touch eliciting sparks of heat along your spine.

"There, there," he murmured, the words a dark rasp that sent shivers through you. "I think that's enough punishment for now, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you breathed, your voice sounding foreign to your ears.

"Good girl." His fingers ghosted over your slickened folds, teasingly light and yet eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"But if you want to earn the privilege of a reward, you're going to have to earn it first," he continued, his words a low growl that reverberated straight through you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb traced slow circles around your clit, the sensation sending tendrils of molten heat coiling through you. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you, or the way your hips bucked against his touch, seeking more friction.

"I'm not hearing a yes, kitten," he chided, the words a dark purr.

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you managed, the words coming out in a breathy whisper.

His fingers teased your entrance, dipping just barely into the slickness gathering there. A low groan escaped him, the sound reverberating through your body.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me, aren't you?" He growled, his voice a low rasp. "All spread out and aching for me to fill you up, aren't you, babygirl?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei." You repeated the phrase like a mantra, unable to form any other coherent thoughts as his fingers curled inside you.

"Look at you, taking my fingers like such a good little slut," he murmured, the words punctuated by the wet sounds of him pumping his digits in and out of you.

You couldn't help the way your hips rocked against his touch, the sensation eliciting sparks of pleasure along your spine. Your back arched, thighs trembling as you sought more friction.

"That's it, take it all," he urged, his voice a low rumble. "Feel how tight you're gripping me, baby. So wet and desperate for me, aren't you?"

"Please," you whined, the word emerging as a broken plea. "I need more, Gojo-sensei. Please."

"Such a needy little slut," he chuckled, the sound sending shivers through you.

He removed his fingers, eliciting a whimper of protest from you, before his palm came down hard on the already abused flesh of your ass, the resounding slap echoing through the room.

"Up," he commanded, the word a rough bark.

You scrambled to obey, limbs shaky as you pushed yourself upright. Your thighs were slick with your own arousal, a sight that only intensified the burn of humiliation. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your throat, a combination of humiliation and desire.

Gojo stood in front of you, his pants unbuttoned and his cock fully erect. The sight was enough to make your mouth water, but he seemed determined to draw this out, his expression an inscrutable mask as he appraised you.

"On your knees," he commanded, the words a low growl.

You sank to your knees before him, the movement sending a jolt of pain through your ass as it came into contact with the plush rug. His cock was mere inches from your face, the tip glistening with precum. Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth watering as you took in the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, the words a low rumble.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, fingers curling around the base of his cock. He let out a low groan as you stroked him, the sound sending shivers through you. He was rock hard, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as you felt the weight of him in your palm.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words a low rumble.

You opened your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock. He tasted musky and salty, and you couldn't help the way your body responded, a rush of heat pooling between your thighs. You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. His hips bucked forward, and you nearly choked, but managed to steady yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low rasp. "That's it, baby. Just like that."

Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft, reveling in the feel of him filling your mouth. Your jaw ached, but you didn't care, lost in the sensation of him. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fucked your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You swallowed him down, moaning around his length.

"Shit," he cursed, his voice a guttural growl. "You're so fucking good at this, aren't you, slut?"

The words sent a thrill of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but whimper in agreement. You wanted him to keep talking, wanted to hear him praise you, wanted to hear him degrade you. His cock pulsed in your mouth, and you knew he was close.

"Gonna come," he growled, the words a harsh rasp.

He pulled out, his cock springing free from your mouth with a wet pop. Your eyes widened as he pumped himself in his fist, the sight of his swollen, leaking cock almost enough to make you come undone.

"Beg for it," he commanded with a low snarl.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whimper. "Please, Gojo-sensei. Please come on my face."

"Fuck," he swore, the word a guttural growl.

You closed your eyes as he came, warm spurts of cum landing on your cheeks and lips. You licked your lips, the taste of him bitter and salty. You couldn't help but whimper as his seed trickled down your face, his musky scent invading your nostrils.

"Clean it up," he ordered, the words a low growl.

You complied, using your fingers to scoop the mess from your cheeks and licking it from your fingertips. The action only seemed to arouse him further, and his cock twitched in response. You couldn't help the moan that escaped you, the sight of his renewed erection sending a rush of heat through you.

"On the bed," he commanded, his voice a rough rasp.

You scrambled to comply, the ache of your bruised and battered body momentarily forgotten in the anticipation of what was to come. Your legs trembled as you climbed onto the bed, spreading them wide for him. Your pussy throbbed, the feeling only intensifying as you watched him step out of his pants and stalk towards you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"So needy," he purred, the words a low rumble.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he knelt between your legs, his gaze raking over your exposed body. You felt like an offering, a sacrifice laid out for him to devour. His cock was hard and swollen, and you couldn't help but writhe beneath him, desperate for him to fill you.

"Patience, kitten," he murmured, the words a dark chuckle.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the tender flesh as he dragged you closer. Your skin tingled at the sensation, the anticipation nearly overwhelming. He lined his cock up with your entrance, the tip pressing against your slickened folds.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathless whisper.

He leaned over you, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours. You could feel his breath against your skin, the heat of him making your pulse race. You ached for him, the empty void within you seeming to expand until it threatened to swallow you whole.

"What do you want, kitten?" He murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Fuck me, Gojo-sensei," you whimpered, the words emerging as a strangled moan.

He pushed into you, his cock filling you up in one swift thrust. You gasped, the sensation nearly enough to send you over the edge. His cock stretched you open, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure through you. You arched into him, your hips grinding against his as he began to move inside you.

"So fucking tight," he growled, the words a low rumble.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you. His hips rolled against yours, the friction sending bolts of electricity through you. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned against his mouth, his tongue exploring yours.

"Come for me," he commanded, the words a ragged order.

You cried out, the pleasure ripping through you as you came undone beneath him. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed into you. The sound of skin against skin was a symphony, the feel of him moving within you almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, kitten," he growled, his voice a husky rasp.

His hips jerked as he spilled inside you, his release sending you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. You clung to him, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you'd never experienced before. Your entire body shuddered, your muscles clenching around his cock as you milked every last drop of his cum.

"Fuck," he groaned, his cock slipping out of you with a wet squelch.

You whimpered at the loss, the feeling of him leaving you making you want more. You could feel his seed leaking out of you, trickling down the insides of your thighs before you felt the telltale trickle of wetness. The realization that he'd made you squirt was nearly enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm.

"You're a mess, kitten," he purred, the words a dark chuckle.

His fingers traced the rivulets of wetness on the insides of your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through you. The bedsheets were soaked beneath you, your juices and his cum mingling in a puddle of filth. The sight only served to arouse him further, and his cock twitched, already half-hard again.

"So messy," he murmured, the words a husky rasp.

He reached up, tracing a finger through the mess of his cum and your juices on your cheeks. You whimpered as he brought the digit to your lips, the taste of him making you crave more. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, the weight of it a welcome sensation. You sucked on it, savoring the flavor of him.

"Fuck, that's hot," he growled, his cock already fully erect again. But he knew your body couldn't take it, not after everything he'd put you through.

He rolled off of you, and you immediately missed the heat of his weight on top of you. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You sighed, the feel of his skin against yours sending shivers through you. His cock pressed against your ass, and you couldn't help but grind back against him, eager for more.

"Greedy little slut," he murmured, the words a rough chuckle. "Stay still. I’m trying to take care of you."

He pulled the blankets over the two of you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. Your muscles ached, and the bruises and welts on your skin throbbed, but you didn't care. The exhaustion and pain were a distant afterthought, overshadowed by the euphoric bliss that came from being sated by the man who had trained and taught and tormented you.

"You did so well, my sweet, filthy girl," he purred, the words a soft murmur against your hair. "So obedient, even when I had to punish you for nearly getting yourself killed."

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, eyes twinkling with both relief and mischief. "You really had me worried there, yknow," he chided gently.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, kissing you with a jovial intensity. His kisses trailed along your jaw, up to your ear where he murmured, "Don't think you can get away with stunts like that." His teeth grazed your earlobe playfully.

Laughing, you tried to squirm away, but he captured you in his arms. "No escaping your punishment," Gojo teased, raining kisses along your neck and collarbone. His fingers danced along your sides, finding all the spots that made you squirm with giggles.

Finally, he relented, pinning you beneath him with a roguish grin. "There, I'd say that covers it for scaring me half to death." His expression softened as he brushed a few stray hairs from your flushed face. "Just don't go risking that beautiful smile again, okay?"

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[adventuringblind]

Hello darling🫶🏼 I hope everything is okay🥹 I love the way you write, it’s sooo feel so real!

I have a request Lando x fem!reader, were she is Italian and she’s working for another team. So they live this relationship for so long distant, and she can’t go at every race as a McLaren supporter, but , and that’s situation make the things between them very difficult. So at some point, when everything looks like an end, he decide to ask her to live with him in Monaco.

Idk I feel this a little bit angst but happy in the end.🥺🥺

Thanks for all of your works, are amazing😍

Monaco Bound

Lando Norris x Ferrari Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Lando is lonely, and Refer thinks he doesn't want her around. Turns out Lando just doesn't know how to ask. Featuring Max being blunt and the Ferrari boys trying to be emotional support.

Warnings: miscommunication, Lando is anxious, reader is so confused

Notes: Just so you are all aware, I am getting to requests! I've been working on the series more, as well as my works on AO3. Sorry it's taking so long, everyone!

Masterlist

Everyone says long distance is difficult. And when your partner needs physical contact and quality time, they really aren't joking.

Her and Lando had been making long-distance work for the last year and a half. Her living in Italy for work and Lando living in Monaco. Sure, they see each other in at races, but working for different teams really doesn't help anything.

Hope came in the form of teleworking. Finally, they'd managed to make it so she could do work from home, working remotely from the factory.

Did she tell Lando? Yes. Was she hoping to move to Monaco with him? Also, yes. But she also didn't want to just straight up ask him. That could make him uncomfortable, and then it would be awkward. Instead, she leaves it alone. Patiently waiting for Lando to maybe ask her.

On the other side of things, Lando could not decide whether his girlfriend simply isn't into him anymore, he had done something wrong, or she's just shy. He wants her to come live with him. To the point where he has broken down over in when he's alone in bed at night.

The next race weekend, he caught her talking with Charles and Carlos. Knawing insecurities creeping their way up his throat. He avoided all three for the rest of the day.

No phone calls were answered. No texts responded to. Always going to opposite direction. Was he being petty? Possibly, but he needed to think this through.

That night, he's shocked when Max comes knocking at his door. Lando opens the door and greets his friend cheerfully. Max though, looks solem.

"Wanna talk about why your girlfriend is acting like she's killed you?"

Lando's face dropped. "What?"

Max shoves past him and takes a seat in one of the chairs at the small table. "Carlos and Charles are worried also. They tried consoling her, but she's hysterical mate. Thinks you don't love her or something."

Again, Lando's face drops. She thinks he doesn't love her? She believes she did something wrong? He's misread this situation entirely.

"I- I thought that - that she was falling out of love." He admits. His face turns away from Max to the floor.

"She was raving to Carlos and Charles that she's finally able to work from home and wants to live in Monaco with you, but you hadn't asked."

"Why didn't she ask to live with me?"

"Maybe she didn't want to seem rude?"

And suddenly Lando is running out the door. Sprinting to his car to get to the hotel he knows she's staying at. With the room number she'd given late last night when she arrived.

It's a blur, really, the trip from point A to point B. He doesn't come back to reality until he's staring at her door. He can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.

He knocks. She opens. They collapse into each other.

"I thought you didn't want to come live with me."

"You idiot. Of course I want to live with you! I love you!"

"I'm your idiot."

Does she move to Monaco? Yes. Is Lando like a koala bear clinging to her every second of the day? Absolutely.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris f1 #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris 4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 #mclaren lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #mclaren #mclaren auto #mclaren f1 #f1 #ferrari racing #scuderia ferrari #ferrari formula one #forza ferrari #charles leclerc f1 #max verstappen #carlos sainz

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Madly in love with this amazing factory conversion with an art gallery on the ground floor, in Jersey City, New Jersey. 5bds, 5ba, $5.25M.

Very pretty stained glass doors. The beams are probably original to the old factory.

Very large kitchen. The handles on the cabinets look like art.

The dining area is lovely.

This isn't the art gallery, but this 1st floor sitting area looks like one.

What a delightful room with butterflies on the ceiling.

Here's an area that the owners use as a home gym.

What an interesting vintage sink with 3 faucets.

Someone actually climbed into this old freight elevator shaft to hang pictures, b/c it's been enclosed in glass.

The living room has lovely marble floors and is light and bright.

Look at the large bar. Well, this is a home that would be perfect for entertaining.

The railings on the stairs are a work of art in themselves. Love the exposed brick wall.

At first I thought that wall was wallpaper- so many colorful books.

Isn't this a whimsical fireplace?

The primary bedroom is gigantic and the freight elevator lets you off right inside.

The en-suite is huge and has the laundry in here, too.

Beautiful toile mural in this bedroom.

Attractive tiled bath with a wonderful door.

It has a large basement with tons of storage.

Plus, it has a garage which is golden in a city.

There's more than one rooftop patio.

Here's a wooden deck.

Jersey City has a direct New York City view, too.

#factory conversions #penthouses #houses #house tours #home tour

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing:Joel Miller (jackson era to be specific) x f!reader

Summary: practicing your knife skills goes south when you find yourself hiding in a janitor’s closet with Joel.

Warnings: 18+ only- MDNI. Smut, porn w minimal plot, unprotected piv, big girthy age gap but it’s not specified, forced proximity, knives, cutting panties, fingering, roughness & degradation, cum eating, spitting, dirty talk, Joel is a panty thief once again! No use of y/n. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Notes: Big big thank you to @pr0ximamidnight for helping me with the idea & this post inspiring dialogue for it. Also a big thank you to @amanitacowboy for Beta reading it. This is my (late) secret Santa gift to @planet-marz1 ! Hope you like it baby! 🖤 || wc: 1.5k || notif blog ||

Christmas in Jackson was like any other day for Joel, the same shit needing to be done but just a different day of the week. For you on the other hand, you were excited for the lights strung all over the town, kids throwing snowballs at each other, the overall warmth it spread. Joel had other plans for today, practicing your knife skills. The last time you two were on patrol, things got kinda hairy and you almost got stabbed with your own knife. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy having to beat a skull in with a log.

It was going well, stabbing snowmen he built all over the open field next to an old abandoned factory from years ago, when suddenly you could hear rowdy raiders yelling rude remarks towards you and Joel off in the distance. He grabbed your wrist, looking in their direction before going into his stern mode he stopped putting on for the brief moment you had with him. “Don’t ask questions and don’t make a sound, got it?” He rhetorically asks before running inside the dark building with you close behind him on his heels. The quickest solution was to hide inside an empty janitor's closet and make it seem like you ran upstairs to the empty floors or maybe even out the windows.

Joel tucks himself in the corner away from the door with you pressing tightly against him, his hand squeezing over your mouth. The clammy skin made it harder for you to breathe, your chest heaving rapidly with anxiety as you both watched the shadows run past the door.

Joel grunted as he shifted slightly behind you, a bulge pressing against your ass. Though a natural reaction to someone being up against you, he still didn’t want you to notice, not at a time like now. Several minutes go by before you hear any more noise, a voice booming down the hallway and more footsteps running past the door again. You move your ass against him a little more and whimper the faintest bit before he sees your little game.

“Knock it off before you get us found.” He grumbles in your ear and yanks you to him, his other arm holding you against him tightly.

Joel was always someone you wanted but couldn’t have. He never gave into you the way you wanted him to. Joel would flirt the day away with you but when it came down to business, he’d tell you to find someone your age who won’t break your heart. That was easier said than done in an apocalypse.

As soon as Joel doesn’t hear any more movement in the building, his hand slips around your waist and grabs you roughly.

“Santa won’t leave you on the nice list if you keep this up.” Joel's harsh tone shouldn’t be like a symphony to your ears but it is and you need more. He couldn’t get over the fact you were the only person not scared of him, scared to push his buttons to make him snap. His hand doesn’t leave your mouth and he tugs for you to meet his eyes. Your hand follows down your body until you find his, trying to drag it between your thighs.

You grind your ass against his bulge, not looking away from his eyes that glimmered with the faintest line of sunlight from a broken window to the side of you. Pulling your head away so his hand slips off your lips, you meet his eyes once more.

“Maybe then I could get an old man to punish m-” not another letter escapes you before Joel’s lips crash onto yours.

He turns you to face him with his forceful arms tugging your torso against his chest. Clawing at your body like a fully starved man, his breath gets heavier with each kiss to you.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere. Not until I’m finished with ya.” He tuts at you as his hand travels down the front of your pants and discovers how wet you are for him.

“Do you always get like this when someone manhandles you? Fuckin’ Christ you’re so pathetic for me to touch you. Where do you need me, hm?” Joel whispers into the crook of your neck, groaning from the pit of his stomach as he finds your throbbing clit with his index and middle fingers. His freehand grabs your bicep, holding your body against the small table pressed to the wall.

“Right there, pl-please Joel-oh fuck.” you whine out, knees buckling with every rub to your clit.

He matches your moans as his hand on your arm squeezes tighter like you’ll slip through his fingers if he eases up on you for even a second.

“Turn around for me, let me see where I’m gonna bury my cock.” Joel orders in your ear and spins you before you can do it yourself. So desperate for him to keep going, you bend over the table, arms tucked in underneath you. The stale, cold air hits the soaked fabric covering your pussy as Joel rips down your jeans to your ankles and cuts your panties right off you, causing you suck in a sharp breath. His warm tongue covers your clit and dips between your folds until he reaches your entrance. A groan vibrates against you as your head spins, groaning out anything to make him go faster. A smirk grows on his lips as he fiddles with his belt buckle, giving his cock a few tugs with his right hand.

“You’re about to absolutely ruin my life aren’t you? Make me so needy I only want you to fuck me..fuck, Joel.”

He spits on your glossy cunt before standing up, burying his cock deep inside you and grabbing your shoulders to keep himself steady. Your back arches as his hips start to slam into your ass, Joel's groans getting longer with each thrust. Joel tosses the closed pocket knife onto the table in front of you along with your ruined panties.

“I’m gonna fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head, you understand me?” Joel manages out between moans, squeezing your shoulders harder.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You smart mouth back at him, hoping he’ll lay into you and make you rethink ever wanting him to be so rough on you.

His left hand covers your mouth once more and yanks you against him, your back a deep arch while he continues to fuck into you. Joel’s teeth nibble on your earlobe, panting softly before mumbling, “Doesn’t matter, you’re a filthy fuckin’ girl and I know you’ll enjoy it either way.” The broken sentence slips from his lips.

He was right. It didn’t matter how he gave it to you, you wanted him to shred you apart from the inside out.

You two moaned in sync, his hands roaming all over your clothed chest as he pumped inside you, half-open mouth kisses shared between gasps of air. Joel shoved you down on the table, pushing the side of your head down to keep you still.

“Joel-I’m gonna come, baby i’m gonna come, i’m gonna come-” You chanted, eyes screwing shut as the table squeaked louder from Joel going faster.

“Come on, baby come all over my cock, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He squeezes the back of your neck as his jaw clenches, encouraging you to let go.

With a couple of more snaps of his hips against your ass, you unravel on him, struggling to keep yourself standing as your knees were giving out trying to close your thighs together. The struggle had you whining his name while you grinded against him to ride your high.

Joel barely pulls out in time to come all over your lower back, grunting profanities as he watches his load dribble onto your skin.

“Stay there, stay fuckin’ there.” Joel ordered as soon as he finished letting out every drop of cum from the tip of his cock.

You’re too fucked to argue or move away and within moments you feel his tongue lick up the dribbles of cum from your skin and his freehand turns your head, meeting your eyes with his as he spits into your mouth. A rough kiss follows and you moan in each other's mouth before he goes back for the rest that was left on your back.

“Open.” Joel mutters and pinches your cheeks firmly to part your lips, spitting the rest of his cum in your mouth. You swallow willingly before he kisses you again.

“Think you’re never gettin’ off that naughty list, baby.” He chuckles and presses a few soft kisses to your clothed shoulder blade.

He unpins you from the table and tucks his cock back into his jeans before pulling yours up to your thighs and letting you finish the rest.

“W-what about my panties?” You question as you pocket your knife, looking at him with a smirk.

“Merry Christmas to me, I ‘spose.” Joel kisses your forehead and takes your hand in his, leading you out of the building.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou x reader #tlou hbo #tlou fic #hbo tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel smut #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw degradation #joel miller fic #tw knives

[rosemoncherie]

close to you: t.wolff

pairing: toto wolff x black f!reader

summary: you can never get enough of him.

warning: MINORS DNI 18+, NSFW, cockwarming, usage of ‘Daddy’, dirty talk.

note: repost from my main page.

w.c: 1.54K

tags: @queenshikongo3

How can a man say that he is on a break but most of his waking moments are spent locked away in their office? You wanted to yell that at your boyfriend’s head. Sure the break was induced due to how the formula one calendar is constructed but you marvelled in these moments where you were just able to spend time with him.

Toto was a very,very busy man and you had no doubt that the current season was stressful and demanding but .. so were you. You deserved his attention as well. Majority of the time, you travelled with toto across the globe and you understood the demands of his position but then there were times when you just needed his focus on you and you alone.

The house was mostly silent except for his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing into your shared bedroom. Despite his mellow tone, you could still hear him clearly - provided by the ajar door - and it sent shivers down your spine. His accent was one of the first things that pulled you towards him. It doesn’t matter what he was talking about, you just love hearing him speak.

You looked at the wall clock and saw that it was late in the morning and decided not to bother dressing up completely after your shower. You moisturised your skin with cocoa butter before wearing a comfy pair of underwear. You walked over to Toto’s side of the closet and pulled out one of his dress shirts and threw it over your body. Due to his tall and burly stature, all of his clothes seemed to swallow you but they were comfortable.

Once you applied some lip balm to your lips and straightened your braids, you followed the sound of Toto’s voice until you found him pacing in front of the floor to ceiling windows that gave a perfect view of the landscape beyond. He was dressed in light blue T-shirt and beige sweatpants, his hair unkept from frequently running his fingers through it. Your man was fine and you loved adoring him.

As if he could feel your eyes watching him, he turned to face you and you watched as his eyes travelled up and down your body. From your breasts barely covered by his shirt to your underwear digging into the flesh of your hips. He continued speaking on the phone but you smirked as his eyes followed you all the way to the couch and watched you lay on your side with your head on your hand, looking at him the way he was looking at you.

Your body was a temptation that he could never resist. He approached you and crouched down until the two of you were at eye level. You kept quiet as he used his finger to move the fabric away from your chest and expose your breast to him. You deeply inhaled as the tip of his finger circled your nipple before pinching it softly. Still sensitive from the night before, the action sent a shock to your pussy.

Falling back onto the couch, Toto pushed the shirt away from your chest and played with your nipples, pulling and tugging on them to his pleasure.

“No, I don’t want James at the factory, I want him at the track with us during the Suzuka weekend ..” You could hear bits and pieces of his conversation but you were more focused on the way his fingers were making you feel. You rubbed your thighs together to try and soothe the ache that was quickly building. Toto smirked before he leaned down and gave you a small lick as he listened to the other person on the phone.

Once the small moan left you, he shifted away from you and walked back to his desk and sat down. You pouted your lips and sat up, frowning in his direction. He finally finished his phone call and placed his phone down and focused on his laptop without sparing a glance towards you.

“Don’t be a brat.” He told you as you let out the deepest sighs.

“You’re not paying attention to me.” You huffed, crossing your arms which pushed your breasts upwards and you didn’t miss the way his eyes fell to your chest.

“You didn’t get enough when I was fucking you senseless last night?” His words caused your cheeks to warm as the memories of the previous night flooded your memory.

“And then you left me high and dry this morning.” You rolled your eyes.

“Are you wet right now?” He quirked his eyebrow as he leaned back into his chair. You bit your lip as you nodded your head. The wetness was getting distracting to be honest but when he was looking at you like that, it was hard to stop your body from reacting. “Come here.”

You stood up and walked up to him until you were standing in between his legs. Your eyes darted down to his lap where his hardening length was visible beneath the fabric of his pants.

“You want this dick baby?” He asked you as he cupped himself. Your mouth was watering for just a taste. You ought to be embarrassed with yourself but with the way Toto loved, cared and fucked you, all of your dignity was left at the door.

“Yes Daddy.” You whispered. You felt his hand hold the behind of your knee and pull you closer until you were bending down and straddling his lap. You held onto the back of his chair as he pushed he pulled his cock out of his sweats and rubbed himself against your covered clit.

You moaned softly as you pushed your panties to the side, your slick being exposed to him and your cunt throbbing with anticipation. He watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he brought you down onto his length.

“Scheiße” He cussed as your warmth engulfed him and snuggly wrapped around him till you settled at the base of his cock. You tried to roll your hips but he wasn’t having it, he slapped your ass and gripped it still which shocked your core causing you to clench around him. “As much as I want to fuck you until you can’t breath right now, I still have work to do and I need you to be still.”

“How can I do that when you’re stretching me so good Daddy.” You whispered in his ear causing him to grunt as he wrapped his arm around your torso to keep you close to his body.

“You want to be my good girl don’t you? You don’t want to piss me off do you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He cooed in your ear. “You’re going to sit here until I’ve finished going through these emails and then I’ll be yours for the rest of the day. Can you do that for me?”

It was going to be tough but you were positive that you could do it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him as you willed your body not to move. You felt so full with him nestled inside of you. Toto was not a small man so he reached deep inside of you and because of the way your bodies were positioned, he was pressing against one of your spots leaving an agonisingly sweet ache in its wake.

You were so wet and you were drenching him. He was trying so hard not to focus on the puddle of cream forming at the base of his dick but along with the small whimpers you were letting out hitting his ears, he was going to lose his focus very soon. But he needed to teach you a lesson in patience. His job kept him away from you more times than he could count and he cherished the moments that he was able to have with you, But like a moth to a flame, you could never have enough and it was probably because he spoiled you to compensate for his lack of availability.

But truth be told, he loved it when you were needy for him. It fed a deep desire of his to be your only lover and provider - a promise he was going to keep. Your cunt was warm, wet and pulsating around him and that alone could bring any man to their knees. Toto didn’t know how his restraint hadn’t weavered and just fucked into you.

“Baby.” You gasped as your pussy began to flutter with small tremors of an orgasm that neither of you were expecting. Toto’s fingers stopped moving across the keyboard and dropped his head to your shoulder as his large hands gripped you as you came around him. Finally snapping, he stood up and up and sat you down on his desk and attacked your lips.

You squealed as you finally felt his hips move as he picked you up and brought you back down onto his length.

“Yes! Just like that.” You moaned as you ran your hands through his hair and stared into his eyes.

“Finally getting what you wanted huh. Now be a good girl and take this dick.” He bit into your shoulder as you completely took over his senses.

#rosemoncherie #close to you fic #toto wolff #toto wolff x black reader #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff one shot #toto wolff imagine #black reader #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic

[midnightsxblue]

TERRIFIED

carl grimes x reader

tags: hurt to comfort, Terminus and mentions of The Claimers.

masterlist here!

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

During Terminus, you couldn’t remember a time when you felt more terrified than you were in that moment. You traveled long and far, originally you were from Woodbury. You remember being scared when you were told you’d have to move to the Prison, especially after your parents had left with the Governor one day and never returned.

You never got full answers, you heard they were attacked but not about what attacked them. You wondered about it everyday. But even in that moment, you don’t think we’re as scared as you were in the large crate marked with a big “A.” You hoped this place would be your savior, your new home.

On the walk to Terminus, you were nervous and for valid reason but Carl tried to make you feel better. He held your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, occasionally squeezing when he noticed you breathing a bit deeper. He talked to you about a bunch of different things, a book he’d read, his old dog from before, he even asked you a ton of questions to distract you.

It worked, even though he probably was the one who needed comforting. Especially after your groups’ ordeal with the Claimers.

Right, the Claimers. The only other time you’ve been genuinely terrified.

You arrived to the wire fence surrounding Terminus. Rick asks Carl if he wanted to stick with him and he said no and he’d continue walking away with Michonne. You knew they would talk, he’s been pretty avoidant towards Michonne since that night with the Claimers. You went to walk in the opposite direction when Rick stopped you. “You’re with me.” He tells you, immediately getting to work on a dirt hole. You stood there awkwardly watching him when you realized you’d finally been alone with Rick, meaning you could gather details.

“What happened to my parents?” You inquired, not even minding the fact that it was a very blunt way to ask. It was your right to know. He looked up at you before continuing to shovel out some dirt. “We told you, they were attacked.” This made you roll your eyes. “You never told me what by. I know what kind of a world we live in, I’m not just gonna assume it was walkers.” You retort, Rick stops for a moment before you continue. “It was the Governor, wasn’t it?”

He remains still for a moment, eventually nodding while still looking at the floor. “He shot a lot of his people that day.” He explains, going back to digging the hole. Eventually the hole is big enough to stuff the duffle bag inside and he does so. He stands up and looks at you intently. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize you’d be a larger part of our lives here.” He gestures to Carl, insinuating he was the reason your around. Which was entirely true.

“I just…don’t like secrets.” Rick nods and looks down at his hands as he wipes them off. “Well as long as your family…we won’t be keepin anythin from you.” He puts his hand on your shoulder like he tends to do to Carl. He smiles at you, and you return one as well. He goes back to the ground to cover up the bag and you walk to find Carl and Michonne. You notice they’re having a moment and you smile a little. You’re called back over as it was time to actually enter Terminus.

You enter the large factory building, noticing a woman repeating the same sentence over and over into a microphone(?) . Eventually you reveal yourselves and you’re lined up to be patted down. You’re led through what you thought would be your new home and you and Carl were both offered some food. You held the plate in your hands, looking at it curiously wondering what kind of meat it was, you wanted to assume it was venison.

Before you could ask, Rick had suddenly had a man in a headlock, causing you to drop the plate and arming yourself with the gun in your holster. You looked around and noticed everything that was familiar, the poncho, the bag, the riot gear. It was all a trap and you all fell for it. Surely you’d make it out alive, right? You always did.

Shots were fired and you started running. There were no thoughts going through your head other than escape. You’d recklessly shot at a man standing on a roof, somehow you’d actually hit him. His leg gave out and you could see him fall off the roof before Rick pulled you in the direction where you needed to run.

It felt like they were hunting you like animals. Upon running you’d see what looked like cages filled with human bones and blood all over the floors. You passed tons of crates with people screaming from the inside and you realized that would soon be you if you didn’t keep running. You were then cornered. Forced to drop your weapons, herded into the crate like, once again, like animals.

You were reunited with the people you saw as family. While that gave you a glimpse of hope, you still were still extremely worried. What would they do to you for shooting that man’s leg? You began to overthink when the group simultaneously decided that you would try to escape. You weren’t sure how to help, someone handed you a chunk of wood they’d cut off of the door with the pocket watch chain to shave down into a blade.

You looked over to Carl and he looked fine. How could he be acting so normal? Usually he had a front when in situations like this; he had one during the fall of the prison. What’s so different?

“What?” He noticed your staring. You shake it of and return to shaving down your wood against the ground. “It’s nothing.” You reply, your voice a tad shaky and he goes back to what he’s doing. You were warned that there were men arriving and you all began to prepare to storm through the large crate door. Then the roof opened.

Before you knew it you were huddled to the floor and you were extremely panicked, worried they’d take you first considering you shot one of their people. You felt someone grab you and you tried to resist. “It’s me, it’s me.” The person grabbing you was Carl, he took you to a corner to so you could catch your breath even with the smoke that flooded the room. He rubbed your back despite the fact that he was also coughing.

The room eventually aired out and you’d calmed down. You were now just sitting in the corner, your eyes still watery. Carl was checking up on everyone and you took a head count. They’d taken Bob, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. Rick. You just talked to him, he just welcomed you to the family. Now he’s probably gone. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you begin to sob quietly. Carl notices and he returns back to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees.

“Hey we’re gonna make it out.” He reached his hand out to your face and he gently wipes away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear. You lift your hands up to cover your face while you sobbed and his heart begin to shatter into millions of pieces. “Cmon.” He pulled your wrists from your face and pulls your hands to his lips to place kisses on the both of them. “Just breathe okay?” He says softly, continuously kissing your hands to calm you down.

Your breath slows down and you nod. Your sobs had turned into small sniffles and you looked around to see if anyone was watching and they weren’t, thank god. “But y-your dad-” He immediately starts to shake his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna handle it. I know it.” He squeezes your hand twice and looks at you intently. “You promise?” You ask, your voice still quivering. “You know I can’t.” He responds. You give him a small okay, understanding he could never really promise anything.

“Cmon.” He smiles and stands back up, sticking his hand out to you. As soon as you go to grab his hand, boom.

Maybe you would make it out.

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

a/n: everyone thank mama carol for saving everyone’s asses! i hope this was okay, it honestly didn’t take me too long to write so i’m happy about that. i tried to incorporate a new sort of storyline for the reader since i feel like i use the same shit every time LMAO okay bye love u

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd fanfiction

[yourtongzhihazel]

Why I hate the '89 天安门广场 protests

In 1991, the Soviet Union was illegally dissolved. A few years later, the piece-meal destruction of Yugoslavia ended in war and genocide. The western, liberal/neoliberal world celebrated their destruction of state socialism. What had they accomplished?

CW: child prostitution, drug use, violence, death

Child prostitution in post-USSR Russia during the 1990s

The Children of Leningradskiy

Homeless children drug use

1993 constitutional crisis protests

These videos are about Russia only. There were 15 republics in the USSR. The dissolution of the USSR was an unmitigated humanitarian and economic disaster. All standards of life metrics from income to lifespan dropped to the floor. The GDP of Russia plummeted. Billionaires, bureaucrats, and especially foreign capital snatched up formerly Soviet state assets for pennies and reduced millions to poverty and destitution. At least 12 million people died as a DIRECT result of the dissolution of the USSR. Look at the former USSR: 15-20 countries (depending on who you ask) fighting each other in perpetual regional warfare. The concrete and cement plants in Turkmenistan sit empty and decaying. The Ukrainian shipyards on the Black sea, too.

So why bring up the USSR or Yugoslavia at all? Because they are a case and point in why you cannot let attempted color revolutions and liberalization protests take hold. The imperialists found that by employing this trick, of 'peaceful protests' they can destabilize then split apart nations then rob them blind. When a color revolution succeeds, people suffer on an unbelievable scale. The protestors in the USSR during glasnost wanted liberalization of the economy, freedom, democracy, so on and so forth, the usual western imperialist dog whistles. What they got was Yeltsin (and later Putin), poverty, and death.

Thankfully, the color revolution in China failed. It was crushed. so now we have a compare-and-contrast game (how fun!!!) between the handling of color revolutions in the USSR and in China. The MATERIAL EFFECT of the color revolutions in the former Soviet-bloc was the destruction of state socialism, the robbing of state assets, the destitution of the whole population, the penetration of foreign capital, the splitting of a once unified country into warlord states. On the other hand, the Chinese state remained and by 2020, eliminated absolute poverty.

IF the protestors had gotten what they wanted, IF the Chinese state was destroyed, we would see the EXACT same thing that happened to Yugoslavia, the USSR, East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Albania, and so on and so on repeat here. Except on an UNIMAGINABLE scale. 1.1 BILLION people were living in China in 1990. 1.1 BILLION reduced to poverty like you see in those videos, if not worse. Hundreds of billions of dollars of state assets in banks, factories, military, science, would have been stolen. Every bit of progress that Mao had accomplished would be rolled back to line the pockets of western imperialists. The country would most definitely be split up into warring regions, Xinjiang, TIbet, the Northeast, the Southwest, as much carnage as can be wrought to a people. THIS is the material reality that would greet the Chinese people if the '89 protestors got what they wanted.

They were chanting for child prostitution. For mass slavery. For mass poverty. For mass starvation. They stood on the side of the most evil entity to ever grace this planet. I will never forgive them.

Some reading on the '89 protests

#i fucking hate liberals

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Nightmare Foundry

Having trekked across the wilderness following the smell of acrid smoke and the distant screams of phantoms, you've managed to find the origin of the undead rising at last, standing like a blasphemous monument against the night sky.

Pulled from the depths of the shadowfell this grotesque tangle of iron and chimneys was made to siphon up wayward souls and smelt them down into a horrid new purpose. When transposed onto the material plane it has an even stranger effect, pulling errant spirits through the darkened places of the world and forcing them to manifest in the places of the living. Invariably these spirits take refuge in whatever vessels are at hand leading to a rash of possessions, hauntings, and spontaneous animations across the region.

After dealing with the symptoms and seeking out their source, the party is faced with the challenge of infiltrating the factory, shutting off whatever machinery has bent the mortal coil, and dealing with the foundry's soul devouring demon watchdog: Grodmaw

Challenges & Complications:

In order for the nightmare foundry to cross the planes it must first take root in an established forge or workshop, the seed of its malignant growth planted by some accidental tragedy or sinister ritual. This endless, burning, sorrow is then stoked to kindle the first of the foundry's engines, imparting each manifestation with a pervasive emotional palette and recurring iconography, which like any haunting may prove the key to banishing the manifestation for good. Consider for your own game what ghost or ghosts might burn at the heart of the founry's engine, which your party will have to unravel as they travel into its depths.

Any direct approach to the foundry is likely to be fought with peril as its great smokestakcs pollute the surrounding land with with varying degrees of smog, necrotic rain, and occasional bits of cursed industrial shrapnel launched like cinders from a volcano. This makes a ground-level approach preferable to any of the rifts or sluiceways it carves in the earth, which are filled with toxic runoff and fumes that can corrode the soul.

Many entities haunt the Foundry's cramped gangways and sprawling processing floors, from faceless undead drudges consigned to endless toil to nightmarish constructs burning souls to power their steam engines. Grodmaw eclipses all of these in threat, an unthinking beast with the temperance of a prison warden, blindly patrolling the structure's lower levels unless summoned by a triggered alarm.

Should such an alarm be triggered the party would do best to hide, though they may learn too late that the demon hunts not by sight but by sensing the presence of souls the way a reptile senses scents with its tongue. This ironically makes the best place to hide in the foundry's most haunted vaults, such where the raw materials of unprocessed souls are held in cages of haunted iron or the blasphemous blast furnaces.

Art 1

Art 2

#halloween #undead #shadowfell #shadowfell dungeon #fiend #necromancer #haunting #mid level

[twixnmix]

Andy Warhol's Polaroids of his boyfriend Jed Johnson in the 1970s

Jed Johnson (December 30, 1948 – July 17, 1996) was an American interior designer and film director. He arrived in New York City with his twin brother in 1967. One day he delivered a message to Andy Warhol's Factory and he was hired on the spot to help strip wood and sweep the floors. After Warhol was shot in 1968, Johnson subsequently moved in with him and became his lover for 12 years. Johnson edited several Warhol films and directed Warhol's last film Bad. Johnson decorated the townhouse he shared with Warhol and he later started his own successful interior decorating business. As a passenger aboard TWA Flight 800, he was killed when the plane exploded shortly after takeoff in 1996.

#jed johnson #andy warhol #warhol #1970s #lgbtq #polaroids #photography #warhol superstar #1970s fashion

[its-elioo]

A/n: Wanted to write a one-shot about one of Celine and Dogday's bonding moments.

Story occurs after he was saved and she put his body all back together.

Idk if Dogday is a little bit ooc here but I tried my best.

Probably missed some grammar mistakes.

Their relationship is completely platonic.

Slight mentions of trauma.

Hurt/comfort

Sun and cloud duo 🌤️

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While the girl placed several fluffy pillows and thick blankets on the floor, her most loyal and newest friend Dogday watched closely from behind in a kneeled position. In the meantime, Kissy Missy and Poppy scurried around the factory, searching for any additional soft materials to enhance their sleeping spot. As the human kept on making a giant comfortable bed, Dogday spoke out of the blue, “You know… I never really got your actual name, Angel.”

She smirked, “I thought the nickname you gave me was going to be my official one from now on.” Dogday glanced away in embarrassment and the female slightly patted his arm to reassure him, “Hey, it’s alright, I like it. It’s sweet.” she replied with a soft smile which caused the tall canine to turn his face towards her again, ears perking up by her gentle tone, “But to answer your question-“ she continued and kept on arranging the pillows, “It’s Ci, short for Celine.” he tilted his head at her in wonder as he listened, “I prefer the nickname more because it’s easier and sounds less formal but… It doesn’t matter to me what you decide to call me.”

The mascot dog stared at the ground for a minute, as if he was in deep thought, his tail wagged back and forth when he repeated her name in a whisper, “Celine…”

All of a sudden, he let out a low chuckle. The human rolled her eyes at him, “Oh, c’mon. It’s not that bad.”

“No, no…” the smiling critter replied, waving his paws, “It’s just- it makes so much sense now.”

Celine raised her eyebrow in confusion, “I don’t follow, big guy.”

“Heavenly.” he spoke, “That’s what it means…” the girl was looking at him in surprise due to the information she just received. She never realized the significance of her name until now. Dogday responded with a warmer voice, ”Guess you really are an Angel that has come from above to save us.”

She shook her head and her lips faintly curved up, “Nah, just a regular human. But thanks for the compliment.” when she made the final touches, she lifted herself and wiped her hands, “Alright, think it’s finally done. Care to try it out first?” she directed to the puddle of softness on the floor and the giant orange dog gladly accepted the offer. He made a big stretch and moved to it on all fours. As he observed it and walked in a circle, he finally settled down, “So? What do you think?” she asked out of curiosity.

“I must admit… it is very comfortable.” he replied softly and sighed, he definitely looked more relaxed, “Thank you, Angel. You didn’t have to.”

Celine shook her finger, “Ah, ah, ah. None of that.” she took one of the blankets, “You really thought I’m going to let you sleep on the cold ground? Not a chance.” afterwards, she put it on top of him and reached out a tentative hand to scratch him behind the ear, feeling the softness of his fur under her fingertips, “Take a rest, D.D. You need it.”

After being treated so cruelly by the feline he once called his best friend, he never expected someone to show him such kindness and compassion. He melted into her touch, feeling comforted and safe for the first time in a long while.

To Dogday’s surprise, his savior got up and headed towards the doorway, the canine immediately lifted his head and ears, “Wh-Where are you going?” he questioned apprehensively, near to the point of letting out his pleading whine for her to stay.

“I will keep on watch for Catnap.” she said and put her hand on the handle, but before she could open it-

“The whole time…?” he asked with a mix of confusion and desperation, grabbing her attention again. A wave of panic and loneliness washed over him. He wanted to run after her, to beg her not to leave him alone, a huge sense of abandonment weighed heavily on his heart, mind racing with doubts and fears. What if she didn't come back? What if something happened to her out there?

She shifted her gaze towards him, “Well, one of us has to stay alerted.” the poor dog stared at her with a pair of sorrowful pitch-black eyes, tail thumping against the tile floor, eagerly yearning for her attention with its mournful expression.

The smiling critter thought for a moment until an idea popped into his mind, “I-I can listen for him while we are both asleep.” he suggested timidly, hoping his offer would be considered.

Celine crossed her hands with a hint of skepticism evident on her face, “You can do that?”

“It’s a small ability we dogs have.” Dogday admitted sheepishly, “Don’t worry, I will wake you up the second I hear someone approaching. Besides, you need rest as much as I do.” his human companion hummed back and wondered about his proposal.

Muttering under her breath, she rubbed the back of her neck and glanced away, “It has been some time since I took a proper break…” a desire for relaxation and peace seemed to envelop her, the weight of exhaustion settling on her shoulders. After a few seconds, she sighed in defeat, “Okay then, I’m counting on you.” the canine’s tail began to sway in joyful anticipation, scooting away to give some space as she made her way over. Dogday laid his head on his big paws while watching with a tender gaze how she was getting comfortable closely beside him. Celine rested her head on one of the plush cushions and let out a weary exhale, “Can’t believe I fell for the puppy eyes again…” she playfully remarked and rubbed her temple, the large pooch chuckled slightly at her comment, “You wanted a cuddle buddy, didn’t you?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe…” he murmured in embarrassment.

She laughed and gently caressed his paw, “Just don’t let me sleep for too long, okay?”

“Of course.” he responded with a gentle nod, his action a silent vow, “You have my word.” once affirming with sincerity, she nestled her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, embracing the familiar warmth and sweet vanilla scent emanating from the mascot's body.

As Dogday stared at her for a minute, protective instincts stirred deep within him. Very slowly and cautiously, he lifted one of his paws and wrapped it around her in a shielding gesture, “Sweet dreams, little Angel.” whether it was his imagination or not, he was the only one who could see the shimmering halo hovering above her head and the feathery white wings resting on her back.

A profound bond existed between them – he, her devoted guard dog, and she, his cherished angel, forever intertwined in a unique and heartfelt connection.

»»------------- ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ -------------««

#dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime oc #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #oc #original character #oneshot #alternate universe #au #poppy playtime au

[factorialsotherfandoms]

"Where's papa Missa?" is the first thing that Chayanne asks in the morning.

"Oh, he's just helping your godfather with something - we'll go meet up with them after breakfast," Philza brushes aside in concern, already knowing exactly what is going on.

Chayanne and Tallulah both give him wary looks, but his kids are good kids; they eat their breakfast, and start getting dressed.

"Wear something you don't mind getting dirty," Philza tells them. Which is true of every day, and so the reminder really does set them both on edge.

"Is something happening?" Tallulah asks.

"Well, it is Easter," Philza answers her. "Some people go to Church and stuff, but otherwise we just use it as an excuse to eat lots of chocolate. Just like Santa brings presents at Christmas, the Easter Bunny brings good kids chocolate eggs. Or decorative ones. Missa mentioned something about confetti but I'll be honest, I was half asleep so none of it went in."

That has their attention; both kids start glancing over the house, looking for a stockpile of treats. Philza can only laugh, and promise they'll find the eggs later.

Find being an operative word.

He had been meaning to hide them about the house, it's true, but then Bad had suggested maybe something for all of the eggs, and Tubbo had taken it upon himself to offer to host. Philza was a little worried about letting all of the kids run around the factories, but Tubbo had promised back and forth everything would be turned off - and he knows his friend would never do anything which could harm the kids.

Tallulah, having learnt there is a special event going on, insists on a different hat, and Philza helps her tuck flowers into her curls. Chayanne wants to immediately run off, hovering next to the door as he waits for his sister, and only begrudgingly accepting a tiny flower crown for his ducky.

Philza snaps a photo of Tallulah placing it there, and double checks he has a couple of fresh albums.

The teleport over to Fobo is fast, and involves being hit with a wall of sound. Before the purple has even faded Philza can hear Pac yelling for Richarlyson to get down from... somewhere? while Mike dies laughing on the floor. Not all of the eggs and parents are here, yet, but the earlier types are - Fit and Ramón, Pac and Mike with Richas, Bagi with Empanada... And, of course, Tubbo with Sunny. Leo also seems up already, probably under Tubbo's supervision, while Roier is sat on a picnic rug with Missa, the pair of them both half asleep while Pepito crawls through a nearby bush. Aypierre is examining one of the machines, so surely Pomme is about.

Now that he thinks about it, while a fair few parents aren't up so early, the only kid who seems to still be missing are Dapper and Chunsik. A quick glance at his comms shows that Bad, Acau, and YD are all awake, so it's not likely long.

"Hey guys!" Philza calls, drawing attention to their group. "We made it!"

"Great!" Tubbo grabs a pair of baskets - one wrapped with purple ribbon, one orange - and brings them over. "Here are your baskets! There's ten gifts specifically for each of you - they'll have a ribbon that matches your basket on them - hidden around the courtyard. Once everyone's here, we're gonna let you guys into town, where there's a whole bunch of eggs that don't belong to anyone, just waiting to be picked up. For now you can look for your own, just stay nearby, ok?"

And they /are/ good kids, but they are also excitable, and so the pair of them are three eggs apiece before remembering to come and hug Missa good morning.

Philza, having by then greeted everyone already there and found a bit of roof to perch on, captures the laughing and the smiling in his camera.

Once the kids have returned to their hunt, he drops a copy of the best down on Missa. It earns him his husband looking up, with a grin and a wave. Philza grins and waves back, snapping a quick photograph of Sunny directing Pepito towards one of Pepito's eggs as he swings down to the rug.

He is immediately met with a plate of gorditas. Phil takes one, squeezes Missa's hand in greeting, and joins the slowly growing collection of parents on the rug; Bagi and Mike have also joined, leaving Pac to wrangle children with Tubbo.

"Early morning?" Philza knows Missa was up at the crack of dawn, unusual for him, but it's still a nice thing to ask.

"Sí," Missa only nearly drops his plate as he yawns. "Eggs needed painting."

"I really thought you'd come home after delivering the eggs."

Missa waves his hand, "Tubbo had too many to hide. We stayed to help."

Between the chocolate eggs, the painted eggs, the little plastic eggs of jellybeans, and the cascarones, Philza just knew there were going to be more than the hundred and ten eggs they'd agreed upon. Ten for each kid had been plenty, but with a general hunt as well...

Philza watches the kids scrabble around, looking for everything.

"Did he work out how to balance it so none of the eggs get left out, or is that why some eggs are marked as for them?"

"No more than ten extra eggs, and there are some extra special prize eggs hidden about. The older kids can hunt the prize eggs, and the younger ones just want the shiny ones."

There's a bit of doubt as to if if that will actually hold, but it's as good a plan as any. Kids thrive on a bit of contest, right? It'll be fine. If nothing else Chayanne will wrangle the older kids into sharing stuff out a bit more evenly, if only for Chunsik and Pepito's sakes.

Just as he's thinking that, he spots Sunny and Ramón sneaking up on Fit. He gets his camera just in time to catch the moment they break a cascarón over his bald head, showering him in confetti, a matter which only ends with them being chased across the courtyard, shrieking in delight as Fit leaves a trail of glittery confetti behind him.

It is about then that the rest of the kids arrive, their parents trailing behind. Bad is immediately met by attacks by Pomme and Richas - Philza has no fucking clue where the water balloons full of glitter came from - while Tubbo tries to round everyone up.

Philza takes more photos, but otherwise leaves them to it; conversation is largely about the amazing picnic spread, one he can keep up to in his sleep.

Even if the occasional joke does draw his attention for confused laughter and a double take.

Tubbo gesticulates dramatically as he speaks, excitement already high for the present children, but being driven further as they are congratulated on progress so far, and hyped up for the hunt to come.

It's nice, seeing everyone and the island at a bit of peace for once. The town is safe enough - as soon as it was announced as hosting the event, Philza and Bad both spent hours checking all of the lighting, and adding clear fences. It's a daytime event, but you can never be too careful with these things. Tubbo can be trusted with the kids and machines, but just to make sure Mike and Aypierre have both looked over it, while Pac and Fit helped Foolish make sure any roofs that could be accessed were not ones you could fall off without putting effort in to doing so.

Philza's pretty sure someone - probably Richarlyson - will still find a way, but it's not like there's a big area to cover, and there are plenty of both adults and other eggs about if anything does happen.

He might go perch and take some more photos.

In a little while, though; Missa hands Philza a cup of something, with a whispered 'they'll be fine'.

Philza accepts the cup, pours one for his husband, and gets out his album to show him the ones already taken.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp death family #qsmp eggs #fluff #qsmp ensemble #it's not everyone but it's a lot of people #happy easter y'all

[mikkomacko]

a request for mob boss Nico, is there ever a time where the boys call y/n for help because they trusted her and didn’t want to upset Nico?

Oh definitely it happens all the time. They use her to soften up blows to Nico when they mess up or help clean them up if things get out of hand.

The first time they realized they could call her though was when her baby Holtzy needed help

——————————————————————

Alex Holtz joined the Devs after he got into legal trouble back home and reached out to Jesper for help. He had been disowned by his family and was living on the streets, and he made a mistake that was gonna haunt him forever now that he was aging out of being a juvenile. So Nico and Jesper brought him in, sent out the private jet and moved him to Jersey where he moved into a loft with the Hughes boys.

Bad idea off the bat but they’re all young and Nico thought they’d click (They do, a little too well).

Late on a Friday, you and Nico were sprawled out on the living room floor with piles of Lego pieces between you. You were racing to see who could build their set the fastest, not that it mattered because there was no real prize, but you two loved the competition.

Nico was finishing up one of the succulents on his set when a ringing phone interrupted the romcom you’d put on the background. Assuming it was work phone based on the hour, you went about your business until Nico fumbled with his silent phone and looked at you in confusion.

“S’yours baby.” He catches your attention, and you look over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough it’s vibrating across the glass, the screen lit up with Alex’s name.

Quickly, you grab the phone and slide to answer.

“Hi Holtzy, you ok?”

Immediately you know something is wrong. You can hear it in his breath, how it shakes and quivers. And you can hear the frantic voices in the background, whatever boys he went out with tonight obviously panicking.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s the matter?”

By now Nico is on his knees, watching you with concern. You can tell he’s ready to jump up and run, to fix whatever is going on. But Alex didn’t call him, he called you.

“I-something happened,” his voice is small and weak through the speaker and it makes your chest ache. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

He’s cut off by a sob, one so shattering you can feel it in your own chest. “Ok, it’s ok. You wanna tell me where you are? I’m gonna come get you, ok?”

“Nico will be mad, he won’t want you here. I shouldn’t have-“

“Alex, he doesn’t care. We care about you, kid. Tell me where you are and I’m gonna fix it, ok?”

And Alex has always been good at responding to authoritative tones, better than any of the other boys that are his age. But he’s let down a lot of grown up’s in his life and you know how scared he is to do that to you and Nico.

He mumbles out an address not too far from the loft, telling you he’s in the lot out back with Jack and Luke.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

Alex sniffles, chokes back another cry. “No, no drive safely. I can be ok.”

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move and don’t touch anything ok? Unless someone’s gonna hurt you, you stay put.”

Mumbling his agreement, you tell him you’ll see him soon and hang up. Nico, having picked up on the conversation, has already collected the keys to the Range Rover and his gun, his feet tucked into his shoes.

“Where are we going?” He asks you and you pull on a jacket and shoes. Taking the pocketknife he holds out to you, you tuck into your pants.

“I’ll give directions.”

~~~~

Whatever Alex and the Hughes boys had been doing, they ended up outside an abandoned factory in a lot that is closed off.

Not that it stopped them seeing as the gate has been pried open and Nico is able to drive into the gravel covered lot.

You can see the Hughes boys kneeling over something on the sidewalk, barely illuminated by the street light. Alex is sitting a few feet away, curled into himself against the brick wall of the building. Before Nico can even stop the car, you’re jumping out.

Whatever scold Nico shouts after you is lost.

Jack and Luke look up at you helplessly when you jog up to them, panic stricken in the poor light. It only takes you a second to see why.

There’s a man under them, one that’s strangling out breathes and covered in blood. He doesn’t appear to be awake, but you realize the two brothers are both pressing their hands into the wound on his abdomen.

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, crouching down to feel for the man’s pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there so you rise again, wipe the blood on your finger onto your pants.

“Keep holding, I’ll be right back.”

Jack and Luke call after you but you don’t hear them. You’re too busy approaching Alex, sinking down to your knees in front of him. He doesn’t lift his head out of his hands until you gently touch his knees.

The sight of him almost has you in tears. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks splotchy from crying and he’s matted his hair with the blood that was on his hands.

Somehow, he looks even younger than he actually is.

“Alex, are you ok? Are you bleeding?”

He shakes his head, a fresh set of tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were joking around and then he was talking shit and shoving Luke and I-“

“You did what you had to,” you assure him, reaching for his hands. “You were protecting family, Alex and that’s what we do.”

You stroke over his knuckles, nod along as he tells you about how he just went blank, he was so angry he couldn’t even see anything and then the man was bleeding and they didn’t know what to do.

So Jack dragged him into the empty lot and told him to call Nico. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t let Nico know that he messed up so badly already.

You wait for him to finish talking, push his hair off his forehead. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” you assure him. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. You were smart and you were quick, and you protected Luke.”

“Nico told us to protect you,” he mumbles sadly “I shouldn’t have brought you into this but he’s so scary sometimes. What if he sends me back?”

You squeeze his fingers, make him look at you. “Holtzy, you’re a Dev.” You say firmly, “Nico knows what that means, we all know what that means. You’re here, you’re with us no matter what. And if you think me being here is putting me in danger, you’re wrong. It’s my job to protect all of you.”

Finally he relaxes, shaking as you rise and help him to his feet. You cup his face, wipe away the tear tracks on his face before pulling him down into a hug. He squeezes you back, grateful.

“Go to the car, there’s clothes in the back.” You instruct, nudging him towards the parked vehicle. “Ignore Nico, he’s just a driver tonight, ok?”

You can see the reluctance in his eyes but he nods anyway and drags his feet to the car. Taking a deep breath, you join Jack and Luke again, and Nico who’s now crouched down with them.

“He ok?” Nico asks you, glancing towards Alex. You nod, rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie. Accepting the answer, Nico hands you the med kit he’d brought out from the car.

“Didn’t know the plan,” he tells you “you gonna fix him or are we leaving?”

Jack and Luke look between the two of you, and then at each other. They’re obviously thrown by Nico’s behavior, and it’s then that you realize this is the first time one of them has called you in crisis.

“Fix him,” you decide, flipping open the large box and digging out everything you’ll need to clean him up and stitch him. “And when he wakes up, you’ll make sure he forgets everything.”

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised and impressed with your answer. “Yeah?”

You nod, pulling on some gloves. “But make sure he knows that if he ever touches Luke or even thinks about Alex, I’ll personally be undoing all the hard work I did on him tonight.”

You don’t miss the smile that rises on your boyfriend’s face, how his eyes crinkle and dimples sink into his cheeks. “Sure thing, boss.” He agrees, moving around you so he can pull your hair back for you and tie it up.

Pressing a kiss to your head, he rises to his feet and moves towards Alex and the car.

“Nico,” you stop him, and he turns to look at you. “He’s shaken and he’s sorry. Be a friend.”

Biting back another grin, he nods. “And clear out the backseat, these three are coming back with us.”

He nods and turns on his heel, doing as told. Certain that he’ll listen to you, you get to work on fixing up the man below you. And you swell with pride when Jack and Luke follow your lead like obedient soldiers.

#him and i #him and i asks #mob boss nico hischier #nico hischier #requested

[cityof2morrow]

EP11KB: Industrial Storage Units (3t2)

Published: 2-7-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY “In need of a funkier, more futuristic skyline? The EP11 Kitbash Series (Simmons, 2022-2023) makes neighborhood assets from Sims 3: Into the Future (EA/Maxis, 2013) (and other EPs) available for Sims 2. Sets include single-tile shells and other items you’ll be able to plop on lots. Then, build above, below, in, and around them to create useable structures. Shell challenge anyone?” Here is a set of industrial storage containers from Oasis Landing (Sims 3: Into the Future, EA/Maxis, 2013) as decorative lot objects. They work well on industrial and/or factory lots and will go down with walls. The Storage Cylinder has space for up to four 1-tile doors and/or full-height windows. Otherwise, cover the openings!

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. Cost: §1100 | Build > Architecture Storage Sphere 001 and the “-RECOLOR” files are BOTH REQUIRED for recolors to work – this set includes 30 color options. You also need the BB_Niche1_Master (BuggyBooz, 2012) and Element TXTR Repository from the Repository Pack (Simmons, 2023). ITEMS Storage Cylinder (~23x23 Tiles) (3248 poly) 5-Story Storage Spheres 001 and 002 (3004 poly) - click on the BASE of Storage Sphere 1 to recolor it. Storage Filler Material (638 poly) – make sure it is facing in the same direction as Sphere 001 and placed on the same tile. **Poly counts are semi-high due to meshing issues but limiting placement to 1-2 per lot should minimize the risk of pink flashing. Mind your system settings! DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA BUILDING TIPS (suggested methods) Build an octagon (20 tiles across, 19 tiles front-to-back) with sides of alternating lengths of 6 and 7 tiles respectively. Going clockwise, the front side should be 7 tiles across, the next should be 6 tiles across…and so on.

Once you’ve got 8 sides, add doors and/or windows to the center tile on the sides which are 7 tiles across. Use these entrances to get sims in and out of the building. Finally, place the Industrial Storage Cylinder on the tile directly in front of the front door/window. Add other details as needed.

For the Industrial Storage Spheres, you can build a functional catwalk between them. Place at least two, making sure the sides with the opening in the top gate and floor supports are facing one another.

Using columns, walls, etc., build up to the sixth floor, then add floor tiles and fencing.

CREDITS Thanks: Simblr community. Repository Technique Tutorial (HugeLunatic, 2018), Sims 3 Object Cloner (Jones/Simlogical and Peter, 2013), Sims 3 Package Editor (Jones/Simlogical and Peter, 2014), S3PI Library (Peter), S3PE Plugin (Peter, 2020), TSR Workshop v2.2.119 (2023). Sources: BB_Niche1_Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Oasis Landing (The Sims 3: Into the Future) List of Community Lots (Summer’s Little Sims 3 Garden, 2014), Recolors-ACYL (CuriousB, 2010).

#ts2downloads #ts2cc #sims2cc #co2repo #sims3t2