#THIS IS WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE UNDER HIS MASK THING ^_^

[yeyinde]

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival. 

At first.  

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached. 

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter. 

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling. 

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising. 

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.  

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever. 

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have. 

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along. 

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars. 

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid? 

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella. 

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness. 

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest. 

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.  

Protection, he calls it. 

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.") 

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is. 

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him. 

Vile man. Awful. 

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore. 

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second. 

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed. 

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat. 

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl. 

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape. 

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums. 

“Need somethin', pet?” 

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up. 

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning. 

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste. 

It's gross. Disgusting. 

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony. 

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary. 

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems. 

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue. 

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains. 

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable. 

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it. 

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him. 

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins. 

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says. 

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems. 

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing. 

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.  

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee. 

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting. 

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him. 

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting. 

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand. 

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much. 

you don't want him to stop. 

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm. 

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand. 

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains. 

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.” 

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave. 

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.” 

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?” 

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves. 

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.” 

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes. 

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart. 

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—” 

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it. 

He hides his need under a layer of derision. 

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?” 

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand. 

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin. 

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self. 

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside. 

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin. 

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full. 

Mangled. 

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot. 

He's—

Pretty. 

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him. 

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally. 

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you? 

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine. 

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him. 

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive. 

It coils around you. Thick, smothering. 

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour. 

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric. 

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide. 

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort. 

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out. 

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast. 

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette. 

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore. 

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor. 

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.” 

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest. 

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china. 

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing. 

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad. 

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss. 

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his. 

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep. 

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in. 

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan. 

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao #hope you enjoyedddddddddddd #i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you

[flickering-chandelier]

To Love a Beast

Pairing: Mob Boss Azriel x Secretary Reader

Summary: Azriel comes back bloody from a job, and Reader is there to help stitch him up, even though he snapped at her and hurt her feelings earlier. Her gentle touch makes Azriel see her in a new light, until he can’t think of anything else. 

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, blood, brief allusions to violence (guns & knives briefly mentioned), swearing, Azriel being an asshole 

Word Count: 3k

Azriel picked up his pistol and tucked it into his jacket, the last of a fully loaded arsenal hidden beneath his clothing. He could feel your eyes on him from your desk, the light illuminating the book on your lap, your pink dress nearly glowing in the dim light.

“Wait,” you said as he was about to leave. He turned back, surprised, as you stepped right up to him and straightened his jacket, your touch lingering just a little too long, your big doe eyes looking up at him from under your lashes. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”

He scoffed. “I can handle it,” he said gruffly. 

You put your hands on your hips, glaring up at him and Azriel almost laughed. “I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re walking into. It could be an ambush.”

Azriel leaned down menacingly, looking right into your eyes, the exact way he looked at the people he was about to kill. “Sweetheart, why don’t you stick to your job, and I’ll stick to mine, alright?”

Reeling back slightly like you had been physically attacked, you narrowed your eyes at him, clearly furious. “There’s no need to be a condescending jackass. Don’t you think I’ve been around this business long enough to know a thing or two?”

The short leash on Azriel’s temper was starting to slacken. “You’re the goddamn secretary. You don’t tell me what to do,” he barked.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” you said, a fire lighting in your eyes that he had never before seen. “I’m suggesting that if you don’t want to die, you should bring backup-”

“Enough,” he roared. 

You recoiled, shrinking back behind your desk. Tears brimmed your eyes as you said quietly, your voice cracking, “I was just trying to help. Believe it or not, some of us actually care if you come back alive or not.” And without another word, you walked past him, out the door. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand down his face, surprised by the slight twinge of guilt in his chest at your reaction. Great. Now he would have to deal with that in the morning.

Cursing, Azriel limped inside the dark office, holding the gash in his side with bloody knuckles. You had been right. The target knew he was coming, and had a whole gang of minions ready to attack Azriel. If he hadn’t been so damn good at his job, he’d be dead for sure.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when you peaked your head out from under the desk. 

“What the fuck. Why are you hiding under there?” he yelled.

“I forgot my book,” you said, your voice clearly edged with worry as your eyes trailed over him. “Looks like you ran into more than you bargained for.”

“What, you want me to tell you that you were right, and I was wrong?” he seethed through clenched teeth.

“It would be nice,” you mused, back to your normal self after he had snapped at you. He was thankful for that, at least. “Sit,” you said, nodding to the armchair. 

“Stop telling me what to do,” he snapped again, unable to reign in his temper.

You looked hurt for a moment before you masked it. “Fine. Bleed out, then.” 

As you turned toward the door, Azriel cursed under his breath and slumped into the chair. “Wait. Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

You paused, turning back to face him, your eyes narrowed as you studied him. “Thank you,” you said quietly, before pulling out the heavy duty first aid kit from the bottom drawer of your desk and turning the overhead lights on, illuminating the space, and the blood on him. 

Pulling up a chair next to him, you surveyed the injuries you could see. “What’s the worst of it?” you asked. 

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his side, where he had been slashed with one of the cronies’ knives. 

“Shit,” you said quietly, standing up to gingerly help him out of his suit jacket. Then you stood in front of him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. He watched your fingers work in steady, sure movements. 

He noticed you swallow hard as your gaze raked down his exposed chest and a smug satisfaction coursed through him. In all the years that you had been working for his family, you had never been the one to help patch him up after a job. 

Gingerly, you started cleaning the gash with a damp towel, wiping the blood away so you could clearly see how deep the cut went. Azriel reigned in a hiss at the contact, clenching his fists, determined not to make a sound. “Doesn’t look too bad,” you said finally. “I think I should be able to patch it without any stitches.”

Azriel was thankful for that, thankful for how gentle your touch was, how soft your fingertips were as they moved with purpose across his skin. He was mesmerized, watching you work, your lips pursed, your brow furrowed in concentration. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to still be here after you walked out,” he said gruffly, needing to distract himself from your fingers before his mind wandered too far.

“I wouldn’t have walked out if you hadn’t scolded me like I’m a child,” you said with a certain bite to your voice he was not accustomed to, as you delicately taped gauze to his skin, sealing in the wound. 

“I wouldn’t have scolded you if you wouldn’t have acted like a little know it all,” he countered. 

You looked up at him then, that fire in your eyes burning brighter than he had ever seen it. It knocked the breath right out of his lungs. “I was right though, wasn’t I?” You said quietly, boldly raising your eyebrow in question. 

Heat ran right through him at that look in your eye, at the boldness that it took to speak to him that way. He found himself wondering how he had never noticed it before, how brave, how valuable you were. 

How beautiful you were, he thought, as his eyes trailed down from your big beautiful eyes, down your neck, your hair spilling down your shoulders, down to the tiny bit of cleavage poking out from your dress, your hips that the dress hugged just right, your long legs that were somehow folded in a ladylike position despite the task at hand. 

He cleared his throat suddenly. “Can you clean up the gash on my forehead? I don’t like getting blood in my eyes.”

You smiled at him, knowing that he was unwilling to acknowledge that you had won. It made him even more attracted to you. 

Azriel took a steadying breath as you left him alone for a moment to get another wet towel. When you came back you dabbed at the cut above his left eye, more gently than he would have thought possible. He watched your eyes, your lips, your throat as you worked. 

“I am glad you’re okay, you know,” you said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and caught your wrist in his hand, stilling your movements, forcing your gaze to meet his. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” he said as gently as he had ever said anything. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You swallowed, and Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement. “I didn’t think you cared,” you said quietly. 

He winced slightly. “To be honest with you, I didn’t think I did either… but, I do.”

Your eyes dipped to his lips for the slightest moment before you cleared your throat and pulled away slightly. Azriel let his hand drop from yours as you continued to clean the cut on his forehead. 

As he watched you, his gaze snagging on your lips, his mind wandered to all those years that you had been there, sitting at that desk, a steady presence, always there for whatever needed to be done. He had never noticed before how integral you were in his life, and he felt like the most foolish kind of asshole for never noticing how perfect you were. 

For years, he barely paid attention to you, and now he really felt like if he couldn’t kiss you, he might die. 

The two of you remained silent as you placed gauze on the cut, then surveyed him again, gingerly pulling his hand into your lap and cleaning his bloody knuckles. Your skin, the fabric of your dress, was so soft against his callused, scarred hand, and his fingers flexed where they rested in your lap. He marveled at how you took such care to be gentle, even after everything he had said and done that night. 

“There,” you said quietly, after his hands were clean, your eyes meeting his for the first time in several minutes. “All better.”

“Almost,” he smirked. “Still hurts like hell.”

“What, you want me to kiss it better?” You said sarcastically, smiling. 

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “I think that might help.”

You stilled, holding his gaze, and Azriel swore he could see the battle in your mind, whether to walk away or take him up on it just to be a smartass. He desperately hoped you would pick the latter. 

When he saw your eyes spark with challenge, he knew what you would do. 

Agonizingly slowly, you brought his hand up to your lips, not breaking eye contact with him. You pressed a feather light kiss across his knuckles, and the touch went all the way through him, tingling into his toes. 

“Where else does it hurt?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He swallowed, then lightly ran his index finger along the cut on his forehead. 

You stood, your eyes locked on his as you slowly, gently placed your hands on both of his cheeks, tilting his face up before brushing a kiss to his forehead, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment as your lips graced his skin. 

It took everything in him to keep his hands at his sides, to not grab your hips and pull you down on top of him. 

Pulling back to look at him again, you raised your eyebrow. A silent question. A new dance you were both learning the steps to in tandem.

He didn’t think he was breathing as he took your hand in his and guided it to the bandage on his abdomen. 

Your eyes sparked again as you sank to your knees in front of him. He felt his need for you growing at the sight, at the thought of what else you could be doing on your knees like that. 

You looked up at him from under your lashes, as you leaned forward, kissing a line across the bandage and over his skin. 

He caught your chin as you moved to pull away, guiding you back to him. You smiled faintly before dropping your eyes to his chest, peppering light kisses across his abs. 

After you pulled away, you stayed on your knees, looking up at him expectantly. 

Azriel frankly thought that he had been showing remarkable restraint up until this point, and he didn’t think he could handle it anymore. Your name came out as a growl as he took your face in his hands and pulled you up, settling you on his lap, straddling him, before he brought your mouth to his. 

Immediately you melted into him, pressing your body fully against his. One of Azriel’s hands slid down to your waist, the other coming behind your neck, lightly stroking his thumb down, making you shiver. 

You wound your hands into his hair, groaning into his mouth, and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up into yours, his hand trailing down to grip your ass lightly through your dress for a moment, before moving back down to your thigh, sneaking up underneath your dress, his thumb tracing the edge of your panties. 

“Azriel,” you moaned, throwing your head back, and he immediately moved his lips to your neck, kissing gently before nipping with his teeth. You gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and he groaned into your skin. 

Gently, he wrapped a hand around your throat, capturing your lips with his, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he continued tracing the outline of your underwear.

You began to rock your hips against him, and he couldn't take it anymore, had never wanted anybody so badly in his life. 

He tugged your panties to the side, running his thumb along your entrance. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You're so wet for me, sweetheart.”

Whimpering, your head slumped forward, resting on his shoulder as he slowly slid a finger into you. You dug your fingers into his biceps, moving against his hand.

“You want more, baby?” He murmured, his mouth at your ear. 

You nodded into his shoulder.

“I'm going to need you to say it,” he teased, grazing his teeth down your neck.

Groaning, your face still buried in his neck, you said quietly into his skin, “I want more.”

“That's my girl,” he said, smacking your ass as he slid another finger inside you, quickly pumping in and out.

You practically screamed when he curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. You finally held your head up, grabbing his wrist, looking at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “If you don't stop, I'm gonna--”

Azriel smirked, not slowing his rhythm. “Come? You're gonna come for me?”

Biting your lip, you didn't respond.

“It's okay baby, you can come. That's what you want, isn't it?” He said sweetly.

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. 

He took your throat in his hand again, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when I make you come,” he growled.

And that was enough to send you over the edge. You did as you were told, looking right into his eyes as you screamed. He helped you through it, not stopping his movements until you were slumped against him.

He gently ran his hands through your hair, soothingly down your back as you caught your breath.

When you looked back up at him expectantly, his heart swelled. “You ready to call it a night?” He asked.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he smirked, standing up and taking you with him, his arms wrapped around your waist, carrying you like it was nothing. You shrieked as he picked you up and giggled when he strode across the room and set you on the desk. 

You parted your legs and he stepped in between them, sliding your sleeves down your shoulders, pushing your dress all the way down to your waist. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed down your neck, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the floor. 

Clinging to his bare shoulders, you were gasping as he took your breasts in his hands, circling your nipple with his thumb.

Suddenly, he pulled you off the desk so you were standing, and pushed your dress down, making it fall to the floor, before ripping your panties in half, and dropping to his knees in front of you. 

“Azriel,” you gasped.

“Sorry,” he said, smirking up at you, his mouth barely an inch from where he needed it to be. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

And then he was tasting you, tasting the proof of how badly you wanted him and you were moaning, leaning against the desk to keep yourself upright, your hands weaving into his hair again, pushing him deeper into you. He groaned, wrapping his hands around the backs of your knees, grounding himself. 

He chuckled against you when you started squirming, your legs shaking, little whines coming out from the back of your throat.

When the strain of his length against his pants became unbearable, he stood up abruptly and you looked up at him with wide eyes before he kissed you roughly, lifting you to sit on the desk again.

He reveled in the pure lust that clouded your eyes as he undid his belt and dropped his pants to the ground in one swift movement. 

You were immediately reaching for him, pulling his chest to yours, and he watched your eyes widen, your mouth fall open, as he slid inside you in one powerful thrust.

He thought he should probably wait, to give you just a moment to adjust to him, but then you gasped, your mouth against his ear, “More.”

A growl escaped from his throat and without another moment of hesitation, he was pounding into you, your moans and gasps ricocheting off the walls, spurring him on further.

“I thought I told you to stop telling me what to do,” he smirked.

“I'll stop telling you what to do when I stop being right,” you smiled.

Azriel burst out laughing, right there in the middle of the office, buried deep inside you. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed at all.

He marveled at you, this beautiful, brilliant, funny woman, and suddenly could hardly remember a time when he wasn't head over heels for you.

Leaning his forehead against yours for a moment, kissing your lips, he said, “You're incredible, you know that?”

You cupped his cheek with a hand, smiling. “It's about time you figured it out, boss.”

He groaned, leaning back and wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling down gently to expose your neck, to watch your every reaction as he thrusted into you again and again.

It wasn't long until he was close, and he could tell from your panting, your shaking legs, that you were close too.

“Are you going to come for me again?” He murmured, still holding your hair. You nodded, and he pressed on, speeding up his pace. “Yeah? You're gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

You moaned and he smirked, his hips moving in increasingly jerky movements until you tightened around him, crying out, clinging to him.

He came right after, burying his face in your neck and riding out the high with you.

Azriel cupped your face in his hands and kissed you softly. You smiled at him as he pulled on his boxers, then he helped you get dressed, smirking as you picked up the ruined underwear.

“You just had to rip them off, didn't you?” You teased, tossing them at him. 

He shrugged, straightening one of your sleeves. “Maybe you should learn your lesson and not wear any next time.” 

“To work?” 

“My place,” he smirked, taking your hand and pulling your body into his before he kissed you again. “I'll make dinner, tell you how smart and beautiful you are, and then rip your clothes off.”

You smiled, glancing down at your hand interlocked with his before meeting his eyes again. “Sounds like a plan.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel #azriel smut #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #hurt/comfort #azriel hurt/comfort #azriel modern au #request

[soapybutt17]

The Doctor Is In

Summary: Simon was not one to look to get himself involved with women that was also part of his line of work. May it be women also in the field or anyone working in the background. But somehow, even he would eat his words at times as he was now dealing with the fact that he is far too enormed with the infamous doctor in scrubs that liked her coffee with tons of sugar and a dash of cream who also happens to be the little sister of his ever gruff of a Captain, John Price. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Price!Female!Reader Word Count: 3,958 Chapter Warnings: General Chaos. Sibling Bantering. Unedited. Lol. Author's Note: for @glitterypirateduck;s #Ghost Challenge Scenarios:

Soft Simon

A Kiss on the inside of the wrist

"They are right behind me, aren't they?"

You're Price's sister

Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

“You good?”

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley was a big tough man, but in your care, with your touch he was the biggest baby. If he knew you would be the one attending to any injuries he might accumulate during missions, he would showcase each and every single wound or bruise he might have in his entire body, some imaginary ones to just to prolong his time with you. You knew as much and you enjoyed the fraction of time you get to spend time with him because of it.

“Just one thing left.” Simon finds himself answering, eyes peering along the now empty medical room. When the coast was clear, he had lifted his mask halfway off to showcase his lips. “You missed a spot, Love.” He smirked, full of himself at this point.

“You’re impossible, Riley.” You rolled your eyes making your way to the door and locking it just for safe measures before making your way towards him.

Arms rested on his shoulder before you pull him in for a kiss. Simon has had his fair share of kisses in his life, some memorable and some that he wished never to remember, but nothing could truly compare to your kiss, your lips were soft and tasted so much of the coffee that he was certain filled your veins. Overly sweet with a hint of cream—just like what you always want in your coffee. It was you and he would not have it any other way.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Smirking into your lips as you left out a surprised yelp for him as he continued to consume you with his lips. He took everything from you in that moment, your voice, your breath, and your bloody sanity as you moaned further into his kiss.

The sound of the knock on the door and the voice of his Captain had you pulling away and fixing yourself up from his lap. You glared at Simon then even with shit eating grin on his lips as he finally pulled his mask back on as you opened the door to the sight of his Captain—and your older brother.

“What is it now, John?” You questioned your brother and to this day it still amazed him how easy you could return back to this little character of professionalism to anyone that might come your way—even after the make out session that just occurred between the two of you.

“Wanted to check if Ghost would be indispensable for the time being?” Price inquired turning his attention away from you and right back to Simon that was still seated on the chair, didn’t even bother with the pleasantries.

“All cleared, just double checking for any hidden wounds he might have under his sleeves.” You answered turning your attention towards Simon too. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Doc.” He nodded. A good thing he has his mask on with the smirk resting on his face.

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” You spoke turning towards your own brother now. “Both of you.”

That was Simon’s cue to stand in his full height, he looked right down at you. A knowing was shared between the two of you before he followed his Captain out of the room.

“Bloody woman thinks she could boss the both of us around.” Price muttered under his breath as the both of them walked away from the medical area of the base.

“She does, you know.” Simon supplied.

“Whose fucking side are you on, Lieutenant?”

“Happy Doctor, happy soldier.” Simon shrugged knowing how true that statement truly was.

~                                                   

You tried your best to comb your hair after the mess that one Simon Riley had caused your current state and your entire life to be more specific. You were uncertain how and when this relationship with the Lieutenant had started but you had decided since then that it wasn’t something you’d want to deal with knowing anymore.

You were happy with this relationship with the man and that was more than enough and what was important.

“Will you be bringin’ that boyfriend of yours home for Mum’s birthday?”

You practically jumped at the voice of your brother. You turned, glaring at the man and slapping him on the arm for surprising you. This was what you hated about him, even with how different your lives has turned out him being a man that took lives if the circumstance was needed and you being the person that save lives whatever means necessary—he felt no separation between the two of you because of it. It only your sibling relationship with him grow stronger. You trusted him as much as he trusted you with his own life. It’s just too bad that you had your own secrets you weren’t so ready to admit to him just yet—or if ever.

“Who said I had a boyfriend?” You quipped subtly trying to fix the shirt you had on.

“I think the hickeys and the whispers around base is indicator enough you are seeing someone on base.” He spoke calmly, but you know him enough to understand that he was anything but calm.

He was being an overprotective older brother.

“John.”

“I want to know the name before you even think about letting the family know about him.”

You raised a brow at him, unfazed by the underlying threat in his words. You weren’t scare of his threats and you were more certainly sure that neither would Simon be. You were both consenting adults and were more than certain that whatever relationship you might have would never affect your work.

“No.” You answered.

“No?”

“What is it with men and not understanding the word no?”

“Give me a name.” He repeated.

“Really John?” You looked at him in disbelief. “Will this be the hill you die on, Jonathan?” You questioned him.

“You are my sister and you are the sister of the Captain of the Taskforce. What goes in this base is my problem.”

“I will cut you off for less, John. Do not make me do so.” You warned him, walking away from him without giving him even a single about the identity of the man.

But you knew your brother, you know him well enough to understand that he would not heed into your warning, instead finding himself getting his most trusted men involved. Little did he know that one of his most trusted man was the very person they were looking for.

“You really sure you’re not set on letting your brother know?” Simon had inquired the moment he had arrived in your apartment—shared apartment now that you both decided he could move in here on a more permanent basis.

“And give him the satisfaction of me agreeing with him? No.” You answered already handing him his tea. “And I love see him suffer from time to time.” You grinned knowing that Simon was getting bolder with the hickeys and making your brother more agitated.

“One of this days, a bullet would be placed on my head because of you.” He granted pulling off his mask and pulling you in for a kiss, a welcome home kiss. “Hi, Love.”

“Hi, Handsome.” You smiled, rubbing his chest before pulling away and plopping down onto the sofa with your boyfriend following besides you, his free arm wrapped around your waist. “Any new gossip I need to hear about?” You inquired.

“Your brother is zoning in on some poor private and I am washing my hands from whatever shit he has planned for the bastard.” Simon muttered taking a sip of his tea.

“You really have the actual balls to join him on this witch hunt?” You snorted knowing the man wasn’t innocent in all of this.

Your brother trusted every single one of the main members of his taskforce—Simon most especially, but to have him be the very man he was haunting down was just ironic for so many reason.

“Until you tell me otherwise.” He admits. “And I think it’s good to have me cleaning my tracks when I can along the way.” He pointed out.

You nodded, diabolic this man was when he wants to be.

“I wanted to ask…” You trailed off remembering the conversation you just had with your mother before he got home. “My Mum is inviting me and my secret boyfriend for her birthday and I wanted to know if you’d want to join or not?”

You looked at him more intently now. It was a subject you didn’t truly want to have with him especially when you had both decided to begin your relationship. But at the same time, it’s just been a long time coming. You loved your family, but you wanted to set a new boundary when it comes to your boyfriend and how he would be comfortable with interacting with your family going forward—especially when it comes to his past.

“If you’d have me, then I’d love to go.”

You smiled kissing him on the cheeks.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you into anything you are not comfortable with.”

“As long as you can promise me that your brother wouldn’t place a bullet in my head, then I don’t think we’d have much of a problem.”

“Can’t promise that, I’m sorry.” You giggled but knowing the worry was all the more lingering in you at the possibility. “You think if I bring Johnny and Gaz along, it wouldn’t be as awkward?”

“I’d actually like that.”

~

Simon Riley did not fear anything in his life—well, he had a few that were more irrational than anything. But something that he truly feared in this moment was the fact that he would be meeting his girlfriend’s family—who one-third of the member wasn’t so much of a stranger to him. His superior, more specifically.

“You alright?” In the car ride from your shared apartment to your childhood home, the question was almost like a broken record in your lips. Always ensuring his comfort and safety when you could.

“I’m fine.” Simon tried to reassure, hand tighten around your own. Both of you stood in front of your childhood home, a home he was certain held so much good memory of yours—something he never truly had in his own.

“Fucking hell you two, you beat us here!”

He pulled his hand away from your own as the sound of an all too familiar Scot’s arrival. Soap and Gaz had arrived as late as the two of you had. He wondered if to this day the two have yet to know about him and you being in a relationship even with the few unintentional slip ups.

“I drove that’s why.” You had quipped immediately wrapping an arm around Gaz’s waist with a smile. “What took you two so long?” You inquired.

The duo lifted a gift wrapped box on each of their hands. A playful smile resting on their faces.

“Can’t join a birthday party without a gift for the Mum.” Soap explained all too proudly.

Simon looked back at you, a playful eye roll escaping before you had pulled away from Gaz to finally open the door to your childhood home. The smell of food consuming him and making it all the more evident that he hasn’t even had breakfast because of his nerves for being here.

“Darling!” A older version of you stepped out of the kitchen. She was shorter but was a spitting image of you that scared him for a moment. “And you brought friends too!”

He watched you wrap your mother into a tight hug before ushering everyone into the living room to the sight of your father that was a spitting image of the Captain and the Captain himself surprised by the sight of not only him, but as well as Soap and Gaz.

“What are you Muppets doing here?” John questioned, it spoken to be amused by his tone, but the look on his eyes was showing something else instead. He was hiding his annoyance from the looks of it.

“I invited them, John.” You were quick to answer hand holding onto Simon’s own.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite that plaything of your instead.”

That certainly hit a nerve out of you but you were quick to wear a smirk on your face.

“I brought three of them.” You quipped right back in the same breath that your parents began scolding your brother for his words.

“Why don’t you introduce your friends?” The Head of the Price household had interrupted what he was certain would be a cat and mouse fight between siblings.

You did just that, introducing Soap and Gaz fairly easily before your attention solely turned to him and what would now be the very reason why this small celebration for your mother’s birthday would turn to the worse.

“And this is Simon Riley—my boyfriend.”

“WHAT?” All three heads turned to you in question even in the delight and humor that laced in both of your parents’ face. This was the first time that you had introduced a boyfriend to them from how they talked.

“Let’s eat. It’s a good thing I made food for an army—pun intended for this.” Your mother insisted, dragging both you and Simon along as an excuse to help her with setting the table for everyone else.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Simon.” Your mother explicitly states handing him the plates to set up the table. “And I’m happy to see my daughter happy again.”

Those words shot straight to his heart. He did his best on most days, if you weren’t patching up his injuries, you were the comfort he had in the nightmares of his past. He never thought that you would be happy with someone like him—sometimes he even wonders why you would be with someone like him.

“She makes me happy too.” Simon admits, the blush was all too present in both of your faces at his little admission.

“When can I begin expecting grandbabies then?”

“Mother!” You were quick to protest, the blush on your face grew deeper.

You’ve just moved in together, began a routine for yourselves, a child might not be in the picture just yet.

“Maybe marriage first, Ma’am.” He placates instead.

“Call me Mum, Darling. You are now part of our family.” Your Mum spoke and the way his heart tighten almost had him in tears.

It’s been years since he had his Mum in his life and how easy it was for her to give him such a privilege. He will put a ring on your finger one day. He already knew when or how, it was just the opportunity to deal with everything else that he needed to fix beforehand.

“Thank you—Mum.” He whispered his eyes glazed turning away and focusing with setting the plates on the table, hiding away the tears that were fighting to fall as you began arguing with your mother about such things so early on in your relationship.

“Your brother and that girlfriend of his are taking it too slow and if I can’t have him give me grandbabies, you might have hope before me and your father are long gone?”

“Girlfriend?” Simon smirked at that. Your brother, his Captain had been so deadset in the secret relationship you had but somehow he had his own secret that was unintentionally spilled.

The pot calling the kettle black.

“I don’t understand it with you kids this days. You’re both already showing a few grey hairs, but no kids. You two will be the death of me.” Your mother continued to rant playfully as one mother does and you were left to just deal with it.

He wasn’t much help, the revelation of the Captain hiding his own girlfriend was still had him reeling in at the moment it was something he will be making good use of if the need arises—which would be today now that the cat was out of the bag.

Your mother announced it was time for lunch and immediately the rest of the men was barreling into the dining room. He could feel the intensity in the eyes of his Captain but you were quick to pulling him besides you, as far away from the man and his peripheral.

“So how long have you known each other?” It was your father that finally broken the ice of the little secret Simon was keeping with his daughter.

“When he first stumbled onto the infirmary with an open bullet wound to the shoulder.” You answered without a hitch.

“Where are your table manners?” Price immediately retorts.

“Oh shut up, we fucking talked about worst.” You quipped right back not taking your brother’s shit.

“Children.” Your father’s voice was quick to stop the banter that was about to come between the siblings. “Behave, we have guests.”

That was quick to halt the two siblings from their argument.

“Now, once this meal is over, I would like to talk to you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Simon was quick to answer realizing it wasn’t his Captain that he needed to actually worry about, it was your father that would do so much worse.

Lunch would be any longer as Simon now finds himself in the garden with you trying and failing to convince your own father not to go through with his talk with Simon and your own brother giddy and wanting to join in on the mess.

“Inside. Now.” Your father’s voice boomed had both you and the Captain running with your tails between your legs back inside the house. Who would have ever thought that at your ages, you both still feared your father?

“Now, where were we?” The man smiled, a sheer contrast of him in front of his own children only moments ago. “I’ve learned so much about you from my son, how much he cares for you after your own past.”

Simon was left wordless wondering why his Captain would even think it was a good idea to ever tell anyone else about his life. He had no right whatsoever, as a captain, a friend, nor the brother of his girlfriend.

“My son, he might not show it as much as he cares for you lot and he treats you like his own sons without even realizing it.” He chuckled and it irked him why he would continue this conversation.

“And I know for a fact that my son would not place you on his team and his circle if you weren’t good at your job and a genuinely good person.” The man’s smile slowly fell as he got more serious with his words. “But I want you to also know that if you even think about hurting my daughter in any shape, way, or form, you do not need to worry about what my son or my daughter might do to you when I find you.”

Now Simon understood where his Captain got his personality and aura from.

“I promise I won’t hurt your daughter, Sir.” Simon finally had the strength to answer. “I love her too much to even think of hurt her. I want to marry her someday and I’m doing my best to ensure that when I ask her to marry me, she would never have any doubts about me and my love and devotion to her.”

He still didn’t have the ring, nor did he think it was the right time or place to say such words especially to your own father, but it was what he felt needed to be said. He loved you, more than he would have ever loved someone in his life and after all the shit he has experience in his life, all he would have ever wanted was to have his own peace and his peace was with you.

“Well, you have my blessing, son.” The man’s face lit up now at his words. “I don’t need to tell you how much my little girl means to me and I still think no one would ever deserve her, but you’re close as it could possibly get.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Please, call me Dad.”

Again, his chest ached. The connotation of a father only brought so much bad memories for him and his childhood, but in this very moment it was a new memory and a new family he never thought he would ever need in his life.

“Thank you…Dad.” Simon spoke hesitation still lingering in his words.

The shared smile between the two men were finally interrupted by you and your insistence that you wanted some private time with your boyfriend before throwing him to the fish (the rest of the taskforce). This time, your father had happily accepted heading back inside leaving him all alone with you—finally.

“You good?” You asked, immediately cupping his cheeks and looking for any visible signs of injury on him. The pros and cons of dating a doctor.

“Took it like a champ.” He tried to downplay everything including the threat that was somehow all too common for fathers to make when it comes to their daughter.

“Tell me if its too much and we can leave, alright?”

He nodded arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Simon…” You warned.

“I’m okay.” He reassured holding onto one of your hands still on his cheeks. He placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist, he was still uncertain if this was an appropriate place to pull you in for a proper and much needed kiss. “I promise.” He continued to reassure you.

“I’m sorry we have to spring our relationship out of the blue but I honestly just wanted you to meet my Mum and Dad.”

“It’s fine.” Simon smiled down at you, swaying you slightly in his hold. “At least now I don’t need to deal with your brother at the base with everything out in the open.”

Simon knew he would deal with something worse now but he dealt with worse and he has you, if it comes to him getting beat up by your brother he has you to tend to the wounds and bruises like you’ve always promised.

“You’re gonna tell me if he ever does anything to you.”

“He won’t.”

“I think you and I know how petty that bastard could be.”

Simon rolled his eyes being reminded of such a moment in their earlier times on missions together.

“I can handle it, I promise.” He continued finally pulling you in for a kiss taking your breath away in the process.

Simon’s heart skipped at beat at your kiss. There was always something special about you and your lips against his own, and without hesitation he gently lifted your chin and pressed his lips deeper into your own. His arms wrapping around your tightly.

“I owe you tonight.” You gasped for breath as he finally pulls away. “For keeping up with me and my entire family’s shit.”

“You keep up with my shit and more and your head is to die for.” He quipped wanting to end all the seriousness.

Unfortunately the moment was ruined at the sight of you looking over his shoulder with widen eyes.

“They’re right behind me, aren’t they?” Simon resigned knowing what was bound to happen now that he can hear the Captain’s array of profanities all directed at him.

“You good?” You asked ready to defend his honor.

“I’ve got it, Doc. Just tend to the wounds after.” Simon sighed finally turned to see his Captain fast approaching with Soap and Gaz trying and failing to keep the man at bay.

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #ghost riley #simon riley fluff #GhostChallenge

[burstinn]

THE EVERY GAY MANS DREAM READER

TALL, BUFF, BIG BOOBS AND ASS everything

Can't find no good pic for this so..

This post includes:Ghost, Graves, Price, Soap, Nikto, Riptide, Krueger, Konig, Alejandro, Rudy, Gaz, Horangi, Makarov, Velikan, Keegan, Roach. In that order

Yes I wrote all those, yes because I haven't written in a while

Notes:

- NSFW and SFW (Bottom male and top male reader mentioned)

-since y'all like the big buff n' tall male reader, made him bigger and taller basically mixed everything I wrote about male reader, tall, big buff, big cake, big boobs it's like a package in one this will probably be the last of this type of reader since running out ideas. It was hard making original headcanons 💔💔.

-Omg I haven't written in a while so like this might get idk boring?

- Yes again headcanons,you're favs

- strictly MALE READER not Gn rn

- readers age is ambiguous but if you can't think and want an age for reader my thinking is somewhere near late 30s or early 40s

- Some of the HCS have where y'all ain't in a relationship some HCS have y'all r in a relationship

- these headcanons definitely are mischaracterized but let me pretend for a bit 💔💔

- Tiktok got to me now I have brainrot language, so Trigger warning wooohh braiinroot

- can't believe this post was long enough to make my phone lag just a lil bit

- When he first saw you of course he was 😦😧😮

GHOST

- Like okay overkill, like you're taller, buffer and probably have a huger cock??? (Something he can investigate.. For purposes..)

Like you also got smoobs?? A plumpy ass??

Like save some for the rest Jesus 😒😒

- Nonstop staring secretly ofc, You be like in a room then you feel someone staring just to see Ghost somewhere in the corner of the room. You can't tell if he's staring or not but being that you are in an empty room.. Yknow it's kind of obv--

- BUT if you are not in an empty room you will not shake off the staring I mean holy shit look at you like 😨😨🍑✋

- You can literally hear him breathing heavily under his mask like how can he control himself when HE a person who is supposed to be looked up to literally and figuratively now has to look up at YOU?? do you know what does to a person??

-That's right it makes them freaky..

-Probably jerks off to you too

- I mean who doesn't want to get railed by a 7 ft tall man? Especially ESPECIALLY when you've been the supposed dominant person your whole life??

- OMG immediately Cumming to the thought

- I mean he won't mind topping you it also drives his own ego seeing a dominant man get absolutely wrecked, imagine the begging and whining

- plus he won't mind being the person who feels protected not always doing the protecting like 💔💔 he wants to feel protected too 😞

GRAVES

- Immediate gay awakening

- thinks making his western accent more prominent would make you think he sounds more hot

- Will dress up as a cowboy and will will ask (beg) you to do it as well

- because you know.. Hat thing.. Riding.. Graves grabs your hat puts it on his head or Graves grabs his hat puts it on your head, either way one of you is riding something and it ain't a horse

- because of the amazing quote on who ever came up w/ that is "save a horse ride a cowboy"

- Graves is obviously the type of guy to look at your ass and whistle maybe slap it, nah definitely slap it

PRICE

- He thinks of you like a bear

- like You're soo- big and cuddly? Definitely intimidating

- I mean you're near the same age bracket so it's not bad to have some.. Thoughts right?

- You're definitely hairy underneath or not but pls be he wants pubes to tickle his nose

- if you don't have a beard for reader then he would KILL to see have a beard like aughh perfect bear look, if you have a beard immediately cumming(/j) or (not /j)

- Like imagine you and price who are basically like bears like parent bears and and you the other 141 boys are like your children 🥺🥺

SOAP

- DEFINITELY became more gayer

- errrmmm.. Like his eyes are BASICALLY near like chest height

- bumping into you and his face touches your chest like omgg.. Such an accident 💔💔

- Obviously flirting about going to pound town

- like imagine You and Him? In a relationship? Having the most feral sex??? Like it's obv jokes (it's not)

- He would also do anything to see a big man whimper like a little bicth slut, who wouldn't want to see a demon of a man roll his eyes back and whine like a wheoeororoe❤, I mean if he tops I'd imagine him saying "cmon you're a big boy ain't cha'? You can handle a few more inches". While you are also getting the malevolent backshots.

- He would also want a big strong arm to man handle him as he takes the most vigorous backshots known to man

- Have you ever thought or seen a very tall wall like 10 or 11 ft high and you being you, Soap asks (demands) for you to carry him on your shoulder because he wants to see what's over the wall

NIKTO

- intimidating guy and intimidating guy typa relationship but your not in a relationship.. Yet.

- watch him watch you

- shows off his knife collection to you, yes I think he has a knife collection and he will show it to people that he wants to impress (he wants to get freaky with you)

- I like to think if he strips off the gear he gives the most desperate kind of touchy hug, to those he feels close with of course which is you

- lucky you

RIPTIDE

- Offers to teach you how to swim yknow just in case

- there is none, he wants to see you wet

- tells you to wear a white shirt and shorts because its Essential for training, it's a lie he wants to see the water wet your clothes making it stick to your body.. Yknow the white shirt showing whats underneath and the shorts outlining what package you've been hiding even though you weren't really hiding it

- He gets too distracted, the others are too, he forgets how to teach you

KRUEGER

- indefinite eye contact while your doing it

- likes staring into them, if you get shy and look away he will grab your jaw and make you have eye contact with him

- angry fierce ahh eyes

- he's an emotional grumpy guy, rip off his mask and aggressively kiss his face

- He wants the after sex laying on the chest while the other is rubbing their head, goes both ways.

- trace his tattoos and compliment them the bedroom will be locked the whole day, trust 🙏

KÖNIG

- The same as Ghosts

- Imagine being the one to get carried instead of the one carrying

- König would definitely come up to you and ask to be carried while you kiss his face multiple times❤❤

- Imagine how hard he gets because you have to look down at him to talk like HNGRHRRGGGRGRRR

- Definitely likes giving you homemade arts and crafts gear because you know.. The headcanon where König makes his own gear and what if he does it for other people too as gifts💔

- likes seeing you wear his mask it makes him imagine what people see when they see König definitely a change of perspective. He can see how intimidating you are and he gets hard.

ALEJANDRO

- will definitely compliment you in Spanish when talking about you with other people even when you're in front or behind him.

- I mean you don't understand Spanish right?

- if you don't, you're oblivious and only just watch curiously on what he's talking about. Buuut but but if you do understand you don't tell him you undeestrand this thing literally feeds your ego like Alejandro thinks of you this way? 🥺🥺

- Thigh riding type of guy idc who thigh riding

RUDY

- everytime I look at him he looks like a soft vanilla type

- I know he's a strong guy but look at him

- He wants soft sex 😞😞

- He also likes being complimented if you whisper a praise to him when he's doing ANYTHING. Imagine the babies you'd both have together.

- He likes toddlers and babies and if you do too a plus for him,makes him fall even more 💯💯

GAZ

- One time he Got injured and was sitting on the floor and then He saw you running towards him he simultaneously screamed in fear and how hard he got

- Likes to style your clothes, If he was off the military right now he really really likes fashion and if he sees you.. You can't fashion and he sees you wearing.. That, He's appalled, horrified, mortified I'm over exaggerating. But he is now in charge of your fashion now, But if you do know how to style you both will share tips with eachother. You can share different tips too ❤❤

- drags you in his barracks and strips you of your clothes except shorts.. And he's telling you this because he wants to "style" you.

- We both know damn well that's an excuse to get the boombayah freaky on.. He's just to shy to tell you upfront or he thinks it's fun to tease you like that before you get freaky

HORANGI

- gets freaky..

- Like he understands the women who get all giggly and nervous when they see a big man who can destroy them (ignore König 💔)

- is definitely not above thigh crushing, boob crushing, face sitting he'd do all at as long as it's you

- Like one time he pretended he broke his leg and won't let anyone else carry him until you came, acting all princessy and shit as you carry him bridal style to the medics

- He felt like a prince omg

- will definitely get on you and treat your real life size anime men boobs as a squishy toy

- How long is it and will he be able to take it??? Who knows he will find out!! Basically searched how long can someone's cock be if they are built like a god and is 7ft tall in Google

- someone gotta tell me Horangi's height and basic Google searching ain't doing it for me I'm too lazy to search for one line of a spicy headcanon line mb

MAKAROV

- You're basically ascary dog he owns

- You're tall and intimidating

- You can get information out of people quickly

- And he's not above telling you to torture anyone with a strength and body like yours

- most of the time you get the info done and folded

- Makarov uses you for intimidation and strength buuttt if you ever THINK of betraying him he already has a plan to get rid of someone like you

- Can and will turn you into one of those supersoldiers

- Will make you murder people right in front of him for entertainment and will rewward you!

- you know what reward it will be, Because when he asked what reward you wanted you got a bit to freaky you thought you be dead rn but nah he agreed actually he seems to enjoy it more than you do..

VELIKAN

- He's the dog in this one have you heard his voice?? Rough as hell imagine hearing him grunt

- Sounds cocky as hieeeellll too

- Would definitely like showing off to you since he wants to look cool in front of you

- Like you seen velikans skins?? Definitely wears the best ones to show you he can not only be a trained assassin But can also dress cool as hell

- If you compliment him it like makes his day, will not stop thinking about it

- Like a cool person complimenting a cool person like him? Ego boost (It's him feeling gay)

- This guys definitely a smoker (headcanon!!) Because voice sounds like he smoked 100 packs in 1 day and doesn't drink an ounce of water /jk I love him he's so hot.

- So if you want a smoke he purposely hides the lighter saying.. 'Oh no I asked someone elses lighter.. I don't have mine right now' or like 'my lighter ran out of fuel ohh

- So you have to put the cigarette in your mouth as you touch it with his cigarette to light ur own that type of trope 💫💫

- If you're not a smoker he will try his best to not smoke in front of you will use fresh mints to hide his breath of smoke

- after sex he will want a smoke, outside he goes or you both share the one cigarette

KEEGAN

- is it wrong to want to be choked by a big buff meaty arm?

- yknow the tiktok thing where girls put a ribbon on their boyfriends arm and the girls just put their face in the middle as their faces get squished??

- Yeah he wants that but gay

- will try to compare dick sizes even though yours is OBVIOUSLY the superior one!!

- Heads or tails on who's bottoming tonight

- Would like to be wrapped around your arms if you are hugging or sleeping keeps him warm

- Especially when it's snowing will force you to hug with him. ESPECIALLY when your in a mission and your in the tents he will definitely force you to hug it out with him

ROACH

- remember the other tall HC where the reader wasn't taller than König

- yes roach does the same thing here.. He's crawling on you like a tree

- If he wants a kiss instead of asking he crawls up to you and kisses you

- definitely likes to sit on your shoulders as you walk around, he feels tall like that

- this is like a distance relationship 💔💔

- Likes it when you bend over to talk to him also when you bend over when youre doing sum since it's slappable opportunity

- because bent over = double D cake will be slapped

- How will it fit? By the power of friendship of course!!

- probably more of say gex desperation but you get it

- Obviously switch switch

#gay #call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #krueger x male reader #cod #könig x male reader #roach x male reader #soap x male reader #johnny mactavish x male reader #captain john price x male reader #price x male reader #cod horangi x male reader #horangi x male reader #makarov x male reader #velikan x male reader #keegan x male reader #alejandro vargas x male reader #rudy x male reader #cod nikto x male reader #nikto x male reader #riptide x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #gaz x male reader #mlm #bottom male reader #top male reader #graves x male reader

[twost3ps]

I have not been doing so hot. I keep on saying that but burnout is actually crazy double comboed with artblock. But after some tears of frustration I wanted to show my swap au so yeyey

Short synopsis:

Lilith, Lucifur, Charlie 🔄 Adam, Micheal, Emily

Micheal and Adam fall after taking the forbidden fruit (it is a pear!) Rule over hell together and then have 7 children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily. Hell does its own exterminations every year. Micheal and Adam lead along side with their children who participate as well. Up above Charlie watches in dispair. Her father has told her about the horrors of hell and its deranged rulers. She's the angel of Mercy (maybe I might change that) and wants the sinners of hell to have a second chance. So she goes down to hell without asking and tries to find a way to help save some of the sinners from suffering. In that time she makes friends with Hell's royal family starting with Emily and then comes to realize that heaven is a little (a lot) more corrupted than she thought

So here are some of their busts. I drew emily young bcz this was initially going to be a family portrait but I got lazy but for the au she's her canon age her horns are covered by her hair o3o

So heres a long but not full backstory and info of the au if ur interested under the cut:

Idk why yet why Micheal tempted Adam with the pear but it happened. Because of their betrayal, Adam and Micheal get sent down. But while Lilith is stripped of her fertility, Adam has his humanity stripped. When Micheal recovers, he's greeted with his lover in the form of a wild beast, body stretched, covered in feathers. The only human-ish thing is Adam's face which is essentially looks like a porcelain mask of his face with his eyes closed in a permeant smile unless he opens it and then the mask splits in two.

It takes days for Micheal to calm down the animalistic Adam. It just seems like everything about him is gone. Micheal still loves him, though, so he stays. Adam thrashes around, he screams, and he yells. The abyss is nothing but rubble as Adam digs wildly while screaming. Adam is too hostile for Micheal to comfort so he deals with just watching from afar.

As years roll by as Micheal watches his lover, Adam begins to calm down. He's grown tired and his animalistic rage has subsided. Micheal is able to pet Adam and he can see how tured Adam is. They begin sleeping together again.

All seems hopeless that Adam will ever gain any semblance of his humanity. That is until the first sinner arrives.

Micheal had seen the sinner from afar. He was going to approach, but then he heard Adam. Adam barreled at the sinner and before Micheal knew it, Adam had eaten the sinner with a vile crunch.

Micheal rushed to Adam to see the damage. Then Adam moved and turned. It was then that Adam had spoken properly since the fall. He asked Micheal what happened but Micheal could only stare and cry. They were able to talk for a while and they savored every bit of it.

That joy only lasted for a few hours before Adam became animalistic again.

From then on, Micheal made it his mission to gather as many sinners and feed them to Adam.

Initially it hurt. It hurt a lot. And after doing it for so long, Micheal knew that the sinners would never reform. But that harsh reality paled in comparison to Adam finally having his concise again. Being able to finally talk to his lover and husband was more than enough reason for him.

So time flies and hell is getting bigger and stronger. The population of sinners is also getting bigger. There becomes less spawn killing of sinners but they are kinda checked over like livestock to the royal family.

Hell in this universe is more fairy tale based to differ from whats supposed be a circus theme??? that i get from hazbin. Thats what people say so I'm making my hell the brothers grim x into the woods x shrek.

I want the royal family in fairy tale clothes okay >:(

Hell is essentially far far away land except everything is out to get you. The place is straight up inhabitable as everyone who spawns in ends up having to run away immediately. It's so hard not to die or get hurt. The terrane is unforgiving, the trees are out to get you, the flowers are out to get you, the animals are out to get you, the weather is out to get you, the water thats not whatever is out to get you. Any wrong slip and you can just die again. Sinners are a lot more prone to betrayal and rage because living is just so hard.

There is no pentagram city, its like, a couple of very small town that are ruled by overolords. Overlords are people who just got lucky or got into a contract with one of the royal children. They use their power to stay alive and have some semblance of stability but they are given power to they raise other sinners like cattle through contracts if needed.

These overlords though are pretty... yeah... so they kinda become like those fairy tale villains.

So for funzies, all those fairy tales that people hear on earth are true stories that come from hell that had been told by demons who escape to the mortal realm and whisper them in writers ears as they sleep or some bs like that sdfoeufb

But as stated, exterminations do happen. Like cattle, it is important to save up the stock. You cant consume everything as they come, cattle needs its time to grow. So every year, they let the population grow and on extermination day, Micheal and Adam ride out into hell as they purge a bunch of sinners till Adam eats enough to revert back to human form till the next ectermination.

It's only them that exterminate and collect till their children grow up and join them in the exterminations- fueled by their want to keep Adam humanly conscious. They collect the bodies and then Adam feeds on them after hours to gain his humanity back

Micheal and Adam have their children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily

Cain, Seth, Alclima, and Awan become the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse (i went with the good omens version with death, famine, war and pestilence- conquest is not one -yet- )

Cain (death) in very short is like Death in puss and boots with a lot less chill. He does have Death's sickles (I wanted to make them Abel's horns so thats a maybe) He's a mama's (adam) boy and a giant brat

Seth (Famine) Chillest of the siblings. He's a lot like Adam, just not as brash. He spreads famine through locusts that emerge from his cloak. They look like pretty jewels until they fly off. Food rots in his presence during exterminations. He hates when he accidentally activates it when hes eating (he loves snacking)

Alclima (War) She's very tough and brutish. Very honest in her opinions and not afraid to speak about it. Her and Cain play fight a lot. The exorcist army exists but they live as the royal family's castle's soldiers and they are commanded by Alclima. During exterminations, she is the one to lead them in battle. Her presence gives people the rage of war.

Awan (Pestilence) Very eerie girl/ Shes got that dead eye look sometimes and just stares at people. Shes actually very kind and soothing. She's very girly and has a room similar to stockings from paswg. Shes a stem girlie

Abel kind of overlooks them as the representation of chaos. (I wanted the death and chaos are the children of the devil thing to happen so this it) The first attempted murder does happen between Abel and Cain, but since they're in hell magic sooo hahah blam Cain allows his body to merge with Abel out of regret and so Abel kind lives in his conscience but can also switch control over his brother (idk im so done)

Emily is supposed to become a fifth horseman as the representation of conquest. But she young and stuff and only just became an adult so she still maneuvering through it- also sera's here too and she takes the place of Alastor and is a royal advisor to the family sufoauebfoebos

They are all part lion coming from Micheal but their horns are from Adam

Their children are very mixed about exterminations, but Emily has the most issues with it. The family in general feels bad, but family over the people. Emily is just way more emotional about it, especially since she is yet to participate.

Exterminations are very mixed in hell with the citizens because while some have the will to live, some want to truly end their suffering. Many willingly sacrifice themselves and go under contracts with overlords. With overlords, they get to live comfortably as they possibly can but they still hate hell so when exterminations roll around they willingly die.

This is a lot but its not everything. Actually this is all very vauge rn but idk if I want to work on this :p

THIS IS SUCH A MESSKJFBIABFIAEGFIAUEGIdfi

Also a bit of the beast adam deisgn. I want to add some more stuff. do some tweaking but AUAGSDD yuppers i will change some stuff about him later (i forgot his horns)

i dont think i'll do much with this au after this -maybe draw it but i won't write- but it was a fun thought

I'll try to post tomorrow some guitarhero stuff but im so dead IAFBISUEBFGI

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #guitarhero #michael x adam #hazbin hotel michael #micheal hazbin hotel #myart #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel au #swap au #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel cain #hazbin hotel abel #hazbin hotel seth #hazbin hotel alclima #hazbin hotel awan #hazbin hotel emily

[makethatelevenrings]

Vestiges of the Past // S. Riley x f!reader

a/n: probably the last thing I post for a bit before I scuttle off into LSAT mode once more. enjoy. I just really wanted to see a fic where Simon's girl is just as uhhhh murderous as he is. And so I wrote it.

warnings: reader is military, canon-typical descriptions of violence, Simon remembers what Roba did to him, SMUT 18+ ONLY, rough sex, under-discussed kink but it's all consensual, degrading language, biting, clawing, spitting, fucknasty baybee

The door to the dive bar creaked open as it scraped along the floor thanks to the dented hinges from one bar fight too many. Your boots scuffed along the wooden floor as you approached the woman seated at a small table with two beers in front of her. Pulling off your gloves, you stuffed them in the pocket of your hoodie and offered her a perfunctory nod.

“Laswell,” you greeted.

“Nice to see you again.” She motioned for you to sit and nudged the second beer in your direction. You took a seat and popped the cap off using the edge of the table before sitting back against the chair.

“What’s going on?” Short and to the point, she noted. Much like the masked man that typically shadowed you. Laswell had worked with Simon more than you, but she heard good things from John. So when this came across her desk, she knew she could trust you.

The blond pushed the file across the table and you stopped it with a single finger, brow raised in interest. You flipped it open and your brows furrowed as you read the information.

“I don’t understand,” you said as you lifted the papers and took in the photo of the target.

“Enrique Giraldo-Hernandez, Roba’s second-in-command,” Laswell explained. “After Roba’s death, Hernandez laid low and slowly built up the organization again until they popped back up on our radar.”

Your shoulders stiffened and you glanced up at the agent. “And why are you showing this to me?”

“In three days, 141 will be given the orders to capture him, alive, and to bring him back to American soil for trial.” Laswell pushed another manila folder towards you and watched your face carefully as you opened it. Your lips pursed, jaw tightened, and eyes darted all over the page as you took in the photos before you. One of your fingers moved to trace over the lines of the battered face in the image and you blanched at the sight of what Roba did to him.

You had seen Simon’s scars, of course. It had taken him time to take his mask off in front of you, but when he did, you steeled yourself so you didn’t flinch at the sight of the Glasgow smile and the scars that etched deep in the skin of his face and neck. You had merely pressed your forehead against his, hand stroking over the hair that curled at the nape of his neck, and stood in silence until he could breathe normally.

Seeing the images of Simon Riley’s broken body stretched out on a hospital bed after escaping that coffin made your blood boil. He had whispered some of his memories into the quiet of the night. You had traced the scars on his body too many times to count. Their ridges were a map you learned by touch alone.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Your voice was tight and laced with barely concealed rage. Was she taunting you?

“Because that gives you a three day head start.”

You left that night with a note written to Price and Simon explaining that MI6 needed your help with gathering intel.

People treated you as an outlier in the task force. The others served in the SAS while you were recruited from SFSG, a wizard at reconnaissance and intelligence. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were the threats that people looked out for while you were just their errand girl. Simon relished in this realization as they suited up three days later to hunt down an organization that he thought was a ghost.

He remembered the first time he saw you.

Special forces recruits had gone through the first few stages of selection, whittling down the numbers to just about fifty individuals who hadn’t even gone through SERE yet. Simon was called to watch these next few rounds to ensure that the weak were culled. He had been on break for two weeks when he became twitchy so when Price offered this opportunity, he jumped at the chance.

The doors to the sparring gym were propped open, letting wind drift into the enclosed space. He heard the typical thud of bodies hitting the mat and a grunted exhale. No one was scheduled to be in here for the day and he gathered himself to yell at whatever birdbrained recruits thought they would get extra training outside of their allotted time.

He paused at the doorway and quickly realized that they weren't recruits. One of them was one of the civilian secretaries that worked on base, Beatrice, and the other was…you.

“Nice,” you said in a gentle voice. “That was a good control of your fall there. It gives you more leverage.”

You stood from the mat and offered your hand to Bea and helped her up, a grin on your face. “And you said you couldn’t take me down.”

“You’re going easy on me,” the other woman huffed. You huffed out a laugh, something easy but with an underlying sharpness. You easily knocked Bea to the ground and shrugged, offering her hand once more.

“I am.” Your inquisitive gaze glanced at the shadow looming in the doorway. “But tomorrow, I won’t go easy on you. This weekend is your chance to learn to defend yourself. Tomorrow, you’re going to be sore and tired and cranky as all hell, but you’re going to show up and you’re not going to give up until you can pin me. Why?”

Your focus returned to the woman before her. “When he comes for you, and he will, he won’t go easy on you either. So, I want you to kill them. Because it’s either you or them and I refuse to let it be you.”

Price explained to him later that you were a second lieutenant that offered to train Beatrice while she worked with the police to get a restraining order on her ex-husband. Simon requested a copy of your file from one of the women in the records office and every single woman in that room regarded him suspiciously as she gathered the files. You were a beloved figure for them, he learned. As one of the few women on base, you were fiercely protective of them, especially since they tended to be contracted positions rather than actual soldiers. But the real reason you were on the base wasn’t to help teach self-defense. No, he learned that one quickly too.

When he settled into a meeting to go over the SERE portion of training, the Ghost found himself seated across from you.

It was easy to underestimate you.

He never did.

When Task Force 141 approached the gates of Hernandez’s compound, they found the metal loosely swinging back and forth with the wind. Price led the charge into the compound, but he paused at the sight of the guards already dead on the ground. The land was cratered from grenades and gore splattered the earth. Silence greeted them as Gaz pushed open the door that was already shoved inwards. Bodies littered the long hallway, blood mixing in with the rich red velvet carpet that lined the ground. Soap stepped over a still twitching corpse to check to the right as Gaz took the left.

Simon paused in the doorway as he took in this place that housed the ghost of a man who once existed years ago, still pacing the cells in the basement.

“Someone got here before us,” Price told Laswell over the comms. The CIA agent hummed out a noncommittal sound as they moved upstairs. Simon’s skin itched under the mask. His hand trembled just slightly. The walls…he remembered these pale, yellow walls. He remembered the way they would bleed into one another as he was dragged from room to room so Roba could taunt him with the sunlight before he was forced back into his cell.

The stairs led to the office. The same office where he had a few teeth removed. His tongue slicked against the replacements that lined his jaw now. His mind ran on autopilot and his feet took him step by step by step closer to that room. That room where they played the screams of his teammates for hours at a time in the hopes that it would break him.

Price counted down on his fingers before forcing the office door open. They spilled into the room, rifles raised and fingers poised, but they found the culprit of the massacre that consumed the house. A blade hung loosely from your hands and you turned to face your lover. Fresh blood stained your face like a mask. Hernandez’s neck was gashed open and an ugly scar was carved on either side of his lips.

“It’s over,” you said. Your attention was directed on Simon. His hands stopped shaking. “It’s over.”

“The lieutenant was sent to retrieve more information regarding the compound before we sent the rest of the task force in,” Laswell explained. “But when the mission went south, she was forced to take direct action.”

“She defied orders to bring him in alive,” the officer spat. You studied the small water stain on the wooden table before you and drowned out the suits arguing around you. Laswell assured you that she had your back, but you couldn’t give less of a shit. You didn’t care what happened to you.

Roba’s organization was completely decimated. No one would be slithering out from under a rock to take over. Even if they did, you would hunt them down. No one could escape you.

“She did what she had to do to stay alive. In one hundred years, when this information is made public, what would you rather the people of England see? That you discharged a medaled officer because she defied an order simply so she could live? Or that you were more concerned that you weren’t able to question a drug lord?”

A scoff and then the scrape of a chair scooting backwards brought you back to focus. The suits stalked out of the room muttering to themselves, but Laswell was pleased with the result. You would be suspended from the field for a month for going rogue and would have to pass your recertification exams, but you were still a lieutenant for the 141.

“Nice work,” she said as you two walked down the hall towards your office.

“Why did you do it?” you finally asked the question you had wanted to voice the moment she showed you those photos. The blonde shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and let a sad smile cross her face.

“I know what it’s like to wake up hearing the screams of the person you love.” With that, she patted your shoulder and headed in the direction of Price’s office so she could tell him the good news. The captain was still seething at your disobedience and deceit, but Gaz assured you that he was more upset at the fact you could have died going off on your own like that.

You nudged the door to your office open and felt the hair on the back of your neck prickle. Before you could reach for your sidearm, a hand curled around your throat and threw you back against the wall. You clawed at the muscled wrist that kept you pinned and went for a well-aimed kick, but he merely avoided it with a side step.

“You know what they would have done if they captured you?” Simon snarled into your ear. His grip relaxed minutely against your skin, allowing air to slip back into your lungs, but his large thigh pinned your hips against the wall to stop your squirming.

“They didn’t,” you whispered. His hand moved up to grab your jaw and squeeze, forcing your eyes to meet his. The rough fabric of his mask brushed against your temple as he leaned in closer.

“They would have broken you. Brainwashed you. I wouldn’t have been able to save you. They would have killed you after ripping apart every last part of your mind.”

“You would have done the same fucking thing,” you snarled. Your words were muffled from the way he held your face, but you wouldn’t let his stupid fucking attitude shut you up.

“It’s different.”

“How? How is it so different? Because I’m not the Ghost? Because I’m not as big as you? Bec-”

He yanked you forward, your chest colliding with his, and released your jaw to slide his hand down the length of your arm until his gloved fingers slid against yours with a reverence seen only in a church.

“It’s different,” he reiterated. Indignation flared in your chest and you wrestled against his larger body but he slid his jean clad thigh between your legs, stopping your movement when it pressed just right against your cunt.

“Take the mask off,” you breathed. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, forcing yourself impossibly closer. He reached up and slid the fabric up, revealing the scars that Roba and his men inflicted all those years ago. Scars that you didn’t give two shits about. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and then he squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lips to part, and spat directly onto your tongue. 

You slicked your tongue across your teeth, mingling his spit with yours and then, without warning, you leaned up and bit down on his jaw. His sharp intake of breath sent a thrill of pleasure down your spine. Simon steadied you with his hand on your waist. His fingers curled against the plush skin of your ass and you craved the feel of him against your skin.

“I did it,” you said softly once you pulled away, revealing the slight imprint of your teeth at the hinge of his jaw. “Because the only mark I want to see on you is one I give you.”

His dark eyes studied your face and traced over every wrinkle, line, and blemish. The sincerity in your gaze. The way your pupils expanded.

His nimble fingers yanked the zipper of your pants down and you got the hint, quickly kicking them off along with your boots. He captured your lips in a searing kiss as you worked your hands under the soft cotton of his shirt and ran your fingers along the ridges of his abs. You only broke apart so you could yank his shirt over his head with yours following. He grabbed a handful of your ass and you groaned against his mouth as he kneaded the soft flesh and dragged you impossibly closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he easily took your weight. Simon carried you over to your desk and in one sweep of his hand, everything was scattered onto the ground.

Including your monitor.

“You get to explain that one,” you said dryly. His only response was to lay you back against the wood and grind his still-clothed cock against your panties. A hitched gasp escaped you and he bent down, pressing his lips against the swell of your breasts as his hand reached behind you to unclasp your bra. Simon bit down on the top of your right breast and sucked, leaving a dark mark of his own. Your hands flew to his shoulders and you dug your nails into his skin. He grunted as you dragged your hands down, but he continued lining your skin with hickies.

When Simon finally stopped his assault on your tits and stood up straight, you took in the sight of the scarred Adonis before you. He was so beautiful, even if he didn’t believe it. Your fingers traced the scars that adorned his chest and he captured your hand in his, raising it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss against your wrist. Your eyes fluttered shut at the intimate action, as if seeing it would ruin the moment.

“It’s different,” he explained as he ground his bulge against you. “Because you’re mine. And I won’t ever let them take what’s mine from me again.”

Smooth plastic slid over your wrist and your eyes snapped open just in time to see him secure zip tie handcuffs around one of your wrists. He snatched the other before you could fight him and bound your hands together, leaving you spread out on your desk in only your underwear.

“And clearly you need to learn that lesson,” he rasped. The cold metal of his pocket knife slid against your ribs and you felt the fabric of your underwear give before he slit the straps of your bra and yanked it off. You squirmed under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious about being so exposed like this. Did he lock the door? What if someone came in?

Simon palmed himself through his jeans before he undid his belt buckle and slid it out of its loops. He considered it for a moment and then folded it up and laid it on the desk next to you. A whine escaped you and you pressed your thighs together at the thought of him using it. He chuckled, one hand stroking your cheek and the other pushing his jeans and boxers down.

“Don’t worry, love. I always treat my things well.”

The scent of him invaded your senses as he shoved his mask between your parted lips, forcing you to taste the sweat and smoke that clung to the fabric. He grabbed your ankles and settled himself between your legs, hooking each of your legs around his waist. Simon grasped his thick, solid cock and rubbed it against your cunt. Fuck, normally he ate you out or fingered you open before he did this. There was no way you would be able to fit hi-

Your eyes rolled back as he slid into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he bottomed out in one stroke. A muffled scream escaped you as his cock speared you open, but you were thrown more by the sudden pleasure than any pain. Had he fucked you so much that you were carved out for him?

“Feel that?” His breath washed over your face as he pressed his weight against you, grinding himself deeper than you thought he could possibly go. “You’re made to fit me.”

You tried to move your bound hands down to touch your clit but he smacked your cheek and yanked your hands above your head. Simon pressed his palm against your cheek as leverage while he pulled out of your aching cunt and then bullied himself back in. You let out a desperate whimper and he clicked his tongue.

“No complaints,” he chastised. “You wanted this, right? That’s why you’re so insubordinate. So irritating. So fucking stupid. But you’re my stupid girl, ain’t that right?”

Your head swam from pleasure and tears dripped down your cheeks as he began to rail you. Holy shit, the two of you had done kinky stuff but this was another level. Your pussy clenched around him and he chuckled low in his throat.

“You like that, huh? Being my little cocksleeve. Being my pocket pussy. Took on a whole fucking cartel but at the end of the day, you’re just a mindless little slut.”

A whine escaped you and you tried to babble something through the soaked fabric of his mask, but you were just consumed by Simon. You should be ashamed right now, being reduced to this mewling, quivering little fleshlight. But your skin burned with want as he grabbed your hips and just started pounding into you. Anyone walking by could hear what was going on and know. You strained against the zip ties to no avail. None of your strength or smarts were on your side right now.

“If they caught you, they’d break this pretty little mind of mine,” Simon snarled. He ripped his mask out of your mouth and forced three fingers into your drooling mouth. Once sufficiently coated, he silenced you with the gag once again and reached down to rub harshly at your clit.

“You understand me, woman? You’re. Mine.” Each word was punctuated with a harsh thrust and a slap to your thigh. Pleasure shot through you at each strike and you clenched around him. He chuckled and pulled out of you before grabbing your hips and easily flipping you onto your stomach. Simon wrapped his hand around your throat and yanked you back so your back met his chest.

And then he just started pounding into you again.

Drool pooled at the corners of your lips and spilled over the edges of the makeshift gag. You slumped against his hold and accepted your fate as his little cockwhore. Because holy shit, he was hitting that little spot in your cunt that made your vision blur and your mind turn to mush. His balls slapped against your clit as he rammed into you and you could feel yourself starting to fall apart at the seams.

“Should keep you like this forever,” he breathed against the soft skin of your neck as he mercilessly fucked you. “Naked and chained to my desk so I can use you anytime I want.” His fingers came down to rub circles against your clit and you choked out a gasp. His other hand curled around your throat and he added just enough pressure to make your lungs burn and that tidal wave of pleasure finally crashed over you.

The second he felt your cunt pulse around him, Simon buried his cock as deep as he could and spilled into you. He bent down and captured the skin of your shoulder in his teeth, leaving an imprint behind but just shy of drawing blood. You were too fucked out to think of the pain. Your hands twitched uselessly in front of you as he rubbed you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then kept going until you were whining from the overstimulation and pulling away from him the best you could. He stopped his torture on your sensitive nub, but his hands continued roaming along your body.

What a fucking sight you must be. Fucked hard, spread out on your desk with your tits pressed against the rough wood, sweaty, cum-filled, and crying from the pleasure. The mental image made you clench again and the wraith behind you let out a grunt. You waited for him to start fucking himself dry into your sensitive little cunt, but instead he inhaled deeply and stilled your squirming. His hand stroked down the length of your spine and as he slid his cock out of your folds, he placed a delicate kiss to the base of your spine. You pushed his mask out of your mouth and smacked your lips in an attempt to wet your mouth.

“Done being mad at me?” you asked, voice rough from your muffled screams. His lips met a scar that marred your shoulder and he nestled his face against your neck. He nipped at your earlobe and then soothed the sting with his tongue before nosing against the bite mark he left on your shoulder.

“Was never mad at you, love.” The snick of his pocket knife opening was your cue to loosen your hands so he could cut the zip ties off with less risk of hurting you. His thumbs ran over the depressions they had made into your wrists and he brought your hands up to worship your wrists, your palms, your fingers with delicate kisses. You started to sit up and he immediately moved to steady you and pull your body against his chest. Tilting your chin up, you met his gaze and found nothing but devotion present in those dark eyes.

“If you ever.” His hand smacked against your ass and you jolted but he was already kneading the flesh and soothing the sting. “Up and leave to go on a suicide mission again, I will find you, drag you back here, and kill you myself.”

“I had to, Si,” you murmured, your forehead pressing against his bicep. One of your hands traced the nasty scar below his ribs from that fucking hook Roba had in the cells.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I like it.” His lips met your temple. “I’d do the same.”

“You have,” you reminded him. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“‘S not a joke, love.”

“Never was, Si.”

He curled his massive body around you and tucked your head into the crook of his neck. In a moment, the two of you would get dressed and walk back to his room on base. You would wash each other in the tiny shower with the lukewarm water and you would discuss the Man City score and if England had a chance to get the cup and what color curtains you would put in the kitchen.

But right now, you savored the puff of every breath he exhaled against your skin. It was a reminder that, despite Roba’s best attempts, despite his father’s cruelty, Simon Riley was still here, living and breathing, and you would worship him for every moment you had. He extracted himself from the cocoon of safety he had encased you in and bent down to rifle through his jeans for something. A chill swept across your skin and he noticed instantly, his eyes darting around the room for anything to cover you with. You had a throw blanket tossed in the corner of your office for when it got cold and he retrieved it. As Simon wrapped the soft fabric around you, one of his hands stroked along the calluses of the fingers on your left hand and you felt the weight of his devotion settle across your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed into the silence of the night. Simon let his lips press and linger against your forehead as you looked at the simple ring that now adorned your skin.

You took on the worst parts of him without fear. You faced down what tried to destroy him and, in turn, destroyed it. The Ghost didn’t believe in attachments.

Simon Riley would marry you tomorrow if he could.

#simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod x reader

[ramhaiba]

𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗋 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖸𝗎𝗎𝗍𝖺 𝖷 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

Masterlist

contains- modern au, kidnapping, manhandling, intense bullying, cyber stalking. dubcon, oral (f receiving), thigh fucking, unprotected sex

One year. It’s been one year since you were attacked from behind. You still remember every tiny detail of that event, you were struggling to find your stupid car keys in your purse, cursing under your breath. There was something eerie about being in an empty parking lot so late at night- but you were desperate for groceries. So there you stood, struggling to find your keys while your grocery bags rested next to your feet. 

You don’t know why you couldn’t hear him, it was like he was a ghost. It was all sudden, the feeling of his stern chest on your back, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other holding a black cloth over your mouth. You remember trying to fight him off of you but each second of inhaling the chloroform-infused rag made your eyelids grow heavy. 

When you woke up, your heart felt like it was about to run out of your chest as you noticed you weren’t in your room, realizing that your last memory wasn’t a simple dream. 

The room was unfamiliar, you were lying on a queen-sized mattress, the white walls were decorated with two small portraits of flowers, and the hardwood floor looked spotless as if someone had just finished polishing it. The room itself looked normal except for the fact there wasn’t a single window, the only source of light came from a bulb hung on the ceiling- in addition to the security camera tucked in the corner. 

Your first instinct was to run to the door, only to find it was locked. Then you banged your fist against it, cursing at anyone who was behind the door. 

That’s when you heard his voice for the first time, soft- slightly comforting as well. 

“Take ten steps back from the door,” he uttered, sounding more like a suggestion than a command. 

“What the fuck is this, let me out” you shouted back. “Ten steps away from the door” he repeated, tone with a hint of annoyance. “Where even am I? Asshole, if you don’t let me go right now I’ll-”

“I said ten fucking steps away from the door, Y/n” he shouted, his voice booming, banging his fist on the other side of the door, causing you to flinch. You didn’t dare to utter another word like your lips were stuck together by glue, slowly retreating a good distance away from the entrance.

You heard the voice sigh from behind the door before unlocking it.

He walked, dark hair swooped to the side, a light grey baggy sweatshirt paired with black trousers. The only thing odd about his appearance was a sliver argyle patterned masquerade mask wrapped around the top half of his face, highlighting his dark tired eyes. 

You don’t need to see his entire face to know you’ve never met him before. “H-how do you know my name?" You questioned, voice stuttering with anxiety, taking a step back the second he took a step closer.  

He gave you a disappointed look, his eyes narrowed through the mask, “because we know each other. Y/n” he replied. 

“What do you mean 'we know each other?' I don’t even know your name, you sick fuck” you remarked, clenching your fist. “Pancakes? Do you like pancakes? “ he asked, his voice calm and unbothered as if you hadn’t just cursed him out. 

“What? Why the hell are you asking me if I want pancakes” you scoffed. “For breakfast, of course” he beamed, lips curled in a sweet subtle smile. 

“I- I don’t want pancakes, I want to leave” you replied, voice stern. “Try to get some rest, you hit your head pretty hard before you got here” he suggested, as he began to retreat to the door. 

You looked at him in disbelief as his silhouette left the room. 

The next morning- or what you assume was the next morning, the ringing of a bell woke you, as your vision slowly focused on your surroundings, you noticed him sitting on your bed, holding a tray of breakfast assortments, head tilted as he smiled.

“I hope you slept well. I made you breakfast- I’m not the best chef, so don’t get too excited” he laughed embarrassed, leaning over to lay the tray on your lap.

You looked at the food, fresh pancakes drizzled with syrup, a glass of iced orange juice, and toasted bread on the side. Then you looked back at him, his innocent happy appearance pissed you off- it was like he wasn’t unaware of how morally wrong his mistakes were.  “I don’t want your fucking food- I want to leave” you shouted, trying to tackle him with the butter knife from the tray, the spread of food falling over as you pushed him to the ground, knees straddling his chest.

In an instance, his hands are on your waist, flipping you over as if it didn't take any effort difficulty, pinning your hand above your head, making you drop the butter knife, strands of dark hair dangling off his forehead. 

“If you ever do that again” he uttered, putting crushing pressure around your wrist as he squeezed them, he leaned over, his breath on your neck as he tilted his head, 

“I will fucking break your arm.”

That’s when you realize the man in front of you isn’t just your abductor - he’s a sociopath.

The first month of your new ‘lifestyle’ was the hardest, if he wasn’t keeping you company, you’d shout for help, praying for someone would hear you. But you’re pretty sure he was watching you on his phone, laughing to himself. 

He was interesting in a way in which he cared about you as if you were his pet, weighing you weekly, giving you vitamins to replace your need for sunlight, checking your temperature, and even trimming your hair. But not once for the entire year you’ve been with him has he ever taken that annoying sliver mask off. 

You wondered what would be under the mask, a scar or a burn? Maybe a really bad tattoo. 

There was a knock on the door, the knock meant that you had to step away from the door- exactly ten steps. As you watched the door slowly open, both of his hands held a silver platter on top of it was a circular handmade chocolate frosted cake with one yellow lit candle. 

He shut the door with his foot and used his elbow to hit the light switch behind him, the fire from the candle now more noticeable. “Sit down ” he advised, voice laced with excitement.

“What’s with the cake?” you asked, crisscrossing your legs as you sat on the softness of your mattress. “It’s a special day” he replied, sitting across from you as he placed the cake in the middle. “And why is that?” you questioned.

"It’s your birthday” he whispered as if it were a childish secret.

“My birthday?” you repeated. 

“Yeah, it's your special day. Go on, make a wish” he added, a sweet smile appearing on his lips, laying his hand on top of yours. 

That’s when your anxieties resurfaced, the girl who was scratching and biting her abductor every chance she got is coming back into the light. Fuck- how have you been here for a year? Why the hell are you still here- you need out because you can’t take it anymore.

“Y/n? Aren’t you going to blow out your candles” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, noticing that you pulled your hand away from his.

“I-I can’t” you stuttered, beginning to hyperventilate, palms becoming sweaty. “What? What’s wrong” he asked, voice laced with panic.

“No- this is wrong, I shouldn’t be here. I-”

“Y/n. You’re having a panic attack, just try to calm down” he advised, leaning over to comfort your face, only to be pushed away by his chest. “Get the fuck away from me ” you shouted. He’s tripping off the bed, letting out a hiss of pain, rubbing his forehead as he notices something.

He’s touching his skin.

He looked down at his chest, there his mask lay, the ribbons that were once tied together now unraveled due to the fall. Then he’s looking back at you, with a panicked expression.

It’s all hitting you back now.

You can’t forget that face, soft pale skin, eyebags lying under his dark blue eyes. 

“Y-Yuuta?” You uttered

You finally realized his identity because you knew him from freshmen year of high school- but you were nothing more than an acquittance to you. The mere thought of Yuuta’s existence was a far memory in the back of your head, so no wonder why you couldn’t recognize him until his mask was gone. Yuuta was just a guy from high school you felt bad for because he was bullied relentlessly. He looked different now, his classic bangs pushed to the side and he was never this physically strong. 

“Don’t look at me” he mumbled, panicked hands trying to tie his mask back on.

“W-why are you doing this to me? I-I never did anything awful to you” you questioned, feeling your eyes swell up with tears.

“No- No, This isn’t a punishment, Y/n. I-I’m in love with you. I always have been in love with you” Yuuta corrected, disregarding the attempt to put his mask back on, as he got on his knees to look up at you from the bed, a pitiful expression on his face. 

“Then what the fuck is this Yuuta? Y-you’re in love with me? I didn’t even talk to you in high school. Even if I did, there is no way in hell, I’d ever date a freakshow like you” you remarked.

It’s like the word ‘freakshow’ triggered something in Yuuta’s mind, bringing back the memories of him being constantly berated by his classmates. As you watched him stand up, his facial demeanor became cold, and his eyes that once looked at you with admiration became dull.

“Y-Yuuta?” you stuttered, slowly backing away on the bed until your back reached the wall.

Then you feel Yuuta’s hand wrap around your ankles, dragging you back towards him, your back pressed against the bed, legs dangling off of the edge. He leaned over, his chest hovering over yours, his face so close to the side of your neck that you could feel his breath against your skin.

“G-get off of me” you panicked, laying your palms flat on Yuuta’s chest as you tried to push him off, only for him to quickly pin them above your head, only needing to use one hand to detain both of yours, his grip wrapping around your wrists.

“I love you. From the second I saw you, I knew you were different- different from all the other assholes who would want to make my life a personal hell” Yuuta explained, his free hand going to caress your cheek, fingertips tracing the soft skin.

“I’m not though, I just stood by and watched it happen. I’m not special” you argued, tears swelling in your eyes. Yuuta clicked his tongue, adverting his eyes from your eyes, eyebrows narrowed as he recollected his thoughts.

“March seventh, my birthday. Some guys from our high school decided to beat the shit out of me as a sick present. They threw me in an alleyway like I was trash, and took my umbrella too so I was getting drenched by the rain. God- they punched me up so hard that I actually thought I was going to die, my eyesight was going blurry and I was freezing from the rain. I couldn’t get up or anything, so I just lay in that alleyway to accept death. But then an angel came to me and she held me tightly in her arms in the shivering rain as we waited for the ambulance she called to arrive. 

Don’t you get it, Y/n? You’re my angel.” Yuuta recited, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

You looked at him in disbelief, you can’t even argue because he’s right. You did decide to help him. It’s one thing to look the other way when he got called horrid things- but you couldn’t let him die in that alley.

“I-I only did that because I couldn’t let you die and I thought you were too exhausted to remember it was me to help you” you stuttered out the truth.

“How could I possibly forget? Forget the only person in this fucked up world who’s ever been kind to me” Yuuta replied.

“I barely know you” you whimpered, voice trembling as his face inched closer to yours

“And you are my everything” he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours into a tender kiss.

You’re embarrassed- You’re embarrassed by how soft Yuuta’s lips are, how good they feel on yours, causing your heart to race.

You’re embarrassed about how intoxicating the feeling of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, letting his cold fingertips roam your side.

And you’re embarrassed about how you want to stop. But you can’t.

Yuuta doesn’t realize it but he has the face of an angel but the touch of the devil. The second he’s kissing you, he has you under his control. You’re almost missing the feeling of his lips on yours as he moved to trail wet kisses on your neck, biting, sucking the exposed skin he could touch.

Then you’re tilting your head, looking at him descend between your legs, his knees touching the floor, his fingers hook under the hem of your pants, slowly sliding them off. You could feel the embarrassment burn your cheeks as you watched Yuuta’s immersed expression at the sight of your panties, the thin fabric separating your desperate cunt from his tongue.

Yuuta thinks it’s funny, he’s the one who specifically brought you those pairs of panties- of course, he was embarrassed buying women’s underwear so he only picked out ones for comfort rather than appeal. But there's just something about seeing you under him, your flustered expression while wearing the clothes he picked for you- the panties he brought for you. Fuck- it turns him on. 

His finger is gliding on your clothed slit, admiring the softness of the fabric, how your breath hitched when his fingertips pressed against your fabric above your clitoris.

He opens his mouth as if he were about to utter a word but then closes it, gulping his breath. He’s waiting- he’s waiting for you to stop him, to yell at him- to remind him that you don’t want to be here. “Yuuta. Why did- Why did you stop?” You uttered, voice hinted with shyness. He thinks he’s so stupid for not realizing it earlier but you’re sexually frustrated. This was certainly the most physical interaction you’ve gotten all year because Yuuta would mostly refrain from touching you too intimately. 

But hearing your words were the scissors that cut the thin thread holding Yuuta’s consciousness. Your panties were peeled off, legs hung over Yuuta’s shoulders as his mouth dived into your cunt, tongue dipping out of his lips, brushing over your swollen clit. 

Even the feeling of his hot breath against your needy cunt caused you to moan, you could barely contain yourself once you felt his fingers sliding into your entrance. Yuuta cursing at himself in his head if he had known how good it would be to taste you, he would have done it sooner. The pretty little noises that are slipping out of your mouth are going straight into his cock, his hips slowly grinding against the bed frame for a pathetic way of relief from the erection in his pants. 

Yuuta’s opting to switch out his fingers for his tongue, fucking you with the wet muscle, his nose nudging at your clit. 

Your hands grip the mattress as you lose yourself in pleasure, hips grinding against Yuuta’s tongue, growing needy on the feeling of him savoring your cunt. Yuuta doesn’t dare to pull away when you cum, if he could he’d spend the entire day between your legs, savoring the taste of your cunt and the sweet moans that fall out of your lips.

 It’s not until you're pushing his head away from you, does he pull back, wiping his slicked-covered chin with the back of his hand, chest heaving as his glance switches from the view of your wet pussy to your flustered expression. “ Y/n-“ Yuuta panted, getting up from his knees, giving you a better view of his hardened erection lying in his pants, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

“That was- that was a mistake. I wasn't thinking correctly” you interrupted, adverting your away from Yuuta’s aroused composure, closing your legs to hide your wet cunt.

"This is far from a mistake, Y/n. ” Yuuta mumbled, tracing his finger from your calf to your thigh, before quickly straightening both of your legs to lean on his chest,

“This is fate bringing us together. This is the truest form of love."

While holding your legs together with one hand, Yuuta slightly pulls his hips away to undo his pants before slipping his hard cock between the softness of your thigh. He’s moaning at the warm feeling of your thighs tightening around his cock, instinctively humping between your legs. You bite your tongue every time Yuuta’s cock swipes against your slit, ashamed of the sexual frustration building up in you at his refusal to properly fuck you. You're wondering if this is his way to punish you- or maybe this is his way of helping you realize how desperate you are for his touch. 

“Feels good-fuck” Yuuta stuttered, leaning his head down as he memorized the image of his cock fucking your thighs.

“Yuuta, just do it already” you uttered.

“ Do what, pretty girl?” He asked, an innocent smile on his lips, placing a sweet kiss on your ankle.  

“J-just fuck me already” You confessed, forearms going over your face to cover your shame, not wanting to look at his reaction.

“That’s all you needed to say” Yuuta replied, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on the side of your neck before sliding his cock into your aching hole, the painful stretch causing you to bite your tongue.

“All you need to do is ask, sweetheart” Yuuta huffed, abdomen tensing at the tightness of your cunt sucking in his cock. 

“And I’ll do anything for you.”

Yuuta’s cock is slipping out of you, only the red tip still prodding in your walls until he’s snapping his hip, fucking his cock back into you causing you to gasp his name, overwhelming pleasure making your brain turn into mush. He can’t help but dip his head, letting out a moan, loud and unrestrained. And all you could think was

His moans are as pretty as his face.

But fuck- his pace is brutal, he’s bending one of your knees onto your chest, hard cock hitting a deeper angle in you. 

“Y/n. Hold on to me. Want you to bite kiss, want you to bite me, want you to touch me” Yuuta panted, talking incorrectly due to his loss in pleasure, eyes half-lidded as he gazed upon your fucked out expression. His cock is bullying your cunt with harsh strokes until you finally submit, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as you bit into the crook of his neck erupting a groan from him. He’s letting go of your knee, opting for his hand to creep under your shirt, groping at the softness of your breast.

Yuuta doesn’t know how many times he’s shamefully jacked off to one of your social media posts, even if they were just an innocent picture of you in a garden or with friends, everything about you drove him crazy. He can’t believe he has you like this, on the verge of tears, desperate for his cock to edge you into your blissful orgasm, your fingers gripping the back of his black shirt, the sweet sounds of you moaning in his ear while he plays with your tits.

If this is a dream, he never wants to wake up.

When you cum, you let out the prettiest noise and your walls clench so hard against Yuuta’s cock that it almost makes him spill his load inside of you.

Yuuta doesn’t wait for you to recover from your high, while you’re still trembling his hips are thrusting into your wet cunt until he feels his orgasm. He pulls out last second and spills his cum on your inner thigh, his chest heaving as he pushed back his sweaty black hair, admiring the messy sight of his load dripping down your thigh. 

Once your high was over, the shame kicked in. The shame that you allowed and even enjoyed letting the man that ruined your life touch you- to fuck you. You can’t help but curl yourself up, trying to get as small as possible, while uncontrollable tears stream out your eyes.

Then you felt Yuuta’s soothing touch as he got on the bed, laid beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his hand slipping under your shirt, feeling your warm skin as he stroked your bare back.

“You took care of me all those years ago, so let me take care of you.I love you, my angel.”

If you were actually an angel, you think Yuuta would be the dagger that cuts your wings, trapping you on earth.

Trapping you with him.

Taglist-

@nyamocka @docosahexaenoic-san 

#yandere x reader #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere yuuta x reader #yandere yuuta #yandere yuuta okkotsu #yandere yuta okkotsu x reader #yandere yuta x reader #yandere yuta #yandere smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[rabbit-or-rib]

Rabbit

Rabbit I'm begging you to do stalker headcanons with Mh or EMH guys (you don't gotta ofc! But w o ah)

🐟

AAAA IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THEM !!!! I WAS RLLY HAPPY W HOW THE TOBY ONES CAME OUT :)))) also,,,, watch me hit u w ALL the guys !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nsfw can come later if u wish fishy, i skipped it cus this is alr a super long post BFJSJFNJS) (also i got to use my rainbow dividers i have saved up cus there's so many ppl YAYYYYYYY)

[📹⛓️‍💥🚬👁️☠️🐇]

Stalker!Brian Thomas / Hoodie / Tim Wright / Masky / Evan Myers / HABIT x gn!reader headcanons :)

Brian ;

ok we know Brian likes to record

so expect there to be at least one camera on you a majority of the time

sometimes he'll leave it in a tree or placed just right behind a fence post, zoomed in on your bedroom window so he can document you and your routine even when he's busy

he's so thoughtful 😸😸😸

definitely the type to perfectly curate a "meet-cute" for the both of you, writing down the coffee place you stop off at on mondays for a pick-me-up, the stores you go to that have your favorite brand of something, he calculates his every action with you long before it's happened.

he knows what he's doing is wrong, but unlike Toby, he's not exactly ashamed of it. if anything he likes the added excitement that you could still find him out

this is one of the times him and Hoodie kind of blur together a little bit, both in morals and actions

Brian is fully willing to do whatever it takes to keep eyes on you and to keep you under his thumb and his alone; it doesn't matter who gets in his way

Hoodie ;

also a big fan of recording, but tends to get much more risky with it

likes the feeling that you might catch a little camera that's nestled in between some trinkets and books or a pile of blankets you keep on your couch

he is a creepy creeper . he wants to watch EVERYTHING

gets his feelings hurt when you close your curtains cus you feel eyes on you (you're right, but still :(()

it takes a lot to deter him from doing everything in his power to keep watch over you

he's not even sure of his own motives, really. sure, he wants to keep you safe and make sure no one else is watching you, but most of the time he's just there to watch.

you're like a doll to him, something to entertain him.

Masky ;

this isn't even part of this i just wanna say the vibe for stalker Masky (and just him in general tbh) for me feels a lot like the intro to My Meds Aren't Working by Dystopia . very slow, calculating, stuck in your own head but still zeroed in on one thing

and it's you ofc !!!!

i think Masky is one of the more scarier guys to have stalking you on this lineup honestly. hot? yes absolutely. terrifying to see constantly out of the corner of your eye, sitting at the bus stop outside your job, standing in the parking lot of the gas station by your apartment complex and staring up into your window? YES VERY

he's haunting. he doesn't go up to you, will go completely brick wall at you if you try to come up to him, and you can never tell what emotion is going on behind his eyes. the few times you've walked closer to him, likely on the street in the earlier stages, he looked hungry. like he was waiting and watching for your guard to be down to do something.

if he knows you'll be out, he'll get into your house to steal some of your clothes- likely your underwear (creepy crawler) and a sleep shirt

you will never see him without the mask on. point blank. not to smoke, eat, anything. he is not human or himself when he's around you; he needs to absorb everything about you.

i don't think of him to be the type to film you, would rather be there in person 24/7. it feels more personal to him.

Tim ;

one of the few guys that feels guilt about what he's doing- he knows how scary it is to feel watched all the time. how awful it is to find out you were right.

he’s embarrassed of himself; he’s prided himself on being stoic and independent for so long that this sudden urge to love you and watch you and know you gives him waves of shame

watches from afar, would definitely try and avoid letting himself get too close to you in person. he’s ashamed of it, but he can’t help himself- he needs you, even if at a distance. 

steals clothes you’ve slept in so he can try and satiate his yearning to be close to you without actually needing to be so vulnerable, with you or anyone

his near dependency on you reminds me of It Will Come Back by Hozier, his obsession is fed by breadcrumbs from the few in-person up close encounters he’s had with you. smiles when he comes into where you work, nervous little waves when you catch him looking at you at the store, soft 'excuse me!'s when you pass by him

you drive him up a wall (lovingly)

Evan ;

Evan feels guilty, but for the ‘wrong’ reasons

i say ‘wrong’ because he’s more concerned with you inevitable introduction to the whole Habit mess, not with the morals of stalking and obsessing over you

despite his guilt, he can’t get enough of you. his persistence rivals Brian's; it’s almost immediate that he tries to get you with him

latches onto you for fear of you leaving- honestly less of a stalker and more on the obsessive side. not good at keeping his hands to himself. 

you might be one of the only cases where he tries to bargain and/or work with Habit, in an attempt to keep you safe or keep you near him out of desperation if you're not listening to him when he tries to convince you to stay with him essentially 25/8

touchy obsessive little critter . give him what he wants before he goes sicko mode (being 10 feet away from you at all times)

Habit ;

does not hide himself AT ALL

will actively be letting you know he's watching

seeing him behind you in mirrors, rabbit motifs everywhere, a random blood splatter in plain sight that no one else seems to see.

he watches, he knows, and he learns

what things make you the most paranoid, all the ways he can slowly introduce himself in a more. friendly light to get you to trust him. to love him.

he's what's best for you, whether you like it or not. it just might take some time for you to get there

ironically for him, think 'The Best Is Yet To Come' by Frank Sinatra. it's just a matter of time before things get so much better. for the both of you, of course!

#guys can you tell i love me some creepy crawler masky #🐟 #brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #evan myers x reader #habit emh x reader #emh habit x reader #marble hornets x reader #everymanhybrid x reader #rabbit writings

[thefirstknife]

glad to see that ppl are aware that nimbus doesn't deserve the hate they get bc it stems from them being nonbinary! but i also see them be compared to cayde a lot, which i understand. but ppl are like "they're basically another cayde" and idk how i feel about that. it seems weird and ignorant to sideline them as cayde but nonbinary when nimbus is more than that despite our lack of interactions + lore w/ them. ppl already had a hard time comprehending how they processed their grief through humor and their recklessness in the deterministic chaos mission so it's no surprise they just view them as a cayde comparison :/ sorry, i could be overthinking things i'm not sure. what do you think?

I feel similarly, it feels a bit reductive to just boil them down to another Cayde, though I understand the comparison. People mostly say it because a lot of the hate for Nimbus is the, genuinely, fake outrage over a character being a little silly and humorous at odd times which is strange because everybody loved Cayde who acted the same. And imo, with fewer good reasons for it as well; although both Cayde and Nimbus hide behind a persona to mask their feelings, I feel like Cayde, one of the Vanguard leaders with hundreds of years of experience under his belt should be a little less silly than a rookie Cloud Strider who's never had anything happen to them in their short life until the start of the expansion.

They're both different characters, but share some similarities in how they're perceived so I understand the comparison especially when people ONLY hate Nimbus for "making jokes." And you have to ask "If you dislike characters making jokes, how can you like Cayde then?" It's always people's first association when someone complains about a character making jokes. I don't think people often think of them as just copies of each other, it's just a natural comparison to draw when people pretend to be bothered by jokes.

I also feel like both of these characters have jokes that are a product of their time; this isn't unusual of course, but people tend to look down on anything new. Naturally, the jokes from MY youth were good and funny, the jokes the kids have these days are cringe and bad. That's essentially it.

I like both of them for their own reasons and I enjoy both of their humour styles. Also, a lot of people thought Cayde's behaviour in vanilla D2 was super cringe btw, I remember people being fairly annoyed that he was "cracking jokes" in the middle of one of the, arguably, worst situations the setting has ever been in (Red War, loss of Light). A lot of people don't remember that, but people did NOT like Cayde's silliness. I understand why, but I never really had an issue with it; it was just a relief from all the gloom otherwise. I think it makes sense to add a little bit of silly, and I think the same applies to Nimbus.

This is why people tend to compare the two! And then you look at all of that and you wonder why Nimbus is the one getting the hate and in most cases it boils down to transphobia. Not always, people can dislike the character for other reasons; but in a LOT of cases, online especially, it's just that. It's evident from the misgendering and the type of hate being hurled around which went as far as insulting the devs and the VA (who is nonbinary and spoke publicly about finding it hard to find work because of their identity). Again, people can dislike Nimbus for other reasons too, but it's really hard to divorce the overwhelming hate for Nimbus from their identity and the state of the gaming community currently.

#destiny 2 #nimbus #cayde-6 #ask #also i know a lot of people have an issue with the filter over their voice. i personally don't but i know some people do #that's fine. it's not on nimbus or the va obviously but people can get irritated hearing it #i definitely don't see people who have an issue with that genuinely hating nimbus as a character though #like i see people say 'the filter is irritating to me but i don't mind nimbus as a character' #but yeah. most of the 'complaints' always boil down to 'nimbus is cringe and makes stupid jokes all the time.' #and the easiest counter to that is asking if they like cayde. because that's how cayde is perceived as well #and was perceived. i distinctly remember that being a point of criticism for the red war. 'cayde is making stupid jokes all the time'

[shurisasthmaticgf]

the curls are curling: lando norris x black social media influencer fem! reader

summary: the secret behind why his curls have been consistently looking perfect is revealed.

authors note: i am still very new to formula one so please don't jump me if there is some slight inaccuracies. i did my best to look things up if i wasn't sure about them. this fic isn't based off of any race in particular either. also, this is a work of fiction meaning it's not REAL so please remember that as well! constructive feedback is heavily encouraged and very appreciated 🫶🏽

heat pooled through the open windows of the house as you ran around to try and get yourself ready for the long day ahead. you woke up an hour ago to give yourself two hours to get ready because today was a race weekend. usually, you only needed about an hour to get you and your boyfriend out the door but today you'd gotten up earlier to film a vlog.

the whole social media influencer thing was still fairly new for you, only having started to consistently vlog and post a few months ago. before you'd started dating lando you were posting here and there about your day to day as a university student and intern for a large company in the city. every so often one of your videos got a couple hundred thousand views but you didn't really mind that your other content only got a few likes...that was just how tiktok's algorithm worked.

once you graduated from university and your internship ended you didn't have much to vlog about until you decided to film a race weekend and post it. what you didn't expect was the video to get millions of views and likes overnight. a massive influx of fans followed but you didn't really pay too much mind to the number, this was just something you liked to do and people also liked to watch. with time you ended up opening a youtube channel where you posted longer vlogs and other videos, and tiktok became a place where you posted 1-3 minute clips of your longer videos. one thing you never really did was center your entire vlog around your boyfriend. sure, lando was the entire reason you ended up at races but you were also your own person...that and lando was oddly camera shy when it came to your vlogs so he often wanted you to edit him out if he happened to end up in the frame.

which is how you ended up in your bedroom with your tripod pointed the camera directly at you. you smiled widely, hoping that it masked the fact that you were nearly half asleep, "good morning everyone! it's race day and i'm gonna be taking you along with me. everyone's been asking for a longer race day vlog so i'm here to give you all what you want. first lets get into the fit- these pajamas were sent to me from Brooks Avenue, if you like them you can use the code Y/N for a little discount on your purchase!" you backed up to show off your pink and green pajamas that would have definitely cost an arm an a leg if they hadn't come in a PR package. the matching pink and green satin bonnet on your head slowly slipped down your forehead leaving you to push it back up with an annoyed huff. you explained to the camera once more, "okay and first i'm gonna brush my teeth then do my skincare routine...he's in the shower right now so the lens might get fogged up, sorry in advance." you knocked on the bathroom door to let your boyfriend know you were coming in before pulling your skincare products out of your travel bag. quickly you brushed your teeth with until you felt like you'd gotten rid of every trace of morning breath.

just as you finished your skincare routine, the shower turned off and you slipped out of the bathroom. while lando finished in the bathroom you sat back down at the vanity and situated the camera back in front of you. slowly you slipped the bonnet from your head and untied the silk scarf under it, letting the large twists in your hair fall against your shoulders. to the camera you explained, "it's gonna be really hot today so i'm just gonna pull the twists back with a ribbon and call it a day i think." you pulled a jar of edge control and a brush from your bag and began styling your baby hairs, effortlessly into swirls and swoops. a laugh fell past your lips as you admitted, "honestly the only reason i still do this is so my forehead looks slightly less...megamind-esque in pictures." when you finished you tied another scarf messily around your hairline and began gathering your twists into a ponytail to secure it with a holder and ribbon.

the bathroom door opened and lando walked back into your room, fully dressed but his button down left wide open exposing his bare torso. in his hands he held a blow dryer and two bottles, one leave in conditioner and a gel you'd bought for him a few weeks ago. you finished tying the bow around your ponytail then took the two bottles from him and plugged the blow dryer into the wall. a hand gently pulled on your hand and you looked up to see sleepy smile grace his lips, "good morning, beautiful." you drew closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pull you in by the waist. his head nuzzled into your shoulder as your hand found the back of his head, stroking his hair softly with your fingers you murmured, "hi baby." you could feel the shy smile he wore against your shoulder until you pulled away from him. you pulled a robe from the back of the door and told him, "put this on." he knew most of the reason was so he didn't stain his shirt with hair products but another part of it had to be the fact that his shirt was wide open.

lando sat in front of the camera and you laughed at how awkward he looked compared to normal. you prompted, "baby, say hi to everyone. they ask for you all the time." he stiffly waved a hand in front of the camera and you sighed, "i don't know why you act so funny around my camera but everyone else it's fine." he mumbled a soft, "because it's you..." but only the mic on the camera caught it. he sat on the bench in front of you and slightly leaned back into your body before letting his eyes flutter shut.

meanwhile you showed the leave in conditioner to the camera, "this is the kinky curly knot today leave in-" despite his eyes being shut lando let out a small laugh and you asked, "what?" he mumbled cheekily, "kinky." you let out a exasperated sigh, "oh god you're like a child...anyways i was saying, i put a little of this in his hair but not too much just a tiny amount to add moisture." squeezing the leave in conditioner into your palm then applying it to his hair you hummed along to a sza song that ran through your head. the gentle work of your fingers running along his scalp nearly lulled lando back to sleep. you worked through his hair with a practiced ease, adding product and coaxing the curls atop his head to take perfect shape. not wanting to disturb his peace, you silently showed the matching brand's curling custard and then applied that lightly to his hair. once you'd finished you turned on the blow dryer, accidentally jump scaring your boyfriend under you. a soft melodic laugh fell past your lips and one hand fell to his shoulder before you leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "my bad babe." the camera didn't miss the way he leaned into your touch, pushing his cheek closer to you with his shoulders dropping further in relaxation.

not even half an hour later you were done and the light brown curls on his head were perfectly defined. you wiped your hands on the hand towel you'd slung over your shoulder earlier and laughed when you realized your boyfriend literally fell asleep. you gently cupped under his chin and pressed another kiss to his cheek. just above a whisper you mumbled, "all done, bubs. " he opened his eyes and smiled while you mused, “my pretty boy.” his cheeks flushed slightly, “thank you” and you brushed a few curls into place before looking at his reflection, "of course." he stood up and pulled you out of the frame to gave you a quick kiss before going downstairs where you'd meet him when you finished getting dressed.

the white and navy blue floral sundress you wore was both nice and simple enough to wear for today. simple gold jewelry and a pair of white sandals finished off your look and you grabbed the camera to show your reflection in the full length mirror on the wall, "all dressed so i'm gonna go meet lando downstairs and i'll see you all a little bit later!" you stopped recording and went downstairs to find your boyfriend sitting and ready to go, his cheeks burning pink when he laid eyes on you. a subtle fluttering erupted in your stomach at the familiar gaze, the one that made you feel like the only girl in the world.

*extra*

you scrolled through your social media accounts, something you never really did if you didn't have to. the first thing that came to your attention was the flood of pictures and comments that were about your boyfriend's hair. for the past few races you'd been doing his hair and more and more fans were noticing it looked better than normal. honestly, you found it amusing that people were bringing it up and so much at that, so you decided to add to the conversation just a bit:

fans reactions to recent vlog upload:

#formula one #formula 1 #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfiction

[beanghostprincess]

Do you ever think about the fact that like, we know NOTHING about buggy? Yes of course we all know the devil fruit thing and how he was on Rogers crew, but the sheer amount we DONT know? Insane.

1 How the frick did he get on rogers crew?? Did roger kidnap the poor the kid? Did buggy just stowaway or something? Roger wouldnt take on anybody so there has to be a reason.

2 No one else looks like buggy except maybe vivi. Is buggy some long forgotten race? Is he actually royalty but their whole race was wiped out? Is it just a genetic mutation? I NEED ANSWERS ODA

3 WHO ARE HIS FAMILY?! Who are his parents or if he has siblings or cousins??? Did they disown him or did he runaway????

4 This is a personal preference but there is NO WAY buggy is as dumb as he plays. You can’t be that stupid and still be a successful captain/businessman/leader/yonko. Whatchu hiding buggy???

5 Where did the circus act come from? When he was on rogers ship there was no circusy makeup or any mention of things related to the circus, the only thing we have about that is that buggy wore bright clothes, but ROGER wore bright clothes. So did he join a circus after he and shanks broke up?? Is there a backstory there??

6 Last one I promise. Does anyone else think it’s a little strange that there are only two people in the series that wear clown makeup and one of them has nothing to do with the circus? Rosinante and buggy have extremely similar makeup, did they know eachother? Rosinante had no reason to wear clown makeup except maybe as a disguise, what the heck was that about???

7 Okok, last one last one. Did Oda say who he based buggy on? We know that almost every character in one piece is based on someone in real life or a myth. But we don’t know who buggy, an OG of the story, is based on. Little strange don’t you think? Oda?? HMMMM?

Mmm, I agree with you in the fact that we actually lack A LOT of information about Buggy's story (and also Shanks', but that's wayyy more plausible to be told in more detail than Buggy's) and I wish we knew more about where he comes from. But I think I can answer some stuff you mentioned!!!

4. Buggy is not playing dumb in any moment. He is directly not dumb at all and he has been shown countless times being of the most strategic characters in the manga. The one thing that holds him back is not being confident in himself because he still keeps the burden of living under Shanks' shadow on his shoulders so he often acts cowardly and seemingly without any goal at all but to survive. After chapter 1082, though, I think we will see wayyy more of him acting like a boss and following his dream and showing his true abilities. It's not that he's playing dumb, it's that he doesn't let himself be brave and now that he's on the same level as Shanks, he can do whatever he wants (if Mihawk and Crocodile let him lmao). And the reason why so many people follow him despite Buggy constantly saying he doesn't want to be seen this way because he sees himself as a loser who keeps pretending to be great, it's just that he's... Great. He just doesn't see it but he has an inherent effect on people when he gets serious. Being a failguy doesn't make you any less of a genius.

5/6. Actually, I believe we won't really get an answer to that. Perhaps we do if we get another flashback but maybe it's just character design and that's pretty much it. There must be something about wearing clown makeup as a mask of their true personality and yadda yadda yadda but that's for another day.

And about Buggy's past and the theory about him being a Nefertari: It's a pretty good theory and I actually really like it, keeping in mind how much influence both Buggy and Vivi's family are having lately in the manga. But I am not really sure about that being true and I am not even sure either if we we'll get any Buggy flashback at all. So I guess we will just have to wait and see what Oda does!!!

#buggy is one of my favorite characters can you telllll #but idk if we will get a proper flashback idk if i should be more optimistic #i wouldn't be THAT angry if we don't tbh buggy's past is not something i'm that interested in bc i believe he considers roger to be his dad #and that's kind of it. really. like if he doesn't live in the past i don't really care. #shanks on the other hand i would like to know more but that's only bc he's like. extremely crucial for the story #but at the end of the day they go hand in hand right?? so if we get shanks flashback we'll get buggy's #now i am not actually worried at all about this ekfbewkbew #buggy my beloved #buggy the clown #one piece #ask-bean!

[kkaatzchen]

MerMay Special! : Mer!Gaz x Diver!Soap

Cw/Tags: Smut/nsfw, badly written Scottish accent, trans Soap, mer stuff, possessive Gaz kind of, Gaz has two dicks, eggs/oviposition, they get it on in the water, dubious consent but only because Soap isn’t aware of what he’s getting into, he agrees though, kind of rushed writing, not beta read because I have no beta reader 😔, help I still don’t know how to tag

/// NSFW under cut ///

John was tasked with another dive that day. He’d been inspecting a reef a few miles out from the coast. There’d been a recent chemical spill that affected the habitat, but it had been cleaned up and the reef was beginning to flourish again. Color was returning along with fish and a few mers. Mers had become a regular sighting for the diver, and he was no longer very scared of them as he was at first. 

There was one mer that seemed to stick around the reef fairly often, but would dash off when it saw John coming near. The more often he visited, though, the mer realized that he wasn’t a threat and was there to help the reef flourish. It would linger around the reef for a few moments while John did his inspection, then slowly swim off. That morphed into hanging around the entire time John was there. That morphed into John trying to spark up a conversation.

“Name’s Johnny,” he introduced himself. His voice was a bit garbled through the mask he wore under water, but he was at least understandable.

The mer peeked out from a coral fan and blinked once, slowly. “Gaz” the mer replied. 

Johnny took his time now to get a good look at the mer. He’d seen it no, him before, but never took the time to really look at him. See if he could determine what fish he was crossed with. Glossy dark skin, a shimmery black tail with white and blue markings in circular patterning, and long dark hair twisted into thick locks and embellished with various shiny things and pieces of coral.

An emperor angelfish. Those markings gave it away.

“I’ve started seein’ ye around often here,” the diver said. “Startin’ to like me?”

“Something like that..” Gaz replied, approaching him a bit more.

“I was wondering’ where all yer friends went off to. They never seem to visit.?”

Fuck. So the diver had noticed that Gaz was now the only mer hanging around the reef.

“Oh.. I guess they must have found a different reef,” the mer suggested, knowing full damn well he chased them off.

—

“If I ever see you around this reef with that diver, you’re good as dead!” He’d growled at the last mer that had stuck around despite his earlier threats. “That’s my fuckin’ human. And it seems to be his favorite reef, so it’s his.”

—

“Ah, could’ve been.” Johnny accepted the answer as truth.

The rest of his inspection of the reef went by smoothly. It was recovering very nicely. The steady conversation with Gaz kept him even longer than usual, and the hour and a half in his air tank had dwindled to only 35 minutes left.

“I best be goin’,” John spoke up. The mer waved him off. “It was nice to finally get to know ya.”

To say Gaz was happy or excited was a sick understatement. He wanted that diver, Johnny he now knew, ever since he caught sight of him. He wanted that human. And he wanted him even more now that spring was here and he would have eggs to deposit.

It was a while after that Johnny visited the reef again. Since it was doing so much better, it didn’t need to be checked on as often. Of course, he saw his new favorite mer there.

“Hey, Gaz,” he greeted. “This is goin to be one of my last times checkin’ in on yer reef..” he said bittersweetly. He was glad the reef was doing so well, but he’d miss his new friend. “I’ll be here two more times, once a month..”

“Oh.”

The wave of disappointment that washed over the mer was I describable. He felt cold. He knew he’d only have a limited time to claim him, then.

“Well then.. I want to show you somewhere special,” Gaz said hopefully.

“A’m probably not supposed t’ drift off with mers on the job,” Jonny joked, “but I’ll agree.”

After his once-over of the reef, John was led by Gaz to a small cove near the shore. John recognized it as not too far from the dock he’d come from for each reef inspection. There was a hollow that opened into a very short cave. Cracks in the top let in a bit of light, but there was a string of solar powered lights inside as well. Johnny briefly wondered if someone had known about this spot and put the light in themself.

“... I decorated it a bit. I hoped you might like it,” Gaz spoke up.

Johnny had lifted himself up into the opening, sitting on a ledge. The space was nicely dry, even now at high tide.

“For me.?” John asked curiously. Gaz nodded after a moment.

“I was maybe hoping… that you’d like to be my human.” The mer admitted.

Johnny was slightly taken aback, but now that he knew Gaz wanted him to be his, it made sense why he’d been the only mer around the reef. The only mer around *him*, Johnny realized.

“It wouldn’t hurt, would it?” The human grinned in reply. Johnny wasn’t the most educated about mers, that was apparent. Not a whole lot of people were, so it wasn’t too surprising. Gaz sure as hell wasn’t going to second guess his acceptance, though.

In John’s head, accepting to be the mer’s human was simply a matter of visiting him often, maybe giving some gifts to convey affection. How wrong he was…

Johnny stopped by the little cove the next day and found Gaz there waiting for him. He smiled at seeing the mer, thinking it was nice of him to stay and wait for Johnny to arrive.

“Hey, Gaz,” he grinned.

“Johnny!” The mer grinned right back, pointed teeth and eyes bright with excitement. Johnny actually came.

The human was in his wetsuit already and slipped down into the water to get into the cove. He sat up on the edge of the rock again, just like last time. Gaz peeked out of the water just between his legs.

“Are you ready to become my human?” The mer asked with a smile.

“Ready as ever,” John replied. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what this meant, he agreed.

Gaz pulled him back down into the water and worked the zipper of his wetsuit down. It seemed like what was happening only just now dawned on the human. His face flushed slightly, not feeling the smartest. It should have been obvious that this was what I was getting into! He thought to himself. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to back out now.

The water was cold on Johnny’s skin without the wetsuit. It had been discarded onto a dry ledge, thankfully, instead of the water. He looked down to see that two lengths protruded from a small slit on the mer’s front. To say it was intimidating was a drastic understatement for Johnny. He glanced up at Gaz with worry in his eyes, yet his body was reacting in its own way. A warmth built in his abdomen that was quickly generating wetness between his thighs.

“You’ll be okay,” Gaz assured him. The mer had nothing but desire in his gaze as he lined up both of his lengths with Johnny’s entrance and began easing them in.

Johnny’s hands rested on the mer’s shoulders, his nails digging into the skin at the burn of the stretch he was taking. He writhed, trying to get away at the same time he was trying to get closer.

It was a good few minutes of painful stretch and sweet words from the mer to calm him until John was able to take in both cocks to the hilt. He was more than impressed with himself.

“Good fuckin’ god, Gaz.. all mers got two o’ these things..?” Johnny panted, face flushed. Whole body flushed, really.

“Mhm,” Gaz nodded simply. The mer was more than lost in thought. He was trying his best not to wreck the man before him. He had waited for this moment for months now. He was just ready to get this human - his human, his Johnny - full of his eggs.

Gaz tried his best to start out slow for his human. Johnny had to tell him to slow down a few times, though, but he was trying his best regardless.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s thoughts were running wild. The stretch was definitely painful, yes, but it might have been just about the best thing he’d ever felt. And he could tell the mer was trying to be careful even with how eager he was. It wasn’t too long before the pain mellowed out to a dull burn, though. The cool water was soothing that sensation as well.

“Fuck..” John breathed out, lazily rolling his hips down against Gaz. The mer made a peculiar trilling noise and gave a quick thrust into him, eliciting a gasp from John. The pace slowly began picking up. The human was feeling a coil of heat build up in his stomach that seemed ready to snap at any moment.

While the sounds were lovely to Gaz’s ears, he wasn’t focused on Johnny’s noises of pleasure. He was focused on the four eggs that he could give to Johnny and how the human would carry them so well for him.

“Promise to keep comin’ back..?” Gaz murmured hopefully.

“Wouldn’t-… wouldn’t be lettin’ ya-.. do this if I planned.. t’ up an’ leave afterwards..” John replied breathlessly.

Heavily encouraged by this response, Gaz sped up his movements. It wasn’t long before he felt a subtle shifting inside of himself, and knew that it was the four eggs.

John felt another stretch at his entrance, but it passed. Odd, he thought. Maybe he imagined it. But when he felt something press at the barrier of his cervix, he knew he hadn’t imagined it. He gave a wince and a breathy noise of pain, but the thing squeezed past. Johnny’s eyes were wide with concern, but he was oddly aroused and somehow not freaking out about this.

“Gaz-… Gaz, what was that…?” He managed to ask, feeling another brief stretch to his entrance.

Gaz was confused. Didn’t Johnny know what he had agreed to? Wasn’t he aware that this would happen?

“It’s my eggs, you’re taking them. You’re taking them very well, too,” he told the human, praising him as well when the second was deposited.

The human relaxed for some reason, even though that thought didn’t make him feel much better. What was he going to do.? He didn’t know how to take care of mer young. He pushed the thought aside. That could be dealt with later. Now, the coil in his stomach was a second away from snapping.

His core tightened up, causing the third stretch to struggle past. The feeling of it against his walls was intoxicating, and the sensation alone made him forget about all of the complications he was stepping into. His nails dug into the mer’s shoulders again as he felt the egg press hard against his cervix, then push past. That was all he needed.

Johnny’s head lifted back with pleasure, his body tensing up as euphoria washed over him like water. Or maybe that was just his surroundings.

Gaz took this as a good sign, elated that he could make the human react like that. The last egg was pushed past, and suddenly John felt warm substance filling him up. The mer’s release, he figured, still coming down from his orgasm.

John missed the fullness when Gaz finally pulled out, but it was an immediate relief. Even in the water he could tell that a gush of fluid left his core following the mer’s retraction. He shuddered and leaned forward against Gaz’s body.

“Thank you, thank you Johnny,” the mer trilled. “My human now…” he seemed almost comforted by that fact. He hugged John against himself tenderly.

John felt on the verge of sleep, but too awake at the same time. It took him a moment to get himself back together.

Gaz slowly lifted the human up onto the stone ledge. Johnny situated himself, looking over his body. There was no physical evidence that he was carrying the mer’s eggs, but he could feel it.

“You’d better take a second to rest,” Gaz spoke up, breaking Johnny out of his thoughts, “and when you’re alright to get home, rest some more.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll do that..”

/// fin. ///

#call of duty #cod #mermay #mermay 2024 #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #special post #gazsoap #smut #trans soap #mer x diver #ovi kink #ovipositor

[megangovier]

In The Woods

Word counter: 918

Pairing: Ghost face x fem! reader

Summary: You're lying in your tent, listening to the sound of pouring rain. Enjoying the peacefulness of the place. Around 22:30 a man in a mask paced around your tent.

Warning: 18+ only | Alcohol | Smut | mdni | Dub-con | P in V (wrap it up, before you tap it) | Slapping | mention of "slut" "bitch" | Oral m | degrading & praising | breeding kink | Spit kink | Recording | Choking |

You've been camping out in the woods for a few days now, enjoying the secludedness of the environment where no one else would go. You brought a few things with you, books, basic necessities and beer to relax while the rain was pouring down. You're currently lying in bed, eyes closed, listening to the rain hitting the trees around you. A sigh of relief falling from your lips, a small smile on your face. This was the life, away from work, reality and stress. Work at times could be so stressful, it had put you in the hospital. But you were a lot better now since you've been camping out in the wildness for the last few days.

Your body felt so tired, so you turned off the light, closed your eyes and slept. you felt so comfortable on your back, chest slowly going up and down. As time went by footsteps could be heard around your tent but it didn't bother you, you were known to be a heavy sleeper since a teenager. A 6'6 masked man all in black was standing outside your tent. Slowly unzipping your beautiful, spacious tent he crawled inside quietly zipping up the tent. As he crawled onto you, gloved hand over your mouth your eyes opened and widened with fear. His body covering your small one, wriggling under him to try and get away he grabbed your arms and held it beside your body while he opened your legs with his thick one.

"You're going to do what I tell you, because if you don't, you'll face the consequences, got it?" you nodded your head in agreement. "Good girl, now I'm going to remove my hand from that pretty mouth of yours, you better not scream or make a single fucking sound." As he removed his hand, you looked away from those monstrous eyes, making him grab your face squeezing it slightly "No you look at me the entire time, I'm in control here, not you." A whimper left your lips, making the man slap your cheek "listen here you bitch, I'm going to use you however I please, for the next few hours." As he undid his belt, he grabbed your wrists and tied them together making sure you can't fight back.

Moving closer to you, he slapped his cock on your face, eye's widened in fear "what's wrong pretty, this cock too big for you to handle?" chuckles "It'll fit, if I make it fit" As he slammed his cock down your tight throat, his head falls back in pleasure "fuck, your throat is so tight, such a little slut for me. Taking a stranger's cock like that, have you done that to every guy that's been in these woods? I bet you have". Grabbing onto your hair now, he fucks your throat a bit faster making you gag "such a pro at this, you're doing so well for me." A few thrusts more and he is ready to paint that pretty throat white " Stop now princess, I'm going to fuck you now, I want my hot seed inside you, watching your stomach grow with my babies, while your breasts grow with milk" you couldn't help but moan at what he said.

"You want that don't you, I know you do, the way you just fucking moaned when I said that" positioning himself between those luscious thighs of yours "I haven't touched you and you're already wet for me" a grin slipped onto his lips "Now you're going to be good for me pretty slut". Grabbing your face "Open up pretty slut" as you did, he spitted into your mouth. "Such an obedient girl, complying with what I say," you could feel how hard and needy he was "I'm going to fuck you now, now be good for me and just lie there while I do all the work" Slamming into you, not caring if it hurts. He slipped both hands onto your lower stomach making you shiver "Feel good huh? you should be ashamed for enjoying this, I'm a complete stranger pounding into you, in the middle of nowhere, you're actually disgusting, borderline sick" .

You couldn't help but moan at the degradation and bullying "such a weirdo, I bet your parents don't even know what their own daughter is like huh? how about we show them". Getting out your phone from your pocket and videos you. "Aw, look at how disgusting this bitch is, taking some stranger's cock like some bloodhound in heat, look at the camera slut and tell them how much of a worthless slut you're" tears running down your face "I'm a worthless slut". A maniacal laugh leaves his lips "Look how nasty you're slut, people are commenting":

"SLUT"

"Who knew huh?"

"No wonder she has no friends"

Tears started to roll faster down your face "Please stop" a slap landed onto your face harshly causing you to clench around him "so pathetic, like being humiliated huh? everyone knows the type of woman you're now" Slipping a hand around your throat clenching even more around him "Fuck I'm so close, you're doing so well for me slut" Slapping your thighs harshly and breasts, a strangled moan left your lips causing you to come all over his cock "atta fucking girl, can you do that one more time, I'm really close and want to breed you so badly" As you did what was told his cock was pulsating "take it all" his seed explodes into you.

@toxicanonymity @toxicrecs

#masked man #masked man x fem!reader #megangovier22 #ghostface #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #slashers #slasher fanfic #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slasher smut #slasher x you #slasher movies

[narcissosbythepool]

@pricegazweek Day 3 - So weep no longer, though you love me & blue

A fic in poetry form

Tags: major character death, violence

//

He's not quite Orpheus—

He's gone, because he doesn't look.

There's a firefight, a burst of light and violence and the noise that echoes after.

Being fired at feels just like that, what it says on the tin, and he's always felt that

'Firefight' is exactly the word that it should be given.

It is

Heat and sweat and a burning sensation

It is

A dizzy head and ringing ears and the acrid scent of gunpowder

It is

Panic, despite everything

It is

Ignorance, like in a fire your eyes track to what you hold dearest

And for him it is the door ajar, the road to freedom.

To the dirt road, the river, then the cover of the woods.

He runs because he knows

His boys will follow.

He doesn’t have to look.

He's not quite Orpheus,

Not just because he doesn't look.

Should he travel to the world under, he's certain he would linger.

Touch the damp headstones and run his fingers over the ancient epitaphs.

Tip the ferryman lavishly, let some poor spirit hop on board –

He owes it to all he left to die

Without a single coin on them.

He would take his time, to take the steps and descend the stairs.

He would marvel at the throne of the underworld before crawling on his knees

And even then more out of habit than respect for his favourite companion,

death.

And what would he seek?

He's sure he's cheated death more times

Than he's had breakfast

Than he's had hearty meals

Or a full night of sleep

He's cheated death like a unfaithful husband

Disrespectful, seeking cheap thrills,

Uncaring of the devastation,

The wreckage of a marriage

He inevitably leaves behind.

He would protest:

He loves deeply; just with violence

Loves with hands stained with blood

Loves gloves off

Loves with a gun in his hand

Loves with threats and snarled words

With the red string of fate clutched between his deadly hands.

He loves so tightly

That its thread dissolves into silky red dust

Like sand slipping between his fingers.

Just like time.

He's not Orpheus—

Until he’s finally enveloped to the safety of the forest,

To its semblance of embrace;

The shadows somehow deeper in the foliage cover,

Like the darkness could swallow up bullets, make him immune to their bite

And there he finally,

finally,

looks back

Overconfident, he forgets

Forgets that looking is the thing that kills;

The shadow does nothing to hide the fact

That one is missing –

He sees it in the paling face of the remaining sergeant,

Sees it in the eyes of a skull mask

suddenly filled with life as death approaches –

He hears the sound of fire,

And when he looks, to the dirt road, to the river

It’s just in time to see

Gaz

Fall into the water.

What god did he not blame, what man did he not curse?

Who did he not name (but himself)?

He’s often imagined it

The lives of his men, how it ends:

Their blood mixed on the ground,

A flame that swallows all he holds dear

A wound pulsing, an empty body;

He’s had dreams

Of brain matter

Of roots that bleed rotten blood

Sliced by knives, growing from blades;

He’s dreamt of so many deaths.

He’s imagined

Gaz

In many positions:

In his sheets

Under his knife

Bleeding out with a peaceful smile

Mouth parted in pleasure

Face twisted in pain;

His fault, not his fault,

So he’s kept coins,

Crawled on his knees,

Just to keep death at bay –

It owes him nothing but derision,

But maybe his sacrifices over the years would make up

For one life

He can’t walk without.

But never in his dreams did he ever question

His sergeant following his steps

Not long behind (unable to estimate the distance)

Always within sight (did his feet sink into the sand)

So why look behind or (did he stumble on the way)

Why resist?

Looking is the thing that kills.

The riverbanks echoed with his name,

And yet in the quiet of the night the blood already spills,

Already murks the dark blue waters.

Pulled down by heavy gear,

In his already lax hands

A firearm completely soaked through,

Cool to the touch

And useless.

No crueller sight in a fire

Than something that is aflame no more.

Is it the bullet?

Is it the river?

What is the thing that finally robs him of breath?

But the Captain knows.

It's because he didn't look

And then, at the wrong moment, finally did.

Running up to the water's edge,

Dragging the body of his most beloved

Dearer than death, more precious than any grave –

Perhaps he knew it would end like this.

He's cheated death but death doesn't play

Does not like trickery or deception

Ties the hands of the offender

Forces them to watch:

The surface ripples and breaks as he drags out the body, and in the reflection of the dark water he sees

Himself

No crueller sight than that of a broken, fallen man

The reflection echoes, like the riverbank:

‘So weep no longer,

So weep no longer,

So weep no longer,

though you love me.’

But how could he not?

He wants to become Orpheus,

So what if he takes

A small peek?

//

#pricegaz #gazprice #pricegazweek #pricegazweek2024 #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #cod #narcissosbythepool

[squuote]

haha okay! *makes his design more complicated

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tspud #crows art #THIS IS WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE UNDER HIS MASK THING ^_^ #i actually have a reason behind this design...if anyone wants to ask... #surreal #body horror #< ??? just in case #ask to tag #sorry im at a loss on how to properly tag this #edit: fixed the text colors lmao

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2

snippet 21: Danny is Bruce Wayne's Clone and--

Star, with the rest of the A-List girls: alright ladies! it's time for our quarterly 'cutest boys' list! Now I'll get straight to the point, in our number one spot is--

All girls, in unison: Danny Fenton

Star, writing it down on a whiteboard: and for our number two spot--

---------- Snippet 22: clone meet clone

Ellie, dramatically: Danny!

Danny, equally dramatic: Ellie!

Ellie, pushing past him and looking around: where is he! i wanna see the little guy!

Damian, with a sword, brandishing it dangerously: *in arabic* don't come any closer, stay back!

Danny, wrapping an arm around Ellie's waist and pulling her back: woah, woah - he's still adjusting to everything

Danny, turning towards Damian with his google translate open: [please don't stab her. this is Ellie my clone.]

Damian, lowering his sword in disbelief: 'there's MORE of you?

-------------- Snippet 23: Ellie has the same epiphany as Danny

Ellie:...hey Danny

Danny, pouring over his arabic book: hm

Ellie: since I'm your clone, and you're a clone of Bruce Wayne, and Damian is a clone of Damian Wayne, does that technically mean I'm his mom - uh. dad-mom?

Danny:

Ellie:...its a fair question

Danny: .....*deep sigh* you're his cousin until further notice.

------------ Snippet 24: wait for me ii (hadestown, live vers.)

(i'm not sure of the context, but i've been thinking of Danny saying this to Damian during a serious moment for days. the snippet title is the song that the dialogue below is from)

Danny, fixing up Damian's wraith suit: the meanest dog you'll ever meet

Danny, zipping up damian's jacket: it ain't the hound dog in the street. he bares some teeth and tears some skin, but brother,

Danny, adjusting Damian's gloves, pausing to look him in the eye: that's the worst of him.

Danny, he holds a finger up to Damian's eyes and points it at him: the dog you really got to dread, is the one that howls inside your head

Danny, grabbing damian's mask and smoothing it over his eyes: it's him whose howling drives men mad, and a mind to its undoing

------------ Snippet 25: Danny is Bruce Wayne's clone-- (Battinson Vers*)

Ember, in the middle of a fight with Phantom + Wraith:

Ember, knocks off Phantom's mask for the first time: lets see what ugly mug you're really hiding under there, Phantom--

Phantom: *the wettest, most pathetic looking pretty boy on the planet*

Ember:

Phantom, dryly: what, did your mic die out or something? all that caterwauling finally make you lose your voice

Wraith, unsheathing his sword: *vibrating with baby brother rage bc he knows EXACTLy why Ember is silent*

----------- Snippet 26: Damian is finally starting to play nice :)

Dany: hey... guys.... whatcha doing

Damian, hanging out with Sam: Me and Manson are plotting ways to crush the Mayor's plan to cut budget funding for the city parks and cut down the native trees

Danny: oh, i see.... is this safe?

Sam: probably

Danny: hm.

------------- Snippet 27: digging up cold case

Danny: ....if Damian is out with Sam tonight with their plot against the mayor....

Danny, turning towards his desk: then that means I can work some more on Mrs. Witherbury's murder case that she asked me to solve without Dames guilt-tripping me into bed :)

Danny, settling down at his desk with a thermos full of coffee: i'm glad sam and damian are finally getting along

--------- Snippet 28: sparring

Damian, frowning: your reflexes are incredible but your combat is downright awful, brother. it's truly a miracle i didn't skewer you upon our first meeting

Danny, got his ass kicked by his 7yo brother: *groaning in pain* not everyone has super secret assassin training, Damian. And I don't really have time to actually practice anything.

Damian: Mrs. Fenton knows martial arts and her form is proficient enough, I'm sure she would be delighted to teach you if you asked. I will join since I need to keep my skills sharp and my training was unfinished when I arrived here.

-------- Snippet 29: daytime surprise

Phantom, fighting Skulker in broad daylight: *under his breath* at least Lancer's english test will get canceled for this...

Phantom, dodging a blast from Skulker: *in ASL, furious* don't you have anything better to do, you fuck!?

Skulker: foolish ghost child, speak! I know you're capable of it - speak before you lose the ability to

Phantom: *flips him off instead*

Wraith, sending back a ecto-blast with his sword: please pay attention, phantom

Phantom, doubletaking: *in a hissed whisper* what are you doing here!? it's a school day, you should be at school!

Wraith: Tt. If the boot fits.

------------ Snippet 30: guilt

Danny with his head on his desk, his elbows propped up as he massages his hands: hn

Damian, lurking to the side with a guilty look on his face:

Damian: can i....

Danny, silently holding his hand out to Damian: hrm

Damian, immediately taking it and doing the massages + finger exercises: ...im sorry

Danny: hm... I forgive you

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dpxdc au #dp dc #dp dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #clone^2 #this made me realize that Danny's ghosts PROBABLY don't know what he looks like under the mask for a WHILE #they just know he's a pain in the ass and also human and also insistent to get them back into the ghost zone #danny being the battinson bat clone is THE funniest thing to me like goddamn. you're a drowned kitten #does this imply that none of his rogues have seen his face in the two years before he got damian? yes. but wraith knowing why ember is #silent and being indignant with baby brother rage is so funny to me. protective little siblings ftw >>>> #dany being battinson bat makes so much sense because clone danny has no powers and runs around in a hoodie and jeans and baseball bat #and battinson is the exact amount of lanky and tall wet rat that seeing phantom WOULD be unsettling if you saw him at night. #also sam and damian get along but i dont know or think that damian would ever trust her tucker or jazz like he ever would with danny #he likes them and trusts them to take care of danny and him (to an extent) but he like. TRUSTS trusts danny. #hhhh fuck danny is permanently the battinson bat in my head fUCK. it makes so much sense #danny resorts to Batman Grunts when he’s overtired + in pain + unfocused