#the fucked up logic of not just taking all the parts needed from the first body because why would they do that when she has revenge to exact

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter fifteen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 3.4k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, like hardcore abuse pls heed the warning, manipulation, mental abuse, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, description of injury, choking and not in the sexy way, noncon piv sex, noncon fingering, panic attacks, emotional distress, anxiety attacks, this is fucked, please just go in with caution, like fr i don't think i can sum all the fucked up shit in this chapter up

Chapter Summary: Is this the end?

A/N: Hey to everyone who's stuck by this story! This chapter is very intense and I just want to put it here that everything that happens here (and in this story in general) is obviously not okay. I am here if anybody needs to talk about anything at all. Take care of yourselves ❤

*****

You barely see kindness from Javi for the next couple of weeks. It was pretty much the same as the usual, but now you have to spend most nights with a terrifying man you don’t know. Whereas your husband used to come home, tired from work but still kind, there’s now a stranger who seems to not care at all. It’s happened so fast—the switch—that you think you may be in a perpetual state of shock. It’s hard to comprehend, but the difference is there. Easy to see when you just open your eyes. The biggest you’ve seen is how his first move once he gets home, is always to the fridge or the liquor cabinet. By dinner, he’s usually at least a few beers or glasses of whiskey deep, and by bed, he’s drunk enough to be slurring his speech and forgetting whatever he says the second it’s out of his mouth. 

A couple of nights, he comes home a bit later, and you suspect that he’s been to the bar on those days because he comes home already drunk off his ass. You don’t know what’s worse—watching the buildup or being hit with dread as soon as he walks through the door. There have been a couple days where comes home and doesn’t touch a drop, and you savor them. Those precious moments you get with him when you know he’s listening to you and giving you his time instead of the alcohol.You like to just pretend that everything is okay on those days, because blissful ignorance is better than ruining those good moments by thinking about the bad. Knowing you have days like that, though, makes it so much worse when you go to him, wanting to talk or simply be around him, and then feel the disappointment when it sinks in that he’s already gone. 

It hurts every time he does it, because it makes you feel alone again. You’ve come to understand that he turns into a different person when he drinks, a person you don’t know. This new person—this stranger—likes to hurt you. He’s rageful and hateful and relentless and overpowering. You take a sip of your coffee from where you’re currently sitting at the kitchen table and shiver at the memory of just last night, when he’d fucked you deep into the mattress and spilled within minutes before collapsing on top of you, dead asleep. You keep telling yourself that you wanted it, but you know better. You’d told him no, and when he ignored you, you’d gotten scared. So you let it happen. It’s your own fault for being weak and you know it. 

Besides, that voice in your pounding head challenges, what kind of a woman doesn’t want to make love to her husband? What kind of woman doesn’t want to feel her lover’s touch?

It shames you both ways. Not wanting him but letting him take what he wants anyway. You think that you might be doing it because fighting would make it real. If you just let it happen, he’s not taking anything from you. Maybe if you just let it happen, he’ll stop.

Lies, that other part of your brain spits at you. The more logical one. 

You take another sip to smooth out the knot that’s formed in your throat. You pretend that it was never there. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. 

It seems like every day gets worse. He gets meaner and he takes more and more. You can tell that there’s something making him do it, something controlling the impulse to pick up that bottle and down the entire thing. You wish desperately that he would just talk to you, or that you at least knew what it was so that you could help, but you’re just as useless with that as you are everything else. You want to kill the stranger inside of him. You want to pull him out and gut him and hurt him in every way he’s hurt you. You just want your Javi back. 

But even then, it wouldn’t be the same, and you’re painfully aware of that. It’s still awful and wrong, even now, in those moments he is there. When the Javi you know and love is dormant and there to hold you like nothing’s wrong. The worst part because you don’t know if he remembers everything he does to you. It doesn’t make sense, because you know he sees the bruises that cover your body some days, the way you have to limp when you’re too sore to walk right. You see the glint in his eye when he reaches for you and you flinch away. He can see the physical bruises just as well as your mental wounds, but he acts oblivious, like he’s not to blame for your pain. 

You ignore the tear that slips down your cheek as you catch yourself caught up in it again. It’s so fucking hurtful and confusing. You want to pretend, too. Pretend that none of it ever happened, but you’re the one who has to wear the consequences, so you have no choice but to face them. 

You asked him one morning, when you’d woken up and caught him sober as he was getting ready for work, why he’d hit you the night before. The night before when he’d stripped you and taken you to bed and covered your mouth with his hand when you began to sob. You didn’t mean to, but as you’d tried to get him to stop, you felt skin between your teeth. Just to see if he remembered, you asked him. You know you shouldn’t have, but you were so tired and the hole in your stomach was so large that you needed to know. Just to see if you could find an excuse to forgive him and close it up.

But Javi had stopped and watched you for a moment before his eyes darkened and he looked at you like he was angry at you. “You fucking bit me. What did you think was going to happen?” 

You’d just laid back down and let the tears ease you back to sleep. He knows what he does. You know he does. He just doesn’t care. But why? Why doesn’t he care? Regret it? Feel sorry? What happened?

You’ve become numb with each day that passes, more accepting of the fact that you need to stop letting your emotions control you. The anger, the fear, the hatred. You can still feel it lingering somewhere deep inside of you, waiting for the right moment to pounce, but you’re content to just ignore it for now. Ignore everything that makes you question why. It’s like a tightness around your heart, a shield that went up without your permission. And maybe it’s for the best, but you wish it would drop at least a little, because you feel like you haven’t been able to be yourself around Javi in days. You can tell he sees it, too. But he never says anything. Does he even care that you’re changing, that he’s the one who’s changed you?

You set your now-cold coffee down and look out the window. How the fuck did you get here? You’re so tired of your every day being this. Alone in the apartment, and then scared when you’re not. Sometimes, you don’t know what’s worse. There’s days when you get the idea to just leave, but you know better. You can’t. Your husband is still here, somewhere. You can’t leave him because it would break your heart completely, and not being around him at all is something you can’t handle. And even if he wasn’t, that man who’s replaced him would find you. You know it in your gut that he would. 

You let out a shaky sigh, brush away your tears, and stand up. At least you have things to do today instead of sitting in silence. As far as you know, Steve and Connie are still coming over Sunday night for dinner. The house isn’t too messy, since you usually start your days with tidying up the mess from the night before, but there are things that can be cleaned more thoroughly. The kitchen needs to be scrubbed, the living room tidied. 

Javi had woken you up before he left this morning and asked what you plan on making. He’s going to bring the ingredients home tonight so that everything will be ready for you to start tomorrow. You’re actually excited about that. Not just about seeing people again, but also about putting together an elaborate meal. Recently, it’s been whatever kind of soups or sandwich stuff that Javi brings home for you to make. It’s been too long since you made something more complex than a casserole. 

You bring your mug to the sink and start with that, rinsing it and placing it on the side with the rest of the dirty dishes. You take one look at the massive pile and decide you’ll do that last. You absolutely despise doing the dishes, Besides, leaving it for last will be more rewarding once the pile is gone and everything is officially spotless. 

You start instead with the living room, and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom. It takes all day, but you’re proud of the result by the time you’re ready for the kitchen. It all looks as good as the first time you cleaned it, not a speck of dust in sight, everything in its rightful place. You’re proud of yourself, and catch yourself genuinely smiling as you make your way to the dishes. 

You’re in the kitchen, filling up the sink with water, when he gets home. Keys rattle in the door, making you jump in surprise. It’s only then that you notice it’s gone dark outside. Your eyes flick up to the clock, and your stomach churns when you see the time. It’s almost 12:00am. It shouldn’t take that long to go to the grocery store. You know immediately where he’s been. Your body goes taught as you hear the door shut behind him. He doesn’t announce himself, but you can hear his heavy footsteps as he walks through the house to get to you. They sound wrong, like he’s stumbling. 

Your hands begin to shake as you push the faucet to stop the running water and wipe them down on your shirt. You feel more than see Javi’s broad form stop in the doorway beside you, and you contemplate greeting him, but you don’t know how his day’s been so you don’t want to start anything if he wants silence. 

You pick up one of the plates from the pile beside the sink and dunk it slowly into the water before pouring a bit of soap on it, continuing to avoid eye contact with your husband. The gentle scrub of the sponge against the ceramic and the occasional drip of excess water is the only sound to be heard throughout the house. 

You can feel his eyes on you, and you have to physically resist the urge to squirm beneath his heavy gaze. You just try to keep your breathing steady and focus on your task. 

“Not going to ask me how my day was?” Javi’s voice is hard. Cold. It makes you shiver. Wrong choice, then.

“How was your day?” Your voice in contrast is meek even as you look at him and flash a smile. So small it makes you want to slap yourself. You just blink and keep washing the plate in your hands. 

Javi sighs loudly as he leans against the door frame, as if thinking it over. “How was your day, sweetheart?” He starts to walk toward you, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your waist, ducking down a bit to press his lips to your neck.

“It was fine,” you say, though there’s a pang of hurt as you wish so badly that he was asking genuinely. That he wanted to talk to you, wanted to be here with you. 

He nods against you, his hands traveling down to your waistband. You squirm a bit but try to hold still in hopes that he’ll just stop. “Just fine, hm? I can make it better.” Your eyes shut. Of course he wouldn’t. 

“No, thank you, my day was good. I’m just tired.” You start to push his hands off of you, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Well, I didn’t have a very good day,” he counters. “I was looking forward to coming home and fucking my sweet, pretty little wife, ‘n’ then she tells me she doesn’t want me.” 

Irritation prickles at your neck, warring with the fear that’s made a home there already. “That’s not what I said, Javi, and you know it.” 

“Oh, but it is.” He pulls you tighter, slipping one hand down your shorts to feel your panties. You whimper, trying to get out of his grasp. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby. Fucking scared. disgusted” 

You freeze against him. 

“I don’t want you to be scared, sweetheart,” he coos. He brings the hand that’s not cupping your pussy up to your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “But your tears are so fucking sweet that I just can’t help myself sometimes.” 

You shake as he slowly brings his thumb up to your lips, pressing harder and harder until you’re forced to let him in and taste the salty drop on your tongue. 

“I do it for you, baby. You know it’s all for your own good.” He makes your head nod up and down with the hand grasping your chin. “Just gotta keep you safe.” 

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, a quiet sob leaving you as he does so. He grasps your hip again and grinds your ass into his erection. “And you don’t even care to show your thanks.” He tuts, and even the mock disappointment in his tone makes you want to crumble and cry. “Thought you were better ‘n that, sweetheart.” 

You’re gasping in quiet and shallow breaths at this point, your face heated with shame. You know it’s not him talking, but you can’t help but hate yourself for what he’s telling you. You’re a disappointment. He thought you were better. You’re a screwup to him just like you are for everyone else. The voices and taunts swirl around in your head until you’re so overwhelmed that you have to close your eyes to settle them. 

“Stop!” The ferocity in your voice surprises even you. The anger and hurt revealed is raw and visceral, out in the open for him to catch a glimpse of what you’re feeling inside. “Get your hands off me, Javi.” 

He chuckles darkly into your hair, his hand now coming to your throat. You swallow thickly and stiffen as he loosely wraps it around your neck, holding you close to him. He doesn’t apply pressure, but it’s enough to make you bite your tongue to stifle anything else that might want to slip out. 

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be demanding things, baby,” he says the words gently. “Why don’t you try asking nicely.” 

You blink, and all you can think is that you’re so fucking tired. “Please let me go,” you give in and whisper. 

“What was that?” His hand tightens ever so slightly, and then slackens again. You eye his booted foot next to yours, and get the idea to stomp on it, but you know why that’s not a good idea. You speak up.

“I said, please let me—” 

He tightens his grip, crushing your windpipe as he holds to the point where you can’t draw a breath. “Thought I fuckin’ told you who was in charge,” his voice comes to your ringing ears. He keeps still as you struggle, even though you’re trying your hardest not to. “Don’t make me have to remind you, sweetheart. I don’t like to see you hurt, but I can’t promise anything if you keep acting so high and fucking mighty.” 

He lets you go, and you practically collapse against him. He wraps his arms around you and you lose it. 

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastard!” You scream at him with the first breath you can manage, spinning around and backing away as you push and hit at him, trying to get his arms off of you. If you can just get away, maybe you can lock yourself in the bedroom and wait until he’s taken his anger out on something else. You don’t feel bad at all as you claw at him. You manage to get an arm loose and you use it to land a slap to his face. His hold on you loosens the slightest bit, and you use the chance to scramble away even as your stomach drops as you realize what you just did.  

You should have known better. It all happens in slow motion as your head comes into contact with the lip of the counter, right by the sink. He’s forced you back around and is now folded over you, using one hand to shove your shorts down and the other to pin the back of your neck down. “Fucking bitch!” he yells into your ear, and you know that you just made this worlds worse for yourself. 

You heave wet sobs as he brings his fingers to your bare cunt and roughly shoves two inside, your hips bucking as you try to get away. You’re yelling something as well, something that sounds a lot like ‘stop’, over and over again. 

You can’t focus on whatever words are spilling from his mouth now, only on the ringing on your ears and the water sloshing around in the sink only about an inch away from you. A jolt of deeper fear runs through you as you catch the gleam of it, and you scream and cry louder and struggle even harder, trying to do something, anything, before Javi gets the idea that just flashed through your head. 

Maybe it was your own fault with all the screaming, or maybe he saw it at the same time you did, but his hand on your neck starts to move higher, until it’s on the back of your head. You resist as much as you can, not even feeling his defiling fingers anymore as your nose touches the soapy water and pieces of your hair grow heavy as they soak it up. You can tell the second you’re going to lose the fight, and you realize that you’ve never been so terrified in your life. 

Between the sobs and screams and tears, you don’t get much of a breath before you’re being submerged. Your body flails wildly, and you think in that second that you’re going to die. He’s going to kill you. The terror running through your body is indescribable. You just want to scream but you can’t. You want to close your eyes and go before you lose the small breath you have and water floods your lungs. It feels like a nightmare, like it’s not real, can’t be happening to you. But it is, and you don’t understand why. What the fuck did you do to deserve this? 

You push and push up with all your might, using your hands against the counter and your entire body to try to lift your head, but he keeps his hand on top, not letting you breathe the surface no matter what. You feel so pathetic as your body shakes with silent cries that you’re forced to hold in through the panic.

You almost forget about everything else until you feel his cock push inside of you, and you scream. You forget, and upon the burning sensation as he forces himself into you, you open your mouth and take in gulps of water. Your body surges with pain and fear as the burn spreads up to your chest and then to the rest of your body. 

This is the end, this is the end, this is the end. 

Everything you’ve ever known will be gone. Your family probably won’t even know what happened, won’t care. Nobody will. Maybe Javi will eventually, if he ever comes back. Your vision starts to go black, and your body slackens, your hands falling uselessly as you lose the energy to fight. He’s going to hate himself, you realize. And that thought may hurt you most of all. He’s going to be alone, just like you. You won’t be there to help him. Your Javi is going to be devastated. 

That’s the last thing through your mind as your consciousness fades to black. 

*****

The end.

******

LMAO JK

Next chapter will be up next Friday 😘

Series taglist:  @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy

@survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @missladym1981 @sofiparallel

@koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi

@justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

@untamedheart81

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfic #ppcu fanfiction #dark pedro pascal #dark fic #dead dove do not eat

[agent-oo-z]

Time for more Lisa Frankenstein posting. Potential vague spoilers below!

It’s about the gender. He’s gender. She’s gender. They’re both gender together. It’s about finding someone who Gets You™️ and making something of that together. It’s the way he looks at her as a person. The way he sees how she is scorned and doesn’t hesitate to try and do something about it. It’s the pure concern when she drops the axe and runs to him. Not concern that she’ll hurt him but concern because SHE’S hurting. It’s the way he loves her with his whole heart from the moment he sees her but doesn’t try to force her to love him back. He just pines and does his best to support and care for her. It’s the way he lights up with such genuine tooth rotting warmth when she realizes he loves her. The way he cradles her against him and cares for her.

THE WAY HE DOES ALL OF THIS WITHOUT EVER SPEAKING?! He vocalizes sure but never speaks until the literal final shot of the movie. Fuck man Cole Sprouse is such an amazing actors.

OH ALSO!!!! It’s the way his dead person makeup makes sense! The skin is shrunken so there’s a noticeable dip from where the bone of his skull ends and the cartilage of his nose bridge continues. It’s the way he’s grey and veined and stiff limbed! Like sure it’s not realistic he wouldn’t be all gross and decayed but also suspend your disbelief yada yada

#lisa frankenstein #ani rambles #i just love them so much #the monster made by magic finding his love and she’s not even in love with him but he doesn’t blame her or hate her for it #he just stays to love her however she is willingly to let him #he sees someone who is scorned and isolated and knows what that’s like and so does what he can to save her from the fate he suffered #the intimacy of literally physically fixing someone’s broken or missing pieces #the fucked up logic of not just taking all the parts needed from the first body because why would they do that when she has revenge to exact

[angelltheninth]

Genshin men reacting to you telling them you're very horny?

One a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your honryness? 11? Mmm, good, then you can keep up.

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Xiao, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Tighnari, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, teasing, hallway sex, office sex, semi-public sex, mating press, biting, marks, creampie, blowjob, outdoor sex, facial, cunnilingus, trying to stay quiet

A/N: My mind went wild writing this.

Kaeya is taken back by how blatant you are with it. Whispering it into his ear, in front of his men too, it will get a reaction out of him for sure. Good thing he's already given his speech so he can drag you into his room, kissing you and bumping into walls along the way, his cock twitching with the need to give you what you wanted. The moment you step into the bedroom its time for all clothes to go, and for you to present your needy pussy for a good fucking.

Diluc thinks he heard you wrong. You're still behind the bar, how can you be horny already? Can you really not wait. Well, only if you promise to be quiet... Luckily there's music from outside to cover the slick sounds of his middle and ring fingers pushing past your entrance and moving with the rhythm of people's clapping. Its part of his job to be sneaky, he just never thought he'd use that skill for this.

Itto gets a boner and a big dopey grin instantly. That must be why you chose so little clothes today, you wanted him to have an easier time getting you naked. He has no problem helping you out behind that big boulder. It gives him something to sink his claws onto while his huge cock sinks into your needy cunt and fills it with a warm rush of seed to soothe the ache between your legs.

Thoma looks at you absolutely stunned that you would say this while he's trying to clean the hallway. Why would you say that now? Fuck, now you've got him thinking about it too. Well he can't drop work just like that but since the floor is already wet go ahead and spread for him. You watch him get down on his knees and bury his head between your thighs, encouraging you to jump up, grip his hair and let your pretty pussy gush all over his face while you're squeezing his head with your thighs.

Xiao casually slips his hand between your this and cups your pussy. He has a very blank look on his face while he starts fingering you, your mouth falling open in both pleasure and astonishment. What? You said you were horny right? So logically as your boyfriend he will take care of your problem for you. Be quiet and let his fingers work your pussy the way only he knows how.

Childe immediately takes you by the hand, not caring at all about the looks from the fatui you're getting. His cock is already hard just from thinking about fucking you. Before he can fix your problem you need to fix his. He doesn't care if you start moaning in the hallway, he is shutting you up with his cock before you can laugh at how eager he is for this. Him? You're the one who's dripping though her panties. He's taking those just so you know.

Dottore pulls you in his lap and smirks at you knowingly. You're finally getting addicted to his cock. Good girl, good cockslut, that's exactly what he wanted in the first place. Show him. Bend over the medical table and spread your pussy lips for him, finger that needy hole and tell him just how badly you want his cock to fuck you until you're a weeping, drooling mess.

Pantalone won't drop his work just to fuck you. But you can fuck yourself in his office if you want, just stay quiet. It's not even ten minutes before your moans distract him too much, he thought he could resist but he can't, you're in his head, in his heart. Just a quickie then, a fast pump that will make you feel better until later tonight where he will take his time punishing you for this distraction.

Tighnari thought he caught scent of it earlier but honestly he thought it was his rut approaching and playing tricks on him. Good to know his nose still works fine. Do you... well... do you want it now? He can but you'll have to keep real quiet, there are rangers patrolling the forest. Turns out that he's the one who can't keep quiet, not without sinking his teeth into your neck and leaving his mark on you.

Zhongli doesn't need to be told that you're horny, he could smell it from the moment you stepped into his office. That's why he told you to lock the door. He has your pretty thighs all scratched up from the force he's using to keep you still while his cock keeps hitting your sweet spot, scraping your inner walls and him, growling into your face about how beautiful of a mate you are, what a good bride you are, how much he, a god, wants to worship that cunt of yours.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #itto x reader #thoma x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #kaeya smut #diluc smut #itto smut #thoma smut #xiao smut #childe smut #dottore smut #pantalone smut #tighnari smut #zhongli smut

[abbyshands]

THE LAST OF US, and the israeli themes surrounding it

i'm very glad that people were able to see one of the previous things i published, where i complied a series of links that you can use to learn more of what's going on in gaza, how you can help, places you need to boycott, etc. however, at the end of the post, there is a large part of it that is DIRECTLY meant for people who play or watch the last of us, or play the last of us 2.

the last of us 2 in specific is not at all elusive in displaying the chilling themes we are seeing before us today. what boggles my mind, is that a select few individuals are choosing to keep publishing fics, reblogging them, uploading content that has NOTHING to do with what's going on, etc. also, you can't reblog one thing about palestine and claim that you care, then flood your account or people's home pages in fanfiction, especially during a media blackout. it just doesn't work like that.

i took the time to make a post discussing all of the israeli/palestinian themes that the games as a whole, but mainly the second one, display. if you are my mutual, a friend, a fan of my work, or a fan of the game or show, then i 100% demand you read this. if you can read fics for hours, you can spend time to read a post discussing the universe those very fics came from.

a lot of us are now aware of the last of us's nature in regards to the ongoing genocide, but not many people know the specifics of it. after seeing this post last night (the person who made this, you are an angel), i decided to take the time to dive into the specifics of the last of us 2's israeli nature, on a logical level, but also a moral level, using a list of sources to help me along, which will be linked at the end of this post. i will link the sources along the way so you know which sources i got my information from.

regardless of if this changes anyone's mind about ignoring the media blackout, or not giving a fuck about what's going on period, know this: regardless of how you feel, regardless of what you believe, from the river to the see, palestine will be free. at this fucking point, the people who are on the right side will keep speaking out and spreading awareness, regardless if you are here to do it with us. that's it. now, let's get into this.

UPCOMING DISCUSSIONS: neil druckmann, the last of us 1, the last of us 2, the last of us show and zionism in the show's cast, boycotting the game and show, and conclusion

NEIL DRUCKMANN

45-year-old neil druckmann, who was the co-director and co-writer for the last of us 2, was born in tel aviv, israel in 1978. according to the above source, druckmann was raised in a settlement in the west bank, where he was surrounded by violence on a daily basis. comics, movies, and most of all, video games, became an escape for him as a child, before he and his family moved to miami, floridawhen he was 10 years old.

to water down the full story that you can, again, read here, druckmann went to college to major in criminology. however, when he was in college, druckmann took a compsci course, that later lead to his major becoming coding as opposed to criminology. soon after, he knew he wanted a career that related to one thing: video games.

in the summer of 2013, the last of us part 1 was released, and it was renowned as one of best video games to have ever been made. in 2020, druckmann and nd released the last of us part 2, followed by the 2022 release of HBO's show based on the first video game. druckmann played a huge part on set, being not only the co-creator and co-writer of the show, but also having directed an episode himself. druckmann will remain involved in the second season of the show.

bringing up neil druckmann’s background is a crucial aspect of what’s upcoming in this post, hence why i wanted to discuss it at all. druckmann growing up in israel is one of the sole reasons the last of us was ever made at all, and not only that: it is the reason why the second game is the way it is, because neil druckmann planted his israeli ideologies right into it.

so, let’s speak on it.

THE LAST OF US 1

on the official the last of us podcast, neil druckmann himself discussed the last of us' link to the israeli-palestinian conflict, and now, genocide. the general consensus was that people will go ridiculously far for the people that they love. this idea of druckmann's was revealed when he discussed the first time the main character of the first game, joel miller, kills somebody to keep his daughter, sarah, safe from harm. this is one of the first scenes in the game prior to the time jump, where the pair's neighbor becomes infected, and attacks them. joel uses a gun to kill him so that the neighbor doesn't harm sarah.

the following is a quote i would like to copy from this link word for word: "Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics" and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011."

the plot of the first game, as neil druckmann explained, is based around a moral dilemma. he discusses how if joel had to kill a man to save a random kid, would he have done it? druckmann himself says, "but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do."

while the first game, in my opinion, isn't as heavily centered around israeli themes as the second game is, regardless, it is heavily crucial to note that the basis of the first game derived from a real-life incident involving israel and palestine, where hundreds of palestinian people (edit: i believe it is more than 1,000) were released from imprisonment, all in exchange for one israeli soldier. in the second game, the israeli-palestinian themes, if you look closely enough, scream out at you.

let's talk about it.

THE LAST OF US 2

"There is a common saying that if you seek revenge, you should dig two graves. Playing The Last of Us Part II is like being made to dig those graves with your teeth (Zacny)."

nd's 2022 the last of us part II is described down to the last letter in the above quote, albeit the game's utterly obvious israeli nature. in this post, the creator, rob zacny, goes on to discuss the game's theme of a "cycle of violence," and how the game reminds you in each grotesque encounter of the cruel ideology behind that. due to what occurs in the last of us 1, joel, basically, reaps what he sows when he is murdered for killing a surgeon who, along with the group said surgeon was a member of, the fireflies, was planning to perform surgery on ellie, who joel had since grown close to, in search of a cure for the infection that has plagued their world for decades. four years later, the second playable character in the game, who is introduced in the first half hour or so, abby anderson, kills joel to avenge the surgeon who was murdered, who happened to be her father. from then on, the game follows what, again, can only be described as a "cycle of violence." joel kills abby's dad, abby kills joel, ellie kills all of abby's friends, aims to kill abby in the final battle of the game, but spares abby when ellie's conscious morally attacks her for her decisions.

throughout the 24 odd hour gameplay, the player is allowed to play as ellie and abby, abby's parts of the game being arguably longer than ellie's. the idea this, i believe, is meant to introduce, is one of perspective: the player is meant to be loyal to joel miller once the first game has been finished, so when he is killed, they are inclined to make abby pay for it. however, abby's perspective, both in the past and as the present course of the game goes on, is meant to make the player understand why she did what she did. thus, the moral: there are no good guys in this game. every person is as equally bad as the following, and no one is innocent. however, when we consider the israeli-palestinian nature of this ideology and how it is presented in the last of us part 2, it simply doesn't work like this.

“I suspect that some players, if they consciously clock the parallels at all, will think The Last of Us Part II is taking a balanced and fair perspective on that conflict, humanizing and exposing flaws in both sides of its in-game analogues. But as someone who grew up in Israel, I recognized a familiar, firmly Israeli way of seeing and explaining the conflict which tries to appear evenhanded and even enlightened, but in practice marginalizes Palestinian experience in a manner that perpetuates a horrific status quo (Maiberg).”

when discussing the last of us part 2’s plot, one could 100% argue that there really aren’t good guys on the dual sides of the game. if you compare ellie and abby, you know that ellie went on a murder frenzy to get revenge on abby for killing joel. on abby’s side of it all, you know that abby wasn’t all that great before coming across lev and yara, and even then, she killed people to do what everyone in said world aims to do: survive. prior to finding lev and yara, abby had killed numerous people before, and did, as the player sees, handle joel very cruelly before she ended up killing him. here’s one more example, one that’s more random (but it’s simply to compare abby vs. ellie’s people, if you will): joel and manny. joel went on a cross country murder spree to keep ellie safe, and killed a building full of people at the end of the game to save her life. in regards to manny, if you recall a discussion that manny and mel had in the beginning of abby’s parts of the game, the pair are discussing a happening where a group aside from the wlf, the seraphites (which we will discuss later) attacked them because the wlf killed children who were a part of their (the seraphite’s) group. manny voiced how he would prefer to keep their people (the wlf) safe, and challenges mel, implying that those “kids” weren’t really kids, because they were the ones who attacked their guys (the wlf) in the first place. as a general consensus, manny kills several people throughout the course of the game, which can be inferred or seen by the player, making him, for the sake of what i’m getting at, a bad guy.

we see in the game how ellie and abby’s people are unanimously bad. the last of us is set in a world where laws and morals are thrown out the window for the sake of survival, so this is no surprise. however, this dual perspective, “no bad guy,” ideology simply doesn’t apply in the world today. you may compare ellie vs. abby, or joel vs. manny, or bring in more characters in the game, such as tommy, nora, etc, claiming that all parties are bad. that makes perfect sense. but think about it like this: if this is meant to represent the israeli-palestinian perspective, and i give you the scenario of a five-year-old child versus a full-grown IDF soldier, what would you say? isn’t there an obvious answer as to who is in the wrong and who’s not? maiberg is 100% right in claiming that the game marginalizes the real-life palestinian experience. abby, ellie, joel, manny, etc, are not real people. but the thousands of innocent children who have been killed for the ridiculousness and inhumane israeli regime are. you can’t say each side is equal in awfulness, not when one side is full of innocent men, women, and children, some of which could never make it into a year of their lives. not when if one side pauses their battle, there would be a ceasefire, but if the converse pauses their battle, they would all be dead.

“And then they cheered afterward,” Druckmann, who grew up in Israel, recalls. “It was the cheering that was really chilling to me. … In my mind, I thought, ‘Oh, man, if I could just push a button and kill all these people that committed this horrible act, I would make them feel the same pain that they inflicted on these people.’"

remember how i said discussing neil druckmann's background was crucial? it is. druckmann, who, again, was born in israel, told the Washington Post that the game's cynical themes of revenge and suffering is linked to the 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (tw, lynching), who were killed by a mob (maiberg). allegedly, some of the incident was remembered in film, that druckmann watched, and in his interview, he explained his angry nature that came about in response to the video, and how he desired vengeance.

the last of us part 2 is mainly set in seattle, washington, where secondary main character, abby anderson, resides in with a militia group named the wlf (which we will also delve into later, alongside the seraphites). maiberg brings out how seattle, on a visual and mechanical level, is based around "a series of checkpoints, security walls, and barriers (Maiberg)." he notes: "[seattle] looks almost exactly like the tall, precast concrete barriers and watch towers Israel started building through the West Bank in 2000." here are side by side images for comparison:

now that we’ve discussed this, let us discuss one of most prevalent aspects of abby’s part of the story: the wlf, and the seraphites. the seraphites are a religious group, nicknamed “the scars” due to the scars the members of said group carve into their faces to display their membership, who the wlf, a makeshift militia group, runs into conflict with following the fall of FEDRA, the country’s former military. in a note in the game, a fedra commander explains that the city of seattle has been lost to the wolves (the wlf), who he names as terrorists. maiberg brings out the following: “Here, there are parallels to early Zionist organisations that fought British rule in the region. These organizations were also described as terrorists, and leaders of those organizations later became leaders in Israel, much like how Isaac, the leader of the Wolves, came to control Seattle. Other in-game notes, scenes of urban ambushes, and the bodies of executed FEDRA officers laboriously walk the player through the cliche "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter (Maiberg).”

maiberg also discusses a series of manners in which the fictional seraphites resemble real-life palestinians. here are the three ways he specifically discusses in his original post, but there are much more:

“The same note from the Seattle FEDRA commander that bitterly says the Wolves are in charge explains that it's now their responsibility to not only feed and shelter the people of Seattle, but deal with the "religious fanatics," referring to the Scars.

Later in the game, Ellie finds a location called "Martyr Gate," where the Scars' spiritual leader apparently died, indicating a religious significance of a specific and disputed location, and emphasizing the notion of martyrdom as central to their culture.

The Scars are able to get around Wolf patrols and various barriers around the city via an elaborate, secret system of bridges between skyscrapers. These function as a kind of flipped version of the underground tunnels Palestinians use to bypass Israeli blockades and other means of limiting free movement in order to get supplies and carry out attacks on Israel.”

one more post i would like to link is this one, the very reason i decided to make this in the first place. it captures the zionism in the last of us 2, along with the wlf vs. seraphite conflict, perfectly. i very much recommend you read it, as it explains it much better than i can.

the general consensus is this: the idea that the seraphites are equally as bad as the wlf, which implies that palestinians are equally as bad as israelis, simply doesn’t apply in 2024. as i said before: what is so vile and cruel about a newborn baby? a pregnant woman? an innocent man? NOTHING. part of the reason the last of us captures this so poorly is due to the apocalyptic nature of the world the game is set in. obviously, people would go rogue if their lives were put in peril by not only animalistic infected beings, but also humans. however, we live in a real world where laws and morals do, in fact, apply. this isn’t a video game where those are simply discarded. what the wlf and the seraphites did to each other in the last of us 2 could be any other day for them: but what israel is doing to palestine right now is a war crime, a genocide, and plainly vile.

THE LAST OF US SHOW, and zionism in the show’s cast

i don’t think i need to spend a lot of time here, because if you have made it this far, you are well aware of the real nature of the last of us and the last of us 2 already, so you must understand that the show is HBO’s take on the game’s story (which, need i remind you show-wise and game-wise, neil druckmann played a huge part in). i simply bring it up so that people are aware of the fact that the 2022 show is ALSO linked to the ongoing genocide, and the cast is a major part of that (however, if anyone would like me to delve deeper into the show, let me know, and i 100% will).

for the following season which is a sequel to the last, theorized to center around the happenings of the last of us 2, members who are set to play a few crucial characters in the game have been announced. this includes isabela merced, who will play dina woodward, ellie’s romantic partner for most of the game, alongside kaitlyn dever, who will play abby anderson.

many people freaked out when they realized kaitlyn dever will be playing abby, but not for the reason they should have been. if you are a last of us fan, you are well aware that abby’s muscles are a central aspect of her persona. yet, kaitlyn dever is on the skinnier side, and according to some, does not resemble abby.

but this is not the issue that is most crucial to discuss.

kaitlyn dever is a zionist, and so is isabela merced (i am under the impression that both of these claims are true, but i had trouble finding a source i deemed reliable enough to link here. if i do, however, i will). now, while i’m not here to riddle you with conspiracy theories, people believe this (zionism) is the reason kaitlyn dever in specific got the role of abby anderson (there is a separate actress, shannon berry, who more closely resembles abby, but made a post in solidarity with palestine. this is theorized to be the reason why she didn’t get the part, and why kaitlyn dever was announced shortly after this particular actress made said post). let us not also forget that ellie’s actor, bella ramsey, is also in support of israel, which can be seen here.

(edit: i was informed since making this that bella has a story on one of their social medias, showing their alleged support of palestine and calling for a ceasefire. i’m going to link this post where i spoke on it, so you aware of what i think on that front).

all of the previously provided information brings me to my final part of this post: boycotting the games, and boycotting the show.

BOYCOTTING THE GAME AND SHOW

i could go on and on about why this is so crucial, but we would be here forever. however, i’m going to paste in what i wrote in this post surrounding the topic of boycotting, as i personally believe i got it down quite well in regards to the last of us (the show and game). it reads:

"DO NOT BUY TLOU, TLOU REMASTERED, TLOU2, TLOU2 REMASTERED, OR ANY GAME FROM ND! neil druckmann has donated money to the IDF in the past. & where do you think he’s getting his money from? yeah, you got that. watch gameplays, pirate these games, or buy them secondhand. several shops sell used games. & for those of you who went and purchased the game anyway, knowing about all of this? fuck you.

if you think your $10 doesn’t matter, then think about this: okay, one person spends $10 on the game. whatever. but when 100,000 people do it? that’s a million dollars, going into the hands of a zionist, who is using YOUR money to help kill innocent men, women, and children. put that in your pipe and smoke it.

it is not just the games you need to boycott. HBO’S show also needs to be. follow this link to learn of more movies and shows you need to boycott, & the reasons why, including the last of us. let’s also not forget that dina & abby’s actresses are in support of israel, and BELLA RAMSEY, ellie’s actress, has also shown support.

boycott. the fucking. show. there are a million websites where you can pirate it, so you are not giving any of your support to it. resist."

what it comes down to is this: purchasing the game or watching the show directly from nd or HBO is not a must. spreading awareness and speaking out about palestine is. you are more than capable of not purchasing the game, or watching playthroughs, or buying the game secondhand, etc. you are more than capable of pirating the hbo show so that money is not made off of your engagement. it's not that difficult. i have said it once, and i will say it again: boycotting is a form of resistance, and that is the least we can do for those suffering in gaza as you read this. resist. people openly admitting that they went and purchased the game anyway simply make me sick. i hope you know what an awful thing to brag about that is, and how despicable of a human it makes you.

CONCLUSION

there's so much to discuss when it comes down to this topic, and it's possible that in the future, i will make a second part to this. however, for now, i really hope this does suffice. i believe knowing of the game's israeli nature is a step. but knowing the specifics is a leap, one that i need everyone engaged in this fandom to take, hence why i wanted to make this post at all.

i'm not saying anyone needs to quit liking the games or the show or whatever. i'm not saying you need to delete or throw away a game you spent $60 on. i've seen so many people who are way too dense to understand that. what i'm saying is that it's crucial you are at least AWARE of the content you are consuming. aware of why it even came about at all.

in my opinion, you can't separate the game from the roots. but you can remain aware of the inner workings of this world you've grown to love. you can keep spreading awareness about it, and you can do right by the people in gaza by discussing the ongoing genocide, and using your voice as much as you can.

i'm so lucky to have been able to gain a following on here in such a short amount of time, even if that following has gone up and down because i've chosen to post more about palestine as opposed to my previous content (granted, that fact won't deter me at all). i will keep using said following to keep speaking out for the people in gaza, and i encourage you to do the same. keep reblogging. keep speaking up. keep using your voices. the people in gaza need us. be there for them.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE 🇵🇸🍉.

LINKS AND RESOURCES:

neil druckmann | the official the last of us podcast | the not so hidden israeli politics of the last of us 2, by emanuel maiberg (i highly recommend you read the full post. it discusses several crucial details i didn't discuss in this post) | galid shalit prisoner exchange | Neil Druckmann Speaking on the Washington Post | 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (TW: LYNCHING) | 'The Last of Us Part II' Is a Grim and Bloody Spectacle, but a Poor Sequel | Veiling Colonial Violence: The Last of Us Part II, Israel and the Erasure of Power (full disclosure, i did not read the full post. i merely needed the quote in the very beginning of it) | zionism in tlou2 | isabela merced | kaitlyn dever | bella ramsey's support of israel

PALESTINE LINKS

—

#ellie williams #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us remastered #the last of us 2 remastered #joel miller #joel miller x reader #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #abby tlou #tlou abby #joel tlou #tlou joel #palestine #gaza #free palestine #free gaza

[moonstruckme]

Olá, adorei sua escrita, peço desculpas por quaisquer erros de digitação (inglês não é minha primeira língua).

Gostaria de solicitar algo com poly!marauders reagindo a eles no meio de alguma discussão, e quando levantam a voz ou fazem alguma movimento repentino ela apenas se encolhe de medo

(só escreva se você se sentir confortável com isso, peço desculpas se for um assunto delicado)

No worries, sweetness! I worry I don't communicate this very well on my requests page, but so long as any abuse is in the past and not still happening while the story takes place, I'm totally good! Thank you so much for requesting, hope you enjoy it <3

cw: implied past abuse

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your face is burning hot, and you’re hoping no one can tell it’s from how hard you’re working to hold back tears. 

“I’m telling you,” James says with a severity that doesn’t suit him, “they’re not good for you. You need to stop hanging around them.” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You wave him off, relieved that your voice comes out as even as it does. “They’re my friends.” 

“They don’t fucking act like your friends.” Sirius is looking at you like you’re stupid, and you try not to tremble in the face of his anger. Every muscle in your body had tensed at the first show of frustration, an exasperated huff from Remus nearly ten minutes ago, and it’s only gotten worse since. You know, logically, that this situation doesn’t call for fight-or-flight, but there’s no telling your nervous system that. “They left you drunk and completely alone in the middle of the night. They’re assholes.” 

“What, just because you don't like them?” You glower at Sirius from across the room, and James shakes his head disappointedly from the couch. “You don’t get to dictate who I hang out with!”

“You’re completely blind to it!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“That’s enough!” Remus roars, and everything else ceases to matter. 

Your shoulders hunch in to protect your middle, one hand coming up in front of your face instinctively as your eyes squeeze shut. 

It’s only an instant of terror, shooting through your nerves like a lightning strike, and then your heart starts beating again, now at double time. You raise your head to find Remus looking cracked open, mouth parted in silent shock and anguish. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, holding up your hands as if to ward off the effects of what you’ve just done. You’re trembling all over. “I’m sorry, that was—I didn’t mean to.” 

“Sweetheart.” James starts to reach for you, then stops, wrapping his arms around his torso like he’ll lunge for you if not restrained. His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over your own heartbeat. “Don’t apologize, please. Are you okay?” 

You nod, fighting the urge to shake out the adrenaline still working its way through your body. “Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to react like that. It wasn’t you guys, I’m sorry.” A traitorous tear skids down your face. You brush it away. 

“No.” The word sounds like it’s hooked from inside Remus’ throat and scraped forcibly out. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m so sorry.” He looks at you, eyes imploring. “Do you wanna sit down?”

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Angel.” James’ eyebrows come together in pity. “You’re shaking all over. Come sit, we don’t have to fight anymore.” 

You blow out a frustrated breath, ignoring the warm wetness on your cheeks as more tears escape. “I’m not—I don’t want to stop fighting just because of this. I feel like I’m manipulating you,” you say, tone edged with bitterness. “I’m not trying to, though. Can we just forget that happened?”

“Hey,” Sirius says, uncharacteristically firm, “stop that.” You’d been afraid to make eye contact with him before, but now you turn to find he’s looking at you like you’ve clawed his heart right out. You’re all the more miserable for it, for the pain you know you’re dredging up for him. You both have experience with raised voices and forceful gesturing. Both harbor old and unreliable notions about what those lead to, instincts you can’t shed. “You can’t manipulate us by accident, understand? You don’t always have control over reactions to things like that. Just…” His forehead creases with a helplessness you recognize. “Just take a breath.” 

He waits, eyes boring into yours, until you do. It shakes on the way out, but it feels good. 

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

Your throat clogs so no words can pass through, but you nod, and Sirius steps toward you. His arms come around you slow but solid, feeling out how much you want. You press your face the juncture of his shoulder and his neck, hands clutching at his back, and he tightens his grip on you. Under your hand, you can feel his heart beating almost as desperately as yours. 

Sirius doesn’t quite release you as he walks the both of you to the couch, folding you into his lap, but you pull away once your tremors ease. James looks miserable with worry, and you take his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to scare you guys,” you say. It’s as close to an apology as you expect they’ll allow you. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Remus insists. “I mean it, I shouldn’t have raised my voice that way. Regardless of your history, it was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.” 

You give him the best smile you can offer at the moment. “It’s okay, really.” 

“You’re not manipulating anyone,” Sirius says, hand still tight around your waist, “but let’s save the rest of that conversation for another time, yeah?”

You nod reluctantly, and James gives Sirius a pleading look until he lets you go, nudging you into James' side. “I’m fine,” you insist again as he presses his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your upper arm. “Don’t worry about me.” 

He scoffs lightly, kissing downward to your forehead, the tip of your nose. “I always worry about you. Nothing you can do about that.” 

Some of the tension clears from Remus’ countenance as he watches you. “I agree, let’s pick that discussion back up when we all have clearer heads. Dovey, can I make you some tea?”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” you argue as James moves his attentions to your cheek. 

“Oh, let him,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes, “it’ll make him feel better. You can make me some tea, Moony.” 

“I’ll take some, too,” James says. “If it’ll help, of course. Actually, do we have any biscuits?” 

You laugh as Remus sets off happily for the kitchen.

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x self-insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders scenario #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders fandom #hp marauders #marauders hurt/comfort

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Second Part to Sleepwalking Eddie

Eddie still had his doubts when it came to him sleepwalking. So, Steve did what anyone else would do in his situation. He bought a video camera. Of course, it was right after he bought it that the sleepwalking seemed to stop for a while. Was Eddie fucking with him or was it his kind of luck that this had happened?

Because of the whole sleepwalking naked incident, Steve made sure word got around for everyone to call first before coming over. Eddie had a tendency to take naps after he ate lunch, and it was one of those days. It was also the day when Dustin decided that Steve was just bullshitting them and popped in unannounced. Steve had groaned when he opened his front door to find a grinning Dustin.

"No! You can't come in," Steve hissed. "Eddie is napping."

"So? I promise not to wake him," Dustin said and made his way through the door. "Unless. . .is he really napping, or did you get so annoyed by his presence that you finally killed him? After everything we did to save him. Damn, Steve."

"No, you shithead. I did not kill your precious dungeon master," Steve said, rolling his eyes and closing the door. "I'm gonna call Hop and tell him you broke into my house, though . . . And I actually like having Eddie around, for your information."

"See, I told you that you two would be great friends," Dustin said with his back to him.

Steve rolled his eyes as he mouthed the words with Dustin. He knew he would say something like that. He followed Dustin into the living room and watched him as he flopped onto the couch, propping up his feet onto the coffee table.

"Hey! Feet off the table! God. Were you born in a barn?" Steve asked.

"Boy, wouldn't that just embarrass the hell out of you if that were true?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly, Eddie walked into the room, his eyes closed slightly as he wore nothing but his boxers and one sock.

"Shit," Steve cursed and grabbed Dustin before he went to greet him. "Don't wake him."

"Why?" Dustin asked with wide eyes. "Oh my God! He's cursed, isn't he?"

"What? No. No! Wayne told me you're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker," Steve said.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Eddie grabbed the blanket and wrapped it completely around Dustin. He pulled him to the couch and sat down. He laid Dustin down in his his arms and began to rock him.

"Steve? Steve?! What is he doing?" Dustin asked.

"I think he's rocking you to sleep, man," Steve replied.

"Baby sleepy, shh," Eddie mumbled.

"No, baby is NOT sleepy," Dustin said and then muttered, "Baby just had a nap. . . Steve! Don't just stand there! Do something!"

"Hold on!" Steve exclaimed and ran off.

When he came back, he had something black and rectangular in his arms.

"What is - Steve, is that - is that a GODDAMN camera?" Dustin asked.

"Eddie doesn't believe that he sleepwalks. I need proof," Steve said. "Can you just give it a few more minutes?"

"Fine," Dustin grumbled. "But you should know this is absolutely humiliating."

"You owe me. One, for showing up without calling and two, for walking in here like you own the place. All without an apology," Steve said.

"Don't use logic against me, Steve," Dustin replied. "Why does he have a country accent? Maybe this is his real accent, and he hides it."

"Maybe," Steve said as he adjusted the camera on his shoulder.

"Baby hungry?!" Eddie asked.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

"Shit!"

Steve stopped him before he could press Dustin against his chest.

"Baby's been fed, remember?" Steve asked Eddie.

"By bats?!" Eddie asked.

"Uh, yeah, he's been fed by bats," Steve replied. "He's also had a nap. Can I hold him?"

Eddie grumbled before pushing Dustin away from him and walking out of the room. Dustin unwrapped himself from the swaddle.

"Well, that was strange," Dustin said.

"Dustin, if you tell anyone about his sleepwalking or joke about us being your parents ever again, I'll show the tape to Max," Steve said.

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Fine."

"Steve?! Why the fuck am I in the kitchen and why do I have partially eaten block of cheese in my hands? I'm lactose!" Eddie called. "And don't say I was sleepwalking again!"

"Magic! It was magic, okay?!" Steve yelled back, rolling his eyes.

"I fucking knew it!"

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dustin henderson #dustin being a little shit #henderdads

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!

Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one

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Keep you safe

One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.

Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.

Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.

"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.

He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.

But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.

"What are you reading?"

When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.

"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.

"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."

"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.

Y/n put her homework on the table.

"Read it and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just-"

"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."

"Right."

Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.

"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.

"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."

"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"

"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"

"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."

"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."

"You got yourself into this, could've said no."

"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.

"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."

"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"

Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.

Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.

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Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.

Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.

Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."

"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."

And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.

"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"

"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."

He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."

"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."

"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."

"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."

"Care to share what happened?"

"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."

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Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.

They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.

"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."

"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."

"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."

"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."

"And why's that?"

Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.

"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"

Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.

Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.

Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.

It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.

"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.

"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."

"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."

"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.

"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."

Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.

"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."

Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.

"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"

"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."

The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.

"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."

"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.

"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."

The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.

Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.

"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."

"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."

Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."

Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.

Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

#Theo Nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic #Lorenzo Zurzolo

[risuola]

III — GAMBARE, GAMBARE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN

In the world of crime and blood, Sukuna knows what's off limits. You certainly are one of those things and yet, he's unable to stop thinking of you.

cw: smut, little angst-ish in some places, mafia!au, unprotected sex, a hint of body worshipping, violence, mentions of death, subtle threats, reader discretion is advised — 3,2k words

a/n: third part, thank you so much for support guys! it means the world to me to see how INSANELY big is the tag list now. i literally love y'all~ ❤️ also, just as the first part got inspired by the absolutely menacing quote from our king, it only felt natural to include the famous gambare, gambare (do your best) into this one.

series masterlist

Sukuna prefers to think of himself as one of significant intelligence. Over the years, during which he ruled over the entire criminal milieu, he proved himself to stand atop of anyone who dared to even think of overturning his jurisdiction. All the exceptionally dumb bold ones that once wished to take the position of a boss from his hands had learned the hard way why troubles with Sukuna Ryomen are the least desirable fate of anyone who bears any volume of oil inside their brains.

It’s not only tactical or business intelligence that he’s priding himself with. It’s also the excessive knowledge about general rules of life that allowed him to comfortably push and pull the edges of what’s right and wrong, bending his own reality to his liking. Now it’s intuitive – he just knows where he can put more pressure and where it’s not worth his time. He knows what to bet his money on and what won’t realistically pay back. And most importantly, up until that point, Sukuna thought he can tell with his eyes closed which people he should consider crossing paths with, what men can be useful whilst he aims to reach his targets and which crowds he shouldn’t mess around with – for various reasons, most of which being just business and inconvenience. Same thing concerns women. Ryomen’s position works like a magnet and not a day passes by without girls, often way too young to even think of him, throwing themselves at him, led by fantasies of money and power veiled in the shades of love. If he wished, he could have a different toy every time the night falls and if he’d be just slightly less trained, he might have fallen for the temptation. But he didn’t.

Sukuna learned it from experience, not exactly his own, but of his pawns, that allowing random women in the proximity of their profession usually leads to catastrophes. Girls get persistent, they grow attached, they fall in love sooner than it’s even logical and then they threat, they blackmail; all of which eventually leads to their deaths because dealing with just barely adults that weaponize tears and screams is something he doesn’t allow in his circle. There were no exceptions, any man bearing similar power to Ryomen knows that there’s no place for romance in the world of death and bones, the one that’s stained in red and sorrow. If there happens to be love, it’s always of people from inside the criminal circle, sharing the same set of broken morals. Mafia should never tie itself romantically with civilians. Especially him, the leader, the menace that he is in the world of misdeed, murder and corruption, knew all too well why he should never, ever, even think of someone from outside of his tale as of anything more than one time plaything. That would be irresponsible, straight up naïve. It would be foolish. He knew all of that and not even once he felt any need to engage into any kind of relationship with someone that he deemed non-profitable to his general targets.

Then why the fuck he kept thinking of you? Why he kept seeing you after what was supposed to be a fun one-time fuck? Why did the taste of your lips and the sweet scent of your skin made him so completely addicted that he couldn’t focus on his own business without his mind wandering to the memory of you at least once an hour? He just liked your body, he told himself every time he thought of sending you a message. You were a good lay, it was purely physical. You did, after all, take his dick like you were born solely for this very purpose. He was meeting you only for sex and it was an accident that some of these meetings began with a dinner. All of the gifts he showered you with were just a form of payment for the service. Sukuna knew much better than to let his emotions take control of him.

“What’s on your mind?” Your quiet voice tore Ryomen out of the realm of his self-criticism. The tone that you spoked with was raspy, the testimony of the rough, throat-fucking he had used you for just few hours prior, and yet, it still somehow flowed with cottony softness, so characteristic to you.

“Nothing important,” he replied bluntly, lowering his gaze to where your face was buried into the broad muscle of his chest; your frame completely hidden in his own, much larger and stronger. It was another night you spent in his house, one of those that began with the reservation in one of Tokyo’s best restaurants that served traditional Japanese cuisine. You showed up in a dress made of dark olive silk, long enough to reach your high-heeled sandals and clinging to your shapes as if it was made to be worn over the divinity that was your body. The long, scandalous slit exposed one of your legs and the thin straps accentuated your shoulders and cleavage just perfectly. It was a dress that he himself bought and ordered to be delivered to you in an expensive box before that day. Now that very same gown was laying somewhere, discarded on the floor in the living room of his mansion.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re plotting my death,” you chuckled against his skin, the vibration of the act made him scoff because both him and you knew that the scenario you offered wasn’t exactly falling into the realm of fiction.

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t need to plot it. One bullet is all it would take,” he retorted with calm and despite any logic, instead of creating some distance, instead of running away you hummed at his statement and pressed your lips to the center of his chest.

You were way over fearing Sukuna and his world. The few months that you spend seeing him, you came to terms with the heavy weight of tragic fate that was now resting on your shoulders. It couldn’t end well, you shouldn’t tangle yourself with a man such as him, the path of your normal life should never come even close to the blood tainted one he was walking through. You should have never left the club with him and once you did, you should have run out his house the moment he gave you a chance. Instead of that, you stayed. That night, after the time of Ryomen’s pursue and the unfortunate event with Naoya and his gang, soon turned into two. Then just few more and then many more. The one-night stand evolved into continuous romance and though it was strewn with roses and intimacy, it came also with the realization that the more you see him, the less days you have left. There was no way for someone like you, an outsider, the mere civilian with no mafia bonds whatsoever, to be living a long life. Sukuna has enemies, there are people that want the power he holds and will eventually target you. That is, of course, if he doesn’t kill you himself over time – out of boredom or prevention. You knew a lot, he had told you more than he should.

But you loved him. You had seen him do some pretty dark things that would make most people’s eyes water, and in all honesty, it did the same thing to yours, but then, with you, Sukuna was always protective. You loved the way he always seemed to know just what you needed, the way he read you like an open book and knew just what to say or do to put you at ease. You loved the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world, how he made you feel beautiful, even on the days you felt like a total mess. He was a danger, a threat so deadly you shouldn’t play with it, he was a flame that you were bound to burn yourself on, but he was also the only person in the world you felt so safe around. Ever since you met, he had protected you. Even if his words were harsh and his own deeds rough, he never failed to envelop you in a bubble inside of which nothing and no one could hurt you.

“Oh, how much you’d miss me,” a certain sense of amusement hinted in the tone you used as the sheepish smile stretched your lips. Ryomen acted suddenly, grabbing the tiny thing that was your body and pressing your back to the mattress. His fingers wrapped around the frail of your neck; it wouldn’t take much of his strength to snap it and yet, you seemed rather comfortable with his grip secured around your airways. Over the time you managed to grow enough trust to know he won’t hurt you for no reason. Your lover was a man powerful enough, there was no need for seeding fear in you. You were also smart enough to differentiate the real danger from the playful acts. If Sukuna truly wanted you to be scared, you most definitely would be scared shitless.

“You think so?” His tone dropped an octave as he crawled above you; your bare figure now trapped underneath the weight of his presence. He got your legs between his initially, the heavy shaft of his dick rested over your lower belly as he shifted his hand from your throat down to cup your breasts. Your body seemed to never stop attract him, no matter how many times he touched and tasted it. You looked almost angelic in the dim light of that morning; the remnants of sleep still painted over your features and the only things that disturbed the innocence of your picture were the marks he had left on your plush, velvety skin. Red and angry spots that he sucked onto your flesh adorned the beauty of your frame, ultimately making you his own. “Aren’t you a little too confident?”

“I think I’m confident just enough,” you grinned playfully, smoothing over his hands, one staying on top of his palm on your breast and the other reaching up his arm to touch more of him. There was always a hunger lingering inside of you, you were never completely satiated and even if your body was utterly exhausted, you were always happy to take more. Sukuna made you feel ecstatic, like you were really his only one and though it was an illusion that you chose to believe in, it felt good to imagine yourself as his only care.

“And why would I miss you, huh? Aren’t you only a plaything for me?” The question he asked was meant to sound venomous but the sound of his voice betrayed the lighthearted intention. “Do you think I’ll blink twice when discarding you when I get bored of what you can give me?”

“I don’t think you’ll hesitate,” a chuckle once again shook your chest gently as you watched how Sukuna gently pulled your legs up from underneath him and brought one of your ankles to his face. The kisses he smeared along your shin were delicate, completely contrasting with the threatful impression that he was trying to make. He was worshipping you so openly, it made you blush every time. “But even though I know you wouldn’t think twice before killing me, I also think you’d miss me afterwards.”

Once the tender caresses finished, your calves landed on top of his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing a breathy moan out of you as he pushed his length into you to the very base of it, sliding on enough spit that it made the entrance easy. Ryomen learned your body through and through, he knew you can take it, he knew you’re always ready and eager to take him. Even if it’s early, even if it hurts. No matter when and where, if he told you to sit on his dick in the middle of a grocery store, you’d probably do just that and ask no questions. And yet, he knew where the boundaries are. Not once he pushed you when you were feeling bad. Not once he used you when you were not ready. The knowledge he now had about you came from observation.

“I think I would miss you,” he purred, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke. He’s got you in a mating press, filled to the brim with his bricked-up manhood and completely at his mercy. “You are addicting.”

“So keep me safe,” you whispered, cupping his face and chasing the kiss he was yet to give you. The request caught him slightly off guard. The pleading undertone made his heart clench; a feeling that he’s gone without for a decade at least and though he hated the odd sensation in his chest, he also couldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his body.

“You are safe with me,” the reassuring lie he followed with a heavy press onto your lips, sealing his words with his own tongue and silently promising you his protection. A vow that he wished to keep and yet, feared he won’t be able to. But now, it wasn’t important. Now you were here, in his bed, on his dick. Now there was just you and him.

Your dainty fingers found their place in his hair as he began thrusting into you. The new slick that combined with the remnants of the night made his movements easy as he dragged his hips back almost all the way out and then pushed back to the point of his pelvis clashing with the back of your thighs and your ass. The pace he set wasn’t fast. It wasn’t anything of what he’d most often pick, there was no violence intertwined into the melody of his hips. That morning it was sensual, it was deep and just rapid enough to stimulate every sweet spot inside of you. Stroke after stroke he was driving you crazy, he just barely started and already you felt yourself dripping. The filthy, wet sounds filled in the early aura and the muffled moans and whimpers accompanied them.

Sukuna allowed your legs to fall lower from where they were pressed against your chest and you hooked them around his hips. The newly earned access to his neck and shoulders you immediately used by allowing your hands to wander in the area, scratching his skin just to force a low purr from his throat. Every sound he made, you swallowed greedily as the kiss continued. Your tongues were dancing to the fiery rhythm of intimacy.

The coil in your stomach tightened all too quickly, you wished it to give you more time to enjoy what he was willing to give you but no matter how much you wanted your body to calm down, he made it absolutely impossible to achieve. Your veins were running with pure ecstasy and lust, the heated flurry that now was your brain was focused only on him, on the rhythm of his hips, on every sweet little lie that he whispered to you. Ryomen knew how to make you weak, he knew just how to angle his body to hit that one spot, the most sensitive one and you could feel him grinning against your lips. He knew you were close. The delicious squeezes that your cunt did on his girth were enough of a hint to notice and it gave him a sense of pride to be able to make you come undone so easily.

“Just few moments more,” he murmured and you nodded eagerly. Tears prickled in your eyes, gathering along your lash lines like crystals that he wished to kiss away, but was now too engulfed in the taste of your lips to part. His movements got quicker, just a little heavier as he began slamming into you with more force than at the beginning. Mornings tend to rid Sukuna from the ability to last – the ones that he spends with you in his arms, with your naked body pressed against his, unknowingly shifting against his dick for hours. That makes him unable to keep his composure for too long. Sometimes he feels like you strip him of all qualities that he once prided himself in, leaving him bare only to your eyes, with only the most primal needs exposed and he felt good with that kind of freedom.

“…don’t stop, oh god, ‘kuna~”, you were whimpering, arching your back underneath him and squeezing your little hands over his shoulders. “I can’t, I—”

“Oh, you can. Do your best,” Sukuna chuckled, teasing you with such impossible tasks. Your head fell back, your thighs were trembling against his sides and he could tell he’s losing you. You were far too deep in the realm of desire to hear his words; all of your world now came down to what you felt, to how you felt him and Sukuna loved your blissed out state. He loved the way he was the one to push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t notice if the world was ending. But what he loved above that, was how you were gripping onto him; holding him tightly, pulling him closer as if you never wanted him to move away, as if he was everything you needed. And he was.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered against your throat, painting the skin over there with wet trails of kisses and new, red marks – the ones gentle enough to fade in a matter of hours. You moaned something incoherent. “Cum for me,” he allowed, not even sure if you’re registering his words. It had to be unconscious; the way your brain caught his voice between the blurry lines of everything else.

Your climax hit you like a rock; his name was slipping over your tongue continuously, so sweet and breathless that Sukuna was once again reassured that he never wants to hear anyone else calling him. Your walls were squeezing his throbbing length, he twitched and flexed inside you, groaning with satisfaction and before he allowed himself to come, he pushed himself up. As he sat on his heels, he pulled you with him; your body now on top of him and he used his hands to guide your hips up and down his dick. You wrapped yourself around him, finding a safe space for your face right where his neck connects with his muscular shoulder and all he needed to feel the bliss was the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin.

White seed painted your insides as he shot it as deeply as he could reach with you on top of him. Few more moves, few more groans and you could feel him relax. His strong arms snaked around your waist as he shifted slightly to lean against the headboard, straightening his legs in front of him. You stayed pressed against his chest, catching your breath and feeling the tension leaving your body as the morning went by. And as Sukuna held you so close to his heart, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it felt so right and that made the question bloom inside his brain. Was it still strictly physical? Was it ever only about sex?

» PART FOUR

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #sukuna mafia boss #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna smut

[quintinh43]

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change  of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n,"  he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?"  Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?"  Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God"  both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Nanamixreader smut, penetration, missionary, dominant kento!, unprotected sex, pet names, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Author's note: Something that popped in my mind in the middle of the night and first time writing Kento. Slightly proofread, so not too much on me 😅. Honestly this was slightly rushed, so with that being said I do hope you guys still enjoy. And as always thanks for your support! 🤎 18 and under, GET TA STEPPIN!

Nanami likes to think of himself as a reasonable man.

A logical man.

A sensible man. 

But not when it comes to you, oh no. 

He’s a wild man. 

A senseless man. 

A feral man.

You, because of you everything that seems to make sense to Nanami vanishes into thin air. He doesn’t know how to act, how to think, how to speak whenever he’s in your presence. He only knows how to feel, oh and feel he does. 

When he’s holding you.

Caressing you.

 In you. 

Nanami loves it, borderline obsessed. Hell, he is obsessed.

“You like it when I fuck you like this princess? C’mon, tell Daddy how good it feels.” Nanami groans out. He’s ramming his dick in and out of you at an animalistic pace. Mentally recording the sounds of your moans, the squelching of your juices, and the feeling of your walls clamping around his dick whenever he sings praises to you. 

“So good daddy, don’t ever stop, please.” You whine out, tears streaming down your face. 

This. 

This is want makes Nanami’s rationality slip into oblivion. Watching you, studying you and your every move. Learning, perfecting, what it is that makes your brows furrow together in pleasure, what makes the blood rush to your clit and thumps like a drum, what has your whiny voice moaning out his name like a mantra. He’s forever mesmerized at your fucked-out state, the tears that cascade down your face, or the way your lips begin to bruise from how hard you bite down on them, relishing in the feel of his dick kissing your spot over and over again. 

He’s a madman.

“Never. I’ll never stop. This pussy is too good for that.” He whispers in your ear before sucking on the sensitive spot on your neck that’s always getting you to arch your back off the bed.

This is the Nanami you yearned for. Of course you love the level-headed Nanami, but the rough fucking, dirty talking Nanami was who you craved, who you needed to satisfy your hunger.

“Kento, I’m right there. I’m going to cum.” You moan loudly when he takes one of his fingers in between the two of you, pressing down on your clit, drawing figure 8’s on it. 

“Yea, you’re going to come for me babygirl?. Going to make a mess all over this dick? Do it, fucking do it. Let me feel it sweetheart.” Nanami begged, voice raspy and full of need. His relentlessness in drilling his dick deeper inside of you with the pressure of rubbing your clit caused the band in your stomach to snap, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave hitting the shore. 

“That’s it, such a good girl for daddy.” He groans, throwing his head back in pure bliss. Gritting his teeth together as he chased after his own release, the feel of your walls spasming around him was all it took to send him over the edge. 

“Daddy’s going to cum in this pussy, I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take it like a good girl.” He mumbled dumbly as his dick twitched inside your heat. 

“Fuck.” He dragged out, burying his head into the crook of your neck while his dick was buried inside the depth of your pussy, his release tainting your walls with his thick ropes of cum, leaving no part untouched. 

With ragged breathing, Nanami slowly rose up from you, taking a moment to look over you. It was then that the sun began shining in from the windows, illuminating your deep, rich brown skin with such a glow, Nanami would argue with top scholars that you were a goddess. Your braids tousled around your head like a crown, the rise and fall of your breast trying to regulate your breathing, nipples still swollen as if he just finished teasing them, and the slick of your juices mixed with his cum oozing out of your pussy caused a deep growl to come from him.

“Legs back up, Daddy wants more.”

Nanami liked to think himself a sensible man.

But for you, Nanami loved to think himself a senseless man. 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

#jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x black!reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x poc!reader #nanami x black y/n

[ssentimentals]

make a move {choi seungcheol}

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you' ((this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here)

warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), cheollie is whipped (duh, when have i ever written anything different), i'm striking again with a confident and forthcoming reader in here, fingering, handjob

seungcheol takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great selfcontrol and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all seungcheol is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.

cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of seungcheol thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. seungcheol is losing his mind.

'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'

soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'

you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. seungcheol decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately seungcheol had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.

'babe, where's my phone?'

'right over he- oh!' seungcheol turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'

there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'cheollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'

'right-right,' seungcheol lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'

you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, seungcheol. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'

silence. seungcheol is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'

'no-no!' seungcheol rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'

you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'

seungcheol huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' seungcheol shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'

you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, cheollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'

seungcheol roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'

your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, cheol.'

a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once seungcheol registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all. he doesn't know what to choose first simply because he wants to everything at once, immediately, god he waited so patiently-

'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'

he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'

in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. your chest presses to his and seungcheol locks his arms around you, fighting off his growing desire to throw you on the bed and have his way with you.

'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'

oh, this is a fantastic question, one that seungcheol is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'

your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'

another brilliant question. seungcheol gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'

and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. seungcheol is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, cheol.'

it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if seungcheol could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.

'seungcheol,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.

he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, use me, use my fingers, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.

'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- seungcheol, i need-'

seungcheol moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. cheol works you through it, his lips and fingers serve a constant pressure in the right places, stopping only when you tug weakly at his hair. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.

'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.

your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.

'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'

you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'

seungcheol curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'

honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed. he's trying to be quiet but you lean on and start kissing him and oh, he is a weak, weak man. seungcheol moans loudly into your mouth when you apply more pressure and pants openly as his stomach tightens from all the feelings. 'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.

'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.

'and a nap,' seungcheol nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'

seungcheol wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will hav to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'

'how polite,' cheol snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'

your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.

a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think - nini

tagging @prpldahy

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #svt seungcheol #scoups scenarios #seventeen scoups #seventeen scenario #scoups #svt scoups #seventeen x reader #seungcheol imagine #seventeen reaction #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #GOD IT IS FINALLY FINISHED WHOA #i havent written smut in such a long time i feel like i am incapable of writing a good one #sorry if this too..idk mushy and not much action #but also...have you read my other works i think you knew not to expect soemthign hardcore

[i-like-eyes]

Trying to figure out how they'd work as puppets

More in depth analysis below the break

For those that don't know, typically the three most common variants of foam puppet are know as rod hand, live hand, and walk around. Examples would be Elmo, Cookie Monster, and Big Bird respectively. Rod hands are smaller in size and held up by, well, rods. Live hands have the puppeteer (or two!) insert their hand in a sleeve connected to the puppet for more interaction. Walk around puppets are full costumes the puppeteer wears, but what makes them puppets and not like, fursuits, is that there is still puppet mechanisms like moving the mouth or blinking.

Here is what comes from the website/Clown's tumblr:

Julie is a rod hand

Eddie is a live hand

Poppy is a walk around

Barnaby has a walk around and live hand

Howdy has a walk around and live hand

Sally is a live hand but "required an additional hand to help move her head, as it was much larger than other puppets"

Frank is said to have a fixed expression but his head could spin, rather he was rod or live or magic third thing I cannot figure out

Wally doesn't have any details regarding his puppet anatomy because he is special like that

Of note:

Julie likely has smth holding up all that hair (please be a fucked up skull please be a fucked up skull)

Poppy is a pretty standard walk-around puppet (she's just Big Bird), but I'm having trouble understanding how a human could fit into Barnaby or Howdy. Then again, 2d artwork of puppets tend to take liberties for the sake of stylization. So if someone were to make them IRL they'd either look really different or utilize tech I don't think was available in the early 70's

Howdy's legs could work on Squidward Spongebob Musical logic. Arms I have no clue, as a live hand he could have multiple people filling up those arms, but as a walk around idk cheap spider costume logic were the lower arms are attached to the upper arms ala a string?

I do not know what to make of Sally needing extra help to hold up other than that's so specific it might become a plot point

Frank.

Okay Frank lacking details or having weird details that stand out is a running theme for him. He has no listed backstory whereas everyone else can say where there were from and who their family is. Every character's first name ends with a long "e" sound whereas Frank is. Frank. (His last name "Frankly" does cover that though). The fact that WHRP lacks any concrete detail on his creation is a story reason, what's the story no clue we are 5% in dudes

Regarding his puppet, he obviously had a fixed frown because puppet but also could spin his head. Now I have absolutely zero clue how you can have the head spin and also have room for the hand for the mouth, unless this is a rod puppet (Rizzo the Rat) where the mouth is moved by some other mechanism. All I can say is I'd suspect Frank to have a very stiff (read: not majority foam) head and body in order to hold up such a feature. If his head can detach, I can imagine a metal ring of sorts that his collar covers up

His arms are a different story. The website not clarifying how his arms work doesn't really mean there is anything particular about them, but I am going to over analyze is anyway dammit

Points for rod hand: arms/hands are slim, inspirations Bert and Mr.Robinson are rod hands, lack of other rod hands/variety reasons

Points for live hand: Sally also has slim hands but is live hand, not all live hands have thick arms (looks at how small Ernie's upper arms are compared to his fore arms), Beaker hasn't been listed as an exact inspiration for Frank but look at him, and most importantly is Poppy. Poppy is noteworthy for being the only walk around puppet without a live hand counter part. As a result of having wings for hands the puppeteer cannot realistically perform any of the baking tasks in her segment. As a result she gets help from Sally, Howdy, Eddie, and Frank. The former 3 are all live hands, and one can assume that because of this Frank could be a live hand as well

And finally I know he's said to not super expressive but my heart says that he would look great with the eyebrow mechanism Bert and other puppets have.

I should point out that puppets from the 90's (Dinosaurs and TMNT come to mind) used more robotics in order to achieve more expression with the characters, but I don't think that kind of tech was common place in the 70's and would apply here.

The big take away is that this post was made for practical reasons; I am just Quite Fond of researching this kind of thing. This will probably not get you any lore, but it could provide context for the characters. I personally suspect that Poppy not being able to fly or perform tasks she swore she could will play a big of her character. In general I think that what other puppets can and cannot accomplish will play into the theme of figuring out who you are. That's the real fun.

#welcome home #julie joyful #eddie dear #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #frank frankly #throwing him in because he takes up a good chunk of speculation

[alliddewrites]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley Breeding Kink Headcanons

Content disclaimer:

Smut,

Breeding Kink,

Unprotected sex,

Aftercare,

Fantasy logic in some places,

Female Reader

Masterlist

Reader discretion advised. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

A primal part inside of Simon wants to breed you so badly. At first he's not 100% sure about it, but after finding out you're also into it, he's so reassured that there's no going back.

It's not only the pregnancy part that excites him, possessiveness also plays into it. He feels like he's claiming you while breeding you, making all of you his, and his alone.

Has a long conversation with you about it before getting into it however, to make sure both of you want this. The best part might be the process, but the results have to be agreed upon.

Promises to be there for you every moment you need when you've finally conceived a baby. He knows it's a huge responsibility, even if he enjoys pumping you full of his fertile cum, he's going to be there all the way after the funnest part is done.

Saves up his cum for a couple of days for the first session so he can pump you so full of it that you're leaking for hours.

He can't wait for you to bear his children. Stomach becoming more and more bloated with his baby, tits growing larger and fuller with warm milk.

Prepares you beforehand by going down on you. Sucking on your clit while fucking your wet, quivering cunt with two of his huge fingers, stretching you out nicely. If you don't cum at least twice, he thinks he's not doing things right. Orgasms help with conceiving after all, so he not only gets to pleasure you, but it also heightens the chance of his seed taking.

Gets rock hard just by thinking about cumming inside of you, getting you pregnant. Thick, long cock throbbing, impatiently waiting to be inside of your tight pussy. Tip red, dripping plenty of precum. Balls heavy, full of his hot, virile cream, waiting to fill you up.

Starts calling you mommy and baby momma teasingly from now on. Really wants to drive the point home.

Mating press. Puts you in that position every session at least once. It's his favorite. Perfect angle to hit the most pleasurable spots inside of you. It also enables him to go balls deep, angry tip kissing your cervix and his tight balls smacking against your ass at every thrust. Just loves absolutely pounding you into the mattress, thrusting so hard you start drooling and tearing up.

Another favorite of his is when you're riding him. This is usually the first position when you start. He gets to hold your hips and watch his dick disappear inside your warm, wet cunt while your tits are bouncing right in front of his face. Sucking on your breasts every once in a while, don't worry, he didn't forget about them. When you get tired, he doesn't change positions, he just lifts you up by the waist and thrusts up into you roughly, basically manhandling you.

Loves watching the ecstasy on your face from what he's doing to you. Can't get enough of it.

He can go a bit too hard, pelvis roughly snapping against yours, but never to the point of hurting you. He could never do that.

Cannot go just one round with you. He has to make sure all of his semen is emptied out inside of you and one round is just not enough for that.

Don't hold back the noises you make, he adores hearing them, gives him more encouragement to keep going harder.

Loves hearing you beg for his fertile cum. He will make you beg for it at the beginning. Makes him reach his climax faster. "You want my cum inside of you? You want me to fill you up? Beg for it."

Keeps going until he's all tuckered out and shooting blanks, balls empty. Even if you're tired, completely cock drunk and you think you can't go any longer, he knows you can. He has to go as long as he can for the highest probability of impregnating you, and you just have to take it. "You're a good momma, yeah? You can take it"

Goes as deep as he can when he's cumming. His girthy cock throbbing inside your tight pussy while his balls are squished up against your pelvis, pumping all he has to give deep inside your womb.

Makes the prettiest, deepest moans and groans when he finishes. He can't hold his noises in sometimes, especially if you encourage him to let his voice out.

Keeps himself inside your overflowing hole for a bit after he cums. When he pulls out, he's enamored by his hot, steamy load dripping out of you, making an even bigger mess of the sheets underneath you. After he's done admiring you, he will push all the thick cum he can back inside. "Can't waste all the precious semen now, can we luv?"

He knows it doesn't do much, but he still puts a pillow under your hips so that part of you is higher up. He likes to think it helps his seed go deeper inside of you for a higher chance for pregnancy.

After checking whether you're okay or not and nothing hurts, he brings you some water so you're not dehydrated. He doesn't want you to strain yourself.

Either he gives you a bath, cleaning you up nicely or he wipes you down with a soft rag gently if you're too tired to move, all the while still making sure most of his essence is kept inside of you.

After you're completely taken care of, he lays you back down on your back onto the bed after changing the damp, ruined sheets. Lays down next to you on his side, caressing your cum filled tummy gently, whispering into your ear. "You'll be such a good mother. We'll make the cutest babies."

The demons took over-

I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.

#my writing #reader insert #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #cod #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

[oikasugayama]

He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 3

pt. 1 Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa (I can't keep writing this series, parts 4 and 5 cancelled)

Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. The actions in these stories do not reflect real actions taken in the source material. I do not condone the actions some characters may take in these stories. If you are sensitive to potential non-consensual activity, do not read this series.

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, strangers, sex at work, non-con, Rashomon as bondage!!

Kunikida

He would never participate in something that seems like noncon, even if a partner asked him to so this is a different kind of "stuck"

You're in an elevator with a handsome man you've seen before but never spoken to. With a loud noise and a screech, the elevator stops moving and all but one small emergency light goes out, leaving you in a dim metal box with a hottie.

Kunikida responsibly calls for help, while you focus on not panicking (you fail!)

"I'm sorry that you're in this predicament, but is there something I can do to help?"

"I just need to take my mind off of it," you tell him.

"Okay. Would you like to talk about something?"

"No, no... I need... hey, are you single?"

"Yes..."

"Can we make out? I really need to be focused on something else."

You're appealed to his logic and his need to help people, so he AGREES LMFAO You get to make out with Kunikida in an elevator for what feels like a long time before he finally pulls away and checks his watch. All you can focus on is the broad palm of his hand and his slender fingers. Fuck, you're horny just from making out with him. Every flick of his tongue sent a wave of desire down to your core.

"They should be here by now."

"Maybe there's an issue elsewhere as well," you say, resting your hand on his arm. With a pout of the fluttering of your lashes you ask him to continue, but this time sitting on the floor, and he again agrees.

You manage to climb into his lap. You run your hands through his hair. He holds onto your hips. You grind down on him, and finally he moans softly into your mouth when you manage to brush against his bulge.

He tries to apologize, but you won't let him. You keep grinding on him, kissing on his neck. "I'd really like to keep being distracted," you coo. "Maybe some... rocking back and forth ;) will help the elevator move again."

Sigma

You're a housekeeper at the casino, and today your one task is doing laundry. It comes down a giant chute into the laundry room, and you spend all day putting sheets and pillowcases in washers, in dryers, and folding them up nicely to be taken to guest rooms.

When the chute backs up, the laundry shoots out FAST and creates a huge pile on the floor. If you're not careful you could get hit by the force of the dropping bedding, and depending on how much is there it could crush you.

Well, unfortunately you were called away to help with another task for an hour, and when you came back and opened the chute it was waaaay more full than you expected and boom, it all flies out. You're hit and knocked over, then tons of sheets, blankets, towels, robes, and pillow cases cover you. All together the weight is enough to keep your tired body stuck in the pile, you can't even use your arms to raise yourself up.

You panic a little, but then you give up, realizing that eventually someone will come in and honestly it's kind of comfortable... like a weighted blanket... soft...

You fall asleep. When you wake up, you feel your pants being shimmied down your legs. You try to call out, but you're sleepy and your voice is muffled. Then you get a sense of what's happening without being able to see the scene: It's Sigma, the casino manager, and he wants to have sex with you.

"What in the world?" you think at first. "This can't be real." But then you remember his ability is information exchanging, and well, hell, if he's the manager you can't get in trouble, so... you try your best to give him the vibe that you consent and he must feel it with his ability because he goes for it.

He doesn't give you much prep before his dick is nudging at your hole. He dips it in a couple of times to tease both of you before he finally sinks in and starts thrusting.

He fills you pretty well. You wish you could see him and it wasn't so stuffy trapped under all these blankets. "Man I wish I could get out of here," you think, and you get the idea transferred back to you that Sigma will help you out once you're done.

Might as well settle in and enjoy it. Hey, no one can hear you moan given all the laundry on top muffling you, so you get to moan and whine and mewl all you'd like while Sigma nearly anonymously fucks you

Akutagawa

You're an enemy spy from another organization. You were captured by none other than the hellhound of the Port Mafia, and let's just say his interrogation techniques are...different.

Each of your limbs is being held in a different direction by his ability. "Tell me why they sent you. Are you special? Do you know something? Are you dispensable?"

"I don't know, I was just told to be here."

"What a useless answer. You must mean nothing to them. You got caught so easily; I can't imagine you're one of their best. I'm going to give you a new purpose so your meaningless life matters."

And then he lays you down on a crate and uses his ability to anchor you in place, making it completely impossible for you to move. He walks toward you slowly your heart pounds in your chest.

Akutagawa flicks one finger and a part of Rashomon cuts your pants from your crotch down both legs. He pulls the fabric off and wipes the tiniest bit of blood off of your thigh. "Hmm. I didn't intend to cut you. You must have had forced your legs into those tight pants. Doesn't it feel better to wear nothing at all?"

He pulls your panties down too with no comment, even as Rashomon wraps around your thighs and holds them spread so far apart that it makes your hips sore.

Akutagawa unzips his coat but leaves it on as he gets closer to you, running his cold hands across your inner thighs and close to your warm cunt. "If you can bring me pleasure then your life will be worth something."

You realized as soon as Rashomon grabbed you that fighting wasn't going to work, and now your freeze instinct has kicked in and you don't know how to react as his thin fingers spread your pussy and slide into your hole.

"Anyone who can't pleasure a woman is a waste of space," he says, "so I will be pleasuring you in return. If you wan't me to stop at any point you must tell me what you know about your operation and your organization."

"I don't know anything," you insist, but he tsks and curls his fingers inside of you, making you jump slightly as he brushes your gspot.

He fingers you, plays with your clit, makes Rashomon rip your top open so he can see your tits, and eventually (after like half an hour of playing with you) he fucks you.

He tries to talk to you the whole time, asking you questions and trying to get information but as you get more and more worked up you stop even trying to remember information and instead let yourself go with the pleasure. Who knows if the Port Mafia will even let you go home alive, you might as well enjoy yourself first.

#bungo stray dogs #kunikida x reader #kunikida headcanons #kunikida smut #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa smut #akutagawa headcanons #tw: noncon #mdni #sigma x reader #sigma bsd #sigma headcanons #sigma smut

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x you #call of duty fanfic

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 12 part 1 | part 11 | ao3

ha haaaa, i lied about waiting until monday. cw: angst, gory imagery, implied prescription drug abuse

In his dream it’s raining pills.

Steve is crying in his car as rainbow pellets rain from the sky, and then he’s pounding on the Munson’s door while the pills burst into fine powder against his hair, his skin, his clothes. Eddie doesn’t come to the door but suddenly he’s there, teleported outside of it, apologizing right away when Steve demands to know what’s wrong.

“I don’t understand what happened.”

A flash of eyes, of lips; his face doesn’t fully form, but he sweeps one of those perusing looks all over Steve, sees his frayed edges and invites him in to stitch them up.

They talk and laugh for hours — dream logic where the seconds are minutes are years — letting their knees knock together, letting their pinky fingers brush. All the while little pills plink plink against the siding, pharmaceutical hail storm, and suddenly it's morning; Steve has drifted off; Steve has never slept so well. There’s a throw blanket made of cat fur and the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs, Wayne humming sleepily to himself at the stove, waving a spatula in greeting when he spots Steve getting up.

“Mornin'!” he grins. “Ed’s still sleepin’, but feel free to stick around.”

Outside the rain comes harder, heavy knocks against the roof, and when Steve peers into the pan he sees that Wayne’s frying up dead birds. "Just about ready."

He spears a fork into a wing. The feathers start to smoke. “You take your coffee black?”

—

“Ma, you gotta get a job.”

“Hmm?”

She’s watching I Love Lucy.

Steve's head is in his hands.

His elbows are going numb where they’re propped on the breakfast table, and his temples throb, a steady band of pressure like a giant's palm around the sides and back of his skull, pulsing down his aching neck. He’s been staring at next month’s budget for so long it looks like hyro…hiero—?

Whatever. Egyptian shit.

He can’t tell if he’s shit at math or if the math just doesn’t work, but either way it’s not working, and neither is his fucking mom, and he finds himself thinking about this one time in middle school when they took a field trip to a factory with a big hydraulic press. Got to tour the control room; got to pick which fruits to crush.

He remembers the watermelon most vividly of all: the way the rind groaned under the machine’s steady weight, splintering slivers snaked over striped flesh; slowly, slowly, then suddenly, boom!!

Watermelon guts on the concrete floor.

(That was also the first time he got to touch a girl's butt; all the girl's squealed and jumped back from the explosion, and one of them backed herself right into his hand. It was Liz Collins, and it was one hundred percent an accident, because, like, gross, Liz Collins, but still.

Memorable day for two reasons.

God, he needs a nap.)

“A job, ma,” he sighs, a little louder this time. “I can... I don’t know, I can maybe ask around, see if anybody’s hiring? Or- talk to Claudia. Or Karen,” he snaps his fingers by his ear, “or Joyce! She might— yeah. Yeah, she might be able to call and put in a good word at Melvalds...”

She might also be busy being far the fuck away from here. He taps his pencil against his cheek as envy crashes over him. He should be in California. Should spend his time hitting on beach babes and surfing sunny waves instead of drowning in debt and wondering why he’s on a first-name basis with so many random moms.

His mom still hasn’t acknowledged a single word he's said. "Hello? Ma? What d'you think?"

She turns to look at him finally. Gives him a dreamy, lovely smile.

She always was so pretty. “…I’m sorry; what were you saying?”

—

Steve flushes his mom’s pills.

—

part 13

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