#and foggy got him into train

[pastafossa]

i’m curious and idk if you’ve answered something like this before but what type of music do you think matt and jane like, both individually or maybe what they’re introduced each other too etc etc

ok so I've been thinking about this since it came in but haven't had time until now BUT

Matt first! Matt mentions in S2 at the gala that he likes to listen to 90s Top 40. This includes a shit ton of good stuff - you've got everyone from Whitney Houston and Elton John to Nirvana and Green Day (no way teenage Matt didn't have a Green Day period). On top of that, in the comics iirc he mentions enjoying Jazz, and I know Charlie's been asked the same question and said he imagined Matt would like listening to classical (if I was building on that last one along with Matt's stated fondness for 90s top 40, I'd say he'd especially enjoy, say, an artist like David Garrett who frequently does rock covers with his violin). I could pick just one of those to lean into as to what Matt likes, but I don't think I need to. I think it's far more likely that Matt's a blend of musical tastes, because with his heightened senses, there'd be different things to appreciate with each. And while I do think there are songs and sounds he finds unpleasant, I think he can swing around pretty easily between genres. I see him listening to a fair amount of 90s/2000s rock (tends to drown the world out, and the rebellious streak in him probably takes some pleasure in enjoying what he might have been told was 'worldly listening' by nuns). But I also see him as enjoying a fair amount of softer classical songs or pop and folk (easier on his ears, or nice for dates as we know), as well as jazz (relaxing). This is great for Jane, because it means Matt would have an excellent talent for pulling out old hits she only vaguely remembers listening to but really enjoyed, and also for following her on whatever musical journey she takes - he'd also be a little more up to date on music than her, so he'd probably introduce her to some new(ish) alt artists, softer sounds usually - Jaymes Young, some of Hozier's newer stuff, songs he thinks she'll connect to.

Sweet moment: somewhere lost in the mountain of asks in my box I vaguely remember someone saying they could see Matt liking to play Jane love songs to see if he could get her to sing them later, like she was singing to him. And I love this and agree with it. Especially on bad and broken, self-loathing days, cause he needs love on those days, wants to hear Jane hum or quietly sing the words, because then it's like she's singing all that love to him. And once she figures out that's what he's doing, she makes a point of doing it more often, even putting on the songs herself and mumbling them quietly as he lays with his head on her chest, her fingers in his hair.

Jane next. I had to think about this for a while (and as always, as musical preferences are VERY personal, ya'll are free to disregard this). I can tell you that while she's ok with classical now and can even enjoy it sometimes (first date), she had to work at that one with Ciro since there was a lot of classical played 'for brain development' while she was at White Coat's facility. Outside that though, she wasn't sure what she liked when she first came out. She tried a lot of things with Ciro and Eli and Sophia, much like she did with food, hunting for what she enjoyed. I think, at least initially, a lot of the music she heard - classical, pop, jazz, country, ballads, Disney even - was too... gentle. Cause this poor kid? She was angry. She felt awkward, out of place. She still felt trapped by nightmares and PTSD, and wanted to feel free, to shout, to revel in something that wasn't slow and measured and soft, something that seemed to acknowledge the pain of what she'd went through. But you know what channeled those feelings really well? Fucking punk rock. And if we assume she's close to Matt's age, then at 16 she was freed at the right time to roll right into Green Day, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, and My Chemical Romance. I think she vibed hard with that genre during those few years with Ciro before going on the run again, and it's something she'll always have a fondness for even if she's now expanded her tastes - because ultimately I think, with where she's at now, she's become a bit of a racoon. She'd delight in listening to artists across multiple genres based solely on some random quirk or line or chorus that stuck in her head, just because she can. Which means Matt's just as likely to come home to Jane howling along to a nostalgic punk rock song as he is to her blasting some random Broadway tune she heard in a cab (no one is immune to Lin Manuel) or a Taylor Swift song on loop because this sounds like us, Matt, what the fuck, have you heard this?

Funny moment: needless to say she is not prepared for Dance Dance to be her song of the evening as Matt walks through the door one night - she freezes, wondering if this is going to be an Ow My Ears song.

At least until he throws out, 'I'm two quarters and a heart down' and tosses his cane as her eyes light up and he grins-

-then the chorus hits and they both fucking rock.

They both wind up collapsed on the floor giggling. And that's when she is reminded that, yet again, Matt is the perfect man to go with her wherever her music journey takes her.

#the red thread #jane was a punk rocker when she was with ciro cause she related #and frequently dragged Eli to concerts much to Ciro's amusement #cause Eli listened to a lot of country and classic rock and this Was Not His Thing but he Did It For Love #now she's a racoon and listens to a shit ton of stuff #with special preferences given to nostalgic punk rock and literally any song with lyrics she relates to #and like a racoon she takes the song and dips the music in the brain water and if its clean little core has a lyric she likes #it goes in the pile #matt favors 90s top 40s whether that's rock or ballads or pop #along with a smattering of classical (especially classical covers of pop/rock) and jazz and pop #but he's also a romantic so soaring ballads are nice to his ears and so are some of the softer indie singers #and foggy got him into train #and he has a streak of punk rock in him that lingers cause seriously look at this vigilante man #look at the scrappy baby matt child he is a child ready to fight the world look at his tiny fists this boy will fight you #MATT HAD A GREEN DAY PHASE I STAND BY THIS #I DIE ON THIS HILL #matt murdock #jane hind #also they listen to hozier regularly fight meeeee

[mvchpastel]

•

#no thoughts head empty just him #that day on the train after we got caught in the rain #frozen and soaked and ​curled up in your lap and kissing and kissing and kissing #foggy windows and musty blankets from your car’s trunk #pouring rain and racing to your car parked across the high level #streaky mascara and my soaked romper and your hands on my legs #the day you asked me to be yours #falling in love and not knowing so and definitely not saying so #holding hands on the QE2 and immediately falling into bed once we got home #or the floor or your hammock or my bed or your couch or my counter or wherever #again and again and again #ouchies 💔 #him

[dirt-str1der]

Sagawa is unfuckable in my head but in my heart he and nishitani had something embarrassing going on

#Listen to my problems #actually i transsexualise characters in yakuza based on one simple rule: if majima wants to hit then its a 65% that the guy is trans (if he #DESPERATELY wants to hit then its a 100% chance the guy is trans) the percentage rule doesnt apply to girls because majima doesnt believe #in unattractive girls (and shes right) #i will never date an ugly girl. why ? because ugly girls dont exist #let me get to the heart of my post anyway . i was randomly assigning cooler genders to yaluza characters when i actually looked at my list #and was like ... this ... this is !!!! majimas fuckit list !!! and theres already two dead guys on it. too ass #ill make it clearer actually sagawa being majimas handler does act a bit possessive and intimate towards him but he holds zero desire in his #heart for the poor boy even if he had to handfeed him for a while and it was super sad but majima on the other hand absolutely cannot #control where his dick compass swings and starts lusting after the guy more than twice his age plus he just got ‘rescued’ by sagawa <- its #just a simple passing of the leash from shimano to sagawa though and majima Knows this logically that hes completely forgotten how to act li #ke a human being and this is really dumb and he really shouldnt but hes extremely susceptible to his wild imagination and nightmares combo w #here hes trapped in a maze of his own libidio and trauma and against his will sagawa gets his sex engine roaring even though he hates the gu #y and thinks he sucks and it Really doesnt help that sagawa knows and lets majima know hes politely pretending hes not getting hard #stop reading btw im going to start talking about my creature of the night au wh actully no im not actually yes i am #but since majima goes wolfmode every full moon and he though his memories are foggy he can still Remember. and sagawa fucking loves animals #and a wolf is no different he really has a soft spot for wolfjima and spoils him a bit and majima gets trained against his will and itswired #deep enough to bleed over into his subconscious even when hes human and can remember that he hates sagawa but its hard to actually... hurt #him especially since in this au majima fucking bit him and sagawa let it slide. like he nearly got his arm torn off and had to wear a cast #for months and he never once blamed majima for it (soft spot strikes again) despite everything and despite how awful he is majima kind of #realises that sagawa (in his own way) is acting with majimas ‘best interests’ in mind <- extremely subjective statement #the thing is that he really respects him for that and trusts him not to pull the trigger on him when he doesnt ‘deserve’ it

[rafesslxt]

Showerhead | mattheo riddle

summary: you thought you were alone in the bathroom when your wild thoughts took over you but you suddenly hear a second voice.. and its not inside your head.

warnings: masturbating for a sec, cursing, filthy DIRTY TALK, fingering, mattheo eating out reader, unprotected p in v, enemyxlover vibe, gryffindor!reader

notes: DAMN I'M BACK! I'm sorry but I had a HUGE writing block. Also: english is not my first language so pls let me know If there'S something I can correct :)

My day was unbelievable fucked. I woke up too late, got detention because i talked to my friends while Snape was teaching us something, i spilled my food over my clothes.. twice.. after that I fell from my broomstick at the quidditch training and now i sat with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the Great Hall eating.

„Yo y/n can I copy your homework later? I got -" Ron startet but i interrupted him "Yeah yeah whatever.. guys I‘m gonna go to bed okay? See you after this." Hermione and me shared a room so I would see her later.

I rushed to our dorm, getting rid of my dirty clothes. God I needed a shower, now. I took my clothes, shower stuff and towels and started to walk towards one of the big bathrooms.

Because I wanted more privacy, I did go to one that not many students know about. Hermione once told me about it as she talked about Hogwarts in first grade.

As I walked inside, I checked If someone‘s here but I was alone. I took off my clothes and stood under one of the showers more in the corner and let the water run down my body. I sighed as I felt it on my skin, finally feeling more relaxed.

My thoughts started drifting after a while as my hands glided over my body. Damn my muscles are really sore. When was even the last time I had sex? I think it was like 3 months ago with a guy from Ravenclaw. He looked promising but merlin was I feeling disappointed after.

I couldn‘t even touch myself cause I was always around people, sharing rooms together and shit.

I bit my lip as I looked at that shower head above me. Nah I couldn‘t.. could I? Did I even have time? I mean I was in here already for like 20 minutes so I had to be in my room before curfew but god damn I was so desperate.

Oh fuck it – what is one more detention, right? I took the shower head, letting my other hand slowling wandering over my nipples. I whimpered slightly at the feeling, realising now how desperate I really was.

I took the shower head and put it where I needed it the most. My thoughts drifted again and I tried to think about someone but no face appeared until - fuck no, I can‘t think about him.. but before I could debate more with myself, his name left my lips.

"Fuck Mattheo.." my lips parted and my breathing got heavier. Merlin was I already about to cum? How pathetic, I didn‘t even touch myself properly but that kind of didn‘t matter as the next words left my mouth. "Shit.. please" i begged into the foggy air around me.

"Damn Princess.." My blood got cold and my body tensed to a point where I couldn‘t move. I swallowed as I opened my eyes and saw Mattheo Riddle standing right in front of me. The one who‘s name I just moaned.

I tried to hide my body behind my hands, a little too late. "Fuck Riddle what the hell are you doing here?!" I asked him angry. Once because I stood there completley naked and he didn‘t even tried not to look and second for my again – non existing orgasm.

He looked shamelessly over my body, scanning every inch of my skin. He had a towel hanging low on his hips, which didnt really helped the state i was in right now.

" I could ask you the same but I think I just heard what you did.." he smirked arrogant and looked at my face. "You know you could have just asked If you wanted my help."

I rolled my eyes at him as I took one of my towels from the side to hide my body but as I did I had to let go which leaded him to look at my breasts. I saw him licking his lips, looking up at my face again as I wrapped the towel around myself.

"Just because your name is Mattheo, doesn‘t mean I was thinking about you."

He grinned again, coming closer to me slowly. "Oh yeah? Then who did you mean?" I tried to think about an different Mattheo but there was no one in this school I knew with that name – besides him.

He just stood one inch away from me now, backing me into the shower again until my back hit the wall.

"Princess.. i know you did think about me, there‘s no shame in telling." I started nibbling on my bottom lip as a signal to being nervous. God he smelled so good and his face looked even more handsome now that the single drops of water fell onto his face from his still wet hair.

"And what If I was? Are you going to tell all your stupid little friends?" He chuckled "No.." his face came even closer now "just let me help you out with that." I swallowed down a clump in my troath as he said that. My pride was way too big for him to just come here and fuck me like that..right?

"Hell no I -" "Why not huh? I saw how desperate your little body looked as you just begged for more.. let me help you with that, I‘m gonna make you cum within the first minutes." Now his arrogant smile was back, his breath hitting my lips now.

"Yeah all of you boys say that, leaving me unsatisfied after." I huffed, looking away from his piercing eyes.

"Let‘s make a deal little one.. I‘m gonna eat you out and If I don‘t make you cum within the, lets say: five minutes? I‘ll leave and never bother you again.."

I looked at his lips while he was talking. They looked so soft and kissable – fuck was I really considering what he said? I mean he‘s a Riddle and a stupid little fucker but maybe that‘s just what I needed right now. Stupid little Fucker named Mattheo Riddle.

"And what If you make me cum?" i looked up at his eyes again. He towered his head over mine grinning, coming down to my ear and whispered "..then you‘re mine for the night." He smiled almost devilish and I know I should‘ve said no but damn 3 months were starting to get the best of me.

"Deal." It felt like as If I just signed up for the devil. His smile grew at my words and he pushed me against the wall this time, unwrapping the towel i just put on.

"Damn your body looks so good, just perfect for me to eat." Shivers went down my spine at his words right towards my - " I hope you know what you just got yourself into." Suddenly he took me by my hips, lifting me up against the wall again as I wrapped my legs around his hips.

"It‘s kind of unfair that you still have your towel on, don‘t you think?“ "Oh don‘t worry princess, it‘s coming off very soon."

He took one hand away from supporting my ass, to my cheek. He looked deep into my eyes, almost staring into my soul. He closed the gap between us, kissing me like no boy ever did before in my whole life. The kiss was passionate, heated and longing. Almost as If we would seperate, we couldn‘t breathe.

I felt the tip of his tounge slide over my bottom lip which made me moan slightly. He smiled against my lips and pressed himself harder against me.

I opened my mouth slowly, which he took as a opportunity to explore my mouth with his tounge fighting over control with mine.

He let go of my lips what almost costed me a whimper but I pressed my lips together. He took me by my hips again, lifting me higher until I sat on his shoulders, my eyes going wide. Damn I don‘t think I need 5 minutes.

"You ready?" he mumbled against my inner tight he started kissing softly with his wet lips. I just let out a deep breathe and nodded, putting my hands on his hair.

He started kissing higher up until his mouth was just an inch away from my pussy. "5 Minutes are alredy starting" I chocked out, but in reality I just wanted him so start.

I could feel him grinning like an little ass but these thoughts were thrown out of the window as his tounge touched my clit.

I held in my breathe for a second as he started to kitten lick my clit and massaging my tights with his hands. I buckled against his face but he was faster and backed away. I let out a desperate whine at the loss of contact.

"Beg me.." he told me looking up at me with his chocolate brown eyes. Shit who was I even to deny that? Now wasn‘t really the moment for too much pride. "Please.." He raised his eyebrows " Please what?" "Please eat me out Mattheo, I need it - please.."

Satisfied with my answer he licked flat over my pussy, focusing on my clit again as he started to suck it. "Oh my-" my lips parted and my hands flew into his hair again, pressing his face deeper between my legs.

"Fuck that feels good" i moaned and arched my back off the wall as I felt something deep down in my stomach. Shit he didn‘t even do much but give my clit some attention - really good attention - and I was already close again.

I felt his hand going under my tight and his thumb being places on my clit. He moved his finger in circular motions, sliding his tounge to by entrance, fucking me with it.

"M-mattheo please!“ shamelessly i bucked my hips and cried out his name.

"You close baby?" he asked, mumbling against my wet skin. I just nodded breathless until I felt a sharp and powerful feeling in my abdomen.

It completely crushed me. Everything around me went black for a few seconds and I couldnt hear anything. I just came so hard on Mattheo‘s tounge that I didn‘t even realise where I was for a short moment.

I looked down on me, looking in Mattheo‘s eyes, already looking at me. "You taste so good baby."

He slowly lets me down again but holds me as we both notice how weak my knees are. "Damn I didnt expect that.." i breathe out and look at his lips, still glistening from my juices.

"I think you lost our deal.." he grinned and startet slowly kissing my neck. I chuckle, nodding just slowly, thinking about how much I actually want him and not caring about the fact that I lost.

"..but you don‘t really seem to care huh." he grins and slowly rubs my back before turning me around so I faced the wall. "Hands on the wall baby." No matter what he said, I always heard him smiling. Smug little ass. "Spread your legs princess, that's it.. wider." My stomach twisted at his vulgar words, never ever did a boy talk to me like that.

I did as he said, spread my legs even wider while my hands touched the cold wall. "Hmm now arch your back for me."

I felt his hands slither around my waist down to my lover stomach. Every touch of his send shivers down my spine. Suddenly, I felt his breath against my ear, his lips kissing the shell of it as he murmurs with a deep voice. "I'm going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head." "Stop teasing me and do it!"

He chuckles darkly and I feel the tips of his fingers wandering slowly over my pussy. "Do you really think you're in a position to give orders?" Goosebumps.

As I didn't answer him he lightly brushed his finger over my clit, making me shiver again, while brushing soft kisses across my back.

"Please." I let out a whimper, arching my back just a little more and pushing my hips into his body. Then, I felt him at my entrance, pressing the tip of his cock against my clit, just where his fingers had been a second ago.

"Beg. Fucking let me hear how much you want this cock." he whispers into my ear, his hot breath hitting my ear. My whole body shudders and I can't help it but do as he tells me to.

"Mattheo please I need you. I need to feel you, I'll do anything." I feel myself almost crying from the frustration and arousal. "Good Girl." he groans before he slowly enters me. Fuck.

"Oh Shit baby, you feel so tight." Mattheo grunted shamelessly as my walls clenched around him. My breathing got heavy and I bite my bottom lip to hide my moans.

"Don't hold back." he commands and just so, I let my lip go and whimper out his name.

"Hmm just like that princess." He pushes further inside of me, groaning at the feeling. I feel so full of him, I can't think straight besides of him and how good he feels.

Abruptly he started moving his hips fast an hard against my ass, leaving my mouth hanging wide open. " Oh fuck, Mattheo!" I cried out at the sensation. His hand started to wander up and down my body, over my back, my stomach, my tits - playing with my nipples.

"What, you want gentle? Wrong fucking address." God where has he been all these months? It feels like he just fills that hole inside of me - literally.

I hear him panting behind me, not slowing down with the movement of his hips. "Shit I would've fucked you way sooner If knew you had such a tight little pussy, just waiting for me to come and fuck it sore."

I hiss as he takes my hair into his fist and yanks my head backwards so It would lay against his shoulder while my back is still arched and he presses me against him. My hands roam over his arm that holds me in the middle of my body and I close my eyes. I'm definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.

I felt him changing the angle of his hips a little and my eyes almost bulged out of my head. "Oh my god!" I almost scream, forgetting that someone could hear us, even tho not many know about this bathroom. "Fuck yes, I feel you clenching around me princess. Does that feel good hm?" he teases and bites my neck gently.

Words coiled inside my throat, coming out as broken sobs, telling him I'm wanting more. "You're still holding back, just let go."

So I screamed his name again, over and over again, until I felt a sharp pang in my stomach. His hand let go of my body, his second hand still in my hair. He grabbed the shower head and turned the pressure higher before he holded it right against my clit.

I was a whimpering and sobbing mess at this point, begging him to let me come. "Look at me. I wanna see you coming around my cock." He tugs at my hair and my eyes roll back to look into his, which gave me the rest I just needed to come.

Looking into his eyes made my walls clench around him again, leaving his mouth hanging wide open. "Shit.." he grunted and closed his eyes as his rhythm became more erratic. Just as I slowly came down from my high, I felt him pulling out of me and coming all over my back, spreading his hot cum.

"Fucking hell.." he breathed out and slowly let go of my hair and hanging the shower head back onto the wall after washing his cum off of my back. I turned around and looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"What? Did I fuck out all your negative energy?" he chuckled, pressing me against him again with one of his arms. I roll my eyes at his comment but still I couldn't hide my smile. "I have something for you.." he said, now he's smiling like a little devil.

I look at him confused which he answers me with his fingers in front of my mouth. I look down at them and gasp as I see his cum on them. "Come on, open up baby.." I didn't knew why but again I did as he said and parted my lips. He pushed his fingers inside my mouth and grins. "Suck them."

I started sucking on his fingers and swirling my tongue around them, tasting his salty cum. His eyes rolled back a little and I saw him shuddering for a moment. "Damn, you wanna suck my cock maybe?"

I did let go of them and chuckled as I pressed myself pass his body to wrap my towel around my wet body. " Maybe next time.."

"Oh so you wanna do this more often, huh?"

Oh and how we both didn't knew at that moment how often actually.

_______

Who wants a part 2? It's here!

Let me know how you liked it!

My Harry Potter Masterlist.

xoxo Sarah <3

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

See, the thing is, Grian isn’t lying when he says that the snails aren’t his doing.

He gets why people are saying that; the timeline of him finally getting the stupid book and the snails emerging from the sea line up near-perfectly, as if they were another manic machination of his boredom. It’s also the fact that they just straight up came out of the sea, or at least should’ve- he swears up and down that the pink one shot down from the sky, he saw it with his own two eyes. But, considering he doesn’t control the sky, the pink snail cannot be his doing at the very least. And the teal one? The one that people are calling his snail? He just found it after a particularly stormy night, chilling on the docks, and he found it just so damn cute that he took it as a pet. Both of those aren’t Grian’s fault. They can’t be, by that logic.

But honestly, by now, he’s getting a little worried about the snails, in either case of his innocence with them. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the sanest person on the Hermitcraft server—he’s not sure who is, really, when everyone has their own things going on—particularly within the past few weeks, if the beard and book count as indication. His memory has been a little foggy for a while, so it very well could’ve been him putting snails everywhere, and he just flat-out forgot for one reason or another. Though, that doesn’t seem likely- he’s strong, but not strong enough to haul a giant snail out of the sea and onto a literal freight train, nor does he have the patience to meticulously choose snails that are sturdy enough to replace the wheels. That had to be a meticulous and pre-planned process, something Grian doesn’t really have the time for.

This leaves him with three conclusions: if it is him behind the snail acts, he’s not the only thing occupying his body. If it isn’t, well, there’s still something causing the snails to make their way through the works of Magic Mountain, and it certainly isn’t another hermit, based on their reactions. If it’s a mix of both—considering he’s found himself freeing snails from the cages Scar put them in without remembering how he got there—then the snails aren’t so cute anymore, and Grian’s just about ready to—

To—

He’s just—

Where was he?

Right. The snails. They’re not his doing, pinky promise. Grian got his book, he filled the prophecy, and he’s stopped fishing like it’s his last day on earth. The bit is over. He’s moved on- why would he beat a dead horse into the ground like that? Sure, he can still smell rot wafting from the river, but he’s Gem’s neighbor, and she’s got that whole fish horror thing going on, so it very well could be her. Nevermind the fact that they were eating her lighthouse, and she wouldn't do that to her own hard work. And sure, she came to him when a snail chose her--the way he said it would--but she was probably under the assumption that it was his, just like everyone else. It wasn’t. He’s sure it wasn’t.

The snails would explain his white-hot anger at Scar’s little cooking prank; the way Grian’s skin felt like it was burning every time he looked at the pan. How, despite knowing that his friend was just messing with him, every instinct was telling him to kill him where he stood, no mercy. How it felt like the same seething rage he felt when Scar had fished up a copy of the book weeks prior, and he’d done that very thing. And maybe, just maybe, it would explain how sometimes, on the nights where his dreams are the most vivid and gross, he wakes up in the Chamber, positioned as if in a prayer.

But if it is…

A streak of fear runs up his spine. The weather, despite his dedication to the sea released, is still stormy and grey. The water is still murky and washing slime up onto his shores. The dreams of the book haven’t stopped, despite him clutching it like a rosary on even good days. The whispers of the wind are an angry, menacing thing in his ear. He thought it would be over once he got what he wanted. He thought it would be enough to satisfy whatever the ocean needed from him.

There is a rod in his hands, he realizes. He throws it as far away as he can. It lands next to a clump of snails, who all turn to look at him with an otherworldly menace in their pitch black eyes.

Just what has he released onto his home?

#oceans calling au #grian #hermitcraft #geminitay #goodtimeswithscar #woosh writes #ITS BACK BAYBEEEEEEE #YOU THOUGHT OCEANS CALLING WAS DONE? LOL. LMAO EVEN #Gem said ‘there’s something in the water’ and I went OH IS THERE #is this kinda terrible? yeah. doesn’t matter. #anyways enjoy

[mediumgayitalian]

“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”

Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.

“It’s just hair, Will.”

“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”

“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.

“‘S’not fair.”

“Mhm.“

“Your hair listens to your instructions.”

“Yep.”

“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”

Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”

“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.

“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”

Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.

“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.

Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.

“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.

Will harrumphs.

“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”

“I used gel.”

Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”

“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”

“I bet.”

“And yet!”

“And, yet.”

Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.

Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I like your hair, you know.”

“It’s a stupid mess.”

He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.

“I like the stupid mess.”

“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”

“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.

“Shut up.”

Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.

Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.

“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”

“What,” Will grumbles.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”

“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.

Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”

“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”

“I would not!”

“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”

“I did not!”

“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”

“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”

“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.

Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.

“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”

Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”

Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.

“I never thought you were a freak.”

Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”

“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”

Nico bites his lip. Hard.

“The number never got higher than six.”

“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”

Will sighs.

“You can laugh.”

Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods, you are — a mess.”

“Mhm.”

Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.

“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.

#i’m in love w rizzed up nico i’m sorry will is such a flailing mess there’s no way he’s the one with game #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #i’ll acknowledge that will does actually have a fair bit of game but #as soon as nico figures out how to exploit his dorkiness. cmon. #bro as soon as nico finds out how long will has liked him 😭😭 he’s done for fr #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #solangelo #established solangelo #fluff #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #whipped will solace #whipped nico di angelo #down bad will solace #will solace #nico di angelo #my writing #longpost

[tacticaldiary]

hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3

thank you so much xxx

Bone Tired

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff

Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed."

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.

Masterlist

Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.

"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.

"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.

Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.

Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.

In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.

The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...

Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.

"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.

Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.

A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.

But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?

She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...

Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.

It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-

Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.

Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.

In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.

Just one more moment.

Another step back, an unsteady sway.

She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.

Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.

"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.

"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.

"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."

She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.

"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.

"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."

"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."

"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."

"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-

Wait, what time was it?

Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.

"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-

"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."

"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"

"I wasn't asking."

"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.

Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.

"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.

"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.

He was a man of action, through and through.

Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.

He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.

Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.

The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.

After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.

He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.

The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.

"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.

"For help."

That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.

"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."

A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.

When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.

"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.

When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.

Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.

His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.

Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.

"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.

"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/07/2023)

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #x reader #cod mw22 #modern warfare fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #cod mw ghost #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost posts #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley #angst #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #modern warfare x reader

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 12||

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Words: 5k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.

The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.

There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.

He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.

Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.

Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.

He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.

He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.

Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.

Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.

But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.

He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.

Not that Karen can't take care of herself.

If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.

Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.

Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.

He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.

Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.

He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.

It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.

It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.

Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.

Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?

Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?

Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.

He'll tell her after he tells you about her.

It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.

Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.

If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.

Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.

As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.

Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.

You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.

But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.

His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.

“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”

Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.

He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.

“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.

To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”

The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.

She wants him to be her Daddy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.

“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.

“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”

You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.

She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.

“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”

The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.

But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.

He curls his lip into a snarl.

He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.

It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”

“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.

“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”

She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.

“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”

The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.

He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.

“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”

Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”

The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”

“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.

Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?

Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.

Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.

He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.

“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.

He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.

“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.

“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.

“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.

“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”

Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”

Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.

“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?

He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.

Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.

Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.

Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.

He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”

He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.

He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”

His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.

“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.

“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.

“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.

“Very, very far away.”

He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.

He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.

She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.

You've taught her well.

Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.

He knows he's gone for you.

Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.

His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.

Foggy laughed so hard at him.

He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.

He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.

He should have been there when you needed him most.

He's not going to fuck that up again.

He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.

“Hi, Mouse.”

“Why are you outside?”

He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.

They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.

So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.

“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”

Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”

He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.

He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”

She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.

“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)

He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.

“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.

“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.

“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”

And he will tell her every chance he gets.

She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.

She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.

“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.

“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.

“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.

He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.

Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.

“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.

He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.

He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.

Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.

He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.

He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”

The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.

He's going to cherish this moment forever.

“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.

“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.

Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.

He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.

Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you

[diejager]

hii!! Im new to your blog and i have been obsessed ever since~ i have a little req about the reader using contacts in the field but the task force doesn’t know she uses glasses so i’d like to know what would their reaction would be it can be also the monster au~

No pressure thoo, take the time you need. Keep up the good work love your stories 🥰

Oh! Then a very late welcome!🥰 I wore contacts before and I can promise you that your eyes dry out real fast, especially in dry and cold temperatures in Canada. Though they are more convenient than glasses.

Pairing : Monster!Task Force 141 x fem!reader

Cw: men simping for you, fluff. Wc: 1082

For a human, you had good eyesight, even Gaz had said yours might’ve been one of the best he’s seen, especially for a sniper. You took down enemies within the blink of an eye as if you were born to build a nest and stay perched up for hours, scoping and hunting the enemy. You, for all the embarrassment you felt from the constant gush of compliments from them, wore glasses, needing them to see if you wanted to see anything at all. Faces blurred and shapes deformed without them, but wearing glasses while deployed was a danger. You’d had prescribed contacts ever since you started your training, paid by the military health assurance (contacts were expensive depending on the brands and the bests were exceedingly so). 

You got into the habit of wearing contacts even off duty since it made life easier to not worry about readjusting your glasses or cleaning them. The last mission in the arid desert of Urzikstan dried your eyes, even with the protective goggles, they weren’t impenetrable from the heat and dry atmosphere. You took your contacts off and showered, discarding them in the trash before you used your glasses, thick, squared lenses glued to a black frame. 

You went about your day as you usually did after that, wiping your foggy glasses before leaving your room (protective Price gave you a room with a bathroom included, he didn’t want any men or women following you into the public showers to spite them since you were the weakest link to the TF. Mostly from others peeking or watching you shower, he’s protective and possessive of his hoard.) to meet your brothers-in-arms in the Mess Hall.

Soap did a double take when he saw - smelled - you walk into the Mess Hall, blinking his wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. He took the time you spent reaching them to stare at you, adorably confused by the thick glasses over your nose. Shock followed his confusion, that their amazing sniper wore glasses. Had your eyesight been that great because of the contacts you wore? Or had it contributed to your reaction time and quick trigger finger? Passed his confusion and shock, was appreciation. You looked adorable in your black-rimmed glasses, it framed your face so well that he felt like snagging you to himself to stare and admire until you got sick of him. It made him wonder how well you could see without them.

Gaz, the harpy who praised you for your eyesight, was seemingly as shocked as Soap. He, however, recuperated faster, blinking away the questions before you sat down next to Ghost. He had questions but thought it better to leave it until you were both alone. He found you pretty in glasses, the square shape with rounded corners made you look younger than you were, resting on your nose with a slight droop. He did feel betrayed though. Learning that the person he praised so much wore glasses made him increasingly confused. You had one of the most precise aiming and timing he’d seen while being conscious of your handicap, and it never stopped you from performing well. 

Ghost knew you wore contacts and needed glasses to see outside of combat. Of course, he would, he’s searched your name on the database, he’s seen your file and read through it to find anything inconspicuously dangerous to them (a background on monster hunting or hate for monsters and hybrids). He hadn’t bothered to look up when you came in, striding to sit next to him with a schooled face, the corner of your lips threatening to curve upwards at Gaz and Soap’s shock. He, unlike you, could smirk outwardly, and he did. He’d never seen you with them, this was his first time, but you looked fine with and without glasses, cute even when you tried to adjust your slipping accessory. 

Price heard from them you wore glasses at super, Soap gushing about it like a lovesick, pubescent high schooler. He was the first to recommend you to Laswell after the higher-ups wanted to incorporate a human into the Task Force. He liked your history and you, you wore your older glasses in your picture, from years ago. They were rounder and made you look childish compared to the rounded square ones you currently wore. It was a mix between adorable and professional - the added factor that he found you increasingly sexy when you were deployed made him biassed on his beliefs of you being an eye candy for him and his boys - and you wore it well. Although he wished you’d wear them more often than on your late visits to turn in your mission reports, tired and posture slightly relaxed when you dropped by. 

Alejandro hadn’t searched your file when he knew you were a part of the Task Force he recently joined, he preferred the personal approach, to getting to know you firsthand before reading your file. He liked you as you were: efficient, warm and witty. Then your file made his eyes open, you wore glasses! He’s never seen you with them until this afternoon, striding in confidently with those warm eyes under the glistening lenses of your clean accessory. He realised you’d changed them, better suited on your face than your older ones. Corazón, that’s how he greeted you, smiling salaciously, the light gleaming over his dimpled cheeks. He was the beauty in your talent and your being, a true treasure to have on the TF.

Rudy, good ol’ Rudy, nearly blushed, as softhearted as he wore his heart on his sleeve. He tempted glances your way, starting pointless conversations to get to look at you. He admired your fluttering laces, gleaming eyes under the scope of your glasses and the lazy, yet appealing, drooping of your dark-rimmed accessory. Mija, he was tempted to call you, the words nearly slipping off his tongue as Alejandro had. He was more shy, his ears flushing lightly on the edges when you smiled at him (at all of them) when you sat down between him and Ghost. He didn’t question why you had glasses or how you performed so well with sight-related issues. He just wanted to see you wear them more often.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 x reader #x reader #price mw2 #mw2 soap #soap mw2 #mw2 price #mw2 simon riley #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 alejandro #alejandro vargas #mw2 rudy #rudolfo x reader #rudolfo parra #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya (pt. ll)

Part l can be found here

Pairing: Sukuna x Megumi's little sister; Yuji x Megumi's little sister

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: After the incident of Yuji almost losing his life and Megumi's little sister confessing her feelings to him, they finally live in peace. But then Shibuya comes around as well as suppressed Sukuna who takes interest in you...

Warnings: language, injury, self harm, mostly Sukuna

Tags: @sanicsmut (yk why my lovely), @sunshine7queen

It’s been months. Months since you finally confessed your feelings to none other than Yuji Itadori in pouring rain, months since finally having the relationship you always dreamed of, months in which everything went just right.

Yes, ups and downs were and will always be part of the job, but you stood on each other’s side till the very end.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Your fingers gently caressed his back, other hand combing through his pink hair.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. After all you’re by my side, right?”

Your heart melted like chocolate in the sun, arms embracing him tightly before you could help yourself. Oh that boy. That beautiful boy who swept you off your feet, the boy you’ve been in love with since stepping a foot into Jujutsu High. In that moment you laid beside him, eyes staring at the ceiling while holding his hand and breathing against his chest.

“I’ll always be by your side, Yuji.”

 Yes, everything went just fine. But at Shibuya, everything changed.

“Where’s Yuji?” you huff into your big brothers face, completely out of breath.

“And what happened to Ino?”

“(y/n), what happened to your face?”

You can’t explain right now. In fact, all that’s on your mind is Yuji after fighting your way through the whole city.

“We’ll meet again as soon as possible, okay?”

Why? Why were you assigned to follow Nanami and that old fart instead of Mei and Yuji? Why weren’t you able to support your brother and your boyfriend? You had a bad feeling in your guts right from the start, but when seeing Ino’s unconscious figure you suspect nothing but the worst.

“Where’s Yuji?”

The evasive look in Megumi’s tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.

“He went into the train station in order to find Gojo-sensei…”

Your world stops, head spinning in thick fear. He went into the train station.

All alone.

“Why would you let him go there alone?”

Roughly, you grab your big brother’s collar, fisting the fabric so tightly that it gets hard for Megumi to breathe.

“Why would you let him leave when even Gojo got sealed? Why did you let him go?”, you hiss through gritted teeth, tears veiling your sight.

This is bad. Very very bad. He wasn’t replying to any of your messages for over an hour now. An hour in which he could have get killed already.

Or even worse.

The thought of Sukuna inside him taking over runs shivers down your spine. After that fateful day when you thought you lost the love of your life forever, you encountered him last. The cruelest of the cruel, the king of curses.

You feel like throwing up. No, you need to focus. Right now, there’s only one thing you can do.

“Where do you thing you’re going, (y/n)?”, Megumi barks at you while grabbing your hand and yanking you over.

“What do you think? I’m looking after Yuji!”

“There’s nothing you can do-“

“What do you know about it?”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I love him, Megumi. And I won’t let him die at Shibuya alone or even worse, let Sukuna take over his body. I’ll keep you updated.”

And with that, you turn on your heels and run as fast as your feet carry towards the center of Shibuya. Please. Please let everything be alright. Your heart almost hammers out of your chest, vision foggy with thick fear.

Please hold on, Yuji.

-Sukuna-

“How could you lose against such a weakling?”

He smiles to himself, sunning in the scorching pain that echoes through his vessel’s body.

Until you appear on his mind again.

Oh god, you. The girl that brat fell head over heels for, the girl that confessed to him in pouring rain after encountering himself. You have some nerves, laying inside of this loser’s arms each and every night while Sukuna himself can’t help but wonder what your body feels like, sensing how he kisses your lips while Sukuna desires a taste of his own. No, Sukuna was never jealous about anything that brat has.

But you.

He leans forward, a wave of Yuji’s memories washing over him. Your soft hair and glistening eyes, your oh so kind smile, the way you lay against his chest.

“Why this loser?” he mumbles to himself.

“Why are you even attracted to a brat like him when you can do so much better?”

With him, maybe. Sukuna was never a man of feelings, after all he is the king of curses, the cruelest creature walking on this earth. But there’s just something about you that keeps him entertained, something that begs him to have a taste.

Maybe today, here at Shibuya, his time has come.

(y/n)’s POV

It’s like living in a nightmare you can’t wake up to, seeing two girls bending over the lifeless body of your boyfriend.

“What did you do to him?”, you scream out.

Until you gaze at the finger in their hands.

Until your mind begins to realize what is going on here.

“How many fingers did you feed him already?”

You feel like a ghost in a shell, as if all of this is only a dream. This isn’t Yuji Itadori laying right in front of you, right? These aren’t Sukuna’s fingers, correct?

“How many fingers!?”, you scream on top of your lungs.

You hinge forwards, ready to rip their hands off when suddenly, a sheer force stops you in your tracks and slams your body against a nearby wall. You feel like dying, organs pressed so harshly against the hard concrete that you can swear you were able to feel every single one burst. All you are capable to do is stare at the volcano in front of you setting the two girl in flames and casually pulling out more of these cursed fingers, more of his fingers.

“N-no”, you croak out.

No, you need to do something, you need to get out of this wall, you need to stop him from feeding all of Sukuna’s fingers to Yuji.

With a violent scream you break away, landing knees first on the cold floor. Damn, you feel like bleeding out, whole vision going black just by the thought of standing up. But you have to do this, one step at a time.

For him, for Yuji.

“Get. Your. Dirty. Hands. Off. Him.”, you hiss through gritted teeth, snapping the volcano head’s hand away just in time before he is able to force the last finger down Yuji’s throat.

“I thought you are dead already. Leave me alone, stupid girl.”

It happens so fast that you aren’t even able to comprehend what is going on. In the split of a second his hand darts towards you, fire bursting out of his palms. But it doesn’t reach you. No, instead both of his arms get cut off, coloring everything around you in deep purple.

“You have some nerves, trying to touch her so casually. Who do you think you are, you worm?”

That voice, that presence. Your whole body shivers in nothing but thick fear, head slowly turning around. Please let it be a nightmare, a misunderstanding. This can’t be reality.

“Hello sweetheart, did you miss me?”

“Sukuna…”, you breathe out.

You stare right into his red eyes, tattoos all over his face revealing his true identity without any doubt. The man sitting next to you isn’t Yuji Itadori anymore. No, this is the king of curses himself, none other than Sukuna.

“Long time no see. I’ve been waiting for this moment long enough”, he purrs, a cheeky grin plastered on his face while he brushes through Yuji’s hair.

“Where’s Yuji?”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper in the darkness, his sheer presence clouded by so much power and strength that you feel like fainting. Yes, the man in front of you could kill you without even twitching.

“Why is everything about this brat? He’s in the background where he belongs. Oh, not so fast.”

Just when the volcano man next to you is about to stand up, Sukuna cuts off his feet without ease. You stare at him through glossy eyes, the flawless appearance of your boyfriend looking so distressed by his occurrence. A quiet laughter escapes his lips and sends another wave of shivers down your spine. How can a creature walking on this earth be so evil?

“Now kneel.”

He stands in front of you staring down at you with amusement sparkling in his eyes. He’s talking to you, there’s no doubt. Your limbs feel like burning alive, whole body exhausted by all the fights and tactical thinking. You would love to kneel on the floor at least for a while, finally some rest.

But instead, you lift your trembling figure off the floor, straightening your shoulders with your head up.

“I would rather die than kneeling in front of someone as disgusting as you”, you reply with firm voice.

Is this how you’ll die? Through the deformed hands of your very own boyfriend, through the king of curses himself?

Suddenly he bursts out laughing, grabbing your chin roughly.

“It would have truly disappointed me if you lost your spark. But for your braveness, everyone at Shibuya will lose their lives this night”, he hisses into your ear, yanking your head to the side so violently that it feels like he’s breaking your neck.

“Please don’t.”

You force yourself to look into the black hole of his eyes, to resist the fear he tries to cause in your heart.

“These people are innocent. They don’t deserve to die. But you do.”

He tilts his head to the side, grinning down at you with so much cruelness glistening in his red orbs that it simply takes your breath away. How many fingers did they feed him when you weren’t here? Way too many. After all, Yuji was always able to overpower him, to take control over his own body. But not now.

With the snip of his finger, both girls get sliced into a thousand tiny pieces, their blood and intensities discoloring everything around you crimson.

Red.

Everything red.

He ended their lives without thinking twice.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you spit into his face.

Out of instinct, your flat palm rushes towards his face, just inches away from hitting him when he catches your hand mid-air.

“Because I can. Obey me or I’ll kill every human being at Shibuya. Especially your brother.”

Your eyes widen in horror, pictures of Megumi flooding your mind. Despite you seem to be two different people with nothing in common, you love your brother dearly. If something happens to him because of you, if Sukuna hurts a single hair on his body…

“Don’t you dare to touch him or I’ll kill myself.”

His red orbs widen in surprise. Oh, that’s new. The look in your eyes tells him that you’re serious about your words.

“What makes you believe I’d care about that?”

He would never admit it out loud, but the thought of your precious life ending distresses him. No, not until he is finished with you, not until he got a taste of what belongs to Yuji Itadori.

“Because I know you care about me”, you reply confidently.

You know it’s dumb, that you might die right here on the spot through your own hands. But you can’t help it. Your own life is your only leverage against Sukuna. Without hesitation you press your own knife against your throat until blood spills. Maybe this will show you what Sukuna’s real intentions are. Or even better, you’ll be able to set Yuji free again.

“Go on, I couldn’t care less.”

Why does your hand fight so desperately against your mind, refusing to cut your own flesh open? Ice cold sweat runs down your forehead, fingertips trembling underneath the force of the blade in your own hand. You just have to press harder, slicing open your throat…

It shouldn’t be hard for him to watch you fighting against your own will. But oh how much Sukuna despises the way you press that knife against your throat, a little trail of blood spilling. What are you trying to achieve?

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“I want to make a contract with you”, you press out.

“I’m not dealing with a stupid human.”

You dig the blade into your screaming flesh deeper, a warm trail of blood soaking your uniform.

“Promise me you’ll leave my friends alone. Promise me you’ll set Yuji free.”

“And why would I do that?”, he remarks dryly.

“I will allow you to do everything you want with me during that time.”

Sukuna pricks up his ears, absolutely mesmerized by the way you fight against your own will to survive and stare at him so boldly.

“Give me an answer”, you demand.

The pain seems to become unbearable, knife cutting through your tender flesh so deep that your whole upper body is now discolored in crimson. One more brush. One more brush of the blade will be enough to cut your own throat. You close your tearing eyes.

Oh Yuji, how much you wish he’d be here right now. You weren’t even able to say goodbye to him, to talk everything through. It should have never come this far, they shouldn’t be able to have the upper hand. Hopefully he doesn’t see any of this, the way you take your own life.

A rough hand snatches the knife out of your grasp before pressing against your open wound.

“Everything I want, huh? Selling yourself for your friends and that brat, how pathetic”, he hisses against your outer ear.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, the pain radiating from your whole body almost swallowing you whole.

“What happened to that little ray of sunshine of yours, the smile you always wear?”

“I would kill myself if it means that the others are safe”, you reply.

He stares into your eyes, the orbs that captivating him since first catching a glimpse of them. Now it makes sense to him what that brat sees in you, why he tried so desperately to keep you out of his grip.

“Precious little thing, I know exactly what I’ll do to you.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk season 2 #jjk season two #jjk shibuya arc #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk fanfic #jjk yuji #jjk yuuji #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu yuji #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu itadori #jjk itadori #itadori x you #yuuji #yuuji itadori #megumi #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 6

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Shower smut, Slight breeding kink if you squint, Simon Riley being a literal angel, basically all smut with a little bit of plot.

A/N: Hi loves, imma be real, i wrote this entire part in a day. I spent pretty much my entire afternoon writing this after i scrapped about 4 different versions. This is the best i got at the moment. Im still working on this series and requests. Just life is kinda busy. So please bear with me and enjoy the brain rot. This is also not proofread at all so RIP to any grammar police.

Word Count: 3012... This seemed longer.. sowwie, its smol.

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 5

You sleepily make your way towards the bathroom door, hand closing over the knob as the incessant need to pee urges you forward. It was a little after 2am, you had fallen asleep rather early having spent most of the day lounging around the apartment. 

Simon was on base for the day, running training exercises with Soap, Gaz and Captain Price. During the 3 months you have been living with Simon, you have come to learn his patterns. Training days meant that 9 times out of 10 he would spend the night on base. The days before a deployment he would make sure to stock the fridge and pantry with your favorites. On Sundays he did laundry, every 3rd wednesday he would get his haircut. Saturdays after returning for deployment were reserved for going out to Soap’s bar and having a well deserved drink. You also learnt his day to day routine, every morning he was home Simon rose at exactly 5:00am, went on a 12 mile run, when he returned if you weren't already awake he would prepare you a healthy breakfast and leave it out for you before heading to work. 

On days when you were awake when he got back from his run he would shower, and you both would spend some time preparing breakfast together. Although those mornings instead of the nutritionally packed meals he usually prepared you often convinced him to make some sort of carb and sugar filled breakfast. Those mornings he would often leave the flat grumbling about how he should’ve run extra. Those mornings were your favorite. 

Since you moved in your relationship with Simon had not progressed further than friends, sure there was still the burning desire that he ignited within you from just looking at you. And you would often linger just a little bit too long in his arms when he would give you a hug. But there hadn't been any kissing, and you haven't managed to end up naked in between his sheets. But that wasn't for lack of wanting.

As you shove open the bathroom door, you fail to realize that not only was the light on but the sound of running water was coming from the shower. As you quickly beeline for the enclosed toilet space, you don't feel a set of brown eyes watching your every move from behind the foggy glass. It isn't until you wash your hands in the sink and glance up into the large mirror on the wall that you realize you aren't alone. Through the fogged glass of the mirror you can make out Simon’s large silhouette, his tanned skin reduced to nothing more than a tan blob. 

“Oh my god!” You squeak, whirling around, your chest heaving as you finally face Simon. He's mostly obscured by the fogged glass door of the walk-in shower, but his bemused smile is clear. “I didn't think you would be coming home!” You mutter out, your cheeks turning pink as he runs his hand across the glass cleaning away some of the fog. Now you can clearly see his face, although distorted by the water droplets on the glass. 

“I should’ve texted you, I'm sorry.. I just didn't want to be late for the appointment in the morning..” Simon says as he reaches up, running his hand through his wet blonde hair.

“No, no! I'm sorry, I should've paid more attention. I'm such an airhead sometimes I didn't realize that there was someone in here..” you rush out as you try to desperately keep your eyes from straying from Simon's face. You aren’t sure if it's the heat from the shower or the pregnancy hormones but it takes all your willpower to keep your eyes from trailing down his toned body. 

Simon pauses for a moment, his dark brown eyes trailing over you, from the adorable flush of your cheeks to the swell of your stomach under the sleep shirt you have on. “It’s alright. Love," Simon smiles. One of his panty dropping smiles that you swear he reserves for only you. It's the smile that sends shivers straight to your core. That leaves you a hot panting mess behind closed doors. Living with Simon and not jumping his bones at every opportunity was damn near torture during your second trimester. You were able to take care of things yourself, but now that your bump had grown substantially, you hadn’t been able to find relief.  

Without thinking, you walk towards the shower and yank open the door, the hot steam pouring out. Little splashes of water hit your skin as you step into the small space. Your sleep shirt and shorts quickly drenched, as Simon stares at you wide eyed. 

“Sweetheart…” Simon warns as your hands come to rest on his wet cheeks, your thumb catching on his bottom lip as he looks down at you, his pupils blown wide. You quickly close the space between you two, your bump pressing against the firm plains of his abs, your arms snaking around his neck as you sharply tug him down to your height. Your lips capture his in a sloppy, wet kiss. Simon groans low in his throat, his chest vibrating against your overly sensitive breasts. A new wave of need pluses through you as you try to get closer, Simon's cock jumping to life as it presses against your lower stomach. Simon's large hands land on your hips squeezing slightly as he turns you, pressing your back against the cold tile wall of the shower. 

A startled gasp rushes past your lips as your back makes contact with the cold tile. A shiver running through you as your wet shirt makes it feel colder. Simon smiles against your lips, one hand coming up to graze over your pebbled nipples through the sopping wet fabric of your shirt. A breathy moan slips from you as Simon peppers kisses down the side of your jaw to your neck. The spray from the showerhead now sprays off his shoulders as he leans lower. 

“Fuck.. Please,” you whine, nails scratching along the tops of his shoulders Simon wraps his lips around one of your nipples, over the fabric of your shirt. The friction from the wet fabric sends waves of pleasure through you straight to your core, your legs starting to shake with need and Simon has barely touched you.

“Such a needy girl…” Simon murmurs against your skin, as he flicks his tongue across your nipple. Your cheeks flush pink at his words but you’re hanging on to each one like they’re your life line. “Why didn't you just come to me if you needed some help baby?” Simon whispers softly, as his fingers trace the bottom of your bump, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pushes it up.

“I…I don't know,” You mumble your head tipping back against the cold shower wall. 

Simon hums, his lips once again brushing across one of your nipples, pulling another moan from you. “God, your tits are amazing. It’s been hell walking around trying not to stare at them. Knowing that my child is the reason, knowing that they are growing to provide milk for our baby,” Simon whispers against your skin, and you swear you could cum just from the sounds of his voice. 

“Simon… Please…” you whine, it's small and breathy, in any other circumstance you would be ashamed for sounding so weak, but right now you couldn't give two shits if the damn queen of England was standing here witnessing your plea.

“Tell me what you need baby, I don't want to hurt you..” Simon stands back to his full height, his hand coming to cup the side of your face. You force your eyes open, Simon's beautiful brown eyes staring at you. Simon is a large man, in all aspects of his life and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you unintentionally. Especially now, as you carry his child within you, he would rather be buried alive again than accidentally do something to hurt you or the baby.

“I need you to bend me over and fuck me senseless. I feel like I'm going to explode,” you whine, your needy hands coming to rake down his bare chest, sending a shiver through Simon's entire body. 

“Whatever you need, Love,” Simon grunts before he bends down and picks you up, nudging open the shower door with his shoulder as he cradles you against his wet chest. He doesn’t stop to turn off the shower or even dry himself off as he brings you into his room. He sets you down on your feet and quickly drops to his knees in front of you. His still warm hands catching the waistband of your wet sleep shorts. He pulls them down your legs, goosebumps erupting across your skin from the sudden change in temperature. 

Simon presses a series of soft kisses to the stretched skin of your stomach, his hands briefly cupping your belly/ “Hi Lovie,” he whispers softly to your bump and if you weren’t so ravishingly horny you could cry. The sight of probably one of the scariest men you know on his knees in front of you talking to his unborn child makes you want to scream in the best way. But your mind quickly goes blank as Simon's fingers trace the smooth skin of your inner thigh. 

“Turn around, elbows on the bed, pet,” Simon stands again, his hands on your shoulders as he gently turns you. As if on autopilot you lean forwards, resting your elbows on the bed, giving Simon a perfect view of your ass. A deep groan hits your ears as Simon's hand comes to massage the puffy flesh of your ass. Your skin prickles with anticipation as his fingers dip lower, gathering the slick wetness from between your thighs. The breath wooshed from your lungs as he thrusts one finger into your slick cunt. 

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl aren't you?” Simon hums, lazily thrusting his finger before he adds a second. You tip your hips back, trying to make him go faster, this slow languid pace he was setting was driving you mad. You needed to be fucked, and god damn if you didn't get it right now you were going to cry. 

“Si…” you whine, pushing your hips back into his hand as he curls his fingers within you. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant, not made of fucking glass. I swear if you don't fu-” Your voice cuts off as Simon slams into you in one quick thrust. Your world spins for a moment and if you hadn't been holding onto the bed for support you would’ve fallen over. A startled gasp passes your lips and Simon all but freezes. “No please don't stop, it just feels different but not in a bad way…” You quickly mumble reaching back haphazardly with one hand to try and grab Simon's hip to force him to move.  

“You sure?” Simon mumbles, his hands coming to rest on your hips, as he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. 

“Oh god, yes, please,” you moan, your face now pressed into the mattress. That was all it took for Simon to continue, his hips thrust into you at a rapid pace, obscene moans leaving your lips as he slams home each time. Sex felt different this time, there was no slight burn from how big Simon was but you felt full, so deliciously full. You had been worried about having sex at any point during your pregnancy, having read that some women have no sex drive during pregnancy, especially the 3rd trimester. But thank the lord above it was not the case for you. Your thoughts turn to nothing as Simon lets out a harsh moan, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Simon grunts as he adjusts his grip on your hip bones,his fingertips digging into your skin.

“Feels so good Simon.. I'm gonna cum..” You whimper as the familiar coil in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release as he pounds into you. Your skin slapping against each other so loud you're sure the neighbors know what's going on.

“Cum for me baby,” Simon leans forward, one hand wrapping around your shoulder as he pulls you up slightly, your elbows no longer resting on the bed as he pulls you up against his chest. His hips still pistoning into you as he uses the new position to fuck into your harder. You reach up and grab the back of his neck with your hand, anchoring yourself to him, your other hand coming to find the hand still on your waistline. You guide his hand up to your throat where he gives it a gentle squeeze. 

That small squeeze was all you needed to go tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Stars dance in front of your vision as the world goes quiet for a moment. Simon finds his own release moments after yours, his entire body tensing behind you. As you turn to putty in his arms, “Woah, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers into your sweaty hairline as his arms carefully wrap around you and he manages to slip out of you and hold you up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, fully sated as you lean against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, one arm firmly around you, right under your breasts the other resting lightly on your bump. His fingers softly rubbing along your soft skin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Simon grunts, maneuvering you to the edge of the bed where he helps lower you into it. 

“I just basically jumped you in the shower… “ you mutter, your eyes heavy as exhaustion hits you like a freight train hitting a brick wall. 

Simon pauses as he gathers your wet pj’s from the floor and shoves them into his laundry basket. “You think I would be upset by you jumping me in the shower?” He asks, a small smile on his face. 

You lift your head, watching as he shoves the clothes into the basket and grabs a black long sleeve shirt from the closet. He walks over, standing in front of you still in all his naked glory, the shirt in his hands. “Well.. I mean.. we haven’t exactly expressed wanting more than friendship..” 

“Love, I’ve been taking it slow because I thought you only wanted to be friends… not because I wanted to. God, watching you walk around the apartment, your stomach growing with my child drives me insane, I’ve wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you sensless every morning since the first day you got here.” Simon pulls the shirt over your head, and you put your arms through, the shirt still fits loosely even over your baby bump. 

“Oh…” you freeze for a moment, you and Simon had gotten closer over the time you’ve lived with him. You had learnt about his past, about his mother and brother. About his nephew. You held him when he cried one night, his words a broken mess of how he was afraid he would turn out to be his dad. How he wished he could talk to his brother one last time, so he could ask him how he got past the fear of turning into his dad. How he handled the fear of being a dad when he had Joseph.

But the entire time you had lived together Simon had always treated you with respect, he never touched your stomach without asking. He always made sure to keep a respectable distance from you when you were on the couch. He never entered your room without permission and never asked about your life before coming to London. 

But it wasn’t to say you didn’t share things with Simon, he knew your favorite color, your worst fear (unrelated to your family’s passing) , your greatest wish, he knew what you used to dream about being as a little kid. He knew that your favorite food could make you smile on your worst days, and that you liked to watch old sitcoms when it rained. If someone was to look into your conversations they would probably think you were already together. That you probably didn’t flaunt the physical aspects of your relationship. Simon had quickly broken down the walls you had put up around yourself, and had comfortably made his own spot in your heart.

Simon sits next to you, now dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, his large hand covering yours. You slowly look up at him, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. The small scar in his eyebrow evident this close, you reach out running a finger across it. The skin is slightly raised and water drips from his hair onto your finger.

“Then you should stop fighting the urge…” you finally whisper, your hand cupping the rough skin of Simon’s face. 

“Would you be okay with that? With me touching you whenever I wanted… holding you.. kissing you?” Simon whispers, his eyes closing for a moment as he leans into your hand.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your forehead coming to rest against his, your eyes closed. For a moment you just sit there. Your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling.

Could you be okay with that?

Could you let someone in that way?

Let someone get close enough that they could see all the broken and jagged edges of you?

Could you open yourself up to losing someone again?

The thought of Simon being gone suddenly, ripped away from you by some unknown, the same person who ripped your siblings and mother away from you makes you want to vomit.

But a small part of you chimes in, the part that knows Simon isn’t defenseless like your family was. Simon was a trained military man, a man who single handedly killed an entire crew for crossing him. He could handle himself. He had proved that time and time again in the field. He also had the rest of 141, the team who would go to the ends of the earth to find him. 

You open your eyes, and look at Simon, the answer on the tip of your tongue as you stare at his beautiful face. His light blonde stubble, the small scars, the crook in his nose, the slightly uneven line of his lower lip. “Yes… I-I want that.. I want all of it.”

Next Part: 7

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18

#x reader #simon x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #one night stand series #soft simon #simon #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost #cod x reader #x pregnant reader #x pregnant! reader

[pinkcherryblossom18]

This is more of me just trying to test Finnick out but it became a fic instead of a practice drabble. So, enjoy.

Summary: The Capitol watches, even when you don't want them to, they watch. In this position, with Finnick and the vulnerable way that it has you, it's the way that Capitol prefers to watch you both.

Word Count: 1.7k+

TW: Smut, forced prostitution, allusions to the Hunger Games, voyeurism, consensual but not wanted voyeurism, gets sad at the ending

Ragged moans leave your lips, muffled and shushed by the pillow that your face is being shoved into by Finnick's hand on the back of your neck. He pounds into you and through foggy ears, you can hear the low moans of the Capitol spectators up in the small balcony surrounding the stage that you two and this small mattress is placed on.

Degrading words come from Finnick, replacing the soft and sweet nothings that he would usually gift to you while making love.

Making love, this isn't what this is. This is pure and raw fucking, all for the pleasure of the Capitol assholes who had bought you two tonight. This replaced what would usually happen, with Finnick and a Capitol member or you had him with one of them, never you alone with them.

That was something that was set in place after your Victory Tour by Finnick who was nothing more than a mentor who was only a year older than you at that time.

Finnick's bruising grip on your hip tightens as your knees buckle, making you stay upright and exactly where he had placed you, making sure that the vultures got their eyes filled with you getting pounded.

The wet squelching of your cunt urged on the filthy words coming for his lips and the moans from the watchers who viewed you two from the balcony and the camera that was set in front of a projector that showed all of your reactions. Everything and anything that you felt or heard, they did too.

You were enjoying this, with much difference from the normal way that you two would have sex. With much softer touches that wouldn't leave green and purple marks for the days after or guilty looks from Finnick for even doing this to you, his cries being muffled into your shoulder and riddled with broken apologies and cursing at Snow himself.

A shocked moan comes from you as Finnick moves his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing fast and tight circles with his other hand barely nudging from the squirming that you were doing. Only loud growled out words came from him, loud enough for the vultures to hear him and for more and more shockwaves to build in your stomach, adding to your release.

You know that as much as Finnick wants to, he won't cum with you this time around with the watchers staring at you two. You can tell, from the way that he isn't faltering to the way you throw your head back to look at him and his eyes filled with lust look apologetic with the small shake of his head.

It isn't the first time and not the last and you can't blame him for not being able to. He would make sure you would, he always did no matter what situation you two were in and no matter who was watching or not.

Even in normal circumstances, he can't.

In those circumstances where he's embracing you with everything that he has, arms curled around your frame with your heads pressed together. Soft kisses marking you instead of the rough ones from earlier that had left a batch of hickies on your skin by the ton, he can't finish sometimes. His body used to holding back, had trained itself to not do so for him to last through the multiple men and women who bought him for the night.

Your moans start to become a higher pitch and with the small camera that had been placed in front of your face to capture it all, you can hear the loud groans of the vultures when your eyes roll back and your body spasms before going completely limp.

Ragged breaths come from you and Finnick lets you down, the hand on your hip rubbing soothing circles into your worn-out body and the inevitable bruise with its thumb. And ever so slowly, Finnick pulls out of you, and both of your hope that no one can tell that he hadn't cum, not that they would truly care other than the fact that they didn't get to see you spilling with the Captiol's golden boy's cum.

Ever so softly, Finnick places a kiss on the back of your head before turning you over and you see that he had already tugged his pants back on, this routine being a sixth sense to him for how long he had been through this vicious cycle. He gave you a small and reassuring smile. He leans down and grabs the blanket that he threw off of the small mattress and throws it over your body.

Finnick scoops you into his arms and you snuggle into his chest. "Are you alright?" He asks and you look up at him and nod. He does so as well before placing another kiss on your head.

Footsteps come your way and you don't look in that direction, too tired and worn out to do much of anything but bask in the warmth of Finnick's arms.

The footsteps stop right in front of you two and you can almost feel the annoyance bubbling in Finnick despite the smile that was most likely painted on his face. "Well wasn't that quite the show," the voice trills, a slight trace of breathlessness can tell you that he had enjoyed himself enough.

Perhaps he was the one who had paid to have you two make the so-called show in the first place.

You can practically feel his smile, so bright that without even looking at him you want to shun your eyes from his canvas of a face. "Perhaps something private would be much better, how does that sound?" The man asks and you almost groan out loud, you were already worn out from Finnick.

Even then, you didn't think you couldn't sleep after not getting any last night when one of them had touched you. Finnick was around as the deal between him and Snow had said but it still made your skin crawl with a certain sickness that made you restless throughout the night. Finnick would try and help you sleep, stories from when he was young that still made you laugh after so many times hearing him tell them and the way that he would hold onto you in the quiet of the night. Everything would be still for once, nothing coming to drag you somewhere you didn't want, either that be a knife in your hand or someone else pinning you to a bed.

Finnick understood that, even hours after, you couldn't sleep with the traces of their skin against your own. His own skin crawled with new and old feelings of Capitol members touching him and petting his skin even when they weren't paid. It had gotten worse after it had gotten out that the other female Victor of District 4 was an option along with Finnick, sold separately or in a package together.

You could feel Finnick nod, his grip tightening harder on you, pushing your head closer to his neck. You moved away your head from his ear as much as possible, yawning as exhaustion weighed down on your body.

Tucking your head back into his neck, you could feel him smile and you weren't sure if it was because of your movement or if it was forced, just as charming and sweet as the Capitol wanted him to be. "That sounds good," he said and you heard the other man hum in joy, your eyes widening, getting prepared for another night full of restlessness.

Your hand grasped for something to hold onto, trying to find anything else but the blanket around you for a peace of mind. "But I have to get this one to bed." He carefully nodded at you, trying not to jostle you too much. "All tuckered out you see," he added quickly, rubbing a hand up and down your side and you hoped that he couldn't feel the heat of your blush against his neck along with the relieved sigh that came from you.

A sound came from the Capitol man, one of faux understanding, excepting the excuse this time. "Can't blame the little thing," he said, his voice becoming sickly sweet and you forced yourself not to bring when his finger brushed over your cheek. "Next time maybe?"

You hoped not but it was clear that he wanted something, something that you would both have to take no matter what. "We'll see," Finnick said simply before turning around and heading for the secret elevator that you both used last time.

You could feel yourself starting to be lulled into sleep, even with the horrible touch of that Capitol man still feeling like acid on your skin. With Finnick still rubbing circles into your skin, the stinging feeling reduces to an annoying pinch of pain.

Neither of you talks, usually never do after things like these.

Things like these where both of you are put on display for entertainment, the Capitol vultures watching as he fucks you and getting themselves while watching, betting against each other on who would try and buy you two afterward. Someone would always win and you would be pinned under someone else while Finnick would watch, you would regret the deal that Finnick had made with the pure pain behind his eyes watching as you get touched by someone unwanted.

Finnick had once shared that he would picture ripping the people off of you while they touched you, saving you from the life that both of you were forced to live. For that night in the Capitol, you didn't have to experience restless nights before. He worried about those nights, especially after that one time you had forced yourself awake after an entire week in the Capitol.

You look up at Finnick as best as you can, barely seeing his eyes but you can tell that their misty with unshed tears that he's forcing himself to hold back.

Moving yourself a bit, you tried to look him in the eyes but Finnick only turned his head away. A sad frown settled on your lips and you only settled back into his arms, gasping in slight pain when his fingers slightly nudged the forming bruise on your hip.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said and all you could do was nuzzle into his neck, hoping that the slight comfort he would allow was enough to tide him over until you two got back into your room. Guilt would eat him alive until you could fully show him that you were alright but for now, you could only do so much.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 54 (12.1)

part 1 | part 53 | ao3

cw: angst

Chapter 12

Steve drives to Chicago.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a sticky note by the kitchen phone, words scribbled over so the only legible thing left is the word sorry underlined in jagged black, and his breath sticks in his chest and he can't be here anymore. Epiphany ringing like a gong, sending ripples through his marrow, because the walls are closing in and Eddie decorated those walls — splattered himself over every inch of this place, and now he's just the newest haunt in a line of ghosts that Steve can't shake. He thought he’d gotten rid of them, but now he hears them louder than ever. In the hiss of the faucet, in the buzz of the fridge; they’re moaning in his bad ear and rattling his bones, and he can't be here alone with them he can't be here he can't—

So he drives.

Gets in his car with nothing but a spare jacket and a crumpled pack of cigs. If ever there was a time to pick the habit up in earnest. Eddie’s van is gone, and Steve’s heart is bruised; it's bleeding out inside him, pumping fresh hurt with every beat, so he lights a cigarette with shaking hands and heads north. Takes the back roads to the on-ramp of I-65, drives for hours; drives for years, speeding down empty stretches of highway with nothing but roadkill for company.

At some point he rolls the windows down until the icy wind makes his cheeks burn, but he can't really feel them. Can't feel his face, or his fingers, or his heart.

All the world is snow and asphalt, and Steve Harrington is alone.

He tries to drown it out with music. The radio mocks him with swooning quartets love songs — 'put your head on my shoulder' and 'life could be a dream' — and all the tapes he can reach belong to Eddie, so he pulls over on the narrow shoulder of an overpass bridge and screams and screams and screams while he chucks the cassettes over the edge.

Fuck Eddie.

Fuck him.

"FUCK YOU!!" he shouts to the foggy nothingness.

The words dig in sharp; pocket knife twisting in the space below his kidneys.

The fog doesn't respond.

Back in the car, his thoughts turn to his mom. Because he's driving to her, he knows — knew it in his splintering bones and haunted blood the moment he left town. He's driving back to his first ghost, as if confronting the original will somehow exorcise the rest.

Miles pass in silence, and Steve paints over the canvas of what-ifs again and again, oily streaks in the underpainting as he tries to set the scenes just right: quiet, tearful confrontations in his aunt's formal living room, graceless screaming matches out on the front lawn. In one version he never makes it past the guard at the front gate, and in another he just eggs the stupid lion statues leading up to the house while his mom silently weeps from the top of the stairs.

He doesn't know if his mom would laugh at that.

He doesn't know her much at all.

And that fucking hurts; that sits like acid in his lungs, because his mom was his first friend. When he was little — before the housekeepers and nannies, before his mom started tailing his dad on business trips like a trained dog on a leash — they spent so much time together. Trips to the playground, to the library, to the pool. He'd perch himself on her vanity when she got ready in the mornings, use her hairbrush as a microphone to sing along to 50s doo-wop, and she'd giggle and call him her little superstar, so he'd come up with stupid dance moves just to make her smile more.

He misses that. The script, the routine. How he'd spin around in his socks on the slippery bathroom tile and look up at her with her big hair full of rollers and her big eyes full of stars, and he'd say, "Hey! How come your eyes are all twinkly?"

And she'd grin and pinch his cheek and give the same answer every time: "Because you're the light of my life."

"I wish I knew what you'd say now," he whispers to the empty car.

For a moment he envisions that she's sitting there with him, that she's filling the blank space where the boy who broke his heart should be, but he can't remember her cadence well enough to mimic it; can't put words in her mouth when he no longer knows her lines, and with something a bit like horror and a lot like despair it occurs to him that he can't remember what she looks like. There's an apparition in his blind spot, but it's formless and unstable. The shade of its hair keeps changing; the texture, the length.

When he tries to make it speak, it shrugs and dissipates.

—

part 55

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

[httpsserene]

ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ w/ ʟɴ4

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: lando’s usually well spent sunday off with his girlfriend is different this time around. you put off your everything shower and wash-day causing some edits to the usual routine. how the night ends, however, is 100% lando’s fault. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: fluff/borderline?crack(if u think im funny). one or two mentions of sex, not explicit at all. not edited to beta-read. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: lando norris x black!fem!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: singing in the shower ~ becky g

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: preface: hello! it’s late night or early morning for me, i guess, when i’m posting this. i was going to say this is my first rpf ever, but that’s a bold-faced lie ☠️but! it is my first f1 work! i hope you enjoy it! i’d love to have some f1 mutuals out here, if anyone wants <3. also requests are open, just come talk to me and ramble about anything, or any idea you have the f1 boys, i’d love to have some great anons and asks to fulfill. hope you enjoy it :)

it’s a rare sunday where you and lando are both home together. usually you two would take advantage of this and make the most out of it. you’d lay in bed late into the morning with an excessively cuddly boyfriend, cook a nice and healthy brunch together you cook, lando handles the soundtrack and vibes because he loses all coordination in the kitchen, play a co-op video game that you guys have been working your way through for a month, go out on a nice little dinner date, and have great sex before knocking out.

HOWEVER, this week you have kinda forgotten that you need to do your hair. originally you had an appointment that tuesday to get a silk press done with your usual hairstylist, but she canceled on you. once you got that “hey girly...” text you’d known there was no hope of rescheduling, for that week at least. so, you decided to do your own hair sometime later in the week, but your boyfriend was home for the first time after a triple-header, and was a terrible lovely distraction. you also had to work, unfortunately, you had to clean the flat, you had to eat, and you had to breathe—so understandably, you’ve ended up pushing your wash-day/hair-day and everything-shower to the last minute.

you apologized several times to lando during breakfast for your forgetfulness and wasting valuable “boyfriend-girlfriend time” as lando coined. but lando is lando—a sweetheart at his core—so he refused to accept your apologies with an “don’t apologize for something so minor, love,” and even offered to help you tackle the fight you end up almost losing every time…. vs. your hair. 

you kindly denied his assistance knowing damn well that if he was in the shower with you, your hair wouldn’t be done until late that night due to a different type of lando-distraction. you suggested that lando streamed while you were doing your shower and hair, and that you could still go out for dinner that evening. lando was pretty receptive to the idea, especially after he made sure that you were 100% okay with him not helping you do your hair (he usually does, you’ve got him trained pretty good; all he needs is the license at this point), and the fact that it’s been like 3 months since he last streamed.

lando posts that he’s streaming starting at noon, and after a brief make out against the sink post-dishwashing that leaves your lips swollen and head foggy, he goes to take a shower and start setting up his stream equipment. cursing lando’s smug-ass face as he walks away, you let him know that you're stepping out to the beauty supply store to get a few items before you start your little routine and that you might not see him before his stream starts. he does a 180, and rushes back to you from down the hallway to give you one more mind boggling kiss and with a smile says, “text me when you get there and when you’re back. i’ll have my phone on dnd but your messages are set to pass through it, so if you don’t want to be seen on stream today you don’t have to worry about it.” internally, you’re pretty sure your heart just imploded at the mindfulness this boy has—that your boyfriend has. somehow, it still surprises you how mature lando is for how silly he acts most of the time.

“you’re too sweet to me, lan.” you respond with a shy smile, “i probably won’t interrupt you today—i’ll let your delulu fans have custody, and deal with you!” lando throws his head back and does his usual demonic laugh, “hey! my fans are not that delusional, but i am afraid that you’re losing the custody battle!” he kisses you on the cheek, and with that you separate until later that day.

or so you thought. you knew lando’s super sweet behavior was too sus without him being his usual gremlin-self at least once.

when you get back from the beauty supply store (which should’ve been a fifteen-minute trip at most, turned into a near hour after the usual shenanigans you find yourself involved in buying things you don’t need), lando’s already started his stream. you text him letting him know you’re about to hop into the shower, and start heading to en-suite bathroom.

when you open the door, the mirror is slightly covered with remaining steam from lando’s shower, and you can see his clothes hanging half-inside the hamper. which is an improvement from being left on the floor—choose your battles, ladies. but as you move further into the bathroom, setting down your everything-shower supplies, changing into your silk robe and bonnet—you pick up on a lingering scent that should not be present.

your ninety-four fucking dollar scalp revival shampoo.

you’ve had that shampoo since you were seventeen, using it only when extremely necessary. you didn’t even pay for it, it was something your mom bought you as a pretty thoughtful and useful gift after you complained about your scalp suddenly getting super sensitive. it lasted through your senior year of grade school, all of university, and goddamn-it, two boyfriends!!! you let out a bit of an hysterical giggle (seek mental help, babe) and walk to the shower to grab the jar. the problem is: you know there was only probably one more usage left.

turning the cap off, your worst fears are confirmed...it’s…empty. with an anguished cry, you fall to your knees on the tiled floor—it’s like your childhood pet died. you gently set the jar down on the floor, and stare dazedly at the ceiling. what makes it worse is: you know that lando probably didn’t even use it properly. he most likely didn’t even let it sit for the mandatory 15 minutes that all girls do as an excuse to waste more time in the shower, he prob- he probably rinsed it out right after he massaged it in; that thought right there almost had you crying. oh, and what makes it even worse-r , what was a one-use sized amount for you was like, three for lando, so if he used it sparingly, you would’ve at least gotten to cherish it for the last time.

and with that, you rise from the floor, like some sort of re-animated monster—and with a twitching eye, start stomping to lando’s stream room. before you barge in, you remember what you're wearing: a black silk robe, matching bonnet, glasses, and your cute orange shark slides (lando bought them for you, he has a matching pair). you do the mental math of caring about this being on the internet for the rest of your life, but eventually the opportunity of terrorizing lando wins out over whatever a digital footprint is.

the door swings open, and with your shout of, “lando norris!” the pinging of his chat becomes rapid. lando looks wide-eyed at the camera and whispers, “oh fuck.” he half spins in his chair to look at you in the doorway, and is met with a flying shark slide to the neck. “oW! what did i do??” he cries out.

“you used the last of my ONE-HUNDRED DOLLAR shampoo, YOU THIEVING GREMLIN!!!” the chat notifications start cutting each other off with how fast they’re being sent.

“i didn’t use your shampoo??” he says with a bewildered look, clutching the shark slide to his chest. you seethe, “the fucking WOODEN JAR, that you didn’t even have the AUDACITY throw away, and left in the shower?!”

lando pauses, and makes an ‘a-ha’ sort of face goes, “oh, i thought that was conditioner.” you scream again and this time you don’t miss your mark. the remaining shark slide bonks him right on the forehead. “oW, again?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE GOOD REACTION TIME??!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect  MY GIRLFRIEND to ASSAULT ME with the shark slides that I bought HER!!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect MY BOYFRIEND to waste MY hair products!!”

lando cackles but surrenders, he reaches for you in the doorway and pulls you in between his legs with his hands gripping your hips. 

he pouts, “i’m sorry. i can buy you another batch, if you’d like. if you need it for your shower right now, i can pause the stream and run and go get for you, or get it delivered?” you sigh, looking at his wide blue eyes. you let him stew for a minute, trying to find it in you to remain mad. his thumbs start petting you gently while you think, and he leans his head forward to rest on your tummy.

you sigh again, hand coming up to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and cave, “nah..don’t even worry about it. i don’t even need to use it today, i just wanted to remind you to keep your nosy-ass away from my hair products.” he nods against your abdomen, you start to pull away, and he does the same. you lean down and give him a brief peck on the cheek, and turn to exit the room. 

“oh!” you exclaim now in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, “i love you, even though you steal all my shit.”

lando giggles, cheeks turning a light pink, “i love you, princess,” the simp dripping out of every pore in his body. you point at him, “this is actually a mutually beneficial situation! now, for date night you can take me to the store to buy hair products,” lando’s smile drops, “don’t worry we can get some for you too, curly boy!” lando doesn’t even try to fight it once he sees the borderline manic grin on your face, just begging him to test you one more time. he accepts his face, “yes, love. i can’t wait for tonight, princess.”

he turns back to his stream when the door closes all the way and shakes his head. he claps his hands once, ready to get back into it, but you burst in again,

“and when i get out of that damn shower in an hour—you’re sure as hell gonna help blow dry and flat iron this shit! it’s silk press season, lando norris, we cannot be caught slacking!” you slam the door shut, and leave.

lando just blinks at the camera, mouth slightly open like that one pikachu meme. he briefly reads the chat, trying to recover, and looks at all of the chatters pick on him like he just got called to the dean’s office. some messages start to roll in about him having to end the stream.

he waits to hear the bedroom door shut, and a few more seconds for the shower to start running before he pseudo-whispers into the mic, “don’t worry, chat! she may have said an hour, but we actually have more like three. it’s her ‘everything-shower’, no-way she’ll finish that quickly. she needs an hour just to sing and dance in there before she starts actually doing anything.”

he starts to open a lobby in cod, sending invites to a few of the boys online and his phone starts vibrating on the desk. the chat starts to go wild again, recognizing its the ringtone he set for your messages. his face drops again when he opens your text thread, “oh my god, chat. she heard me, i forgot she pulls up the stream for background noise. i’m screwed.”

yninstagram • 2hrs ago

liked by landonorris, ybfsinstagram, and 123,978 others

yninstagram hairstylist did his thing for silk press season 👅

tagged landonorris

view comments

landonorris can’t even see our faces but you can’t tell we’re both pretty

➥yninstagram pretty gyal takeover

➥user bro 😭 i can’t even call this sassy

➥user he’s just keeping it real with y’all

landonorris i’ll always take care of you like a princess

➥landonorris and one day very soon, forever treat you like a queen

➥ynistagram lan ☹️🥺

➥user proposal hint?!!!

➥user it’s a 4ever thing y’all wouldn’t understand 🥱

➥user i do 🙄 y/n comes home one day every two years and takes care of our eight children

➥user bitch—LMFAOOO

user not her gatekeeping the stylist 😤 not very girl’s girl of her

➥yninstagram he’s booked out for the foreseeable future sorry babe

➥user oh uh. that’s completely understandable. he doesn’t take walk in’s ? 😃

landonorris • 3hrs ago

liked by yninstagram, maxfewtrell, and 2,321,768 others

landonorris you attract what you fear? word, oh no a pretty gyal who lets me do her hair😱 oohhhhh how scaryyy

tagged yninstagram

view comments

yninstagram damn 🥵 she’s pretty fit

yninstagram heard her boyfriend’s finer

➥landonorris shouldn’t listen to gossip, her bf can’t match her beauty by far

➥user now THATS SOME RIZZ i didn’t know he had it in him

carlossainzjr y/nnita keep brainwashing him i’m getting good teasing material

➥ynistagram sí señor, el gusto es mio

➥carlossainzjr aye,lando her spanish is better than yours🤣

➥landonorris my tractor is better than yours, mmm yeah that’s what i thought

➥user DAMN LANDO CHILL

➥yninstagram he will be issuing a formal apology at the paddock next sunday señor sainz

➥user i just KNOW she got him at shark slide-point

© httpsserene 2023

#serene’s chapters. #serene’s fave. #✩°｡⋆⸜ fanfic. #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ln. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #lando norris x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris #formula 1 x black!reader #lando norris x black!reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x yn #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #mclaren

[iceman-soup]

masc!reader x roach

Fuck's sake, you're thinking, laying in bed, wide awake and somehow still feeling like you have done all day - ready to fall asleep at the first opportunity. And now it's here, the room in darkness aside from the moonlight through the open blinds just the way you like it, and yet your exhausted body refuses to shut off. Typical.

If it weren't for how damn quickly your lips got cracked and dry, you'd be breathing through your mouth. Thankfully, you're not forced to do so quite yet - although the way your stuffy nose is sounding at every inhale, you might be soon, and that would be the equivalent of admitting defeat. So far, you'd been ignoring your earache, headache, every ache you had; you'd put aside how your eyes hurt and your legs and arms were tired from more than just training exercises with the rookies.

Now, though, you couldn't quite dismiss it, and it was catching up to you. Damn fast. Tossing and turning in the too-warm blankets (despite it being 2°C in the barracks, due to the inconveniently-timed broken heating), you let out a frustrated sigh, pulling on your comfy military socks and a hoodie and padding out from your tiny room, shoulders hunched against the chill.

Trodding through the corridors, wishing you'd bothered to put on shoes, you soon found yourself in the mess hall, quiet and dark and empty. You hated how eerie it was at night, but did appreciate the little coffee and tea machines at the sides, however cheap they tasted. Grabbing a chipped mug and pressing the breakfast tea option, you let your tired head fall to your chest, closing your eyes and swaying a little where you stand.

As the tea finishes making itself, you pick up the mug, grateful for its warmth, and sit yourself down at a nearby table, blowing your nose with a scratchy napkin but glad it was there anyway. More mulling over the tea than drinking it, you lay your head down, foggy mind drifting from thought to thought and not noticing the other man enter the mess hall.

A gentle tap on the shoulder jolts you upright, and you realise how you're sitting in almost complete darkness as your eyes adjust to make out the figure of Roach standing in front of you. He's wearing a set of matching pyjamas - one of those soft, chequered ones with a button-up shirt and drawstring trousers tied in a floppy bow - and fluffy socks, and is missing his usual helmet, goggles and gloves. Which you suppose is expected seeing as it's probably early hours of the morning. That being said, he's got on a smaller version of his normal mask, covering only the bottom half of his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tapping his fingers to his chest then doing a double thumbs-up to sign it. You smile tiredly, trying to be polite and say you're fine but your voice is raspy and painful when you speak. Roach tilts his head slightly at you, then points at the tea and signs for you to drink it. Too ill to argue, you do as he says and watch as he picks up your now-empty mug, putting it to the side apparently for someone else to clean up, then holding his hand out expectantly.

"What're'y' doing?" you mumble, taking his hand and entwining your fingers as you stand up, leaning into his body almost instinctively. He tries to sign something, but with only one hand free and your groggy brain, the message doesn't really get across. You follow him blindly anyway, not really caring so long as you can nab his warmth for as long as possible.

He leads you along the corridors of the barracks to a room that definitely isn't your own, going by the completely different layout and the fact that there's a knocked out Lieutenant in one of the bunks. You don't bother to question it when you're bundled into the bed opposite and followed by Roach, who wraps the seemingly infinite blankets around the both of you and presses a firm kiss to your forehead through his mask, despite the fact you're not at all dating or even close to this being normal.

He doesn't give you time to argue (not that you have the brain power to anyway), instead pushing you to lie down and quickly cuddling into your side, resting his head on your shoulder and tracing absent-minded patterns into your chest. You curl your arms around him, letting your mind catch up.

"Did you just kidnap me to snuggle with?" you process after a moment, glancing down to see him nod. "You share a room with Ghost." Another nod. "And you couldn't've gone the three metres over to his bed?" Roach hesitates; thinks. Then shakes his head stubbornly, legs tangling with yours.

Maybe that scratchy napkin was just brilliant, but you're certainly not feeling as ill and uncomfortable as before when you finally drift off to sleep, the Sergeant in your arms as your own little personal weighted warming blanket.

#ok enough fluff i need this man to rail me so hard i see stars then give me the best aftercare of my entire life #gary roach sanderson #cod fluff #roach x male reader #cod men x male reader #x male reader #x masc reader #roach fluff #roach x reader

[ashersanity]

Heyy saw you were a Remy enthusiast from your last post….any yandere headcannons for Remy where you become his house spouse and not his cow? Would like to include horse riding and he sees that as practice for riding him in bed but its ok if youre not comfy with it

The worst fucking spouse known to mankind.

Scratch that, Bailey would probably be worse.

Unrelated but since you asked so nicely, how could I not oblige, polite anon? Kissing you on the cheek just for that and the sick idea. (Platonically)

still going at it, asher?

YANDERE! REMY

content warning! dub-con, mentions of violence, murder, blood, marking, baby trapping, manipulative and possessive behaviour, you know the drill already.

remy and pc are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise. mentions of wren.

“Thought I’d let you get away? No, dear. Now it’s time to make it up to me.”

yandere type : obsessive, possessive, overprotective

Yan!Remy who had set their sights on you the second they saw you, pretty little thing that you are, just meant to be owned and pampered, under their care at the farm. Young and dumb that you were, greeting you over with a trained smile on their face, others at the riding lesson gaping from what they were seeing. Remy smiling? That never happened, but the farmer didn’t want to give the wrong impression after all, coax you in possibly, already envisioning their future with you with a wedding band around your finger. Their cute spouse that’d devote themselves to them. Just as things should be, right?

Yan! Remy who knows they got you right they want you as you laugh at their jokes and antics, lips curled up into an uncharacteristically soft smile, there to match your own. Normally cold demeanour though they’re willing to keep up the facade if it means having you in their grasp, in arms reach. Goes as most marriages do, weeks or maybe months of courting, chatting away and getting to know each other. Next thing you know, the farmer is proposing, expensive ring in their gloved hand that they offer to you. Poor you really, not knowing what you’re getting yourself into as you gladly accept with a flush on your face. Oh, aren’t you in for something..

Yan! Remy who drops the facade the second you get all settled in their ranch, carpeted floors adorned by old furniture passed down from the farmer’s family, bedroom already made for you. How odd, they had everything done over before you even had to ask, knowing your particular taste for certain things, how you cuddle in your sleep, placing a bunch of cushioned pillows around the bed. How you can’t stand the scent of smoke, carefully replacing their gas stove with an electric one. You don’t.. exactly remember telling Remy any of those things, but the memory could’ve slipped from your mind, starting to second guess things. Must’ve been your imagination then.

Yan! Remy who isolates you from everyone else in your life, not feeling a shred of remorse or guilt from it. Oh, your mom wants to pay a visit? Too bad, looks like the weather isn’t suitable for such things today, not giving you a chance to even glance out the window to be really sure if they’re telling the truth. Why did your long time friend suddenly stop coming? The farmer wouldn’t possibly know, handful of notes placed on the table, your so-called ‘friend’ eyeing the stack of cash nervously, knowing what this means. Sometimes, they couldn’t be bothered with the entire money thing, simply turn your pesky surroundings into cattle, not like they’ll ever come to you again if their dumb, foggy cow mind barely remembers you.

Yan! Remy who turns you into their little obedient housewife regardless of gender, dutifully waiting for their return everyday, clasped hands folded in your lap. Since you don’t have anyone else to look forward to anymore, what’s the point in letting you outside either? Not like they don’t provide everything else for you, whatever you need is at home, no matter how much you think there is something lacking in your burnt out marriage. Loves coming back from a long, exhausting day of working at the fields, glistening sweat over their forehead with their usually slicked back, brown hair tumbling over their face, utterly exhausted. Finds you in the bedroom, looking bored as always, pressing an affectionate kiss to your shoulder. Quickly turns into greedily sucking at your neck, your soft whimpers working their way up into whines with your arm looped around their frame. Nothing better than having a tight hole or cock to sink into/onto after working so hard.

Yan! Remy who’s only allowing you outside for their personal horse riding lessons, instructing you to hold onto them tightly as they lead you on the animal. Maybe they do give you permission from time to time to actually ride one yourself with their eyes constantly watching your every move, of course. Makes sure to guide your movements, their gaze fixated on the way your figure bounces on the horse like.. like you’re actually riding something. Doesn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself so the farmer is keeping you in place, gloved hands placed on your hips. The same ones that bounce you on their cock/strap-on, throughly enjoying your fucked dumb face as you ride them, squeaking mattress creaking under your combined weights.

Yan! Remy who completely loses their shit if they ever catch their right-hand assistant hitting on you, soft brown eyes checking you out, a wicked grin on Wren’s face, shamelessly flirting with their boss’s spouse right in front of the farmer. By all means, you can only hope that Remy doesn’t kill the bastard right then and there, never having really formally introduced the two of you due to the possible result that might’ve brought on. Obviously, they were right, the smuggler unable to keep their dirty hands to themselves when it comes to anything belonging to Remy. Expect the roughest fucking of your life once you get back to the barn, roughly tugging at your wrist and throwing you onto the bed. You’re lucky if your little friend that you like to play blackjack with even comes back to have another game. Don’t expect Wren to though.

Yan! Remy who’s dead set on either making you carry their offspring or the other way around, carry yours. Doesn’t matter if you can’t be impregnated or they can’t impregnate you, regardless they’re figuring a way out with this. Sharing the same genitals? Don’t care, doesn’t matter, the farmer’s mind is long gone, a mile away in their own sick delusion, thinking how adorable you’d look with your tummy full of their cum or stuffed with their fat strap-on deep inside your aching hole. Regardless, Remy’s rutting into you like a hung bull when it’s mating season or making you rut into them, willing legs spread wide open. If you two manage a baby? Great, absolutely fucking great, all the more reason for you to stay with them since you wouldn’t wanna leave your poor kid with divorced parents, huh?

Yan! Remy who’s now achieved the ideal life with you, or so they think in their head. Heat of their skin pressed against yours as you’re deep into your slumber, unaware of those green eyes on you, intently watching your sleeping form. Chest steadily rising up and down with every breath taken, tracing a slim finger over the shirt of your pajamas, arm looped around your waist, gripping possessively. This is it, this is what Remy wanted all along, to have their beautiful spouse laying next to them in bed, intimately close together as if they didn’t shut you off from the world. That’s what a farmer does though, keeps their cherished prize to themselves, locked away. Locked away from prying eyes and nosy bastards, theirs alone. That’s right.. You’re theirs now. Remy’s perfect little spouse.

Masterlist

To - @mellowwillowy, for being a Remy fucker.

Yandere! Bailey part 2 might be coming next, don’t know.

[END OF POST]

#don’t fuel my remy obsession #slowly might turn into a remy fucker #if only whitney didn’t have me in a deathhold #maybe then #not my fault hot blonde delinquent pussy is too good #asher what did you just say? #..none #dol #degrees of lewdity #remy the farmer #wren the smuggler #dol remy #dol wren #character x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #gender neutral reader #asher writes #asher gets asks