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with-ink-and-quill · 11 months

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Alone in the Torrent

After traversing the nightmare fog taking over the old graveyard and facing the buried traumas it dragged into the night, the party found the source of the horror and her nightmare protector. Left to fend for himself against the colossal knight and their giant mace, nearly crushed to death in one swing, Nik must now come to terms with the last long day. He may have banished the monster, but it lingered in his mind in more ways than one.

As the door shut behind him, eyes glowing in the dark room, he finally let out a shivering breath. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding it. It had been hours by now and the realization caused his hand to tighten on the glass bottle, claws threatening to mar the surface. Instead he forced his leaden legs to move, trudging to the desk and letting the bottles of his chosen poison clink onto it. With a shaking hand he spilled his journal out as well, ink bottle and pen tumbling after. The bundles of papers and expensive inks bounced to the tabletop as well and he eyed them warily. For once, he felt thoroughly done with magic. He didn’t want to think about it. The feeling of being crushed was still causing his breaths to wheeze, too fast and short. The phantom pain lingered: the earth sucking at his feet, the rock clawing into his back as vicious metal ground his ribs to dust, desperately trying to pull in a breath as the world forced the air from his lungs, choking on his own words and blood to force the magic free. The sheer terror of running for his life, barely escaping the next murderous swing and praying the second strike didn’t steal someone else from him; of being left to fend for himself and knowing that if he failed, someone else would die for it.

He didn’t register falling to his knees, his fingers clutching the edge of the desk so tight it hurt. Forehead pressed to the cold wood, he was gasping for air, vision blurring. The pain and fear of the last day finally sunk in, whipping up inside him violently. He was drowning in it. Magic may have physically healed him, but it didn’t make the experience disappear. Silent, wheezing sobs escaped him, long minutes slipping by. He wanted to bundle himself in the bed, shut away from the world in warm darkness, but the same thought caused his heart to beat wildly. Just the mere thought of being wrapped in anything felt terrifying. And as tired as he was, the buzzing from the Banishment spell ensured it would be a hard won rest. Part of him despaired that night had passed them by, as if the starlight would somehow offer him reprieve from the peculiar affliction. At the very least, he missed the eerie comfort it brought him.

Exhaustion eventually robbed the strength from his sobbing and he scrubbed a sleeve over his face to dry the tears. A grimace curled his lips as he felt grave dirt and rock dust grind against his bloody and sweat stained skin. Long hours of grueling hiking and miserable combat had left him filthy. It wouldn’t be great to try and sleep like this. With nothing left to fuel the emotional turmoil, he let himself slip into cold logic. He was tired, dirty, and beaten up. Sleep would eventually happen, and magic could solve the rest. A simple spell to disappear the detritus, but he could feel the power shoot pins and needles up his arm from the crystal. He had used a lot of magic without very much rest between, and it smarted. Trying to cast anything more complex would be too much, he didn’t have the energy, or strong enough connection, or whatever properly powered his spells. He needed an actual fucking break.

Which brought him to his bed. Apprehensively, he poked the mattress before sighing heavily. It brought back memories of the earth softening under his feet, loamy hands snatching to pull him under. He almost let out a whine at the tragedy of it. A proper bed was always one of the few things he looked forward to most after long days on the road. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t viable, though, unless he wanted to wake up feeling worse. With a heavy sigh, he spread his bedroll out and dragged the pillows and blankets off the beds. If he was going to have a shitty camp out in the middle of a gods damned inn room then he was going to have every other comfort available. Pausing for a moment, he arranged it all much like the nests of one very sneaky and charming little bird. If she found them a comfort, maybe he could eek out some for himself. Satisfied with his handiwork he finally set about removing his gear. Kicking his boots off clumsily, he tugged at the lacing of his arm guards and shrugged off the solid leather. His shawl was pulled over his head and tossed atop the pile of blankets making up his bed as he set upon the leather around his waist. Shedding that he finally removed the rather solid jacket, casting it only a slightly bitter glance for the protection it had offered.

With a sigh he sat unceremoniously on his makeshift bed, fiddling with the silver bracelets before tossing them aside. Next came the earring, then an absent discarding of the silver ring, and finally his hand came to rest on his chest before faltering. His crystal wasn’t there anymore and the habit of clutching it was proving hard to shake. Instead of dwelling on the uneasy somersault his stomach did at the notion, he busied himself with untying his hair. For a moment he just sat quietly, carding fingers through the knots the past day had created and taking long, steady breaths. He was fine, the party was fine. The battle was over and they had won. It was fine.

He fell back into the awaiting embrace of far too many pillows, his tail lashing out in annoyance among the sea of blankets. It wasn’t as comfy as the bed would have been, but he could easily put a hand out onto the very solid floor should he need the comfort. For a moment he missed Thorne. Having a cat to pet and listen to purr would have gone some long way to settle his nerves. The damnable creature was just as likely to claw him for the efforts though, and was charged with giving that comfort to Verity. He felt a pang of guilt at that thought, followed with a wave of anger and bitterness that had his tail thrashing. He knew he wasn’t being fair, but he was upset. She had abandoned him to the hulking monstrosity from the tower and then after the harrowing fight, had proceeded to heal him excessively before passing out from the effort. As if that would comfort him! He was horribly, gut wrenchingly worried about her now. Which was why he had left Thorne in her charge. At least this way he could check in on her himself without having to address all the messy emotions. It didn’t untangle the roiling mess of feelings that had moved into his chest, but it helped a little. He was still mad, still felt betrayed, still worried horribly for her. But it helped.

With a long deflating exhale, he forced himself to close his eyes and curled up under a blanket. First, sleep. He would deal with feeling afterwards. And for some few blissful moments, that plan worked. Until the bed felt too soft and the cloying scent of death had him flailing out an arm for solid ground. It had been too much to hope for peaceful rest. Electing to simply leave one hand resting against the hardwood floor and pulling in a steadying breath, he tried again. This time he got to the hazy half sleep, the border of consciousness bringing the relaxed comfort of almost sleep. Except at the edge of his thoughts he could swear there was a faint voice calling out to him. He knew that voice, so achingly familiar, far too much time passing since he had last heard her, and it twisted his heart with fondness. And then that fondness turned to icy fear, squeezing his heart until it pounded painfully in his chest. She was crying for him, begging for help, she needed him, needed him now, and he wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he there for her? He needed to run, to chase after her, had to reach her before it was too late. He still had time, he had to have time, he couldn’t be too late. He would never forgive himself if he was too late. She would be okay, he would make it, she’d be fine, she had to be fine-

With a gasp he woke in a tangle of blankets, still half fighting himself free of them in the confusion of his sudden wake up. The frustration and fear caused a snarling sob to escape him as he ground the heels of his palms against his eyes. He was so tired of everything. He missed Katya dearly and was terrified that his absence had caused something terrible for her. And for a moment, just the sliver of a moment, he missed something he thought he never would: the simplicity of home. It had been boring, but it was familiar. He knew all the monsters that lurked there, or he thought he did. But it wasn’t his home now, if his last conversation with his father was any indication.

In a flurry of exhaustion and anger, his fingers began the somatic components of a spell, the arcane words muttered under his breath before a stinging pain shot up his arm. He bit his tongue, unaware of his actions before the negative feedback shocked him. His body was suspended in silent hurt, mere seconds of agony before it faded. He couldn’t cast still, not anything meaningful. Not like his father would give him clear answers anyways. What was he thinking? Clearly a magical call in the early morning from an entity claiming to be your dead son after almost three years of silence would be well received. Especially when he hadn’t planned out the message already. What kind of pathetic, juvenile attempt was that?

Clearly sleep wasn’t helping and magic was very much out of the question. His arm still felt like pins and needles, an almost awful resonance radiating from the crystal itself; like the chunk of rock was protesting his stupidity. It almost made him laugh. Well, his pact wasn’t helpful so he might as well try another route. If his father was such a famous entity now, surely it wouldn’t be hard to get a letter to him. It was just as likely he’d burn it once he figured out who wrote it, but it would be better than doing nothing. So Nik dragged himself out of his makeshift bed, a fist tangled in his shawl as he trudged back to the desk. With a heavy sigh he plunked into the chair and set about lighting the lamp to spare his eyes the effort of darkvision. Only partially dazzled by the brighter room he dragged out loose paper and his pen from the pile of spilled goods, settled into his seat, and pressed the nib to parchment. He sat motionless for a long minute, lost.

How was he supposed to open the letter? ‘Hey dad, please keep reading, I know you think I’m a lying abomination, but how’s the new job? You happy?’ Surely a cold open demanding to know if they were dead or not would go over well. Or he could upend the roiling, angry mass stewing in his heart that his parents had lied to him, manipulated him into thinking himself mad, and then disowned him when he left. He could demand answers for so many questions about his life; why they felt the need to keep him afraid, why they couldn’t explain anything when he asked about the voice he heard, why they just covered for the people who hurt him when he was just a child. He could beg them to forgive him for whatever wrong he committed to be cut off so suddenly. Because he was sorry, even in his ignorance. They were his family, his only family, and he loved them dearly. They were his home and the thought of losing that extinguished the rage, leaving him shivering.

The pen left an ugly dark splotch on the blank letter and he let it fall to the desktop, his hand tightening on the shawl. He cradled his head in the other, trying to force himself to take slow, deep breaths. Life would have been so much simpler if he had never left Trestan. He could have been sitting at the kitchen table tucking into the leftovers from the previous night while Katya gushed about her plans about town for the day. Their mother would have been shaking her head in exasperation, smiling while heaping food onto her excitable daughter’s plate. Their father would have been trying to get her to stop at the market for this or that while mixing a bowl of herby dough that would accompany dinner as a savory bread later that day. And Nik would have sat there, listening contentedly, knowing he would have to do the shopping and chores, but that was fine. Because he was home and, if nothing else, at least he had his family. He knew he had love and warmth waiting for him.

Except now he didn’t, because he had left to chase a voice in the sky.

The chair rocked dangerously far back, his face blank as he stared up at nothing. When the legs touched the floor again, he had a bottle of honey mead in hand and was clawing the seal free. He took long draughts as if each one could somehow ground him, would chase away the cold hole opening up in his chest. He had never cared for drinking back in the village. He even had a great deal of disdain for the drunks that staggered out of the tavern late at night to collapse in the streets just to repeat it all again the next day. But they had seemed so insensate after it all and that sounded just fine to him now. When he finally stopped to breathe, he was shaking slightly and the bottle was missing a decent amount of liquid. He set it back down, picked up the pen, and hesitated. And then he wrote. He would jot down long sentences, cross them out, take a swig, and try again. Letters were torn up, crumpled into balls and tossed aside, and left unfinished. When his hand felt too sluggish, the script beginning to dance before his eyes, the bottle was half empty. It was hard to tell how long he had been failing, but then no, he knew how long the sun would linger didn’t he. Well, far too long for a simple letter.

The pen clattered out of his hand onto another abandoned attempt and he reached for the drink again, but he paused. The light glinted off the crystal and from something just peeking out of his bag. He dragged a dagger into the open, turning it over in contemplation. Would it hurt terribly if he carved the accursed rock from his flesh? The area felt rather numb normally and he was right sloshed now, it was as good as he’d ever get without asking someone else to do it. Would it sever his magical connection? If he presented it to his father, would the man forgive him? Could he get his family back if he returned to being nothing special? Would giving up this magic, this life of adventure, this identity return what he lost? The blade clicked against the crystal lightly, held a bit awkwardly in his right hand before he changed his grip for better stabbing force. There really was only one way to find out.

The warlock spread his hand flat on the desktop, standing up and holding the dagger above the offending appendage. It would be so simple. Maybe he’d lose the hand, but he wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. He wouldn’t have to worry about the implications or what mysterious role he was supposed to be fulfilling. Oh, he would be useless, but he’d be free. The blade pressed against the flesh bordering the crystal, cold and sharp. Just one push. A bead of bright red sprung up in response, vibrant and tempting. He pulled the dagger back, paused to shakily aim, and struck. He did feel a sharp sting, felt the blade hit something solid, but as he blinked down all he saw was a shallow cut on his hand and the dagger stuck in the wood tabletop. He had missed. Even this simple task was impossible for him.

He dropped back into the chair, dagger abandoned where it was impaled. His head fell back until it met wood, limbs limp like a puppet discarded, and he laughed. It was soft at first, a huffing of breath that slowly built until it was manic. The whole situation was comical. He was too special for the simple life of a villager, but too normal for the fraught life of an adventurer. What was he to do? So he laughed, because he had nothing else. He laughed until it hurt and kept laughing a little longer even then, before he finally tapered off. In the ensuing silence he simply watched the weak shadows dance in the room to the lamp’s light. He felt so tired and altogether numb now. The night had been a bundle of failures and it drew a heavy sigh from his lips as he sat upright. He was surrounded by a little sea of letters, not a single one viable. The ink stained even his hands and it caused his mouth to twist sourly. He was thoroughly fed up.

The anger bubbled up fast and hot, simmering frustration fueling it. He wanted to scream until his throat ached, tear the room to shreds, somehow vent the helplessness from himself. It was infuriating. He couldn’t talk to his family, likely wouldn’t survive pleading to his patron, and was being a stubborn ass with the woman he loved. He couldn’t write a measly letter asking if his sister was alive, couldn’t tear out the damned crystal that housed his cursed magic, and couldn’t be less of a coward when it counted the most. And honestly, getting drunk was proving to be rather a big let down. There were no numbed feelings, just a shorter path to anger and despair. Useless fucking drink.

“What I would give to cease feeling.” He snarled into the empty air, teeth bared to no one.

He felt it all too keenly, much as he liked to pretend otherwise. Loathed as he was to admit it. What had feeling ever done for him? Lancing agony at the loss, alienation, isolation in his life. It had gifted him simmering anger for his treatment at the hands of others, the pain they inflicted because they could, because he was different. Because he was weak and meant nothing, so it bit deep into his flesh and spread its vile venom to his heart. What was the small warmth in his life to the vitriol of living? Where was the purpose?

He found himself staring out the window, squinting in the light and hating the headache it brought. If only he could dash the sun out of the very sky, plunge the world back into blissful darkness, bask in the moonlight and lose himself in the stars. He ground the heels of his palm into his eyes, exhausted, before staggering out of the chair. Almost tripping into bed, he clumsily tangled himself under the blankets. He laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a long minute before his eyes slid closed. He pressed his hand against his chest, just above the collar of his shirt, the crystal cold against his flesh. A part of him wanted to cry out to his goddess, to beg Her to take all the pain away or give him some direction to walk. Instead he thought back to the fountain, of the liquid agony the waters held, and the endless expanse of stars. He held that impossible sky in his mind, the cold comfort it reflected in the mirror surface he had walked. He offered up each ugly emotion roiling within him, all the pain and hope as one, to that sky. And slowly, with each breath, the keen bite of feeling ebbed. Even the itching buzzing in his skull seemed to grow quiet before the great expanse. His fear and doubt were simply dwarfed and finally, finally he could rest. Under that sky he could simply stop existing. Living was a chore for when he woke. For now, all the world was stars.

#this one is from more recently in the game #basically the gang had to spend a whole in a graveyard actively trying to kill them just to find the caster causing the fog #who was also trying to summon an archdemon of terror #and when Nik Banished the giant knight protecting her it uh it stayed gone but #it stayed behind for him in the back of his mind like a buzzing noise or itch he couldn't scratch #also he failed the fuckin' wisdom save in the fog so he heard his little sister crying out for him and had to be physically restrained #the 3 year time skip the gang got hit by for popping into the Shadowfell has Fucked Him Up as it were #*spend a whole day in a graveyard woops #anyways there might be a part 2 to this not sure yet #nikolai zepar #dnd #writing #tiefling #warlock #oh his casting focus is the crystal embedded in his hand he didn't have a say in that lol #and Thorne is his familiar - a black cat who sometimes lashes out at him because it responds to his won self loathing #*his own I'm so tired rn

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hqkalon · 7 months

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FOR MY SERVICE, DARLING.

♱ KINKTOBER DAY 1 — BONDAGE | kinktober m.list

pairings : soldier könig x cadet reader

summary : close proximity while sharing a room with könig… headquarters knew better than placing a man and woman together.

content : nsfw, handcuffs/bondage, squirting, overstimulation,, petnames, shared room, manhandling/rough, size kink, dacryphilia & creampie

to ever think you’d be deployed overseas from your main base in america to europe. walking through headquarters where you were stationed, trying to find the room number you were assigned— it was hard trying to find your way around with no detour.

“excuse me we are you lost?” a low voice crept upon the hallway walls, flashing red each second. “nope just headed to my assigned room.” you responded turning around as your eyes widened in surprise seeing a broad man tower over you. his face hidden behind a long cloth with holes cut out near the eyes.

wow. he was like a giant, quite literally. you could trace the veins down his ripped arms, admiring the t-shirt hugging his tone body as your eyes traced his abs through his shirt. fuck was he the man a delusional girl would dream of? yes.

there was a silence as you continued walking, hearing his footsteps behind you, “can i help you?” you scowled, why was he following you? you already knew most men in the hq couldn’t get their fun from time to time, but preying on you already was the upmost insane. “no i’m headed to my base as well.” he bluntly said, walking at the pace. “oh okay.” you pressed your lips together while speeding up, looking for the number 505 before accidentally padding the door. you reached out towards the handle opening the door, seeing one occupied twin bed and another untouched one— you trailed the room seeing a portrait of a handsome man smiling with his family before realizing your roommate was a man. your heart dropped as you tried to understand how could hq mix you up with a man.

your hands roamed through clothing on his bed trying find his name badge on his uniform. könig, you read aloud in your head.

clack.

your heart dropped as you heard the door knob open. no fucking way. and that was the day where everything between you two started— headquarters knew better than to place a woman and a man together in a room.

shared time together created a platonic bond, a platonic bond which no within the base knew about. what happened behind closed doors, stayed behind closed doors.

your arms bonded behind your with your back arched— face down ass up as könig bully his cock through your poor folds. “f-fuuckk könig.” you cried into the sheet of his mattress, broken moans fell from your drooling mouth. he was huge in more than one way, the way his large calloused hands gripped your waist as he repeatedly slammed into you with his low grunts, sending euphoric waves throughout your body as you trembled in pleasure. “i know baby, i know.” he cooed, angling his hips deep against your sweet spot inside you squelching pussy.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he stretched your pussy out so perfectly— sinful clapping noises of skin to skin contact filled the room as his hips met your ass. your fingers fidgeted together, yanking against the cuffs as heated pleasure ran up your thighs. “s-shitt are you close darling?” he hummed in pleasure as you squeezed around him, grabbing onto the cuffs around your wrist as you winced at the action— feeling you skin rub against the steel.

"oh my god!" his other hand deepened your arch making your tummy tighten as the head of his cock began pressing into your spongy g-spot, "that's itt, just a bit more." but back a moan with his shaky voice, speeding ip his thrusts as his mind clouded with the thought of reaching his high. "nghh w-wait königgg!" you sobbed, skin tingling with warm buzzes, “s-sorry… fuckk i’m close.” he hovered over your tiny body, pushing your head deeper into the soft mattress with his hand the size of your head.

“gonna cum for me baby?” he growled into your ear as your body shuttered. you loved this side of könig, he made you feel submissive in the perfect way. you whined, feeling your cunt drool with pleasure. “y-yess! g’na cum!” whining into the mattress as he fucked into your used hole at an animalistic pace. “let’s cum together.” he lustfully ached for a release.

your heart raced throughout your body, feeling light-headed as your vision burned white— feeling helpless being unable to do anything, but take what was given babbling incoherent words— drowning in pleasure as your body completely broke down. “fuck fuck fuckk!” you wailed, there was a feeling completely different from the times you usually orgasm— this feeling was stronger, more intense and unexplainable. “i-i’m gonna pee, wait!” you choked up words as könig’s cock dragged along your sensitive walls, “yeah? go ahead and squirt for me baby.”

his lips brushed against your nape, licking a wet stripe up your neck before pecking a kiss. your body began shaking as your body instantly shot through intense pleasure , “cummingg oh my god— !!” your vision blurred with tears streaming down your pretty face— swallowing könig’s cock whole, wetting the sheets in your heat. “s-shitttt.” he threw his head back, heavily thrusting into your hole as it milked him dry.

his warm seed filled your tummy as his strokes simmered down, cooling off the both of your highs as he unlocked the cuffs around your wrist. “this time let’s try rope.” he flipped your weakened body over as you were know lying on your back, his thick fingers traced along the bruises of your wrist before pressing soft kissing against them.

tagging : @luvfaries @blkkizzat @iamtootiredtopost @lik0 @ichigoswifey @bluebutterfly1248 @unknown5029 @forgottenfroggy @zarihaaa @n0cturnalism @lilvampirina @satocidal @v3nxxs @emonaculate @deluluvibes @midnightartist @charbunxxi @yeagerzprettyblnt @eggytm @hayati17 @bimboedu @tsurie

apology to the urls which didn't work on my end, feel free to direct message :(

#♱ sintober #kinktober 2023 #call of duty #konig x reader #cod x reader #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #konig mw2

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ghouljams · 2 months

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“#distribution system is a pillow Princess/sub!ghost fic”

😳 h-holy shit. I think the world went white when I read this. Like a flash bang went off. Oh my god.

You hold his face between your hands, your thumbs gently stroking over his scarred cheeks. Your eyes are so soft, they look at him like he's something fragile, something precious. Ghost holds your wrists like a lifeline, desperately begging to be grounded in this moment. Your lips move without sound, he wishes he could hear it, could hear your voice like the trumpets of revelations. The light shines behind your head like a halo, it must be a halo, divinity shining through your skin. Everything hurts.

"Stay with me," He begs, his throat dry and his bones aching.

"Of course," You pet over his buzzed hair, your voice as soft as early spring, "I'm not going anywhere."

You kiss his temple, let him settle his hands on your waist and lean into the touch, hungry for it. You're not going anywhere. He's not either, this is the last stop. He can just be here. Ghost traces his fingers over your skin with reverence, his eyes on yours as you tip his head back. It's good, you're finally in your rightful place over him, larger than life in all your kindness. He could let you swallow him whole, he wishes you would. Then he could be a part of you, a part of something worthwhile, something good and kind. Whatever he's done in life-

"Stay with me Simon," You murmur, as if he'd ever want to be anywhere else. Of course, he wants to echo, of course. You lean to brush your lips over his cheek, it hurts, white hot just under his eye. You slice your line through him, ask again, your voice so distant and yet so close beside his ear, "Stay with me."

His lips move around your name, breathe in, exhale. His hands hold you, drag over your skin as he tips his head to press his lips against your neck. Can he have this? Is this allowed? Are apostles meant to worship their god through such sinful means? He slides his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers through the wet heat he finds there. You're so soft.

You whine, such a pretty noise, and he kisses you again. He mumbles your name against your skin, traces his lips against your pulse, desperate to feel your life. Everything he does is for you, every breath he takes, every beat of his heart, each blink, each touch of his fingers. Nothing matters to him like you do. You're so warm, dripping over his hand, the noises your sweet pussy make when he presses his fingers into you are perfect, and obscene.

"My Simon," You breathe, "You're so good for me." It hurts between his ribs, cracks his sternum, you could take him apart with so many words. "You never tell me what you want," You coo, "Never ask for anything."

"Want to make you come," He mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain of it, he doesn't deserve to ask for your love, but he can approximate it, "want to be useful to you."

"You are, Simon," You whisper, he jerks against you at the jolt that goes through him, "because I love you."

It spins in his mind like tires stuck in mud. It's not right. He wants it too badly for it to be right. You couldn't. Even when he was leaving you couldn't. Ghost swallows. It's cold in here.

He blinks his eyes open to a hospital ceiling. Everything hurts. He reaches his hand to feel whatever is covering his left eye with a grunt of pain. His fingers twitch and another sharp jolt of pain zips through him.

"I wouldn't," Price tells him. Ghost turns his head to look at him, adjusting to the new blind spot. He's sitting in an arm chair beside the hospital bed, his chin perched on his palm, fingers curled over his mouth and leg bouncing. Ghost wonders how long it's been since his last cigar. Price sniffs. "Down two fingers, gonna hurt for a while."

Ghost turns his head to look back at the ceiling. The fluorescents buzz, a whine only he ever seems able to hear. At least the sky would've been a nice thing to end on.

"Nearly lost you on the table," Price continues, Ghost can hear him standing, "I'll let the nurse know you're up."

Ghost swallows again, tries to feel his tongue in his mouth, so dry it may as well glue itself to his teeth. "Where's my wife," He croaks. Price's footsteps stop, something heavy falling over the air. There are a thousand things he could say, a thousand comforts he could offer.

"You're not married," He tells him, and leaves.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x you #f!reader #I know I've kept it gender neutral so far I'm sorry #I'll get back to that but I love hearing Ghost say “my wife”#captain john price #price is truly the villain of this fic and I love it #the ghost distribution system #sub!ghost

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kianely · 4 months

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”LORD KNOWS, IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Leon saves you from the unlucky predicament you found yourself in when you decided to take a rewarding vacation overseas. He ends up liking you a little too much though, and not just in a platonic way. And naturally, you’re pretty love struck by him too.

iii. CONTENT — Mostly fluff, mentions of trauma (from what the reader saw while being rescued), mentions of Leon’s survival guilt, Leon’s smitten with you, fluff, tension and kissing at end, banter, he gives you a flip phone, work gathering, motorcycle ride, he finally gets a vacation, inaccurate depictions of the government, coercion to work for the government, RE4 Leon

iv. WC — 7.2k

You knew a lot. Too much. All because you decided to go abroad as a reward for finally getting a white-collar job. Your countless years spent in post-secondary education whilst having a part-time job paid off, and before you started your new job, you decided to indulge in a trip overseas.

You never expected to get lost during one of the tours, much less to find yourself stumbling across what seemed to be a ghost town that had a few…peculiar citizens. They told you to get lost when you asked for directions, and the one time you found a map plastered on a wall, it was an outdated one that didn’t even show the modern roads, no use in that.

That’s what led to your current situation. Somehow, you were lucky enough to make it out of there with the help of a particular someone. You never expected to board a helicopter in your life, you felt your stomach churn as you glanced out the window and reflected on what you had just been through.

All the thoughts revolving in that mind of yours were the freakish events and sights you had been an unwilling witness to. Ones that would undoubtedly throw you right into therapy, and have you tossing and turning in your bed at night like a scared child with a night light thinking a monster would seep out from their closet or underneath their bed. You would never set foot into a movie theater to watch a well-done horror movie ever again, all the things you had seen in the last couple of days topped all of that.

You wished you could wash and reset your eyes after all the mutated and downright monstrous creatures that flashed through your brain now and again. Hell, you now believed that every single urban myth or legend was a complete possibility, probably lurking out there somewhere. Every moving object just made your heart drop like from when limbs had reached out to try and grab or swing at you. You wanted to curl up into a little ball and be cradled by a parental figure, to be coddled and rocked back and forth until you fell asleep with no worries on your mind.

The murky fluids carried by the bodies of water in underground tunnels that were potent with diseases and infections were the same ones that had dried up on your once damp and soaked pants. You were damn lucky you hadn’t gotten an open wound anywhere under your upper thighs, how horrible would it be for you to escape and end up dying a day later from an infection?

The heavy gunfire and explosives left your ears physically hurting, you hoped the lingering buzzing noise would eventually leave. The only soothing sound you would hear throughout your utterly traumatic experience was the voice of a certain strong agent urging you to “hurry up” and “stay close behind him.” The same one that reassured you and checked up on you whenever the two of you got a chance to relax and take a breath, he would look you in the eyes and tell you that it was all going to be okay. And you believed him.

“You doing alright?” Ah, there was that familiar voice.

Your internal response? Absolutely not. But then again, you didn’t have the heart to tell the source of the question the truth. After all, Leon had been protecting you and had even taught you the basics of self-defense and combat moves for extra measure. All out of his own generosity, too. You had picked up on why he was sent to the site. You weren’t a priority to his job, not at all. Yet, he had gone through hell just to make sure you got out alive.

So, you resorted to masking your response with some sarcasm, by now, you knew he’d appreciate it. It felt like you had known him forever. “Peachy. I don’t think I’ve ever been better, you?”

You were still in denial, accepting everything would be too hard right now and you’d crumble on the spot. You were trying to think of anything else: your first meal after all this, maybe you’d need to buy new clothes now so a fun shopping trip was in order, Leon’s perfect face — no, not that.

Leon scoffed — the corner of his lips tugged up in response to your sarcasm. “It’s okay to tell the truth, y’know. You went through a hell of a lot more than you should’ve had to. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m fine,” you insisted, slumping against your seat and scratching the nape of your neck. Your mind was all over the place, you wouldn’t even be able to articulate all your worries without stumbling over your words. “I made it out without any major injuries, thanks to you.”

The only injury you had gotten were some cuts on the palms of your hands from all the times you had toppled down onto the earthy ground or wooden floors and had to use your hands to catch yourself and dodge…whatever the hell was chasing after you. The damn bastard didn’t even have a name. Your back wasn’t doing so well either, you definitely wouldn’t be able to reach your toes or stretch properly for a good while.

Leon sighed at your stubbornness, finding himself in you, he understood you better than most people could. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me for that. You did good and made it out alive. Plus…you did well at defending yourself, that leg strength of yours is no joke.”

His dazzling toothy smile stirred butterflies in your stomach. It felt genuine, a far cry from the close-mouthed smiles he had cast your way before. You wondered how he could muster up such a smile with that job of his.

You couldn’t offer anything more than an appreciative smile of your own as you looked down towards your lap, murmuring a small, “Guess so.” His praise made you feel a little light-headed, or maybe it was the gentleness within his gaze that had that effect.

He would’ve liked to hear those same words he just told you back during the incident of 1998, maybe even a small pat on the back accompanied by a “you did well, rookie.”

His missions involved so many casualties that it pained him, he had never grown desensitized to it despite his long years in the field. He’s too human for that, the angel perked on his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to be numb to it.

But you.

He managed to save you. And that was a couple fewer pounds that could’ve been slumped onto his shoulders — the ones that threatened to snap and give out on him from the years of massive and overwhelming guilt of everyone he had watched die. It didn’t matter that the two of you were essentially strangers, it would’ve crushed him if you had died on his watch. Through the short time you guys had been together, he had learned a lot about you.

Plus, he liked you. Romantically, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the meek and weak type. No. He liked mature people, those who could challenge his witty banter, who wouldn’t be clingy, and who could understand his baggage. You. You had spunk, the same kind he found himself yearning for in a companion when he went back to an empty home. He was fond of you, it made him wonder if he would be able to have you in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, whatever God was out there would grant him some mercy and give him what he wanted for once.

The helicopter had landed, and your leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiousness. Where the hell were you even at? You had nothing, not an ounce of technology or identification on you aside from your DNA and fingerprints.

Leon was feeling tense too, not for the unknowns but because he knew. He’d been forced to kiss the government’s ass and he was familiar with their way of thinking, they’d likely interrogate you, and if you had some use for them then they’d find a way to keep you around. He felt some solace in knowing that you didn’t display the same physical capabilities that he did, otherwise, they would snatch you up, train you into a machine, and send you out into the field in a couple of years if you made the cut.

Leon was the first to get out of the helicopter, extending his arm and offering his hand to help you. He knew you were feeling uneasy, he didn’t plan on leaving you alone to your thoughts. “Was this your first time on a helicopter?”

“Yeah, first time.” You gladly accepted his assistance, feeling the calluses on his skin as you cautiously got out. “Not how I imagined it to be like, but…”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you took it like a champ, no motion sickness or anything.”

“You must be used to flying all the time, right?”

Leon nodded, letting out a sigh before sharing his thoughts on the topic. He figured some honesty could go a long way. “I’m actually kind of sick of flying — planes, helicopters, everything. But if I ever get a vacation? I’m leaving behind a cloud of dust and making a beeline for Italy.”

“Italy, huh?” You made a mental note of that, for future reference. You just hoped there would be a way to keep in contact with him after everything was said and done.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go. Never have the time though.”

There was only so much conversation that could be held until you curiously took a look at your surroundings. You took a breath, feeling a bit daunted by some of the important-looking personnel whose eyes were boring into you.

“This place looks…pretty intimidating.”

Leon’s hand hovered over the small of your back so he could keep you close and guide you inside. “You’ll be okay.”

After that, the two of you pretty much got separated. He had to give a full report about the mission, and also explain how he had strung you along. The higher-ups had to run a background check on you and were going to monitor you. But he made you a promise, he’d come to see you when he was allowed to.

Leon always told himself he’d start minding his own damn business. You were well and alive, that should be more than enough for him. He didn’t deserve to indulge in someone who could make his life brighter, that was selfish. But, he so desperately wanted to have you in his life.

Whenever he got attached to someone, it all went south. But, he knew you were alone. He’d been in your situation — alone and with unimaginable baggage, a deadly mix. He needed to do something.

On the other hand, you were taken into questioning about what you had seen, and how the state of the town you had been visiting before everything went to shit. You hated having to talk about it, stammering over your words, and taking long pauses because it was too much. Broke down sobbing after one session. The denial phase progressively diminished, it was painful. They then transferred you to a more isolated area to monitor your physical health. They didn’t give a damn about your actual well-being, even if you had been injured they wouldn’t have tended to you.

You lost track of time, a couple of weeks had gone by.

You were a pitiful sight, all alone in a room with high-quality technology surrounding you — machines monitoring you just in case anything irregular popped up in your health that was connected to the bioweapons you had been exposed to.

But alas, the day finally came, and you could leave. You relished the clean clothes they gave you in place of the gown you had been required to wear for the monitoring. You sat on the twin-sized bed, gaze cast to the floor as you thought about what the future held.

Some gentle knocks on the door made you jump a little, your eyes immediately darting over to see who it was through the glass on the door. Leon. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked concerned, the knit of his brows made that clear.

Mustering up a small and weak smile, you beckoned him to come in. If there was one person that could bring you some solace, it was him. He would’ve come sooner, hell, he would’ve visited you every damn day you were stuck here. But he wasn’t allowed to under strict orders, not until the day you were to be released.

Leon entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bag of takeout in his free hand, holding it up for you to see. “The food here is pretty bland, figured you could use this.”

The sight almost made you groan, anything sounded more appetizing than the soup and packaged food you had been given the past few weeks. “God. Yes. Please.”

He chuckled at your reaction, setting the medium sized drink by your bedside before sitting down next to you. He opened up the bag and then handed you the plastic utensils, napkins, and the container.

“I’m glad you came, I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Leon knew how deafening the silence could be, nothing good came out of being left to your thoughts.

“I owe you a meal someday,” you told him as you began eating. “You have to pick though, I don’t know any of the restaurants around here.”

“I’ll be sure to make a list then. I’m paying though.”

“What? That’s hardly fair.”

“Shh, eat your food.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something under your breath, but you knew he meant well based on the lightheartedness of his voice. So, you complied.

Meanwhile, Leon was mentally brainstorming places he thinks you would like in the area — somewhere pretty, he wanted you to have a good time.

After you had finished, Leon let out a sigh and pulled something out of his pocket. A flip phone. He gave it to you. He wordlessly handed it to you.

Woah. What?

You cast him a curious glance before reaching out for it. “Uh, what’s this?” You knew what it was, but why?

“Well, your phone broke.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I saved my number on it already, so just give me a call if you ever need anything.”

Could a man be more perfect? A flip phone was simple, easy to call and all. He knew that you’d likely get an actual smartphone in a couple of days, but he was worried. He just wanted you to be able to contact him whenever and wherever.

You laughed a little, taking a minute to toy around with the buttons on the flip phone. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much, they’re pretty cheap these days.”

With the topic of technology brought up, you had the chance to ask something you had been mulling over. “So, how come I’ve never seen you on the news before? You’re like a knight or something.”

Leon was mildly amused by the sudden inquiry, humming softly to himself as he stirred up a response.

“Well, I’m not too sure people would believe a headline about half of the things I deal with. It’s pretty much kept undercover.” There was a lot more to it than that, but he kept it simple. “Plus, I’m just doing my job — it’s no biggie.”

“Bummer,” you sighed out, “you’d have tons of fans.” It wasn’t even a stretch. A man as attractive and heroic as him? With the size of his biceps? He’d be trending every other week, and some portion of the population would definitely have posters of him. A bit unfitting considering the contents of his job, but not unlikely.

“Would I? Why’s that?” The concept was foreign to him. Sure, he’d gotten compliments on his looks, but that was about it…nobody actively tried to pursue him. And the couple of times he had tried to ask someone on a dinner date, he got a no. He wasn’t insecure about it, though — the only people he had tried to ask out were people in his line of work, all the baggage made relationships and dating tricky.

His question caught you off guard, you knew the answer but you couldn’t say it out loud. “Well…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze before immediately darting your eyes away. “You know, just…”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His voice was one of humor, spoken through a chuckle — he wanted to know.

You let out a long exhale before recomposing yourself. “You look like you could be the heartthrob of the decade. And your personality isn’t half bad either.”

He was quiet for a moment. Now it was his turn to look away, attention now on his hands as he pretended to pick at some of the calluses. Eventually, he voiced his next question. “Would you be one of my fans?”

You snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah. With pom poms and all, maybe I’d even come up with a cheer or something.”

His lips tugged into a small smirk at that, one that was barely visible — he really liked you. “I’d be sure to take a picture to make it last longer.”

“You wish.”

“A guy can dream.”

The government could have very well sent you on your way out into the world when you essentially had absolutely nothing. But, you had some close ones back in your hometown, so, if you just suddenly vanished and your family panicked when they thought you were returning from a vacation…then that would make some things more difficult. The mystery of how you ended up in DC without any of your belongings would be concerning.

Plus, they looked into your file backgrounds. Intelligent, you had the brains, and now the knowledge of bioweapons. Surely, there’d be good use in keeping you around. Possible training to become a field operations support was in your future. They could kill two birds with one stone: gain another worker, and keep you close to the headquarters just in case you tried to expose what you had seen.

It was easy for them to do through blackmail and threats to hurt your loved ones if you didn’t comply with their orders of living in DC. They made you record some bullshit lie to your family as to why you were here.

They printed out all your personal documents that you had lost so you could get a job nearby and get back on your feet, helped get your credit card replaced, and that was it. Any physical cash you had was gone, but at the very least you did have enough money in your bank account to crash at a motel while you sorted things out.

Bastards, really. Yeah, at least you had necessities now, but it was purely for their own benefit.

The prices for even renting a place in DC were just… jaw-dropping. You’d have to search for a small place, and honestly, a car was the last thing on your mind. Having a roof over your head was the most important part. The good news is that with your resume and educational background, you bagged a job fairly soon — though it was nothing compared to the job you were supposed to have.

It had been months since the whole fiasco. You managed to find a small apartment, nothing fancy of course. That was for the better, having a spacious place all to yourself would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You were still very jittery: jumping whenever there was a knock on your door even when you were anticipating a delivery, needing the television on just for the sake of not being left in silence with your thoughts, and sleeping with all the lights on even if your electricity bill suffered as a result.

You thought you would be able to muster up the courage to go to therapy, but would that even be possible? It’s not like you could truthfully talk about your experiences. Even if you did, there’s no way anyone would believe you. And again, it was too much money.

By now, you had gotten a smartphone. But you never discarded the flip phone that Leon had gifted you. You used it to give him a call on a couple of occasions, but you never kept him for over five minutes, not wanting to disturb him for too long, you knew he was busy. Sometimes he didn’t pick up, but after a couple of days, he would return the call and tell you what had kept him from doing so: another assignment, long meetings, all that jazz. Even so, those calls always left you smiling for hours afterward.

Unbeknownst to you, the man on the other side of the phone was equally as thrilled. His pearly whites were always on display whenever you called him. Whenever he got back from work, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails. No matter how battered and sore his body was, your voice alone managed to make him feel all better.

The days blended in together, and oftentimes you found yourself asking what or who was your motivation to keep up with this routine. The only answer that immediately came to mind aside from your loved ones was him. Leon.

Washing the dishes? Hm, you wonder what kind of food Leon eats. Watching TV? Leon mentioned he liked watching movies when he had free time. Struggling with opening a stubborn jar? Leon could definitely open this. Typing a text message? Would Leon use emojis? Abbreviations? Maybe he was one of those people who texted slow as hell and only used their index finger for each individual letter. You should know by now, but the two of you only ever called, and never texted.

The point is, he was flooding your thoughts.

In your mind, you justified it by thinking the only reason you wanted him in your life was to repay him for all the help he had been. But, that was far from the truth. Not when the memory of him flashing you a smile was enough to make your heart do tiny flips or the way his voice was so deeply engraved in your brain that you longed to hear it all the time. And the way you started spending more time on your appearance, just in case you happened to bump into him somewhere — slim chances, but you’d take them.

And naturally, you knew you would feel safe and content with him keeping you company. What you would give to roll your eyes and scoff at one of his puns or lame movie references, or to maybe catch the glimmer of endearment in his gaze whenever it shifted to you.

Would you ever be able to love a man who didn’t understand what you had gone through to a degree?

The sensation of your smartphone suddenly vibrating in your pocket made you flinch and snap out of your thoughts — a frown tugging on your lips as you scrambled to pull it out and answer.

Oh boy, your time at the headquarters wasn't short-lived. And that job of yours? You’d have to resign soon. Seems like the plan to train you to become a field operations support was coming up. Your presence had been requested at a work gathering, collaboration and teamwork skills were essential. So with this event, trainees and recruits could converse with those who were more experienced, to break the ice a little bit. So you convinced yourself you had to go.

Here you were a week later — sitting inside a fancy looking room, moving your now empty cup around. You had been here for thirty minutes and you weren’t sure how much more small talk you could handle. If you were asked the question, ‘So, how’d you land this position?’ one more time, you’d feel physically ill.

Getting ready for the gathering had driven you insane, you took an entire two hours to get ready, mostly because you kept pacing in front of your closet, indecisive about what to wear. Assuming Leon was going to be there, this would be his first time seeing you in actual clothing that aligned with your fashion style, enough said.

You stood up, ready to go outside for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air from this otherwise suffocating environment. But as you looked towards the door, a certain man caught your attention.

There he was. Leon Kennedy in all his glory. When was the last time you saw him in person? A few months. So, why did it feel like you were seeing him for the first time again? You were blown away by his beauty.

He was talking to a taller man who was pretty hunky and had the body of an agent. You assumed they were good buds, seeing the way they patted each other and seemed to be having an interesting conversation rather than a forced one.

You had no idea how long you stood there, but it felt like only a couple of seconds since you were busy admiring him. Maybe he felt your eyes on him, because he eventually looked over directly at you and then dismissed himself from his friend.

Leon almost looked like a puppy as he made his way over to you, his eye-lit gaze set on you despite the plethora of other people he knew in the room. With a couple excuse me’s, he finally reached you.

You had a lot of time to think of a way to greet him, and yet your mind turned to mush the second he was near you. A simple hi, hey, what’s up? No, that wouldn’t suffice. It would feel forced.

“No offense, but this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.” You eventually told him, a sly smile forming on your face.

He placed a hand over his chest and scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Like a dagger to my heart.” After a shared chuckle between the two of you, he gave you a genuine answer. “It’s nice sometimes, gives me a chance to catch up with some people and nurse a drink. But generally? No, not really my scene.”

Before you could say anything in response, he gestured towards you with his hand. “You look stunning.”

“I’d hope so. Though, I think anything is a step up from what I was wearing when you met me.”

“Oh c’mon. You pulled off the look.”

How? He had witnessed you wearing dirty and muddy clothes with scrapes all over. You had definitely not been in the most presentable state. Though to be fair, he had been in the same boat — he did all the combat, so he ended up with ruined clothes and blood all over. Then again, his pretty face and killer body blinded you from those details.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just that charming,” You tried to come across as confident, but the giddy grin on your face in response to his compliment gave away just how much his words affected you.

Cute. Did he make you happy? Years of unsuccessful romance led him to believe that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a natural response to being complimented. But…there was a hopeful voice in his head that said otherwise. No no no, he was being silly. He saved you, he shouldn’t even be thinking about asking you to dinner. Shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look sitting across the table from him, with a glass of champagne in your hand and that perfect smile plastered on your face from the conversation at hand. He wanted to know you. And he knew he was a goner when he woke up one morning upset because he felt like something was missing — you in his arms, curled up against him.

“So, you’re a trainee now?” Leon knew you were going to be here, it was the reason he had unconsciously put more effort into his appearance.

“Yeah, it’s surreal to think about…it sounds stressful.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault. Things could be worse, I’m just glad I’m back on my feet.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Mhm. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to talk to you over your earpiece one day.”

Leon almost froze at that. The thought was appealing. Maybe he should feel selfish for thinking of this in a positive manner when the government had been responsible for the switch up in your life. Even so, he knew that his spirit would be boosted if he heard your voice giving him intel and instructions. Plus, how come you didn’t seem so upset over that?

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of my voice after all those voicemails I’ve left you.”

Ah, the same ones he replayed over and over when he couldn’t sleep. The same ones that managed to keep his post-mission loneliness at bay. The same ones that prevented him from getting a bottle of beer from his fridge and spiraling.

“I could never.” The nearly whispered answer gave away just how sincere he was. Not a quip, not even a tug of his lips.

It made your breath hitch, those three words made you melt like an ice cream left out on a hot summer day. How was it that everything blurred out except for him? The nearby chit-chatter, the blur of people moving around in the background, the clinking of plates and glasses — nothing mattered, nothing took your attention from him.

“You sound pretty confident in your answer.”

“I am.”

“How come?”

Would it scare you if he chose to be sincere? “It’s just nice hearing your voice, y’know, I don’t get many phone calls.”

No, he had to give you more, that sounded too casual. “And uh, they help me…make me feel like I’m not completely alone or lost in this world.”

“I’ll be sure to keep calling you, then.” You were being honest.

He became aware of the semi awkward conversation he had caused, Leon cleared his throat and gestured to the table with drinks. “Shall we?”

Mostly everyone had left after two hours, the only vehicle left in the parking lot was Leon’s bike. You got here through public transportation, you really had to get a car eventually. But, it was hard with your financial situation.

You let out a low whistle when you caught sight of his bike, it suited him, honestly. He took good care of it. “Sweet ride.”

It was his pride and joy, one of his only belongings that gave him a thrill and an escape. And he really wouldn’t mind letting you into that part of his life.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He could give you a ride if you were willing. He kept two helmets anyway, an older one just for nostalgia, and then a newer one. “Ever ridden one?”

“No way,” you laugh, you’re intrigued though. You meet his gaze and see that he’s smiling — and you manage to piece together what he’s offering. “No way.” You repeat incredulously as if asking: Seriously!? You’d let me?

“Way.”

He walked over to his bike and patted one of the helmets. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“What if I fall off?”

“I won’t let you fall off.”

Oh, what the hell? After all Leon has done for you, you trusted him with your life. You approached him, catching onto the subtle flame in his eyes. “Fine, I’m up for it.”

He knew the nearby layout of the area pretty well, so when you told him your address, he knew what route to take.

“Hold still.” Lifting the helmet, he made sure to put it snugly onto you, buckling the chin strap so it wouldn’t fly off or be loose. It made you feel some kind of way. He was so close. If you didn’t have the helmet as a barrier, you’d be tempted to kiss him.

He took a step back to look at you, unable to resist from mumbling out a small ‘cute’ under his breath. Somehow, you hadn’t heard.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. Why did his voice sound raspy all of a sudden? Leon then worked on putting a helmet on himself. Your throat felt dry as you idly stood by and watched, he always looked good…but the sight of him with a helmet on was something you could get used to. With his handsome face now hidden, your attention was drawn more to his body, you tried to not stare at the way his shirt fit tightly against his muscles. Then you realized your eyes weren’t all that visible due to the helmet and dark night. So…you stared.

He taught you how to mount and dismount the bike, he prefers to get on first and for passengers to get on afterward, and for you to dismount the bike before he did. Naturally, he also went over some of the rules for passengers, when to lean, to be cautious of stops, etc. He just wanted both of you to be on the same page. With some trial, error, and a couple of laughs over it, you eventually managed to get the hang of it. So here you were now, all ready to go.

“Hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to fall off or anything.” By now, he knows you’re used to his joking.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the sliver of amusement that slipped into your voice. “Very reassuring, Kennedy.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, you could feel all the muscle he had gained throughout his years of nonstop physical activity.

Leon was smiling underneath his helmet, feeling your body warmth against him. He never really thought he’d be able to have someone else on his motorcycle, especially not someone he had grown to adore so much. The feeling of your arms around him put his heart at ease. “Okay, here goes. Remember, if anything happens just tap me twice.”

At first, it was pretty steady — merely navigating out of the parking space and into the streets, stopping at some red lights, getting a kick out of the way Leon purposely revved the engine for you to hear, and the way you could feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed. It was a soothing pattern, one you’d like to feel more often, perhaps with your head resting comfortably against his stomach.

Entering the ramp to the freeway was an entirely different experience, the breeze suddenly increased tenfold as Leon sped up now that the speed limit was higher.

It felt exhilarating — a stark contrast to how you had felt when you were cooped up all alone in your apartment with nothing but silence. The loud engine of the bike roaring through the freeway drowned out any doubts or worries before they even had the chance to surface to your consciousness. It was so fast that the lights of the cars almost turned into a blur, but the nighttime made it seem so pretty. It felt good.

Honestly, it felt like you were there for hours when that was far from the true reality of a short five minute ride, your heartbeat slowed back down along with the speed of the bike as Leon cautiously drove in the lonely and dimly lit streets of your neighborhood, relying on your input to reach the specific building that had your apartment in it.

Once he finally parked, you got the chance to exhale properly — having been so caught up in the pretty night scenery and the fact you had just gotten a ride from none other than Leon S. Kennedy. You were reluctant to unwrap yourself from him but did so anyway. “Woah,” was all you could say.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Much better than the bus I take, that’s for sure. Life changing.”

With the short lessons you had gone over, you managed to dismount his bike, maybe checking him out a little as he then followed to do the same. He took his gloves off before making his way to you and working on taking your helmet off. The entirety of the situation felt oddly intimate, like a daily interaction a couple would partake in.

“You have a lot of trust in me,” he muttered that comment under his breath as if it was meant for the breeze to sweep away like a leaf. But you heard it anyway.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the guy who quite literally saved my life.”

He merely chuckled, now taking off his helmet. Leon didn’t want to delve into that topic. In his mind, he didn’t necessarily ‘save’ you, he didn’t want to take credit for your own mental and physical strength. The way you were so happy despite everything that had occurred…he admired you for it. He didn’t want you to spiral into the same loneliness and self-guilt that he had, he swore he wouldn’t let you. God, how he wishes he had met you sooner. Late was better than never, though.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” Dork. He didn’t even know which door was yours. It was sweet though, you led the way inside and up an elevator to your floor. Leon committed the way to memory, just in case he ever swung by in the future. He took a look around, making sure everything looked clean and safe, just a habit of his after his years in the force. It looked pretty cozy though, the halls were illuminated well, and everything was in great condition. Some of his worries were eased.

“Thanks for the ride, I had a lot of fun.” Honestly, you had a lot of things you could thank him for, but that would take you more than just a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to keep him since you knew he had to get home too. Internally, you hoped maybe the two of you could meet up — you liked being in his presence.

He brushed it off with a brief wave of his hand, “No worries.” He didn’t feel like you needed to thank him for anything. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched you open up your door. It was too soon. He didn’t even hide the fact he was staring at you, you turned around back around to face him, ready to say bye, and awkwardly get inside.

This was his cue to leave. In any other situation, he’d say, ‘I’ll see ya around’. But he hesitated.

You felt like you were burning up under his pensive gaze, wanting to know what thoughts were occupying that mind of his. Whatever it was, he clearly had something to say. You felt your hopes lift. “Leon?”

The fact is, he had something to ask you. Some higher entity had listened to his pleas and he had gotten a week off, his godsent vacation was finally here.

Like he had mentioned to you once, he wasn’t a huge fan of planes. Vacation or not, he tried to avoid them, there was nothing more reliable than his gorgeous motorcycle. But, he made an exception, and maybe he’d feel more at ease with you on the plane with him. Truth be told, if you said no to his offer, he wouldn’t even go on a vacation abroad, he’d probably just stay at his place.

He was feeling a tad bit doubtful. He knew that your life had been flipped since you had gone abroad for a vacation, so maybe you’d say no. Regardless, he had to ask now. He could be given another assignment at a moment’s notice despite being granted a break, and your training was going to start in a while. He couldn’t afford to not make his feelings known, not with the kind of life he led.

“Hey, listen.” Leon broke the silence that he caused — taking a deep inhale before he continued to voice his thoughts. “I’ve been due for a vacation for a while, and I finally got some time off. I’m planning on taking a short trip.”

“Ah,” you remember a similar conversation, how could you not? You practically memorized every bit of information he told you. You closed your door and leaned against it, not wanting to seem like you were in some hurry to get in. “Italy, right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling over the fact that you remembered that detail. “So, here’s the thing. I bought two flight tickets and booked a room for two. If you’re not busy or anything and if it’s not crazy for you to consider then—“

“Yes,” you responded immediately, like it was pure instinct, the word slipped through your mouth before your mind even had time to process it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline you still felt from the ride.

He grinned, letting out a huff of amusement. “I didn’t even finish—“

He cut himself off when he felt you cup his face with your hands, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin — like warm and cozy laundry straight out of the drying machine. His Adams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed thickly, feeling the tension rise when your lips inched towards his.

You were taking the opportunity, afraid it would slip from your fingers like sand if you hesitated for even a second.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes searched his. After a few seconds of keeping his arms by his side, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, coaxing you closer to him.

Leon felt weak to the knees, crumbling at the eye contact before his eyes flitted towards your lips longingly. Closer. He could feel your lips brushing against his, not a kiss just yet, but the contact was there and served as a complete tease.

“Okay,” he murmured out, warm breath fanning against your lips. He tried to keep his voice stable, but the close proximity was killing him. His hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “Consider a first-class window seat all yours then.”

“With gourmet meals and all?”

“Mhm,” he couldn’t think—he parted his lips in anticipation for yours. His gaze returned to your eyes, his own were half-lidded, looking like they might shut at any minute in preparation for the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t like being in planes?”

“I don’t,” he replied briefly, this felt like torture. His voice was low and rugged, eyes now closing and head tilting to the side slightly. “But with you by my side, it wouldn’t matter.”

God, he was perfect. You pressed your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands snaked up to gently hold the back of your head and keep you in place. He felt an influx of dopamine hit him right away, losing himself in your suave kiss — he was hooked on your taste, it felt like a drug. Like he’d go through withdrawals if he ever had to go without this sensation again.

One of your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling around the ends of his hair. It was soft, feeling like silk. Your nails brushed against his skin on the nape of his neck and he shuddered, feeling the remaining air in his lungs vanish. He could keep going though, he’d drown in your kisses and suffocate by the sweet taste and press of your lips without a single complaint.

If love was possible just by a single kiss, then Leon had just gotten struck by an arrow. It continued, kiss after kiss. It felt right. The final piece to a puzzle — the perfect fit.

Not having a death wish, you eventually pulled back for breath. His lips chased yours, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, only pausing when he heard your soft laughter, one that made his heart leap and his eyes open to meet your own. He pressed his forehead against yours, a smile ghosting his lips as he took the moment in. “We’re uh, pretty good at that.”

“Mm, I dunno.” You shrugged out, running your thumb against his bottom lip. “I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?”

It was a clear ploy to continue on with the kissing. He took the bait with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m game. Just do a countdown and I’m ready whenever.”

“Someone’s eager, here goes. One, two, three…”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil one shot #re4 x reader

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jumbojazzcats93 · 3 months

Text

Maybe One More - Ghost

Part 1

Summary - The climax of months of teasing.

Tags/Warnings - Banner by @/saradik-graphics, Picture by lilj_adflixit on Pintrest, MDNI 18+, smut, wrestling, sub/dom dynamics, male sub/female dom, a little overstim @glossysoap @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @quietlyignoringyou @randointhecloset @h0n7e @thychuvaluswife

A/N - This can be read as a part 2 or a stand alone.

He should've stayed in the bathroom. He should've come back and said he was done. That the session was over. You would've called him a sore loser for calling it quits after a loss, but fuck... He should've stayed in the fucking bathroom.

Simon's gritting his teeth as he once again, found himself in the submissive position. He's losing his mind. He's hot. He's sweaty. He's still pissed about your attitude yesterday, and he's pissed you managed to tap him today.

He's frustrated from the way your hands press against his body, the way your legs brush against his cock, the way you breathe harshly against his skin. It was exciting enough to manhandle you, but it was making his head buzz to be manhandled by you. It's beginning to make him desperate and it's part of the reason he's sweating. Taking control at this stage is almost impossible with how little blood flow is getting to his actual head and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't tap out. You'd locked your leg around his and pulled, dropping him to his hands and knees before coiling around him. Simon knew the set up for a rear naked choke like the back of his hand and as you leaned back, forcing him into a sitting position, you planted your feet between his legs and spread them apart to prevent him from gaining any purchase. Honestly, it was merciful of you to not fully tighten the arm you had around his neck.

It was obvious he had lost and tapping was the only logical thing for him to do, but his pride was burning at the potential of being tapped twice in a row. Your hot, heavy breaths against his ear made his face burn even more and his grunts began sounding a bit more sexual than he wanted them to. You suddenly chuckled low and hot against his neck, "Tap out already, Riley." He made an attempt to resist a bit more, but your arm tightened just enough for his pride to finally cede and he tapped your arm twice. He could feel you release a soft huff of air as your body went slack behind him. Your arms loosened and uncoiled from his throat, elbows staying on his shoulders you rested one hand on his head and leaned your head forward against his back.

"Maybe now that i've proven my merit, you'll show me a bit of respect as your equal, yeah?" He could only splutter a small laugh of bewilderment, "It has nothing to do with respect, L/N." He closed his eyes and relaxed against you a bit, "Your ideas were just shit." A shocked noise left you, and a smile fought its way on his face. It was silent for a couple of seconds as you both breathed heavily on the mat. Your sudden, breathless laughter was infectious, and he began chuckling as well. You dropped your arms from his shoulders, sliding your hands down his back and onto his still spread thighs. Shock jolted through his body. Your voice held amusement and a lilt of something alluring as you lifted your head and muttered, "You must enjoy pushing me to my limits, huh?" Heat pulsed in him, and he became hyperaware of your hands gripping the edges of his gym shorts. His eyes flew open, "Y/N-"

"I think you need someone to check your ego, Si." You cut him off in a whisper. He swallowed thickly and felt your palm slide warmly against the bare skin on the top of his thigh, "I think you need someone to teach you to how to relinquish control." Simon tried stuttering out some incoherent protests, but you grabbed his jaw and forced his face to turn and look at you. His cock swelled at the sight of your heavy eyes considering him and the glimpse of your tongue running along the edge of your canine, before you pressed your lips to his cheek and whispered, "Shut up, Simon."

You let go of his chin, but between the feeling of your breath against his cheek and your hand suddenly palming at his half hard cock over his shorts, he decided that he couldn't do anything but sit there and pant. Your fingertips dug firmly into his thigh while your other hand slid into his shorts and massaged his balls. He watched the movement under his shorts with bated breath as you firmly wrap your hand around the base of his cock and gently squeeze. Clenching his jaw, his brows drew together and his eyes fluttered shut; he let his head tip forwards. He could feel you smile and give him another wet, licking kiss to his cheek and then jaw before suddenly your hands were pushing his shorts down his hips. Giving just enough space for his cock to sit freely.

"You might have to tap out a third time today, Si." You affectionatly teased against his skin. He tried to respond and only managed a whimper that caused you to giggle. Simons face flushed hotter when you spit in your hand and began slowly working his cock. You mixed your spit with his precum as you lightly massaged the tip. A breathy moan pushed from his throat at the sight and sensation. Your legs were still holding his spread and your other hand had slid up under his shirt to rest against his hairy stomach. As you began to slide your hand further down on his cock, he noted your fingers couldn't wrap all the way around. Glancing at your face, he had a newfound desire to see if you were pleased with him; his cock throbbing in your hand at the look of quiet satisfaction in your eyes and the sight of you biting your lip.

It was new for a woman to take control of him. For him to let a woman take control of him. A tight moan slipped out of him as your hand found a consistent pace to edge him at. Control was always in his hands, but this... You were definitely toying with him. Judging by the way your hand worked to milk his cock, you knew what you were doing. "Spit." You slowed your hand to a stop on his cock causing him to try and move his hips, though because of the way your legs still pinned his, he was unsuccessful. A noise of confusion came out of him instead of words and your hand left his cock to open, palm up, as you repeated, "Spit."

It clicked, and his whole face flushed again. You were definitely trying to show you were in control here and as much as he didn't want to give you the satisfaction, his cock twitched and dribbled precum at the realization. He reluctantly spit into your hand, and you cooed, "Ohhhh, such a good boy..." as you wrapped your hand around his cock once again. Your other hand reached down to play with his balls as you pumped his cock at a faster pace than before. You pressed wet languid kisses all along his jaw, cheek and the corner of his mouth with a grin on your face. His hips were minutely thrusting into your hand and he could feel his stomach tightening as his orgasm built up. Panting, he squeezed the hands wrapped around your thighs and jolted when you gave his balls a teasing little squeeze.

Simon's cock began pulsing as his orgasm hit and one of your hands moved to squeeze the base of his cock while the other kept stroking. Cum spurted out onto the mat and he moaned loudly while you giggled, "Ohh, good job." and then, "You're such a good boy, Simon." into his ear; allowing his cum to trickle down your hand. The realization that you weren't stopping caused a desperate moan to slip out of him. You were prolonging his orgasm for as long as you could until overstimulation kicked in. Suddenly, remembering your comment about him having to tap out a third time; his hand frantically tapped your thigh and you immediately let his cock go. Opting to fix sweet kisses all over the side of his face and hug onto him, instead. Trying to catch his breath, he closed his eyes and leaned back into you.

Fuck.

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alonetimelover · 6 months

Note

maybe reader showering harry with kisses after one of his shows and harry just talking it all in or something like that.

pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader

word count: ~700

warnings: they kiss, quite a lot; fluff !!

a/n: thank you @harrystylesnumber1 for coming up with the idea!

boyfriendrry masterlist taglist

——————————————————————————————

Adrenaline was buzzing through Harry’s veins as he was running down the stairs, straight from the stage of his first night back on tour. Love on Tour. Los Angeles. After years Harry was back in his element. And the love of his life was waiting right there, behind a black curtain with one of the biggest smiles on her face.

"Did you hear them?" Harry asked, nearing YN, placing huge steps to be close to her as quickly as possible.

"I did! It was so loud!" YN screamed excitedly, opening her arms for Harry to fall into them.

"I’m so pumped! I fucking missed it,” he mumbled the last sentence in YN’s shoulders, melting into her arms.

From the side they look like two pieces finally put together. Their bodies completed each other, every curve falling into every indent, the overall contour of them making one, complete and full line. People were used to how Harry and YN could fall into their own World and learn not to try to get them out of it. Even if they did, none of them would succeed. The couple, when in each other's presence, forgot about the circling world around them. No noise, no visuals could break them apart. Well, almost.

“Let me look at you.”

Harry lifted from her shoulder, giving her a tired but loving smile.

“I’m so proud of you.” YN caressed Harry’s face, brushing those curls back to see his eyes. The wrinkles by them just reflected how happy he actually was.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, lovie.”

With enamoured look in her eyes, YN closed the millimetres gap between their lips and welcomed Harry in one of the first post-concert blissful kisses. The type of kisses that Harry added to his favourites. Ones that lingered and stayed with him. Ones that just started but felt like they had been shared between them for centuries. The feeling of her soft (or sometimes chapped) lips against his deprived ones, brought him feelings of home, of something so familiar that could be just his.

“I love you,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his.

“Mhmm,” he almost giggled, pecking her multiple times. “I love you.”

Just like if the World stopped, YN and Harry fell into their embrace. From time to time, either of them would pick up their head and plant some small, some long and some lustful kisses on the other person’s body. Only when Harry neared that one spot YN’s breath hitched.

“Harry, not here.”

“There’s no one around,” he grinned to her neck, getting closer and closer to his destined spot.

There in fact were dozens of people around them. Harry’s band, management, friends and family were walking around the backstage space, trying to find the one and only - Harry. From his mother, through his manager to one of his cousins, they all tried to look for him and drink a celebratory drink.

“Harry, baby,” she pleaded, trying to take his mind off making her crumble at his feet in such a public place.

Harry eventually unlinked from her neck after having it lightly grazed with his teeth. Looking into her eyes, he sent her a smirk that he knew she couldn’t resist. One that he used to just make her agree to something that she would have but needed some encouragement.

Shaking her head with a grin, she once again kissed him, taking his breath away. They moved their lips in perfect rhythm. And when Harry placed one of his hands on YN’s lower back, she gasped from the closeness of their bodies, giving Harry a perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss. With her hands in his hair, she pressed harder and harder into him, craving that closeness.

“There you two are! Always hiding together!”

Upon hearing Harry’s mum's voice they fell apart, breaths heavy and swollen lips, trying to act like nothing had happened. Anne just smirked at them, shaking her head.

“I saw nothing. I know nothing. Just - just come with me. Everyone is waiting for you two.”

Felling their faces burning, they moved hand in hand behind the older woman, trying to suppress their smiles.

“Stop smiling,” YN whispered to Harry, pinching his side.

“Nope.”

And just like that he pecked her lips one more time for good measure and with a love-struck look picked up the pace, swinging their arms up and down.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry

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kaeyas-beloved · 5 months

Text

before i could tell you

Character: Wriothesley

— he died never knowing your greatest secret

CW: afab!gn!reader (they/them), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, pregnancy, death (Wriothesley), Fontaine Act 4 spoilers

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

happy birthday Wriothesley... <3

The clock in the Chief Justice's office never ticked as loudly as it did now. What once served as pleasant background noise was presently a gut-wrenching reminder that you're currently in the realm of reality and not some dream world. However, you still futilely fight against it... simply because it’s all you can and want to do.

"Quit... quit joking around, it's not funny." Neuvillette takes a deep breath through his nose, subtlety glancing at the other faces in the room. The traveler from afar can’t bring themselves to raise their head, Clorinde stands deep in thought and Paimon floats beside her companion, sniffling softly. All of them can’t bring themselves to face you, each harboring their own regret.

As the embodiment of justice, Neuvillette rarely jokes, especially with concerns to another’s life. You knew this well, and yet you still repeat that same plea to him, hoping you’ll get a different answer than just silence. “Don’t joke like that Neuvillette… he’s fine… Wriothesley’s okay… he’s at home isn’t he? Like he said he’d be?”

You’re holding yourself like it’s the last defense you have at not splitting at the seams, and Fontaine’s Iudex wants desperately to deliver a different verdict that what the world has decided. Words the Warden spoke to him one evening over a hot pot of tea echo in his mind as he looks at your fragile form.

“You’ll keep them safe for me, won’t you Neuvillette? Life as Warden has its twists and turns, you never know what might happen down here. Ah, but of course you know this, don’t you?” He followed with a carefree laugh, and he could easily lie about being unaware of the ticking time bomb he sat above if he wanted to.

He feels as if he’s failed the man in keeping that promise. You physically may be safe, but your heart is going through hell and back in that moment and there wasn’t anything he could do. He could only watch on as the world around you buzzed, everything suddenly a trigger made to launch your senses into a state of overload. The light pouring through the window is too bright, everyone’s presence is too suffocating, your chest tightens and your stomach feels like it’s tearing itself apart and you just might be sick right then and there if you didn’t take a breath.

The embrace you had on yourself tightens, and as a form of comfort you imagine the familiar heat of your husband hugging you from behind, his large frame encompassing and the only thing you ever needed to feel better at times like these. For just a moment you’re able to feel him hold you, tuck his head into your shoulder and telling you that everything will be alright as he keeps you afloat.

He can’t though, not anymore, and instead it’s Paimon who tries to console you through words and the champion duelist who steadies you when your legs threaten to give out. “It’s okay, Wriothesley would want you to stay happy right? He’d want you to keep living even though he’s not here with you…”

Your gaze slowly lifts to the pink fairy, a shaky breath forcing itself past your lips, “it’s not okay Paimon… he didn’t know… I didn’t get to tell him…”

Your quiet admission not only confused her but the others as well, “Paimon doesn’t understand, you didn’t get to tell him what exactly?”

Neuvillette suddenly speaks, his eyes scanning over you. Anyone who knew him could see the underlying shock in his irises, unprepared to face this new revelation, “you’re with child, aren’t you?” The pieces click in his mind and anyone that was paying attention would notice the beginning of a heavy downpour starting right outside.

Softly nodding, fat tears began to slide down your cheeks, voice breaking as you continue, “I was going to tell him today, after he got off work. He promised he’d make it home tonight. Oh that Wriothesley… stupid, stupid Wriothesley…”

“Tell me how what happened, please. In full detail,” your request is met by hesitant silence, Clorinde finally being the one to speak up. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow everything just got worse and worse.

He was splashed with Primordial Sea Water closing the gates in the Fortress of Meropide. There is no body to bury. There’s no way to say a final goodbye. The Iudex watches a fresh wave of tears line your eyes, your blank stare as you process everything his cue to proceed with what hehe had in mind.

Standing from his seat, he walks up to you and lifts your trembling hands, placing something cool in your palm. Looking down, you’re surprised to see the necklace you’d gifted Wriothesley a few years ago, the one he refused to take off because it, according to him, “feels nice against my heart. Like a piece of you is always with me.”

“This was… in the pile of clothes left behind. I believe it to be something returned back to you,” he said, patting your hand once before brushing past you. Out of your view the male waved the others out of the room, just to give you a few moments to yourself.

When the door closed was the same second the dam broke, sobs of a heartbreaking calibre echoing in the quiet room. There was only one thought that circled in your mind: he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. No more waking up to his gruff voice in the morning, hair tossed in all different directions. You’ll never feel his calloused hands caress your cheeks, his voice low and only meant for you as he tells you he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you as his spouse and how he can’t wait for what the future would bring you both.

No more gushing to one another about how you’ll spoil your children as much as you can, daydreaming about what the little ones could look like, only to cuddle close and ready to fall asleep with the promise that no matter what you’d love them regardless.

“We’re getting our biggest dream to come true Wriothesley… I’m telling you now, so come back and love them liked you promised dammit. I can’t do this without you.”

Tag list: (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

#val’s nsn #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley angst #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #genshin wriothesley #genshin writing #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader

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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

Note

2008 tom forcing reader to answer a call from her bf while they're secretly fucking, going faster and whispering dirty things in her ear as shes on call to tease her, making it harder for her to not to make any noise🤭🤭

btw I love ur writings sm, one of my fav writers fr😩

thankyouu😽🙏🏻

ANSWER IT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: your boyfriend calls you at a pretty inconvenient time, but tom forces you to answer, and you have to disguise what is really happening, tom not making it easy for you.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon! and oh my god this req is such a good idea, literally as soon as i saw it i knew it was gonna be the next one i write, and i had so much fun making this so thank u so much for requesting i hope u like it!!💞

come over, no one else is home. 10:47pm

i stared at the text message as it came through, the words looking back at me, contemplating on whether i should give in or not. my mind, the more rational, morally correct side of me, tells me that i should say no, reminding me that i have a boyfriend, who would be home from his business trip in just a couple of hours. but, the fact that my heart should have belonged to someone else had never stopped me before. my heart was more reckless, making rash decisions that spoke only for my impulses, not the part of me that felt guilty for what i had been doing for the past few months, completely unbeknownst to my boyfriend.

it was never meant to turn out like this, no. what was firstly settled as a ‘drunk mistake’ that my boyfriend wouldn’t have to know about became a sober fuck, one that happens at least once a week. i am hooked, unable to stay away from tom despite the constant nagging that reminds me how much of an evil person i am. but my guilty conscience is not strong enough to win me over, so i keep going back, completely addicted to the way tom feels, my boyfriend unable to give me the same satisfaction.

he is kind, loyal, loving. i don’t deserve him, really. he would come home from work every evening, completely oblivious of the fact that another man had been inside of me just hours before, intimate with me in the bed that we would sleep in every night - he knows nothing about any of it.

and it is this that reminds me that i should decline tom’s offer, my eyes still blazing into the phone screen as the message stares at me. i have a boyfriend, this is wrong. the voice inside of my head says, chanting it over and over, convincing me to make the right decision for once, instead of acting purely on desire. he would be heartbroken if he ever found out, he doesn’t deserve this. my conscience continues, on the brink of winning me over, the shame of what i have become sinking into me, nothing about this entire thing justifiable on my part. i can put a stop to this, do the right thing, all i need to do is say the word.

k, i’ll be over soon. 10:51pm

i sigh, a little embarrassed at my lack of self-control, knowing that tom has me wrapped around his finger, unable to decline his invitation. the blood is on my hands, staining my innocence, and i am far too into this to ever go back to the way things once were. i jump out of bed, rushing over to the mirror and inspecting my appearance. my makeup is a little messed up, so i take time fixing it, making sure i look perfect for tom, adjusting my hair after, removing any knots in at as it falls to my shoulders. finally satisfied, i grab my keys, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me, making my way to the parking lot.

i unlock my car, climbing in cautiously, checking that my boyfriend hadn’t unexpectedly arrived home early before turning off my location on my phone, getting used to doing these things to avoid getting caught as much as i could. the car engine starts with a low hum, radio quietly sounding out in the background as i drive to tom’s house, the guilt soon fading away as excitement buzzes around me.

the familiar house comes into view, but i park a little further down the street, not wanting to make it obvious that i was there in case my boyfriend did find out where i was. the street is dark as i climb out of my car, locking it before quickly walking towards his house, checking behind me and knocking on the door.

tom opens it within a few seconds, smirking whilst looking me up and down, moving to the side and giving me room to walk in. he shuts the door behind him, not wasting any time as he pushes me forcefully against the wall, attaching his lips to mine.

“missed you.” he mutters into the kiss as i whine a little in response, already too into it to give him a proper answer, but judging by the way his hands travel down my back, squeezing my ass firmly, it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking anyways.

but i didn’t mind, our hookups strictly sexual, no romance behind them. sure, he would whisper things into my ear in the heat of the moment, but i knew that it didn’t mean anything, and i didn’t want it to either. despite betraying my boyfriend in the most evil way possible, i didn’t want to end things with him, somehow still feeling something towards him though he could never pleasure me the way tom does.

without breaking the kiss, tom’s hands hook around my thighs, lifting me upwards as i instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, our lips moving against each other’s as he carries me to his bedroom, my hands locked around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders.

my back collides with the bed as he places me onto it, his hand flush against my back for support as he falls onto it with me, our lips never breaking, his body now on top of mine. he clearly doesn’t want to tease me, his hands finding the bottom of my hoodie, pulling it off and leaving it somewhere on his carpet, leaving me in only my shorts and small pink bra. he smirks at my lack of clothing, drinking it all in whilst his fingers play with the waistband of my shorts. he takes them off too, seeing that my panties match the bra, his tongue moving to the corner of his mouth.

“all this for me, hm?” he smirks, moving my thighs apart and leaning downwards, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them slightly as i let out a small moan, blushing at his words and nodding my head. “i bet he doesn’t touch you like i do, get you to put in all this effort for him.”

tom continues to taunt me, the mention of my boyfriend causing my heart to wrench, guilt settling in my stomach as it is enough to remind me how much of a bad person i am. but, the second tom pulls his t-shirt off, revealing his toned frame, adorned with muscle in all the right places, his abs on full display, any thought of my boyfriend is long gone, my eyes and mind only focused on what is in front of me - the view admittedly far better than anything he could ever give.

tom reconnects our lips, his tongue entering my mouth, hips beginning to grind against mine at a torturously slow pace, hands moving to swiftly unclip my bra. i start to become impatient, fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans as i scramble for the button, undoing them as his zipper follows. he sees that i am struggling, tugging them down himself and letting his boxers come off with them.

he moves my panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them down, before sliding into me, a long moan escaping from my lips as i feel him stretch my walls, already feeling so full.

“so fucking tight, always so good.” he mutters, his forehead against mine, his breath tickling my nose as he speaks, a choked moan sounding from his lips as he is fully inside. he waits a second, studying my expression, gauging that i am okay as he almost pulls out fully, before slamming into me unexpectedly.

my breathing is heavy, body glistening with sweat as i hold onto him, my hands raking down his back as his pace speeds up, becoming more fast and relentless. i am so far gone, in too much pleasure to even process anything that is happening around me - including the sound of my phone beginning to ring.

tom, however, notices immediately, picking it up from the bedside table whilst still thrusting into me, my eyes following his movements as i am too lost in ecstasy to ask what he is doing. he turns the phone, showing me who is calling. my eyes widen as i shake my head, signalling for him to put it down, not wanting him to stop.

“answer it.” is all he says, passing the phone to me, one hand on my hips, helping him to move in and out of me easier, whilst the other holds the phone to my ear. he accepts the call, smirking as my boyfriend’s voice can faintly be heard.

“baby? hey, uh, i just got home from work. where are you?” he asks, tom nodding his head, gesturing for me to speak. a knowing smirk spreads across his face as he speeds up his thrusts, my teeth sinking into my lips to prevent a moan that is dangerously close to spilling from them.

“h-hey love.” i pant, trying to sound nonchalant, failing miserably as i feel tom hit my g-spot, a muffled whine sounding from the back of my throat.

“what are you doing? you okay?” my boyfriend asks, his tone laced with confusion.

“sorry uh- my back is sore, the usual.” i manage to get out, quickly closing my mouth as tom stares into my eyes, enjoying the way i struggle, showing no sympathy as he only drills into me faster. “i’m- i’m at my mom’s house.”

the excuse is terrible, tom furrowing his brows once i utter the words, making me realise how unbelievable it is. but, he finds my lack of thought amusing, smiling a little before resting his head in the crook of my neck, planting rough, open-mouthed kisses there. i sigh out in response, quickly covering my mouth as i mentally curse my self.

“your mom’s place? what are you doing there? it’s like nearly midnight.” my boyfriend responds, clearly hesitant to buy my excuse.

“yeah, family emergency. i-i’ll…be home in the morning-” i have to stop my speech, pursing my lips shut as a moan is dangerously close to sounding from them.

tom smirks against my neck, goosebumps forming on the skin whilst his lips curve into a slight smile.

“look at you. getting fucked whilst your boyfriend is on the phone.” tom mutters, his voice low as he makes sure that his words can’t be made out through the phone. “so wrong. but you love it, don’t you, hm? fucking slut.”

tom continues to taunt me, paying attention to the way i bite my lip, or place my tongue on the roof of my mouth, even squeeze his upper arms, anything to stop any noise from coming out of my mouth, desperate to stay undetected.

“what? is everything okay?” my boyfriend asks, showing concern as he tries to extend the situation, much to my annoyance, unable to keep this up for much longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out in pleasure. “should i come-”

“no!” i quickly say, a little harsher than i initially intended to, the utterance a mix of desperation and an attempt to hold back a moan, the combination coming out as an abrupt plea. “i mean- she, she’s just…a little overwhelmed.”

tom begins to kiss the skin below my ear, biting at it gently, knowing this spot drives me crazy, and once i shiver a little, he knows that he has me right where he wants me, changing his thrusts a little as the new angle causes a familiar knot to build in my stomach.

“could he make you feel like this, hm? only i can, right baby?” he whispers, knowing the effect that he has on me, no need for me to verbalise it, the way my eyes screw shut at his movements enough to confirm it. “so needy, letting me do this to you whilst he can hear. if only he knew…”

his words against my neck combined with the new angle makes the urge to moan almost unbearable as i bite down onto tom’s shoulder, a low grunt escaping his mouth at my unexpected action. yet it only fuels his stamina as he chuckles under his breath, enjoying the effect he has on me, the thrill of the entire situation turning him on even more.

“oh, just, let me know if you need anything okay? i love you.” my boyfriend says, finally wrapping up the conversation as i sigh in relief, feeling at ease as i have somehow managed to pull this off.

but tom clearly isn’t satisfied with how i have managed to stay quiet, desperate to get some sort of noise out of me, and, he knows exactly how to do that. one hand still holding the phone to my ear, he moves his other downwards, using it to rub circles on my clit whilst thrusting in and out of me. and that is all it takes for a restricted moan to leave my lips, unable to be mistaken for anything else. i know that i am in deep shit.

“what the fuck was that? what’s going on? are you fucking someone?” my boyfriend asks, his voice raising as he has finally picked up on what is going on.

“w-what? are you crazy? of course not!” i quickly say, panting through my words, no longer able to hide it, knowing that i am completely fucked.

“don’t fucking bullshit me! where the fuck are you? i can’t believe this, you’re fucking cheating on me? i swear to fucking god once i find-”

his furious rambling is cut off as tom ends the call, turning my phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, his hand now running up and down my waist.

“i did you a favour. he was fucking annoying anyways.” tom breathes out, a satisfied grin tugging on his lips, only faltering once he reconnects them with mine, the hurt of what had just happened never sinking in, tom’s movements more than enough to make me forget.

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#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz twins #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Dirty Work 41

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: it's thursday and i'm thirsty.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You have no tears left. When you’re still and silent, standing in Odin’s arms, slumped against him, the birds sing a little louder and the sun shines a little bright. You feel almost cleansed despite the hollow at the pit of your stomach. You lift your head and wipe your damp cheeks as he slowly lets his embrace fall away from you.

You sniffle and peer back through the garden, towards the house. You’e not ready to face them all, not with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. Odin pats your shoulder gently, rubbing your arm as he coos your name.

“I have something else to show you,” he says and offers his hand.

You take it and gulp down the last of your grief. He turns you away from the great Odinson manse and leads you around the fountain. Leaves rustle softly and the water trickles soothingly. He guides you down a path hidden behind a cluster of bramble, overgrown with moss and ivy, littered with winged samara and sprouting blooms.

The noise of the fountain fades behind you as you enter an archway formed by outstretched maple branches, canopied in the spring leaves. There’s a small structure ahead shrouded in purple wisteria. A gazebo, smaller than that on Laufeyson’s property, forged in stone with rounded windows upon each side. Within, the walls have benches jutting out, another doorway opposite the entrance, looking out into a shadow swath of untrimmed foliage.

“It is old, a bit unkempt, much like myself,” he chuckles as he lets you go.

“It’s beautiful,” you preen as you admire the neat lines between each stone block, “wonderful… I… I love it.”

“It’s a perfect hiding place,” he muses, “a perfect place to have one’s breakfast without disturbance.”

You turn to him, a question stitches between your brows.

“I will fetch you tea? Yes? Perhaps some fruit and something more substantial?”

“I…”

“Dear, you think overly much of others and not enough of yourself. Sit, enjoy your solitude while you can, and I will return with all you need,” he insists.

“I can’t, Mr. Lauf–”

“You let me worry for my son,” he interjects. “I’ve no doubt his part in your despair.”

You don’t argue further. You wouldn’t dare. You lower your head and sit along the stone bench against the wall and turn to peer out the window. It is wonderful there. Like a little world of your own.

You glance over but he’s already gone. You barely even heard him with the buzz of insects and scratch of sneaky critters all around. You turn back to the long window and watch a dragonfly skim along the ground, whizzing up, down, and back and forth. It’s as if you escaped into a book you read as a girl, where everything was magical and spectacular. You don’t think you’ll get a happy ending though.

Your mind wanders through the greenery and back to the house. The bedroom, dark in the small hours of the night, laying awake, staring at the wall, Mr. Laufeyson’s warm breaths puffing into your neck. Those moments when he doesn’t seem so intimidating but remains perplexing. One moment, wrapped around you, the next toying with you like a puppet.

Your core tingles and you bend your legs on the bench, squeezing them together. The sensations swirl in your mind with the shower steam. As delightful as it all was, your heart rents with shame. The way he left you on the tile, the expectation you would get yourself up and go to him, ready to be used again. As always, you have a duty.

Mr. Laufeyson does not care for you as a person, you doubt you’ll ever be that in his eyes. You are just another possession, like his records on the shelf, or that telescope he polishes so vehemently. Just another number in his collection.

You hear a snap and blow away the anxiety as best you can. You can’t worry about it so deeply, you know what you agreed to. He has given what he’s promised; you’ve been fed, clothed, and housed. You need him more than he could ever need you.

You turn to the doorway as Odin appears again, a tray in his hands. He brings it to the next bench and sets it down. There’s a cup of tea and a stack of square waffles beneath a dusting of sugar and heaps of berries. It smells delicious as your mouth waters for a taste.

“I’ve brought this as well,” he stands straight and takes a book from under his arm, “I hope it will keep you entertained.”

“Oh?” You watch him set it down.

“Today is for you, dear, you won’t be disturbed, I will see to it,” he declares, “Walpurgisnacht approaches and we all must be ready for the spring. Lay the past behind so we can start again.”

You lower your eyes, “thank you, Odin.”

“No need for that,” he says, “I only ask that you do one thing for me,” he nears and pets your head. You peer up at him as you heart seizes. “You will be kind to yourself.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“You should take care of her,” he points to you, “I rather like her a lot and I hate to see those I care for suffer.”

You smile, “I will.”

“Better,” he grins and retreats, “I will be in to check on you periodically.”

“Thank you,” you call after him and he gives a half-salute before he’s off, whistling into the air.

You exhale and let the last of the tension slake away. You drag the tray close and cut into the fluffy stack. You remember how you always wanted a waffle maker. Instead, you always had the frozen waffles you slid into the old overheating toaster. These are much better, they’re sweet and oh so yummy.

Sitting there, in the small gazebo, amidst the wilderness, you feel like a bird in a nest. Safe, cozy, and alone.

✨

You lose yourself in the pages of the book. The sun shifts as you move with it, keeping the ink in its light as you imbibe every word like sweet nectar. It’s like staring in a mirror as you feed on the tale of one, Jane Eyre.

Your literary meditation is splintered by the sudden ripple of a shadow and the clearing of a throat; gentle, almost reluctant to tear through the serenity. You look up at Odin as he stands in the archway, a small curve amidst his thick white beard.

“Apologies,” he says as he comes forward to gather up the tray, “I’m afraid it’s time.”

You deflate and close the book. You stand and hold out the book, “I can get all that.”

“No, no, I can manage,” he assures you, “and that is for you, dear. Keep that as your own.”

“I couldn’t–”

“You have some to go, haven’t you?” He eyes the book, “please, I have enough books.”

You look down at the book and hug it. It’s like a new best friend. You just want to spend all your time amidst its pages.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever you need,” he backs out of the gazebo, “come with me now. Let us put our masks on.”

You giggle and follow him. He says it so well. It’s like slipping back into a costume. You feel the peace chipping away and the tension once more has you rigid. Back to the real world.

“Now, we cannot give ourselves away,” he halts just out of sight of the veranda, “I shall go ahead and you will follow that path,” he turns and nods behind the row of hedges, “follow it around the front and you may slip in.”

“Oh, uh…” You blink and look over your shoulder, “that way?”

“Yes, it will take you right around to the front door.”

“Right, thank you… again.”

He bows his head and steps forward. You turn off in your own escape as the slippers on your feet clap against the ground. You come out in the golden sunshine and tramp across the stonework of the arced drive. As you come up the steps, the door opens from within. You stop at the middle stare and gape up.

“There you are,” Mr. Laufeyson greets, almost an accusation, “where’ve you been off to?”

Your brows pop up and you peer around, “reading.”

“Reading? You couldn’t do so in your room?” He challenges.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I broke the rules.”

“You broke the rules– get inside,” he points you inside as he steps back. You obey and he snaps the door at your entrance, turning towards you with a finger in the air. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I’m very sorry.”

He sighs and drops his hand, gripping his hip, “where were you reading?”

“Outside.”

“Outside– be straight, where?”

“In the garden,” you say plainly, lips down turned, “I only wanted to watch the butterflies.”

You look up at him, a pout in your lower lip, and bat your lashes. You clutch the book tighter and his eyes fall to squint at it. He reaches and curls his fingers around the top, wiggling it free. He flips it over to read the spine.

“This is a first edition,” he states as he examines, “where did you find this?”

The disbelief in his voice makes you nervous. First edition?

“Is it very old?” You ask.

He winces and looks at you, his green eyes lit, “1847… I’d say so.”

“Oh?” You bat your lashes.

“Not in its original form,” he turns it over, “it’s been rebound into a single volume. The first print was in three parts and this cover… it can’t possibly be so ancient.”

You gulp and purse your lips.

“So I have to wonder, where you found this,” he sneers at you.

“Well, I… your father gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? To read? He lent it to you?”

“Um, he just said… to keep it as my own,” you shrug.

“Do you--keep it? A first edition Bronte?” He sounds ready to explode, “so that is where you’ve been? With my father?”

“I saw him, Mr. Laufeyson, but I was mostly alone,” you sniff, “I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m sorry. Again.”

“Is that all you’re going to say? Sorry, sorry, sorry?”

You nod, “sorry.”

He closes his eyes and pinches his nose, “you will stay close.” He offers the book back to you, “put this away and put on some proper shoes,” he looks down at the oversized slippers, “I’ve some errands to run for mother and you will come along. Do your duty.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson is quiet throughout the drive. So are you. You accept your penance and roil in the thick silence, fingers twiddling and twining restlessly. His sighs make you flinch as you await further reprimand.

He pulls in before a shop front of white trimmed in red. He gets out without waiting and you follow after him. You trail him inside as he strolls across to the counter where women in red aprons and caps smile back at him.

“Hello, I’ve come to pick up an order for Odinson,” he declares flatly.

“Frigga? Oh yes,” the shorter of the pair flits into the backroom.

“You don’t remember me?” The other woman asks. Laufeyson’s eyes shoot darts at her and his brows arch.

“I recall you spilled vodka on my wedding shoes, yes,” he scoffs.

“Oh,” she makes a face, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten that part.”

“Mm,” he hums and taps his fingers on the shining countertop.

The other woman returns and slides over a large white box, a red seal stuck along the corner to keep it firmly closed. Laufeyson takes out his wallet, “how much then?”

“Paid for,” the woman proclaims, “all yours.”

“Right,” he slides the box off and pivots smoothly.

You peer back before you scurry ahead of him to the door, opening it as his hands are full. That woman was at his wedding? Did she know Sif? Was it a big event? Did everyone go? You don’t ask any of the questions that flood your head. You’d rather not know.

He balances the box in one hand and reaches into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the trunk. He tucks the box firmly against the emergency kit to keep it in place.

“Whatever it is, it should be kept cool in here,” he shuts the lid, “though I wonder why mother couldn’t have it brought with tomorrow’s delivery.”

You don’t say a word. You wouldn’t know either. He strides back along the side of the car and dips into the driver seat. You mirror him as you get in on the passenger’s and he presses the button to turn the engine. He sighs and rests the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. He glances in the rear view.

“I’ve another stop to make.”

That’s all he says. It isn’t a question, just a statement. Though you wonder why he even made the declaration. You don’t need to know, you just go along.

He backs out and rolls out of the lot into the street. You distract yourself with the other storefronts and the veneers of city buildings. He drives onto an avenue and slows along the curb, shifting to a stop before he once more shuts off the engine.

Again, he gets out without instruction. You follow. That’s all you can do. He heads up to the grey brick house. Where are you? It isn’t until you’re at the front door that you notice the metal placard mounted on the wall; Bragi Skald, Antiques and Artifacts.

Laufeyson clangs the large knocker on the door and checks his watch. You wait. It’s quiet. You see no light through the windows but the curtains are drawn flush to the windows, as if they’ve been sealed.

The hinges whine suddenly as the door swings inward, “Ah, Loki!” A blond man at least head shorter than his visitor greets, “wonderful to see you again. I did have it in my ear that you were about, I was curious as you when you should darken my doorway.”

“Bragi,” Laufeyson replies tersely.

“And who is this gorgeous creature,” the man’s crystal blue eyes surprise you as the bow in his lip deepens. He sends you a wink and offers his hand, “forgive me, sweetheart, I nearly missed you there, and how could I overlook such a ravishing woman.”

“Enough,” Laufeyson girds.

“I haven’t even introduced myself–”

“This is Bragi,” Laufeyson introduces the man then utters your name pointedly in return.

“Ah, beautiful name but that hardly answers my curiosity. Who is she? Oh, don’t tell me, you’re marrying again–”

“Hardly,” Laufeyson swipes away the thought with his hand, “I only need to be away from my family.”

“Yes, yes, of course. With Walpurgisnacht, I can only imagine–”

“Be glad you only have to imagine it,” Laufeyson scowls. “Are you going to welcome us in or shall we continue to stand on your porch like tramps?”

“Come, come,” Bragi opens the door wider, “Lady, please, don’t mind the clutter.”

Laufeyson waves you ahead of him. You enter and hold back your shock at the interior. You can hardly see the walls for the stacks of books all around, many with sheaths of paper jutting out. It smells like cinnamon and hint of dust.

“What are we in the mood for? Tea? Or something stronger? I’ve some absinthe–”

“Don’t be mad,” Laufeyson rebukes, “tea will do fine. Just tea, none of your tricks.”

“You speak to me of tricks?” Bragi hums, “is that a sense of humour I sense, oh, dour Loki.”

You lock your jaw to keep from gaping. You’ve never heard anyone talk to Mr. Laufeyson like that, not anyone outside his family, and even Thor did not mock him so lightly.

“Do you want tea?” Laufeyson looks over at you.

“If it isn’t any trouble.”

“Tea,” Laufeyson snaps his fingers at Bragi.

“Do you like scones, lady?” Bragi turns his attention to you.

“I’m not very hungry, thank you–”

“Lady!” A squawk makes you jump, drawing your attention to the flutter of blue feathers that descends to perch on the banister post. A great blue parrot tweaks its head and repeats the word.

“Oh, hush,” Bragi shoos away the bird but only receives a nip of its sharp beak, “don’t listen to Fossegrim. He talks too much.” Bragi shakes his head and retreats down the hallway, “tea, tea, tea…” he chants as if he might forget.

Laufeyson tuts, “he speaks of talking too much…”

You stare up at the blue parrot as it stares back at you. Around its eyes and mouth are bright yellow strips. It’s a pretty creature.

“Lady,” it bawks again and hops off the banister, winging around the space to land on your shoulder.

You gasp as Laufeyson takes a step back. He just sends a troubled look to the bird and glances around, “in here,” he points you through the doorway behind him.

“Um…” you move carefully, trying not to disturb the bird.

In the next room, a large harp stands in one corner, a piano the other, and a litter of various instruments on shelves mounted on the walls. There’s a twelve-string guitar on the sofa, leaned against the armrest as if it was left there haphazardly.

“Be very careful,” Laufeyson returns, “it bites.”

“Bite!” The parrot squawks and snaps in Mr. Laufeyson’s direction. He sighs and once more eludes the bird’s breadth.

“Wish he’d lock that thing up,” he mutters.

You stand like a statue, nervous. You turn your head slowly to look at the parrot. It leans in and nuzzles your hair. You stay as you are, paralysed as you fear it might snap at you too. A grating chitter rises from its throat, softer than its former screech. It continues the purrlike noise as it rocks on your shoulder.

“Is it singing?” You ask as Laufeyson stares with arms crossed.

“I have no idea. Let’s hope it’s not growling.”

You frown and clasp your hands tight. If the bird keeps Mr. Laufeyson away, it can’t be so bad.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #series #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 4 months

Text

Best friends - p3

pairings - Rafe Cameron x best friend!reader

summary - if Cooper can’t have you, no one can.

Warnings - violence, assault, language (18+)

Part 2

Your phone began to buzz erratically on your bedside table, with crusty eyes you searched for it half asleep. Unknown number flashed on your screen, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

Your mind was flooded with memories of Cooper, could it be him? Or was it just a random number prank calling you?

You choose to ignore it, feeling physically ill at the idea of it being Cooper. It had been nearly 3 weeks of no contact, the island was small but you never seemed to run into him. Probably because Rafe was with you, he never left your side.

He did everything with you, it all felt familiar. Just how it had been before he went off to college, you couldn’t deny that you loved it. The only times you were brought out of your little Rafe bubble was when Lola called.

You could hear him arguing with her most late nights when he excuses himself from dinner or during a movie.

He never brought her up, never disclosed why they were fighting. But you weren’t stupid, you knew it was because of you. He was meant to be back at school with her but he chose to stay back here with you.

You squeezed your eyes closed to rid the thoughts of Rafe, just as you begin to fall back to sleep your phone went off for a second time, before you could talk yourself out of it you pressed the answer button ready to tell the idiot in the other line to fuck off.

“Finally”

The words caught in your throat, how could you be so stupid to answer the phone. Cooper’s voice was low and soft. “I miss you”.

You pulled yourself out of the bed, you begin pacing the bedroom floor. Walking to one end of the room spinning and doing the same thing again, feet burning marks into the carpet.

Why had you been so stupid to answer the call? Of course it would be Cooper, you never left him unanswered this long.

“You look nice”. Halting your movements your head whips around, looking for any sign of him in your bedroom. The door is still wide open for Rafe to check on you when he wants to.

“I really don’t like that you're only wearing a shirt to bed y/n, Rafe is right across the hall” he growled, goosebumps littered your skin. It felt like he was right behind you, hot breath fanning over the skin on your neck.

“Where are you?” You squeak, pressing your back against the wall. Eyes still searching the darkness of your room. Why didn’t you sleep with a nightlight?

“Look outside”

You step towards the window, all you see is darkness stretched as far as the gates surrounding your house. The porch light had not turned on so he couldn’t be outside, it would have picked up the movement.

“Now turn around”

You let out a blood curdling scream, Cooper stood in the doorway. Within seconds he slams the door behind him and locks it, striding over towards your frozen body pressed against the window.

“God I missed you baby” he growls, drinking in the smell of you. You could smell the tequila on his breath, it was intoxicating. His lips press against your neck, fingers gripping the hem of your T-shirt, bunching up against your waist to give him a dick teasing glimpse of your black panties, He pulls you flush against him, your body shakes in fear. “It’s like you knew I was coming to visit you” he whispers, his large palm cups your mound. You bite down on your tongue, clenching your legs as close as possible to stop him from moving your underwear aside.

“Coop” you squeak out, he ignores you and continues his attack on your neck. Screwing your eyes shut you let out another cry for help, this had to wake Rafe up.

“Shut the fuck up” he shouts, wrapping his hand around your throat. He tightens his grip and smacks your head against the window. A dull pain shoots from the back of your head to your eyes, crying out in pain he stops you from making noise by pressing his lips to yours. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, you could taste the saltiness of them as his tongue violated your mouth. You once craved Cooper’s touch but now it made you sick.

“Y/n?!” Rafe shouts, his fists bang on the door in worry. The door handle shakes obnoxiously as he tries to get in.

“Look what you’ve done, now I’m going to have to kill him” he grunts, he drops your body onto the window ledge, a sharp sting radiates from your ass cheeks to your back. You're watching as he strides towards the bedroom door. “RAFE! Call the police!” You scream, before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab the knife you’ve been keeping under your pillow and start running at him.

Your insides churn as your chest meets his back, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his stomach. “Bitch!” He shouts, the knife you held pressed against his neck. If he stumbled just a little the blade would pierce the skin, he’d bleed to death on your bedroom floor.

“Make one more move and I push this blade into your throat Cooper” you warn, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. All of your blood has rushed to your head as you try to calm your erratic breathing.

“Your a stupid fucking bitch, you really think Rafe wants you? He fucking left you!” He screams, he doesn’t move though. He doesn’t even try to pull you away, he stands dead still. “He didn’t speak to you for how long y/n? You texted and texted and he never responded” his voice is eerily calm, his breathing is slow a huge contrast to yours.

A coldness washes over your body, his words hitting harder than you expected. He was right, Rafe did leave, he did forget about you.

You don’t even realize you pulled the knife away from his neck until he’s twisting your wrist and body slamming you to the floor.

You let out a choked scream, the breath being knocked out of you. Pain radiates throughout your body, paralyzed to the floor. Cooper stands over you, staring down at you with anger in his eyes.

“You need to get it through your thick skull, Rafe doesn’t love you and he never will”. He growls, he taps his fingers to your temples. The knife you had once possessed was now pressed against your throat, threatening you to move or speak. Your eyes widen in fear, watching Cooper go inside his head for a moment, contemplating his next move. Your mind wanders to Rafe, where was he? He hadn’t come back since you shouted for him to call the police.

“If I can’t have you, no one can”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything around you goes black.

You awoke to darkness around you for the second time tonight or was it morning? everything hit you all at once and you jolted from your position. Pain radiated from your lower back to your frontal lobes, Hands searching only to be met with a plush blanket. Your heart beat slows as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were still in your room, had everything been a dream? Your fingers brushed against your throat, wincing at the pain. It definitely wasn’t a dream.

“Rafe?” You choke out, he steps into the bedroom within seconds. Switching the small lamp on by the door, his lip is cut and there is swelling under his left eye. “What happened?”.

“Cooper is in custody” you expect him to look happy, but anger is etched on his gorgeous face. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and walks over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His fingers find yours giving you a squeeze, your shoulders relax forward. “He’s not going to stay in there” you don’t say anything but stare at him. “He’s only in there because I pressed charges, if you want him in prison you need to press charges”.

Your world feels like it’s crumbling around you, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to tell your mum of the pain you’ve been enduring, you didn’t want people on the island to find out.

“I don’t think so”

“Y/n don’t be stupid, he’s not going to stop. He could kill you, your lucky we got inside the room when we did”

Tears are spilling from your eyes, you're crawling under a blanket with a gasp of pain. Your ribs were on fire along with your head.

“Do you want to know what he was doing to you when the police knocked the door down?”

A loud hiccup left your throat, pressing your swollen face further into the mattress. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you felt the pain from what he had done, you weren’t sure if you needed the memories.

“He had his hands wrapped around your throat, he was squeezing so tight I thought you were dead. You didn’t move the whole way to the hospital”

You flinch at the idea of going to the hospital but stay silent. “You didn’t move or say anything for the first 48 hours” your eyes widened and you threw the blanket from your body. “48 hours?”

“You’ve been in and out of it for 7 days y/n, I have drs in your bedroom everyday. You’ve been hooked up to machines for days, they’ve literally only just let with the equipment”.

The words you want to speak are stuck in your throat, Cooper had put you in hospital… Cooper had you barely conscious for 7 days straight.

The strangled cry that leaves you hyperventilating, reaching out for Rafe to hold you. His arms wrap around you tightly, stroking your long hair. “I- I um I want to talk to the police”.

Not even 2 hours later you sat in your kitchen with the police, going over everything with them. Staring from the first time he hit you, which was barely a hit if you look at yourself now. They wrote everything down and kept straight faces, your insides churned when you spoke about the sexual assault. You wanted to ask for Rafe but they states no one could be in the room with you only your lawyer, who kept her mouth zipped the whole time.

When they finally left and said they’d call, Rafe pulled you into a hug and whispered how proud he was of you. He stroked your arm how he did when you used to cry to him about stupid boys in school.

“Can we just pretend like none of this happened for a bit? I just want to forget”

“Of course, come on we can go make pizza”

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futureplayboibunnie · 10 months

Text

Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’’ He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’

#miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel ohara smut #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara angst #spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse

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astupidweeb69 · 5 months

Text

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 8

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

Author’s Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my previous one's but, I figured it was better than nothing. I might end up rewriting this to make it longer or something.

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Some threats of violence. (1,276 words)

___________________________________________________________

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said it so genuinely, like there was nothing wrong with the situation. Like he hadn’t taken you from your home, stalked you, tormented you, fucking bashed your head in with a baton. He said the words as if he was just a regular school boy confessing to his crush.

It made you sick to your stomach.

“Well? Are you guh-going to say something?”

He sounded impatient, as if you were the one in the wrong somehow. You looked up from the ground, his dark eyes and expression turning colder each second that passed.

“You’re insane.”

Wrong answer.

Toby’s face dropped, and with a heavy tension in the air, he raised his arm, his hand closing into a fist.

You prepared for the worst.

Then, Toby took a sharp breath, holding it for a moment, and exhaled. Slowly lowering his hand again. Trying to muster up the strength to not lash out, most likely.

“I’ll give you some time to warm up to me. I wuh-won’t hurt you.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll tuh-try not to.”

He didn’t sound very convincing.

You decided to hold your tongue for the time being. At least until you came up with a game plan to get out of this fucking place.

Toby sat down on the couch next to you, still pissed off. The sudden shift in weight causing you to look over at him. It was hard not to notice just how big he was. Tall and lanky, but at this distance it was obvious he did some kind of exercise. He’d be hard to take down on your own, and you’d need some kind of weapon that could immediately incapacitate him. He couldn’t feel pain. You knew that now.

“See suh-somethin’ you luh-like?”

Your thoughts were interrupted, noticing the wide grin stretched across Toby’s face as he looked you over. You had been staring.

Albeit, you were trying to figure out how to kick his ass, but you had been staring nonetheless.

Frowning, you decided it was best to stay silent, choosing to just shake your head ‘no’.

Toby sighed. The noise making you jump a little. “There’s nothing you can do now.” He put his arm around you, your body tensing as you were pulled into him. “And that’s okay.”

The ends of fingers started playing with your hair.

“It isn’t.”

Your voice came out quieter than you’d had hoped. But soon rose from desperation, sadness, anger or a combination of the three.

“It isn’t okay. I have a life, I have fucking friends who care about me, you can’t just tell me it’s okay. God! How could a person be so selfish?!”

“Because I can.” Toby hissed. “Fuh-for once I can be selfish. I finally found suh-something that I want. So I’m going to get it. Even if I have to drag you back here kicking and screaming over and over again.”

His words sunk in, like a rock falling into a bottomless pit.

“You’ll have to.”

Toby laughed cruelly at your response, not phased at all by your determination. He leaned forward in his seat, playing and picking with the skin on his hands. His nose scrunched in a smile, and he turned his head to you, putting a hand on your knee. “That’s fine. I duh-don’t mind a cat and muh-mouse chase every once in a while.”

____________________________________________________________

You felt numb. Your brain buzzing, probably the after effects from the head injury Toby gave you. All the energy you had was focused on the fireplace on the other side of the room. You could hear your captor behind you in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. After a couple of failed attempts to get you to speak, he resorted to pacing the cabin, occasionally glaring at you. Muttering phrases and curses under his breath. He finally stopped when your stomach started growling, quickly making his way to the fridge to find you something to eat. Of course, you didn’t ask him to. You decided you weren’t going to ask him for anything.

But there was one thing that had started to bug you, well, other than the whole kidnapping thing.

Scanning the room more intently, you noticed two hatchets that hung by the front door. One with a bright orange handle, and the other dull and wooden. They looked well used, and if it wasn’t your paranoia just seeing things, there were definitely specks of red on the handles and on the holster they hanged from.

It made you wonder what Toby did in his free time.

Sure, you had asked him before if he was going to kill you. And he had alluded to murdering people in his fits of rage. And although you never saw any evidence of it, bloody fucking axes on the wall seemed like pretty solid proof.

You moved closer to get a better look at them.

“Hey. Yuh-your food.”

A bowl of cold soup was shoved in front of your face.

Toby stood next to you frowning, trying to figure out what you were looking so intensely at.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I was - um….. Nothing?” You stammer back.

He placed the bowl into your hand and walked over to the wall, lifting the leather holster off the hooks. The blades of the hatchets swung as he carried them over, before sitting down on a musty chair across from you.

“You like em’?” Toby asked, a hint of tease in his voice, like he was trying to be playful.

“Not really” You shot back.

“Aw, yuh-you’re hurting my feelings.”

Toby took the orange one out of the holster, tossing it back and forth in his hands with ease. He looked up at you for a moment and smirked, before l lifting the handle behind his head, and throwing it forward. It missed your head by a few inches, but you still ducked instinctively. The blade connected on the other side of the wall with a loud ‘THUNK’, the force knocking some empty bottles off the window sill and shattering on the floor.

“What the fuck!”

He cackled at your reaction, throwing his head back in the chair. After a few moments he collected himself.

“Duh-don’t worry, I have good aim.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. "Why do you have those?”

He glanced over at the hatchet embedded in the wall and then back to you. “Firewood.” Was his curt response.

You didn’t believe him.

A small buzzing sound came from Toby’s pocket, startling you both for a moment. He furrowed his brows, before taking out his phone, and glanced down at the screen. He grimaced, reading through something.

“F-fuck.”

If you were wanting an explanation, you weren’t going to get one. Because he got up from his chair and angrily stormed through his home, saying nothing, and grabbing items to get ready for something. He stopped in front of you with a small plastic bag.

Zip ties.

Of course he would tie you up.

“Get up.”

You rose to your feet hesitantly, not liking his tone at all. Something in those texts must have set him off. His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to his bedroom where you had first woken up in this hell hole. He threw you onto the bed, and placed your wrist against a metal pole on his bed frame, securing the zip tie to your hands so you couldn’t move. Toby grinned once he was done.

“There. Suh-so you don’t get any ideas while I’m guh-gone.”

Before he left the house, you heard him call out.

“I’ll be back soon!”

#creepypasta #ticci toby #reader insert #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere #toby rogers #fanfiction #my writing #yandere ticci toby

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 — 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 ‘𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏’ 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

↳ summary: "Were you just masturbating?" - Returning from a shower after a gruelling midnight run, you catch Johnny red handed...

↳ pairing: SASRecruit!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader

↳ [1k] content: – Set during SAS Recruitment Training, so younger Soap! Soap caught masturbating, depreciation, vague allusions to a bit of a power play, spitting, handjob. Something light and silly for me to get used to writing for John <3

soap masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

You towel dry your hair roughly with a hand towel, exhaling heavily as you pace down the corridor back to the barracks. A shower had never felt so damn good, the Staff finally releasing you from what could only be described as torture. A run in the middle of the night with a 55lb bergen strapped to your back. Hours of trekking up the mountains in the belting rain.

When you’d finally hobbled back into camp, feet almost numb, you’d noted the clock on the wall reading as 03:00. Needless to say, you could have cried when you entered the shower. In fact, you’d been so relieved by the steaming hot water running over your skin that you stayed behind when Johnny shouted an offer to walk back with you over the stall.

Just five more minutes.

Now you were excited to crawl into bed. The sun was coming up outside, an orange tinge to the sky signalling for the birds to begin their choir. Twisting the door handle to your shared bunk with Johnny, you pause at the resistance that meets you, the door stopping in place despite pushing it forward.

Peering around the door, you note the bundle of khaki fabric strewn haphazardly in the middle of the floor– a standard-issue army t-shirt. One you certainly hadn’t abandoned on the floor when you left for the run.

“Johnny– I’m getting tired of you leaving your shit arou–…”

One quick glance towards Johnny’s bunk has you freezing in place. He’s sat up in bed, the sheet pulled over his body. If it weren’t for the flush on his cheeks, the pinch of his brows and his hands stuffed under the covers, you’d never have figured it out… But–

“Were you just masturbating?” It escapes you before you can swallow the intrusive question, blurted out without thinking. Johnny lets out a painfully awful scoff, rolling his eyes theatrically.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Johnny speaks, and his voice is strained. His eyebrows pull up when he notes the smirk on your lips, a panicked expression playing on his face. “N-Naw, I wasn’t doin’ anythin’!”

“Mhmm-hm,” you smirk, bending down to grab the t-shirt at your feet. You can feel the Scotsman’s eyes burn a hole into you as you rise, carefully folding his shirt once, twice. Then, approaching the bottom of his bunk, you check the creases; the fabric doubled into a perfect square.

“What’re you doin’, lass?” he questions, watching cautiously as you neatly lay the perfectly folded clothing on the mattress where his feet are. You shrug innocently, smoothing your palm over the material.

“Nothing. Why’re you acting like this? I thought you weren’t up to anything?” You muse, fixing him with a pointed look as you drag your hand over the shape of his shin. Johnny looks like he’s swallowed his tongue, wide-eyed with crimson cheeks.

“N-Nope!” The stutter catches you both off guard, and you can’t help the grin that stretches across your lips. You and Johnny had done thirty-four-hour stints in the mock interrogation, suffered stress positions and headphones playing white noise and babies screaming until your ears buzzed, yet somehow the Scotsman looked far more terrified now.

“Then you won’t mind if I pull back the covers, would you, Johnny?” You murmur, hand creeping further up his body. You pass his knee, fingertips skirting the length of his thigh. In turn, he lets out a shuddering breath, chest lurching with a sudden intake of breath.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers, looking up at you with wide eyes, “Fuck- I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon….”

“Don’t stop on my account,” you murmur, maintaining eye contact. His pupils swallow the bright blue of his irises, lips parting when you arch your brow in question. You gonna carry on?

Johnny’s hand moves under the covers, dragging the length of his cock as he groans through gritted teeth. His eyelids flutter, watching you as your hand walks two fingers up the stretch of his chest. He looks so pretty like this, you think, flushed and nervous. Swelling with pride, you note that even the Staff hadn’t been able to make him this flustered.

Riding this high, urged on by your greed, you let go of any inhibition.

“Do you think of me?” You murmur, taking ahold of Johnny’s chin. His eyes nearly pop out of his skull at such an invasive question, his lips pursing when you squeeze his cheeks together.

“Y-Yea,” he admits, his cheeks warming beneath your fingertips. The embarrassment does little to stop him, however, fisting his cock even quicker beneath the bedsheets. “Ssso bonneh, lass-“

Chuckling at how he slurs his words, you pinch his cheeks harder before releasing him. Poor Johnny chokes out a groan, dragging his fist over the length of his cock. You jut out your bottom lip, feigning pity as you glance down at the movement beneath the covers.

“You need help? You seem to be struggling.”

“Hoh, Steamin’ Hell…” Johnny’s eyes roll back into his skull as he chokes on his breath, “Fuck yeah-“

“Yeah?” You muse, tone mocking as you hold your hand before his face, “Help me out then.”

It’s like unlocking a whole different side of him. The usually argumentative, jovial John MacTavish instantly follows your order. He spits into your palm, gazing up at you and murmuring thanks over and over again. He doesn’t even argue when you pull back the duvet, he just groans when the fabric drags over the head of his sensitive cock.

“Mhmm-“ you hum softly, casting your eyes over his throbbing cock as it lays against his abdomen, “You gonna be quiet for me?”

You don’t even give him a moment to answer, taking up his dick and running your slick palm down the length of it. The devastating moan rattles Johnny’s lungs, his back arching from the wall when you brush the pad of your thumb over the weeping head to smear precum over the sensitive tip.

“Yeah,” you smirk, beginning to jerk him off slowly, “That’s what I thought. You always were a gobby one, MacTavish.”

“Hah-… Ah-fuck! I’m sorry-“ he chokes out, jaw slack.

“Yeah, you will be.”

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dottedsilktie · 13 days

Text

Aftermath

Nanami leaves behind a bereaved reader who has yet to fully accept the aftermath of his death.

CW : +18, smut, unprotected sex, unprocessed grief, angst no comfort

You look over to your phone buzzing on your nightstand. You don’t have to read the name that lights up your screen to know who’s calling. After the first buzz, you already know how everything is going to play out, for you have revisited this scene countless times in your mind before but it doesn’t dull the pain that blooms in your chest and bleeds into your whole body. You stay still, trying to breathe in large gulps of air and take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Just like you’ve practised before, you look around your bedroom and try to anchor yourself in the familiar scent of the bedsheets, bergamot and chamomile, then your eyes follow the embroidery of purple and blue flowers on your comforter until they settle on the mahogany chair sitting at the foot of the bed. Your gaze lingers on the chair, its bow back concealed by a cream-coloured suit, a wrinkled pale blue shirt and a yellow silk dotted tie : they’ve been sitting here for days on end, waiting for their rightful owner. You’d hoped they’d bring you comfort in a time like this, instead you find yourself wordlessly crying as you finally let the crushing weight of grief wash over you.

Ever since he left, you knew he wouldn’t come back. That’s just how life is, this world is cruel and it has given you everything you wanted just to snatch it out of your grasp again. The world is cruel, and he’d told you before that, despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t be able to stay, that he will be taken away from you. His warnings were in vain, it just took a few kisses, whispered confessions of lust and love and delusional promises of fleeing all of this together for him to sigh into your mouth and give in to you.

You didn’t want to believe him when he said you were both living on borrowed time, because with him it felt as though love was endless, he made you feel like time itself was altered, inconsequential when you lied bare in his embrace and sighed contently against his heated kisses.

You look down at the watch you held tightly in your hands, unable to focus on the time. Instead, you try to take in the elegant lines of the dial and the thin creases running through the dark blue leather bracelet and you busy yourself with reversing the case - hiding the dial and revealing it again, smiling through your tears.

It brings you back to simpler times, leisurely mornings spent in your shared bedroom. You’d be moaning shamelessly under the broad expanse of his chest, only getting louder when he’d become restless above you and sneak a veiny hand to your throat. You’re reminded of the way he’d rut into you with abandon, uncaring for the noise or his neighbours or the way both of your phones were ringing incessantly even on your days off. He’d smile smugly above you when you’d climax with a scream of his name and pleas dying on your tongue, but he wouldn’t last much longer - collapsing over you and panting in your mouth, burying himself deeply into you and letting his release flood your tired cunt. Even then you didn’t inch away from him, just manoeuvring your tired limbs to tangle yourself against him and brush the light blonde hair out of his face, revealing golden brown eyes still filled with wanton lust and a hint of something else unspoken and lingering in the air you both breathed in to steady your erratic heartbeats. That’s when he’d reach behind you to grab the same watch you were now holding, checking the time to see that it was already midday and jokingly chastising you for keeping him in bed too long.

You remember those days so vividly and the lump in your throat makes it harder to breath when you think back on how the dark room you’re withering away in right now used to be drowning in golden sunlight, its walls reverberating with the sound of your laughs dying in your throat, turning into wanton moans and whimpers whenever Kento got his hands on you. He had become insatiable right before he left, always finding an excuse to get on you, under you, then inside you. There was a sense of urgency and desperation in everything he had done at the time. His amber gaze, usually warm, became uncharacteristically vacant. Maybe he already knew how Shibuya would end. You’d like to think he didn’t though, just to keep the illusion of his last days with you being happy, untainted.

Your phone rings again, jolting you from your daydream. You’re greeted with a concerning number of missed calls and messages sent in a frenzy from Ijichi – the first ones seem almost hopeful, but they quickly spiral into mournful and apologetic gibberish. Then you find a single text from Shoko, sitting at the very top.

There’s no mistaking the foreboding and defeated undertone of her message. A simple “Sorry, there is nothing I could do” that robs you of any remnants of hope.

You chance another gaze at your room, still so full of him, specks of Kento lingering in every corner like he might come back any minute - his suit is still like he left it, smelling of cold tobacco and vetiver and something heady but elusive, the familiar smell already starting to fade into nothing. You wish you could somehow bottle it up, keep a version of him that lives beyond the grave. The Reverso's cruel ticking reminds you what you already know, though. The sound of its impassive and ineluctable forward march seems amplified tenfold, drowning out your muffled cries.

When you look up another time, the room already looks bereft and it seems to quietly tell you that he's truly left this time.

Repost

For the sake of the drabble I HC him as wearing a JLC but deep in my heart he's a Vacheron Constantin guy

#jjk drabbles #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami angst #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x yn #nanami x y/n #jjk angst #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 8 months

Text

All I Want Is You- Part 2

Jey Uso x Ex-Girlfriend Reader

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

Janelle is played by Justine Skye

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess

Part 1

Saturday August 5th

“Trin it was awful, he basically compared me to Xavi’s mom” Janelle sighed. As she flopped back onto the bed. She had called Trinity as soon as she woke up to tell her what happened last night.

“Can you blame him?” When Janelle didn’t say anything Trinity continued. “I mean you left just like she did. And You didn’t see the fallout of you leaving. I’ve never seen X so sad before. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad neither Nelle but, for a year straight you were his maternal figure. All he knew was you and Josh aka mom and dad.”

Janelle sighed, she knew she hurt Xavier and Josh by walking out on them but it was for the best.

“Trin, I wasn’t ready for all of that.” She wished she could've stayed on Raw and none of yesterday would’ve happened. Trinity scoffed over the phone.

“Janelle, you fell into the role so easily though. I’m your best friend, you can tell me anything..” Trinity said she knew Janelle was lying about not being ready. When Janelle just repeated that she wasn’t ready Trinity scoffed again. “Bullshit. Tell me what was going on.”

“Fine! I felt suffocated, felt like I couldn’t breathe. We fell into a routine of taking care of Xavi and I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” Trinity said softly. “Janelle what’s going on?” Trinity listened as her friend cried on the phone. “I wish I was there with you Nelly. Please don’t cry.” Janelle went to get some tissue to wipe her nose.

“I wish you were here too Trinny. This honestly sucks.” They talked some more before Janelle made up an excuse to get off the phone.

Backstage of Summerslam was buzzing, there were people everywhere. Both rosters, some people from NXT and a whole bunch of legends were in the building but when she heard Xavier call her name, all the other noise stopped and she focused her attention on him.

“Nelly! You like my face paint?!” Janelle smiled and walked closer to him. She was expecting to see him with Josh but he wasn’t, he was with Josh’s cousin. They greeted each other with friendly smiles. Janelle had met her a couple of times, when she and Josh were dating.

“I love it.” Janelle said. Josh’s cousin had a smile on her face, watching the two of them interact. She was very confused when Josh told her that he and Janelle had broken up. She honestly thought that they would be engaged by now. She knew about the ring that he had bought a couple of weeks before Janelle left him.

“I’m going to watch my daddy fights uncle Jo-Jo and I’m going to be in the fronts row,” Janelle gasped.

“Really? Wow, you're so lucky.” She said.

“Can you come watch daddy with us?” Janelle shook her head.

“ I can’t bud. I have to work.” She said, Xavier pouted at her and muttered ‘okay.’

“Come on Xavi, we gotta go or we’re gonna miss your dads entrance.” Xavier nodded and waved bye to Janelle as they walked away.

“Wait!.” He yelled out rushing back over to Janelle. “You didn’t give me good luck kisses.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “You give my daddy good luck kisses, but he not here. So I'll take them.” He said, smiling at her. He was a smooth talker just like his dad.

Janelle chuckled. “Ok fine.” She kissed both his cheeks, mindful of the facepaint then placed a kiss on his forehead. Josh’s cousin let out an ‘aww’ it was obvious that Janelle had love for Xavier.

Janelle placed one more kiss on Xavier’s forehead, letting him place one on her’s before letting him run back over to Lena.

“Love you Nelly!” He yelled out behind him.

“Love you too Xavier!” She smiled as she watched him walk away. She felt like such a jackass for leaving him, but it was better this way.

Janelle arrived at the hotel after SummerSlam later than she would’ve liked. She had spent 2 more extra hours at the arena filming and editing content. She stopped walking when she heard somebody call her name.

“Ms Porter?” She turned to look at the worker behind the desk.

“Yes?” She asked slightly confused,

“Someone left these here for you.” The employee said, handing Janelle a big bouquet of roses and two envelopes.

“Oh wow.” Janelle said in awe. “They’re beautiful.”

The employee smiled at her. “Yes they are ma’am. Whoever got you these is in love with you” There were only a handful of people that knew she was staying at this hotel and none of them she was involved with romantically. Her heart started to pound in her chest when Josh flashed through her mind. She shook her head causing the employee to look at her weirdly before walking away to help another guest.

Janelle took the flowers and went over to the elevator. Once she got in her room she set the flowers down on the table and sat down on the bed to read the cards. Opening one of the envelopes, she let out a gasp when she pulled out a picture of her and Xavier. Josh had taken it. She knew it was one of the ones he kept in his wallet because of all the bends in it.

In the other envelope was a folded piece of paper. Opening it, she felt her eyes start to water as she read it.

For 24 hours all i've been thinking about is you. Even during my match with Joe. Pathetic right? I can’t get you out of my head J. I keep looking at this picture of you and Xavi and i’m still so fucking confused, why did you leave? We were happy. I was happy. Xavier was happy and if you weren’t happy why didn’t you say anything. I’m sorry if I was pressuring you into starting a family. I just love you Janelle. I wanted , want to spend the rest of my life with you. Tell me what I can do to fix this so you can come home. - Joshua

Janelle was full on crying now. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy with Josh and Xavier, she was very happy being there with them and that was the whole point.

Josh sighed as he sat on the couch, finally able to put and overly excited Xavier to sleep. He looked over at his brother when he sat down next to him.

“You alright Uce?” Josh just shrugged. He honestly didn’t know how to feel right now. He wanted to be with Janelle. He wanted a family with Janelle. But even from their talk yesterday, it was obvious that wasn’t what she wanted. He didn’t know why he sent the note and the picture to Janelle. The flowers were from Xavier, but Josh saw an opportunity to get what he wanted to say off his chest.

“I’m stuck, man.” He finally said. “It’s so fuckin’ obvious that she doesn’t want to be with me. But I can’t move on. Man seeing her yesterday just brought back all them feelings that I had locked away.”

Jon felt bad for his twin. Honestly their whole family felt bad for him, everyone thought that Janelle was the one for Josh.

“Man, listen Uce. You gotta think about that little boy in there. He’s involved in this just as much as you and Janelle.” Josh nodded his head.

“I know. I keep thinking about our conversation yesterday and It doesn’t make any sense. She kept saying that she wasn’t ready. But she would get up when X had nightmares, she would be the one to read him bedtime stories. She would be the one to do bathtime. So what the fuck. I never asked her to do any of that. She did that shit on her own.” He said, slightly raising his voice towards the end.

“Well, she called Trin earlier. “ Jon sighed. “She told Trin that she was starting to feel suffocated, and that she was scared..”

Josh looked over at his brother. “Scared of what?” Jon just shrugged.

“She didn’t say.”

August 8th

Janelle let out a shaky breath as she pulled up in front of her old house. She spent 2 days re-reading his letter to her. She needed him to understand why she left. Wiping her palms on her pants she exited her car and walked up the steps to the front door.

Josh’s face was full of shock when he opened the door. She gave him a small smile and cleared her throat.

“Can I come in?” She asked, walking in when he moved to the side. She stood in the foyer awkwardly. She looked around noticing that he never removed the picture of him, her and Xavier from the end table. She followed him to the living room. Sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch he was sitting on.

He still didn’t say anything. He was just watching her as she looked around, seeing what he changed since she moved out.

“You want something to drink?” He asked, she shook her head no. “Okay, so whatchu’; doin here?” She wiped her hand on her pants again, clearing her throat.

“I wanted to talk to you. I got your note and flowers. Thank you.” He just shrugged.

“The flowers were from Xavier. He saw them and said we had to get them for you.” She smiled at that. Speaking of Xavier, it was too quiet.

“Where is he?” She asked.

“Pops is in town, took him out for a bit.” She nodded. “What do you wanna talk about?” He asked, sitting back on the couch.

“Trinity told me that she told Jon who told you what I said to her on the phone. When I said I felt like I was being suffocated. It had nothing to do with you or Xavier. It was everything to do with me and my own selfish reasons.”

“What reasons? Help me understand Janelle” She groaned and closed her eyes.

“Josh, I wanted to go out and have fun too. I missed out on so much because I was here with you guys.

“I never asked you to miss out on stuff.” He said cutting her off. “If you wanted to go out you should’ve just went out! Nobody was stopping you” She was pissing him off and not making any sense.

“That's the point Josh!” She said yelling and standing up from the chair. “Nobody was stopping me. I have free range to do what the hell I wanted to. But I wanted to be here with Xavier. I wanted to give him baths. I wanted to read him bedtime stories. I wanted to do all of that.” She yelled, wiping her tears. “I had to leave Josh. When I came to the realization that I loved Xavier like he was my own and that I wouldn't mind having kids with you I had to leave!” She was pacing back and forth now.

He was more confused now than he ever was.

“Why did you have to leave?” When she didn’t respond he jumped up off the couch and stood in front of her, stopping her pacing. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Fucking talk to me Janelle. What do you mean you had to leave.”

“I didn’t want to be like my mom!” She finally shouted. “I didn’t want to wake up one morning hating you, or Xavier or any of our children, if we had any. I figured it’ll be better for me to just leave” Josh cupped her face and wiped away her tears.

Everything sort of made sense to Josh now. She had confided in him about everything her mom had put her through when she was younger. All the mental abuse Janelle had to go through until she graduated high school and went off to college.

“Janelle, you’re nothing like your mom. Nelle the love that you show for Xavier is crazy. You remember that time you almost beat that kid mom's ass because her son was picking on Xavier?” She laughed and nodded. “That right there should show you that you are better than your mom.”

“But-” He cut her off.

“But nothing. You are better than your mom. Way better. Whatever thoughts you had we could’ve talked them out instead of you leaving.”

“I honestly thought I wasn’t ready for that. But seeing him again the other day made me realise how fuckin stupid I was being. I’m sorry”

He nodded. “I know you are. But it’s ain't me you gotta apologize to, it's Xavi. He cried for days when you left.” Janelle felt her bottom lip start to quiver. She felt so bad for leaving Xavier the way she did. “Why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know Josh. I was scared you wouldn’t understand where I was coming from.” She cupped his cheeks and brought his head down so that his forehead was resting on hers. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. About comparing you to his mom. You nothing like her Janelle.”

“It's okay, I know you were mad, heat of the moment type shit.” He leaned his head back so he could look her in the eyes.

“It’s not okay, I’m surprised you didn’t slap the shit outta me.” She laughed and placed her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle. They stood there embracing each other. “I don’t know about you.” He said after a minute. “But I was in a grueling ass match the other day and my body hurts.” She picked her head up and arched her eyebrow.

“Whatchu tryna say?”

He smirked at her. “We can go upstairs, you can give me one of those full body massages I've been missing.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “You mean the massages that always lead to something more.”

“Shiit, I mean..” He trailed off. Laughing when she hit him in the chest. “Alright, you staying for dinner?”

She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. “Yeah I’ll stay.”

One more chapter. ❤️ Thank you for all the comments likes and reblogs on part 1 hopefully this part is just as good.

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