#lower back & leg injuries man fuck

[mosspapi]

Hhhhhhh really starting to not like how whenever my lower back feels weird it also makes my legs and feet feel weird. Beginning to be a little bit hashtag concerned about this actually.

#I've had problems with my lower back for Years thanks to a dance injury* #*I say injury but I don't actually know what happened. I was sitting down during a class and then when I stood up it all when to shit #which is also when my neck got royally fucked up #but like. it's beginning to b a little concerning that it's probably affecting my legs. what does that mean. why. can I stop it. #idek entirely what it's going bcuz my interoception is godawful. it all just feels Weird. #closest thing I can think of is it's like. it feels like my legs are constipated. which idk what that means lmao #armchair speaks #I wanna put my heat pad on it bcuz it'll feel better but if it's anything like my neck issue then that might make it worse if #I'm not able to like. strengthen it somehow. just loosening it so the spine is shifting all over. which would b bad #idk man idk what's going on and I don't like it. I wanna go to bed

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Panty-Flashing Them

Warnings: Implied Smut, Mean! MW2, Dominant! MW2, Victim/Reader Blaming, Slut-Shaming, Reader Getting Pimped Out, Mention of a Leash, Allusions to Injury, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

Ghost is a territorial man. So seeing you flash not only him but Johnny as well made something in him simmer.

It wasn’t rage, for this little accident, regardless of how intentional it was, was not your fault. If he had to place it, he’d attribute it to…

Lust.

As was evident in how he excused himself from the gathering of the 141 and Los Vaqueros in your living room, grabbing you by your arm.

He stowed you away. Dragged you to a desolate laundry room and gripped you by your thighs. You gasped, gripped onto him. Felt something hard rub against you.

Ghost threw you atop the washing machine and gave you a harsh stare as he watched you try to fight the feeling building within from the machine’s buzzing and shuffling.

“Go on then, Doll,” he rasps, eyes hard and the throbbing monster between his legs harder. He palmed himself. Remorse was not in his nature. And neither was mercy.

“Seein’ as you were practically beggin’ the others to fuck you, go and put on a show.”

His voice lowered. He stood between your legs, frame blocking you from any form of help or salvation.

“Just for me.”

König

König had been sat on your sofa, an action figure in a house for a doll half his size, and you’d bent over to retrieve something from beneath the TV cabinet.

The fact that you were wearing a pair of König’s shorts was already clouding his moral compass. Seeing your underwear peeking out beneath them was what sent him over the edge.

As you remained bent, cheek pressed to the floor as you reached for what you’d lost, you didn’t hear König approach. Didn’t know he’d even moved from the sofa until something thick and hard was pressed to the back of you, followed by two heavy hands holding you at the waist, and a slow, shuttering breath.

“Don’t move,” König told you. “Stay like this.”

Slowly, he pressed deeper into you. You could feel his restraint unwinding second by second.

It was when he bent over you, had his broad chest pressed to your back, that you knew you weren’t escaping. And you weren’t backing down.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you cum, bleed or pass out.” König’s voice held no humour, but you could feel the franticity building in it.

He reached round, gripped your chin. Made you look at him. His smile was sharp, his features dark.

“Whichever comes first.”

Soap

Johnny pulled the leash tighter around your throat when you tried to protest your innocence. Tried to make him see reason.

“Doesn’t matter that it was ‘just an accident’.” He mimicked you, made you sound weak, whiny. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the leash.

His shadow loomed over you from your position on the bed, on your hands and knees while Johnny presided over you with an iron fist.

Tears obscured his silhouette. Made your eyes glassy.

“Aww, Did I upset you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s tone held a gruffness that didn’t even try to hide the anger running beneath.

He huffed, a mocking laugh.

“How’d’ya think I felt when you were practically spreading your legs for Simon?”

Again, you tried to tell him what really happened. Tried to incur any fragment of mercy Soap would spare you.

He pulled on the leash again. Tighter. You gasped, hands flying up to the leather around your neck, trying to loosen it – to plead for Johnny’s favour – as the air was knocked out of you.

“Oh no, you don’t get to talk.” He said. He stepped to you. The bulge in his jeans became ever more noticeable. Impending.

“M’gonna use you like the whore you are ‘til my cum’s leaking out of every hole in your body.”

Valeria

“Do I look like I fucking care, Darling?” Valeria circled you, her belt wrapped around her hand, a glint of darkness in her eye.

Wrists and ankles duct-taped to the chair, you could do little to follow her. To understand her intentions.

“Do you really think whatever little lie you pass off as an excuse can quell the fire you’ve set?”

Before you could attest your innocence, beg for forgiveness, Valeria’s belt came down across your thighs. Crying out, you flinched, tried to withdraw, pushing your chair back in the process.

Valeria lunged forward and gripped the chair by the arms, pressing your skin into the wood, and dragged you back.

Her face twisted into a visceral snarl, the portrait of evil.

“Please, Valeria, I’m begging you–”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, alright.” Valeria looked down at you, her face to yours. Just shy of your noses touching. With bared teeth, she smiled.

“I won’t stop until you do.”

Price

“If you wanted attention that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Price had your arms and legs bound to a hard, wooden chair while a thick ream of cloth had your mouth gagged. He stood over you, arms crossed over his front, a glint in his eye. He sighed, brought his hands to grip your tied forearms. Pressed them into the armrests.

You winced.

“What…possessed you to go and show your arse to Alejandro and the rest of the team?” His voice reflected a tone of ponderment found only in Sarcasm’s extended family tree. And it showed with the faux confusion written in his brow.

“Do I just not cut it for you?” He leaned in. The chair creaked. Your arms hurt. He didn’t let up.

“Am I not enough to keep you from throwing yourself at the nearest soldier?”

He watched you, his stare narrow. You shook your head, eyes wide. You tried speaking through the gag, tried to tell him that he was the only man you loved, but you both knew your efforts were futile.

He withdrew, gripped his belt, adopted his default stance. He heaved a deep breath.

“Come in, lads,” he called behind him, not taking his gaze off you. Your stomach tightened.

A thin smile stretched across Price's lips as he watched your eyes widen, your gaze following Simon, Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro as they filtered into the room.

Price bowed at the waist, lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Seeing as you’re so keen to show ‘em what’s under your clothes, I’m gonna let them use you ‘til you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Horangi

Hong-Jin popped the top button of his jeans, keeping his gaze trained on you, spearing you with a dark stare.

“Did you enjoy giving König and I a little show, Dear?”

Sarcasm nestled in his tone, a viper in a den. But the excitement running parallel beneath it, just shy of its transparent underbelly, was evident.

Hong-Jin slid the zip of his jeans down. Pulled the denim over his hips.

“It’s only fair that I…” He took your hand, placed it at the hem of his underwear. Dipped beneath the band.

His skin was scorching. Something pulsated beneath your fingers.

The implication sat heavy in his tone. In his eyes.

“Return the favour.”

Alejandro

“I didn’t know I was dating such an attention-seeking whore.”

Alejandro’s voice was the roll of thunder across a darkened valley, the weight of a downpour of knives settled into his tone.

Hands behind his back, he stood over you, having resigned you to sitting on your knees, the hardwood floor pushing against your joints.

“Luckily for you, I’m not the type to hold grudges.” A smile played at his lips. One you knew not to trust.

“But he is.”

Alejandro looked to the door, where, from beyond its frame, emerged Rudy. His face held a similar, serpentine pallor, his lips drawn up into a thin smile. Venom in his veins.

“Wasn’t expecting to get blue-balled by (Y/N) earlier, Ale,” came Rudy, his usually sugared demeanour having dropped, the veil between what he was and what he showed to the world slipping away. Retreating.

Alejandro gave him a knowing look. He turned back to you.

“Why don’t you be a good little doll and put your face to the floor. Just like we practised.”

The memory of leashes, lashings and tears flooded your memory. You held back a  wanton whimper.

Alejandro’s voice dropped. “And let Rudy see the rest of what you promised him.”

Rodolfo

“I don’t want to have to do this, Cariño. Rudy stood over you, his hands on your shoulders and his face dark. Grim.

His hold on your shoulders tightened.

“But I can’t let your behaviour go…”

He searched your eyes for the right word. His brow furrowed when he found it.

“Unchecked.”

He sighed. Pushed down on your shoulders.

“Come on, Angel. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He told you, pushing harder until you bent to his will.

Now, on your knees, you could see how desperately he needed you.

One hand came to your jaw, thumb trailing to your lip, pulling your mouth open. The other slid down to his belt, sliding it from the buckle. It hissed, pulled tight against the metal. You swallowed.

Rudy’s breath shuttered, and you could tell from the way his hand clenched, the way he slipped the belt from his jeans like a snake, that he was enjoying this. Much more than he wanted to let on.

“Now remember, mi Amor, no teeth, no biting.” His head tilted. Condescending. “Or I’ll bite you back.”

Graves

He can barely contain himself.

It was only the briefest of flashes. It wasn’t even intentional. But something about your shy smile after the fact once you realised what you’d done sent a vicious little idea to Graves’s head.

He starts stealing all your underwear. Gradually, yet in large enough volumes that he doesn’t have to wait longer than he can handle without his reward.

One day, you come into his office, face warm and tugging an oversized shirt over the top of your thighs.

“Missing something, Darlin’?” Graves drawls. Your eyes narrow at him. You know he’s had something to do with your underwear’s disappearing act.

He puts his papers down, sighs, and rests the back of his head in his hands against the backrest of his chair.

“How about you flash me again. Slowly, now.” His eyes glint with a dark mischief and want.

“Y’don’t wanna know what happens if you don't do it the way I like it.”

Gaz

“Oh, Darling, look what you’ve done,” Gaz’s voice carried despite the thickening tension in the room. Neither of you needed to look down to see what he was referring to.

Despite the chastising tone in his voice, his eyes were warm. Kind, almost.

“If you wanted my attention so badly, you only had to ask.”

He stepped towards you, placing a hand under your jaw. He smiled.

“It’s only fair that I reward you for being so creative, isn’t it ?”

His other hand came to your shoulder, pushing the strap of your tank top until it fell, leaving the sweeping juncture between your neck and shoulder exposed.

Has bit back a shuttering breath.

Despite his gentile voice, an angeline choir, the soundtrack of mercy, there lay a hunger in his eyes, in his barely-restrained grip, that suggested a beast lurked beneath his pretty boy exterior.

And you knew from the way he told you to “Get on the bed – be good for me,” that you’d be seeing it tonight.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #konig x reader #konig smut #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price smut #ghost smut #soap x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #valeria garza x reader #kyle gaz garrick #rodolfo parra #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 3/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Angst and smut and fluff (the holy trinity!) in this last part.

Part 1 Part 2

Juice spills all over the table from the oranges you press, but you don't mind. There has been a soft smile on your face all morning.

Simon's still sleeping, and you want to surprise him with a special breakfast today: scrambled eggs, freshly pressed orange juice, berries, and…

"You took my shirt."

You flinch when you hear his familiar rumble not a few feet away. The staircase wailed like a widow last night, but obviously, this man has learned to avoid the creaky spots when he wants. A goddamn heavyweight ninja...

"I'm sorry." You lick your fingers from the juice and try to feign innocence. The sleeves of his black tee reach your elbows, but you're not sorry. Nor do you feel bad about seeing him in your kitchen without a shirt.

"It was not an accusation," he says, the corner of his mouth curving a little, the dark eyes that made love to you last night giving you an approving once-over.

You approach him with a glass full of sun, but it's you he grabs in his hold. Your fingers find the scars on his back as you two embrace, and you feel an odd churn in your stomach.

"What's this…?"

Your hand floats across the embossed, white ridges that crisscross his back. The collection forms an entire mountain range, and it's chilling because you've only brushed the space between his shoulder blades.

"A reminder. To trust no one."

"No one…?"

"No one."

You remain a coward and refrain from asking for more details. You doubt he would even share them.

"I made you breakfast," you lower your gaze to the colorful palette you've gathered on the plates. Is it some sort of an instinct to want to feed a man after they've fucked you so good?

"So I see," he says, ever more approvingly. Then you're lifted on the table, next to the plates, like you're the breakfast.

Soon you're only wearing his shirt and your tiny socks, which Simon decides to leave on, too busy with getting his face between your legs. 

No one has done anything like that before… No one has chosen you over breakfast; an entire abundance of delicacies laid out. 

He licks you until your legs are trembling on that tortured back. You're pure, you're untouched by evil, and he carries your naivety on his shoulders like it weighs nothing. He flattens his tongue on you, sucks your flesh, tortures you on that table and doesn't even mind his teeth all too much. The peak stubble he hasn't yet shaved stings and burns as he moves across your folds. 

Saying that the coarse chin on your silk feels good would be an understatement. You come undone next to the breakfast, clad in golden light shining through the small window left uncovered.

You feel alive, and raw, and stellar. A shooting star, a comet high above the sky, although the space through which you ignite consists of golden rays of sunlight and the scent of orange juice. 

He takes the shirt back after he's done. After you're done and try your best to return back to earth with shaking legs. The only thing you're wearing is your socks, but you feel completely naked before him, dopey and dumb before the day has even started. Simon only licks his lips, throws that shirt on, and grabs his plate.

He dares to comment that there's no hot water. You put the kettle on with a wobble, feeling hotness on your cheeks while he sits down to eat his second breakfast like it's the most natural thing in the world: to wreck you first thing in the morning.

…............................

Simon.

He fixes the door on your fridge. He helps you clean your garage and fucks you on the table. Oily, dusty, filthy table. You go to shower after, together. You're giggling; he's smiling. Fully, now.

You want to ask him, Is this free of charge too…? Not just his cock... But his smiles. His assistance and support. The looks he grants you when you come out of the shower, ready to be licked to ruin.

He calls you his Princess to tease you just right. To get you in a state where your eyes flash with half-rage, half-lust, just before he slips inside you. He knows exactly which strings to pull – and then calls you love just when you're about to give him a piece of your mind.

You end up on the table, on the counter, on the floor. He takes you while your jaw slowly falls open from his audacity and his cock, splitting you apart with slow love. The first time he takes you in a missionary, you squirt. It's like his cock was made for you. And he dares to tease you about that, too.

"Did ya just squirt all over my cock?"

You have tears in your eyes, shame on your cheeks, and he's wetter than a wet dog down there… then he makes you squirt again, high on the lewd, obscene praise you just gave him with your pussy. 

Your cunt can't lie; he knows it by now. So it's futile to keep your lips sealed either.

Kiss me. 

That's what you would've usually ordered. But after an exceptionally quiet and passionate and desperate fuck that leaves you both catching your breath, leaves him hovering only inches from your sweaty upper lip, you whisper…

"I want to kiss you."

You expect him to laugh or mock you, at least crack a stupid joke or two. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to your lips, and he swallows with a heavy roll, then closes the gap between you two. Covers your mouth with his, uses that strong jaw to open you for devouring.

The kiss lasts long enough for you to begin breathing through your nose. Your inner walls grip him, still buried deep inside, and the gusts of exhales passing through his nostrils hit your face with pure bliss. He’s a little breathless when he parts – withdraws just enough to look into your eyes.

“Will that do...?”

There is a drunken vigor in his eyes of crushed amber, but to your shock, you hear your own question laid out before you. The one you asked when you were going to that party.

Will I do…?

Your hands find his jaw and cup his face from both sides, drawing him back to your lips.

“Yes." 

You will more than just do. 

And then you say… 

"I want more.”

He chuckles a soft scoff on your face. 

"Greedy little thing." 

Then he swallows you again. You kiss for a good few minutes while he grows half-hard inside you. It's the most romantic kiss you have shared with anyone, ever. He tells you how spoiled you are between the breaths you both catch, then spoils you some more with his mouth and tongue and cock. 

You start to curl together in the evening. Just to watch a comedy. He massages your feet and smiles more every day. It's kind of domestic, how he wrinkles his nose at your fine white wine and asks what it is in that decanter you have in your study. When you say it's just some old bourbon, he goes and gets himself a glass like he's finally made himself at home. 

It makes your heart grow thick from love. You almost forget why he's here in the first place.

When you ask him about the plan, he explains it to you in detail while kissing his way down your ribs and navel. He takes his sweet time while doing it, kissing the inside of your thigh, the hollow place below the knee, the tender skin under the knee. He kisses your calf and the ankle bone while holding your leg up for his lips with just one hand. Then he does the same to your other leg, but this time, kisses his way from ankle to thigh until he reaches…

You.

You've forgotten half the plan by then because you realize Simon hasn't looked at you like you're a steak or garbage in a long, long time. 

He looks at you like you're a queen. You could say he worships you, but the thought alone makes your heart flutter with the anxiety of a fragile hummingbird. 

Simon gets you your groceries and gets himself only a beer as a reward. You would happily offer him a case if you knew it would make him happy.

But you don't really know what would make him happy. You don't know anything about this man. You know he likes it when you're dolled up and angry. He likes you when you're sleepy, without makeup, wearing only his shirt. He likes to fuck you from behind and hold you close after. He likes to give you a wash, likes it when you wash him. He likes to watch the two tall trees outside the window sway when there's a strong wind. 

"What makes you happy?" You ask one night after you've had him in your mouth.

"Blowjobs," he answers with a straight face, and you shove him in the shoulder. Nicely. Softly.

"No, for real."

"I dunno." He sighs and turns to stare at your ceiling with a bothered look. It's a tricky question, perhaps. Or weapons, not willingly gifted. 

"Dogs," he shrugs after a while. "A day of silence. Good whiskey."

He doesn't grant you weapons. You get some rope, but not enough to choke him with it. He trusts no one.

"Why don't you like missionary…?" You continue roasting him while curling your fingers around the pale hair on his chest.

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Don't avoid the question, Mr. Doggystyle."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your palm flat over his heart. His stare slowly drifts from the ceiling back to you.

"Simon. Why do you always fuck me from behind?" 

He raises his eyebrows like he's innocent of the crime he's being accused of. "Not always."

"Seriously, Simon."

The smug look returns; it gives his eyes a delightful little spark and tugs at the corner of that kissable mouth.

"I like your ass."

"But not my eyes?"

The smile dies, and he gulps down a short surprise, caught between truth and dare. But then his eyes settle like the calming sea under a full moon. Stern, but not remorseless. Bold, but not heartless. If anything, he's naked and bare.

"Darlin'. Love your eyes the most."

Your heart does a backflip. You've been a fool because what else has he done but search for your eyes first thing in the morning? Given you flashes of mischief over breakfast, made love to you with those eyes as you cum around his cock? That liquid fire and smoke hasn't left you since he stepped inside this house.

You breathe together; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. There was a time when you thought this man was incapable of love, but now you fear he has never been allowed to love enough.

"We never talked, you know," you whisper. His heart swells underneath your palm like a sail.

"What'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"So talk."

Walls are raised so quickly you feel them knocking the warmth out of your body. It's cold, it's Antarctic, the technique he uses to withdraw. Your room turns into a kingdom of ice from the cruel, emotionless indifference he emits. 

You've been a fool, yes... And a child.

"You're making it hard," you say, noticing how the man starts to tense up under your fingertips. This is not the way, but you're not smart enough to stop your rampage.

"What happens when you've done your job?"

He doesn't sigh. He doesn't even think twice before giving his answer.

"I go back to the base."

You know now why he's called a ghost. You wonder if he was ever even here. Simon becomes a reminder for you, a reminder to trust no one.

"...Right." You pull your hand away slowly. As if it somehow helps with the pain to pretend you haven't just touched a hot stove and ended up getting your fingers burned.

He notices how you tense up far more than he. The arm around your waist goes tight, and you wonder if you've always been a bloodied steak to this brute, a stupid little princess with your wines, sighs, and wet eyes. He just doesn't want to let go of the last bites of his fine, delicious meat.

"I never thought you wanted a relationship," he says with a hollow voice, and the red rage nearly blinds your sight. You're too riled up to even yell at him.

"Love…" he tries for the last time.

"Get out of my bed."

…............................

His musk still clings to you as you descend the stairs the next morning.

He's sitting at the end of the steps with hunched shoulders and a tense back, exiled into the man he was the first day you met him. Your heart bleeds from the sight, wondering whether Simon has waited there the whole night after you kicked him out of your bedroom. But the boiling bile in your stomach forces you to lift your chin and draw your shoulders back as you walk down those steps with an audible clatter as your heels clack across the parquet.

He must've heard you before you make a racket fitting for an angered queen, but rises only after you've made it halfway through the staircase. You won't allow yourself to even look his way as he draws a deep breath.

"Love. Sweetheart."

But with that, you flash the man a stare full of despise as you walk past him.

"Don't."

"Let me–"

"Don't say a word," you take a sharp turn and raise a hand to shield you from whatever brutality he would like to stain you with. "You don't talk to me. You just do your job. Ok?"

His chest swells with another deep breath, but otherwise, this man is still as a statue again.

"Ma'am."

It takes you a while to notice he has regressed back to that term again, and you tilt your head. The movement is that of a warrior who swings her sword to a guard before a fight. He crosses his hands over his crotch as if to shield the most vulnerable parts from a low blow, but his eyes are full of hateful hurt as he gives you his most pretentious, mocking tone.

"Miss."

Your heart skips a beat – Simon becomes the thing you miss. 

A hit and run.

You have to resist the urge to grimace at the pure venom in his voice - it doesn't matter what he calls you because that tone seeps straight through your skin like lye. It hurts; it burns to see him even more withdrawn to his shell than when you first met. He retreats far beyond the front line, he goes further than the rear, and it's a bitter defeat for both of you. 

This man has rubbed your feet while you've laughed at a stupid joke in a sitcom. The same man has been inside you – night after night after night. It rips your heart to see a distant, perfectly blank expression on his face after you've seen him give you a plentitude of relaxed and wicked little smiles. 

You share the breakfast in funeral-like silence. You wish you could pay him to stay home so that you can go through your day filled with terror and longing without Simon Riley following you around.

"I've been meaning to update you on new intel about the target," he breaks the silence, and your heart feels like it's being put through a wringer. Simon hasn't even touched his breakfast. "Turns out he received training in a sniper unit."

"So?"

"There's a high chance he might prefer to use long-range weapons."

He's professional, curt, clinical. Even more so than when you first shook hands with him. And all the while, those eyes burn you; they examine you like you're the most challenging puzzle he's ever tried to solve. He's cold as ice with his words and hot as hell with that stare. Those eyes seem to pierce your clothes, they even reach under your skin.

"Right," you say without giving him a single look back.

"We have to update our protocol asap."

Our…

We.

"The protocol…" you whisper and finally look up at him. His lips draw into a thin line as he sees how your walls crumble; they didn't last even half a day.

"Simon, I can't do this," you say, your voice breaking. The tears are only seconds away. They blur your sight, but as he rises from the table slowly and takes a hesitant step towards you, you turn your head back to your toast with a snap.

"I want to change bodyguards."

From the corner of your blurred vision, you see how he raises a hand. If you didn't know any better, you could say that he's at his weakest. But the hand falls straight back and gives a twitch by his side. You wonder why he even bothers to disguise the spasm so lousily as a stretch. It's as if he wants you to see that he's in tumult too.

"I'll stay until–"

"No. Get out."

"Miss. I'll just get my things," he says, and you nod briefly. No exchange of gazes is probably the best policy after informing him you no longer need his services. It's better to rip the band-aid off with one yank than try to pretend that this relationship was something more than sexual. 

You know he came to your house with minimal belongings, a duffel bag full of spare clothes and a large case which you supposed was a container for different weapons. That is why you notice he takes a surprisingly long time to get those things and leave your house.

When he finally emerges from his room – no, not his room, but the guest room, you remind yourself – he places the luggage in the hallway and comes back to you, probably to say his polite farewells.

"You won't let me speak to you, so I wrote you a fuckin' letter."

You turn to solid stone as he places an envelope between your water glass and cup of coffee. You sit with your heart thumping in your chest as he picks up his things, walks to the door, walks out of it and out of your life.

It's one of those moments you wish you could freeze and rewind. Do everything differently so that it wouldn't have to come to this. Instead, you listen how the front door clunks shut.

Then you send your trembling fingers up from your lap and onto the pure white thing that holds his secrets. You pry it open and find yourself reading the lines, scribbled with surprisingly sophisticated handwriting, through a round of hot tears.

They cloud your vision, but they don't cloud his words.

You skim through the letter in a frenzied hurry once, then again with more control, and try to remember how to breathe.

He shares shrivels from his past, ugly, horrid things which make your breakfast nearly push up your throat. He tells you he stopped dating eleven years ago for a reason. He writes that he would rather be tortured again than make you suffer from his past and incapacities.

There are certain lines that enter your heart like a thief with the most delicate crowbar. Lines like I'm not good with words and You must know by now that I'm a broken man.

Lines like I'm not a fucking poet but I'll miss your warmth even under the desert sun.

Some lines make you want to tear the letter to pieces. Lines such as Don't throw your diamonds in the dust and I can't give you what you deserve.

He thinks you can't take his darkness, so he shelters you from it. He says he would come back to you if he could. You don't know what the hell he means by that. 

If he could? 

What the fuck prevents him?

You sit inside your empty, lonely house, confident of the fact that it is not you who prevents it. It was not you who just sent him out that door. Who commanded him to leave because you didn't need his services anymore.

The letter makes you cry, and then it makes you boil.

Such sweet words, and so many empty sentences. If only, if I wasn't, if I could.

You get the feeling that he's mocking you again. If only you weren't a princess and a spoiled brat, then perhaps he could reconsider this relationship.

You leave the letter there; you leave your coffee and your breakfast. You almost wish someone would shoot you and put you out of your misery as you call a taxi and go to the heart of the city.

You're completely numb as your fingertips brush silk and linen and all the newest designs. They curl around tiny bottles of bright nail polish and touch the perfumes made from the last free wildflowers of a burning world, but you feel nothing stir inside.

You're emptier than the echo that rings through the malls and corridors of stone; you feel poorer than all the beggars on the street. Shopping always makes you feel better. But now you want to burn all your money, throw your jewels out the window, torch all the fucking stores like some bloody anarchist. You leave every store without buying a thing and try to remember what it was to have lunch without drowning in tears that can't be cried in public.

"I can't give you what you deserve."

That's the line that scalds you most. You know what he meant when he wrote those words, seemingly humble. But your bleeding heart twists that sentence until his words are a testimony of pure rejection.

You have money, so you don't deserve love, is that it?

You want to find him and shake him. It's not about what you deserve or what he deserves. It's not about what anyone deserves. And if the bloody man thinks he doesn't deserve love only because he's made his home in suffering, then he's the last person who should be allowed to decide who deserves what.

You walk through the crowds and streets like a small whirlwind, on the verge of yelling your heart and loneliness out in the air until your vocal cords are raw. You're so riled your mind doesn't even register the gunshot.

The only thing you hear is a glass shattering next to you just before an entire boulder hits you.

His scent envelops you like a safe, warm blanket, even if that blanket weighs a ton and causes your jeans to grate and tear as you two hit the asphalt. Simon gives you bruises, scrapes and burns all across your left side as your body grinds through the dirt. 

Another shot is fired; this time, a car's glass is shattered above you, and the body surrounding you tenses until you worry your bodyguard has been hit. The bodyguard you fired this morning, who's still doing his job, who never even left you…

People are screaming and running in different directions all around and above you, but time comes to a halt as Simon rises only an inch or two.

"Stay down," he gruffs in your ear. "Don't move. Don't you fucking move, ok?"

The whole world could've gone silent from the way you only hear his voice. His words. His distress. You remain still as a stone and look up at him – your lips part because he's looking at you with impatience that's not just pressing; it's demanding.

"Yes," you stutter, "yes, of course."

Someone's pissed because a third shot sends him right back over you, and only then do you notice you're clinging to him, to his jacket and his shirt, like he's a human shield. Then the human shield speaks again, and the words that come out only make you grip him tighter.

"He has to change the magazine soon. You stay right here, ok? I'm going in."

"No, don't," your fingers curl around his clothes and try to keep him on top of you. "Don't go. I'm afraid."

I'll get you a dog. 

A day of silence. 

I'll buy you some good whiskey. I promise…

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, more softly now. "I promise." 

Then he rips himself off you. Your body misses his heat like the desert sand must miss the sun, and you realize you've ruined everything as you finally get to watch him in his element. He's agile and beautiful as he reaches for his gun, takes it out, and prepares it in a few seconds to fire death upon your faceless enemy. You've ruined everything because if Simon goes in, he might get killed – he's a human, not a shield, he's not even a weapon – and all the things you never said will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Don't leave me," you want to reach for him, but don't dare disobey his orders. It should send you laughing: that you're finally doing precisely as he says. You finally trust your life with him, just before he leaves you, leaves you, leaves you. 

"Simon–"

"Sweetheart. I never left you."

He looks straight into your eyes. You gulp the tears now.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, and someone is screaming; everythings a buzz, cars whir by as you tell him all the things you meant to say weeks ago. "I never wanted you to go. I always liked you. I– I think I love–"

"Shh. Don't you do this to me now."

The words are so soft you have to struggle to hear what he's saying under his breath. It's like he's talking to himself, and you realize you're an asshole, saying things like that to him when he's trying to concentrate on his mission and his job. But you just can't help yourself sometimes. No one in your life compares to him. No one has caused such a ruckus, such turmoil, such devastation and such love.

"Do what?" you whimper there, motionless on the ground as he gives you a last, painful look before his stare fixes on the piece of glass still unshattered, the dim, transient mirror of a store window he uses to locate movement in one of the buildings. 

Then he takes a peek over the car, and you hold your breath – he's the bait now, and ducks his head immediately as two more shots are fired. You don't even have the strength to scream; your whole body simply shudders from the echoing sound of pure fear – how can he play tag with death like that? 

And then he leaves. 

He rounds the car and darts for the building and the sniper; he disappears from your vision so quickly you wonder if these past weeks have been but a dream.

A hit and run.

"Do what…" you repeat on the ground and curl into yourself even though he said you shouldn't move. You figure it's not that big of a crime to go into a fetal position when you don't know if he's ever coming back to scold you for breaking the rules.

You want to close your ears from the sounds that follow – you fear you'll jinx something if you listen too closely to what happens in that building. You try to concentrate on your breaths, slowly bringing you back to your body. You haven't even noticed that there's blood running down your arm.

It's funny how you only notice the pain after seeing the flowing crimson that makes small rivers around your fingers. You don't want to look at your burning shoulder because the shock is already here. 

The searing pulse gets worse as you hear another shot, then another shot. Those sounds pound inside your shoulder and send more fire down your arm. Minutes or hours pass and you think how strange it is that everything's completely still, how bizarre it is that there are no sirens, no cars, no screaming. They've finally closed off the roads.

You only start to cry when you see that he's alive.

You try to rise from the ground to meet him – a bleeding princess, waking from her beauty sleep and realizing everything's just been a bad dream, greeting her knight in a black pair of fitted tactical pants and a pistol on his waist. Diamonds and darkness…

He rushes to you in what seems like desperation. You find it oddly beautiful that he's not only relieved to see his client is still alive and well, he's also relieved to know you're still there. That his princess has waited for him.

He falls on his knees and prevents you from rising. You're quickly wrapped in his arms, feeling so happy and safe that you don't even bother to tell him you're injured. It's just a scratch anyway. Even if your leg was blown off, you wouldn't complain about being picked up in his lap like this. 

"Shh. I got you. I got you."

He's cradling you like a child while tears stream down your face, but there's no audible sounds of crying. You weep a whole river of tears and your nose is clogged, forcing you to breathe through your mouth, but there's no wailing, no screaming, no bawling. The first words that roll off your tongue are a child's moody complaint.

"You left me," you mope as he caresses your head.

"Only for a little while."

"You came back."

"I said I would."

More tears flow, and this time you sniffle and sob. He rocks you gently back and forth as you cry in his embrace. Simon would make a good father.

"Is he…?" You whisper, then look up at him. He just nods and gives you a quick scan, drawing a sharp breath when he notices the wound on your arm. 

You're placed back on the ground as he inspects your shoulder and tells you the bullet managed to scrape some skin but has mostly just ruined your jacket. You're almost sorry that the wound is not as severe as it feels. You thought the burning sensation meant shattered bones and scarred flesh, but the scratch is no deeper than if you had accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't want… No hospital," you beg as he offers to take you to ER. You're not spending the rest of the day in a frigid treatment room where tired medical personnel only clean the wound and put a big plaster on it. 

"Just take me home," you plead like you're his daughter who doesn't want to go to school today. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want."

He makes a few phone calls, arranges things with the local police or something. You don't want to know anything about it. You don't want to know who got shot in that building and how.

It's not a taxi that drives you back this time. You don't know where he got a car and a driver, but the vehicle is big and black, and your head is in Simon's lap when you lie in the backseat. There's a panel between the driver's seat and the rear, so you don't even know who's driving, but you're only grateful for the privacy after the crazy morning followed by a murder attempt. You look up at Simon, who looks back at you for the first time while you're in a car together.

"Why did you become a soldier?" You ask, not knowing why you're whispering. He's holding your hand – a simple, wholesome thing to do, but his grip on you is solid and warm and feels equally as intimate as the times this man has been inside you. 

"I wanted to help people." 

"By killing them?"

"By saving those I can."

He keeps a hand on your cheek too. Simon has spoken softly ever since you were fired at, has been humane and caring and tender, and you realize… This man is naked before you; he's stripped bare from all pretenses. 

And he's not darkness. He's not a skeleton or a dead man or even a soldier.

He's a beacon in the night.

"You did a good job," you squeeze his hand softly.

The last glass-like veil in his eyes shatters, but far more softly than those windows shot at with a rifle.

"I live to serve, Ma'am...–Miss."

"Don’t… Simon, please don’t call me a–"

He descends. He doesn't need that hand to lift your chin up to meet him in a kiss. It's not a hungry devouring this time, but a soft promise, a lover's seal. You feel the rest of the shock leave your body in his embrace. There's no more coldness, only a fragile burning.

"You never look me in the eyes," you whisper as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. It's a silly thing to say when he looks at you with all the love in the world.

"Yes I do," he gives you a soft brush of a thumb across your cheek. His lips are right there, an inch away from yours. "How could you have missed that?"

He's right, as always. The dark love almost swallows the brown of his eyes as he looks at you, shining light on you as he has shined for days, for weeks now. How could you have missed that, indeed? You raise a hand to cup his cheek, not caring about the pain, not even mourning that your blood stains his chin. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so why would you?

When you arrive at your house, he drives away the loneliness, sorrow, everything a rich girl can fear by carrying you in his arms, stepping over the threshold with you like you two are married now.

He peels your jacket off with affection and tenderness, tends to your wound and wipes away the blood that has caked dry all over your arm. The gash has bled a lot for such a small wound, and you purse your lips from how accurately it reflects your feelings for him.

He ties the wound, checks at least two times he's not tying it too tight. His care breaks your heart, because you don't know whether he will leave you after this. There's nothing that keeps him here anymore – there's no way you can keep Simon Riley to yourself. So you abandon him first for the second time, ascend the stairs to your lonely domain while he cleans up the small mess in the bathroom.

It's a small miracle that he follows you. He opens the door to your room without knocking – not because he's entitled to your privacy, but because there are no more barriers between you two. You're gathered in a stout embrace for the second time this afternoon, and you wrap your arms around him to hold him closer.

"You'll leave me soon," you speak to the wall before you, to the man behind you, holding you so gently against his chest. "I'll miss you."

"Love," he murmurs behind you, you feel the words against your back as a warm rumble. "I'll come back. If you want me, I'll come back to you."

"You will…?"

"I promise."

You have no more tears to cry, so you settle for examining the stab inside your heart, the wound that will bleed you dry if no one ties it tightly enough. 

"I don't believe you."

"It's not a matter of whether you believe me."

He turns you around and lets you bathe in his warmth again, the same golden light that came through the window when he placed his mouth on you in the kitchen. It's almost frightening to know that there's nothing that can keep him from you. Nothing, except you. The only thing that has stood between you was only and ever pride.

"Simon," you breathe, a soft attempt to introduce him to mercy. "It's not a matter of what we deserve."

He blinks a few times, the chest against your side collapses a little. It's a hard reset. The corner of his mouth tugs, a beautiful betrayal of his surrender, a sign of being hit by a boulder – your boulder, finally bringing the rest of those walls down.

"You think so...?"

"Yes. I think so."

He brushes his knuckles across your sternum – a familiar motion that always manages to lift your heart. You used to think it was foreplay when it was in truth, an attempt to touch the organ said to be the house of love.

You think about the times his harsh breaths have hit you just before he cums, the urgent praise he's peppered you with merely seconds before you've cried from pleasure. Can't get enough of you pet, you’re fucking perfect, 'm gonna make you cum, sing for me, just like that... 

You always thought it was a catalogue of shallow lust when it was an offering of naked devotion. 

He was as vulnerable as you when you drifted through space together, when you drowned in his stunning midnight sea. He was catching fire and burning too, again and again until you were both satisfied and sweaty. He always held you close after, panted desperate love on your skin, planted kisses on your collarbones and neck before resting his head on your heart. Settling there, over your pulse, like he had finally found his way home…

The hand glides between your breasts and molds itself over your waist. It fits there like a second skin. You're relatively sure his hands were made for holding you. 

"You asked what makes me happy," he says, completely naked and bare. The heavy love surrounds you with warm safety; your breath flows freely as you await his confession, the last secret revealed. "I think you know, love."

You know. It has finally dawned on you. What you didn't know was that tears of hope could feel like fire too. You've never been more eager to burn.

"Now keep those pretty eyes on me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

[unknownunidentified101]

FORGIVE ME?

SUMMARY : arguments are inevitable but they help you grow

CHARACTER : Gojo x gender neutral ! Reader

WARNINGS : angst to fluff

“ You’ve Could’ve Died!” Gojo trailed in front of you, throwing his hands up in the air in exaggeration.

“ But I Didn’t! I had a plan you know!?! You ruined it!” you raise your voice, slamming the door behind you. “ as if! Do you think squirming and being on the blink of death is a plan?!?” Gojo scoffed at your comebacks, he was in utter disbelief

“ yes it was!” You start to yell back

“ you aren’t fully healed from your injuries!” Gojo pointed to your limping leg. You stand still, hand bawling in a fist

“ I’m stronger than what you think” You retaliated back, you felt your blood boil. Gojo sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose

“ Why Can’t You Listen To Me For Once!?! Are You Even Listening to me?” Gojo scolded, his tone hurtful as it slightly cracked, “ What If I Wasn’t There?” Gojo sat down on the couch, distress whelming over him

“ You Know I Would’ve Killed that Curse. Injury or not” you tried to lower your tone

“ you are so selfish” Gojo murmured under his breath. It didn’t go unnoticed to you and that was your finale straw

“ Selfish!?! You think I’m selfish?” You were in disbelief, scoffing loudly. “ YES!” Gojo yelled loudly at you, “ you don’t worry about what others want, you only care about yourself!” Gojo pointed out

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Had he not known how many times you’ve sacrificed yourself for others? Or how many times you’ve put yourself before him?

“ fuck you Gojo” you muttered his last name, stomping to the bedroom door before slamming it shut. Gojo’s lips gaped openly slightly. He hadn’t known the severity of the situation just yet. He messed up really bad .

Gojo has done a handful of bad things but this one was by far the worse. All the stress in the past week has built a ticking time bomb in you and Gojo set it off

Slamming the door shut, the sound rippled through the house. You sniffle a cracked cry. It was stupid, everything was

You collide with the bed, twisting and turning in the sheets, you felt like crying your heart out. After all those harsh words stabbed you through the chest, all you could do was spread some tears before eventually falling asleep

—-

It didn’t take long for you to wake up. Your throat was swelling up, it was really dry. You knew Gojo left in a hurry shortly after you so you decided to get a glass of water

By now, your emotions were drained out, your feet dragged itself against the wooden floor. You travelled to the living room which opened to the kitchen

Staring at the couch, you make out a figure slouching over the couch. It was Gojo as his feet barely fit on the chair, you didn’t want to see him now. A part of you had moved on but still, the anger was still prevalent

You quickly traveled to the kitchen and drank a glass of water, eyeing a vase on the counter. You realised there were suddenly flowers in the vase. You were in shock, why hadn’t you seen them before?

Not to mention they were your favourite

Moving closer, you spot a note that was placed on the side of the vase. Picking up the note, you were curious enough to read the contents inside it

‘ I’m sorry, forgive me?’

It red. You realised Gojo was apologising. After some self reflection, Gojo realised he was in the wrong and therefore ran to nearby stores to grab all the flowers he could

You had to admit, all your negative emotions disappeared, your mouth gaped open as your eyes stared in complete awe. He was always the first to apologise.

Staring back at the couch and note, you couldn’t leave the man out in the cold. You breathed in and out before approaching the couch

You kneeled down to stare at Gojo’s features. It was only now that you realised the dark circles that centred around his eyes. How long have they been there for?

Was he just as stressed as you? You felt guilty at this point.

“ Satoru….wake up” you slowly murmur, lightly patting the man’s shoulder. Satoru grumbled and stirred awake, his eyes focusing on your prominent figure

“ [y/n]..?” Gojo replies softly. You share a soft smile, “ let’s get to bed-“

You couldn’t even muster a sentence before you were tightly squeezed by Gojo’s arm. “ I’m sorry” Gojo immediately apologised

You were saddened by the apology, it made you seem more at fault. “ I know you are capable of fighting…and I didn’t mean it when I said you were selfish, in fact all you’ve ever been was self less…I was just worried and tired” Gojo murmurs, his rigid breath coating your neck

Your hands slowly snaked to Gojo’s back. “ you had every right to be worried… I’m sorry I put myself in danger too, you were right, I am still injured and I shouldn’t fight” you added on, addressing the doubts Gojo had

At last, Gojo parted from the hug, hand cupping your cheek. “ I’m sorry I sweared at you..I never meant it” you added, remembering your rude comment, shyly looking away from the man

“ don’t be, I kinda deserved it” Gojo merely chuckles, hugging you again. “ I missed you..don’t leave me please? I can do better” Gojo’s grip tightened again

“ Satoru I would never, we are in this together forever you know” you chuckled softly at Gojo’s overthinking

“ then…can i sleep with you please..?” Gojo’s voice wasn’t cocky anymore, it was a soft request to you

“ of course” you smile back, lightly kissing his cheek. Gojo smiles, wasting no time in peppering you in kisses

“ thank you” Gojo was very relieved. Out of everyone, he didn’t want to lose you to a stupid argument. He wasted no time in carrying you upwards, “ and then let’s cuddle together okay?” Gojo kissed your lips, carrying you to your shared room

“ yes, I would like that” you reply, erupting into soft giggles

#jujutsu kaisen gojo #fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojō x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x y/n #anime #anime fanfic #anime x reader #arguement #angst #angst to fluff

[barefoothighlander]

septem peccata mortalia - lust

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), sex pollen, cnc, unprotected pinv, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, creampie, biting, mention of blood, bit of anal fingering, praise, dacryphilia

masterlist

“Mantis, I don’t have eyes on that field”

Ghost's voice warns you through the device in your ear, your mind flipping between options, you’re target had run straight ahead, you could see him weaving around the tall grass, navigating holes in the dirt as you moved closer.

“He’s in my sights Ghost”

“Do not engage without backup”

You can hear the wind passing through his mic, he’s chasing behind you but you can’t tell how far, there’s already too much distance between you and the target.

“Negative, I’m going after him”

The plants graze against your skin as you move through them, brushing against your legs as you leave a trail of footprints in the mud. You can hear Ghost's voice in your ear yelling at you, but the blood pumping in your veins is too loud, carrying you closer to the man.

It catches you by surprise, the lack of air flowing to your lungs, you’ve trained for situations worse than this, you should be able to run less than a few miles before even feeling the slightest bit tired, yet your skin was dripping with sweat, your head on fire as your legs grow heavier.

“Ghost, somethings wrong”

“Fall back Mantis”

“I can’t, he’s right there”

You huff your breaths, moving your legs as fast as they’ll go as you try to catch up to the target until all of a sudden your skin feels like it’s on fire, every hair on your body standing on end like someone lit a match to your flesh.

“Mantis, where are you”

“Field, red flowers” It’s all you can manage through strangled gasps for air, your hand clutching your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache.

You give up, your body drained of its energy as you watch the target move further away, the anger of defeat settling into your body as you collapse to the ground, your knees digging into the mud as your body sinks lower.

You can hear him in your ear, his voice echoing as he draws closer to you, there’s panic behind his voice, a real worry about you.

“Mantis, do you copy, are you alright?”

“Hurts”

His body sinks beside yours, nervous hands ghosting over your form as his eyes scan your body.

“Where, did he hit you”

“No”

“What happened?” His eyes dart from your head to your feet, noting the way your chest heaves with every breath. “There’s no blood, what’s wrong”

“Hurts so much”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shifting your hips, trying to do anything to calm the ache in your muscles as your skin feels like it’s being burned.

“Okay, okay c’mon”

His arms scoop under your form, lifting you and keeping you pressed against him, his scent flooding your senses as you rest your cheek to his chest, your body moving with every step he takes.

He moves from the field, searching the terrain as his eyes land on a circle of large trees, placing you down to rest against the trunk of one.

“We need evac, somethings wrong with Mantis”

“Ghost, please, it hurts”

“What hurts, tell me so I can help”

You can’t find the words to describe the sparks in your lower stomach, your face flush as you come to terms with having to beg your Lieutenant to fuck you.

“Need you Ghost”

“Need me to what? Stay focused Sargent”

Your mouth dries as you try to form the words, heavy eyes gazing at his, the dark pupils staring back at you behind the mask.

“Need you, to fuck me”

It was like every synapse in his brain fired at once, combining confusion and desire, the words he’d longed to hear for so long escaping your lips but under the worst circumstances possible.

His hands plant on the sides of your head, tilting it and checking your pupils, he was sure you must’ve sustained some sort of head injury, your eyes blown out and your skin searing to the touch.

“Ghost, Simon, please”

“Is that what hurts?”

You nod weakly, adjusting your body for some kind of friction, his knee bend between your legs as he holds you still. Arching your hips your grind your core against his clothed thigh, nerves shooting up your spine at the contact, weak moans falling from your lips.

If he thought you were playing some kind of joke before, he was sure you were serious, watching you grind against his leg, your chest rising as your head falls back against the tree. He can feel the warmth from your core through your clothes, radiating against his thigh, feeling his pants grow tighter with each second.

“Does that feel good?”

His brain flips a switch, too consumed with the sight of you using him to get yourself off to be concerned with anything else, he’s dreamed about your noises, the way your face would scrunch as you fell apart under his touch, but now you were using him for your pleasure, he wanted to help.

“Keep doing that, harder”

You press your down harder against his thigh, the seam of your pants rubbing against your swollen clit as he watches you. He rocks his leg slightly, following your rhythm as your arousal seeps through your pants, leaving a wet spot between your thighs, making his cock twitch.

“Just like that, keep going love”

He presses his leg firm against your core, applying the right amount of pressure as you chase your high, hips circling as your chest blossoms, muscles tightening as your orgasm takes over your body.

He helps you ride your high out, moving his knee back and forth to allow you to come down slowly, his cock now painfully hard under his pants as you slump back.

“Feel better?”

“Need more, please”

His hands make their way under you, shifting your body to lay flat on the ground as he moves to sit between your legs, large hands working quickly to undo your pants, wasting no time in dipping below your underwear and gliding his digits through your folds.

He lets out a groan as his fingers collect your slick, smearing it around your cunt as you whimper, he grabs your legs, pulling them to his chest and takes off your pants, leaning over to bunch them under your head, providing some sort of protection from the elements as he pushes two fingers into you, feeling the way your pussy clamps down on him.

He pumps two digits into you, gliding them easily along your walls as his thumb rubs circles over your sensitive bud.

“That feel good? My fingers fucking you?”

You respond with a moan, hands reaching for his and moving them under your shirt, urging him to touch you. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching the bud eliciting a yelp from you as your hips rock in time with his movements, your skin drenched in sweat as he works you toward your second high.

“Cum for me love, soak my hand”

Your mouth falls open, drunken moans escaping as his fingers knead your breasts,

“So beautiful, c’mon want to feel you cum”

His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing his fingers as your orgasm tears through your body, back arching from the ground, pressing your body further onto his fingers as you cum.

“That’s it, such a good girl”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving an empty feeling in your chest,

“Better?”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you shake your head, “More Ghost, please, need more”

“Alright love, I’ll give you what you need”

He watches drops of tears stream down tour cheeks, salty trails left over your flushed skin, he’d never seen someone so worked up he almost pitied you.

He could lie and say he was simply doing it for your benefit, to help you with your situation but he knew he couldn’t control himself, every dream that had him waking in a sweat for the past few months, the reminder of how the tips of his ears would turn pink when you’d lean over a desk or bend down to grab something, he’d never felt desire for someone like this, like he’d be at your beck and call every hour of the day, willing to do whatever you wanted as long as it meant he could feel you.

Every fibre of his being burned for you, almost as brightly as yours did at that moment, he had so many thoughts about what he’d do when he finally got you naked, but this, right now, was about you.

You bite your lower lip as he rigs his pants lower, the tip of his cock red and dripping as it springs free, a slight sense of panic as your eyes take in the size of him but the way your core aches for him drowns out any sense of doubt.

He drags his tip through your folds, stifling a groan as your slick coats him, his hand pressed firmly to your waist as you lock your legs around him.

“Don’t tease” You huff

“M’not gonna last long”

You reach up, grabbing the top of his tactical vest as you pull his face to yours, soft eyes and wet cheeks inches from his face, he wants to stay like this forever, his thumb tuning gently over the tears on your skin, collecting them before he places the digit on your lower lip.

You open your mouth, allowing him to push his thumb in, swirling your tongue around the digit, the salt on his skin mixing with your saliva.

His thumb holds your jaw open as he pushes his cock in, stretching you around his length as moans erupt from your throat, your fingers grip his vest holding him near you, letting his scent and sounds drown you as his cock stuffs you full.

He drags his length along your walls, allowing you a moment to adjust before you tug him to face you.

“Need it hard, please”

Without missing a beat he plunges his full length into you, his tip jamming into your cervix with every thrust as you arch into him, your heels digging into his back, driving him into you.

“Thought about this for so long, so goddamn perfect”

You tilt your chin to the sky, your body jolting with every thrust as he leans down, fingers pulling his mask to reveal his lips as they connect with your collar bone, neck, chest, anywhere he could reach he was trailing kisses.

“Touch yourself love”

You do as he says, snaking a hand between your bodies to trace over your clit, eyes squeezing shut at the stimulation as they well up.

“Just like that, doing so well”

Weak digits work your bud, lazy circles out of time with his thrusts, your band in your stomach slowly stretching but it’s not enough.

“More Ghost, need more”

He stops his movements for a minute, a single digit moving to part your lips, pushing in and exploring your mouth as you whimper around it.

He pulls his finger out with a pop, his cock still inside you as his other hand grabs your leg, flipping your body and tugging you up to your knees.

He teases the wet finger around your other hole, his cock twitching inside you as you arch your back for him, pushing your hips back to allow him access.

Slowly he pushes in, thrusting his length slightly as he reaches the first knuckle, listening to your noises.

“This what you need pretty girl both holes filled?”

“Yes, please, fuck me”

He pushes the finger deeper, watching your hole swallow the digit as he pumps his cock into you, slowly he pulls his finger, pushing it back in, allowing you to adjust before moving in time with his thrusts.

You’re stuffed to the brim with his cock while his finger works you open, your slick dripping from your core to coat your legs as his hips collide with your ass, using the last bit of your strength to steady yourself in the dirt.

“Want you to cum in me, please, need to feel you”

His balls tighten at the thought,

“Fuck, cum for me love, one more, squeeze my cock with your little pussy”

Your body melts into putty, every inch of skin slick with sweat as you turn your head to face him, watery eyes staring as he locks eyes with you, his lips are still visible, a piece of him you’d never seen before.

In a burst of strength you pull off him, turning your body and shoving him back as you climb onto his lap, weak hands on his shoulders as you sink down on his cock, leaning in to connect your lips. You bare your teeth into his lower lip, stifling the moan from your throat as his hands grip your waist, tugging you up and down his cock as he digs his heels into the dirt, thrusting his hips to meet yours, his cock slamming into you with brutal force.

You taste metal in your mouth, pulling back a drip of blood falls from his lips, mixing with the saliva that strings you two together, everything is too much, his hands holding you against him as he fucks you from below, his scent drowning your senses as his taste lingers on your tongue, it takes over your body.

You cum with a sob, your arms clinging to him as your body becomes putty, with one arm he tugs you against him, holding you down on his cock as his hips twitch, free hand grabbing your jaw to face him, his eyes softening as they glance as your wrecked form, puffy skin stained with your cries.

You watch his jaw tense as his grip tightens, his cock buried in you as his cum floods your walls, filling you with his seed while he stares into your eyes.

You fall against him, your head nestled into his shoulder as your nerves finally calm, your limbs numb on his form as he holds you, small kisses placed to your sticky skin.

“You’re alright love, did so well”

Your tears soak the shoulder on his uniform, leaving a patch of dark fabric as he helps you up, holding you to keep you steady, he helps you to tug on your pants, letting them fall loosely on your hips to avoid any contact with your pussy.

He scoops your body up before you have the chance to stumble, holding you to his chest as he moves, keeping his eyes on you instead of the terrain, more concerned with your well-being than anything else.

“It’ll be alright, I’ll get you home”

The time spent in the helicopter is a blur, the noises all meshing into one high pitched ring that didn’t subside until you fell asleep against his chest, your mind and body weak from the mission. You had slept for hours, your nervous system attempting to fight off whatever sort of chemical had entered it, your vision still a slight blur as you woke, turning your head to your surroundings, the room you were in had different lighting than the hospital wing at base, the bed your body lay in much comfort than the cots they issued.

There was no mechanical beeping, no strong scent of cleaning solution, instead it smells like him, you turn your gaze, he’s there, sitting in the corner, watching you.

“You’re awake”

You grumble an incoherent response, attempting to sit up as he rushes to your side, his hand flat on your back as he helps you, he reaches for the glass beside you, bringing it to your lips to help you drink, urging you to finish it before moving it away.

“What happened?”

“Some sort of chemical entered your system, they can’t tell what”

“S’that why-?”

“I think so, yeah”

You nod weakly, Ghosts shoulders slump slightly at your question,

“No hospital?”

“They kept you for a few hours but I didn’t want them poking around”

“So we’re now where?”

“My flat, I figured you could rest here”

“Oh”

“I can take you home if you like”

You shake your head, “Here’s fine”

“Right, I’ll make you some tea then”

He stands from the bed, your eyes following his movements,

“Simon”

“Yes love?”

“It wasn’t just the chemical”

You see his eyes crease under his balaclava, confirmation that you felt the same way he did, kneeling beside you his thumb traces over your cheek, now cool and relaxed rather than burning to the touch.

He lifts his mask from his chin, leaning forward to connect your lips, your hand moving to cover his as he grabs it, locking his fingers between yours.

He pulls back from the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours as he huffs a breath,

“Rest love, I’ll take care of you”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon riley fluff #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P5)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Henry and Sam interrupt the trio's plan. And Joel says something that will either make or break what he has with the reader.

Warning: blood, guns, Infected, fighting, cursing

Masterlist

Part 1 and 6

.........................................................

Joel was on his knees behind Y/N, digging through her hair, checking the injury on the back of her head. "Well, good news. Just a little scrape. Head bleeds more than the rest of the body, so it only looks like it's bad."

She hummed before looking over her shoulder at him. When she felt him staring at her, she completely swiveled on the ground to face him. His eyes were studying her closely.

She sighed, "…why do you do that?"

His eyebrows furrowed, "Do what?"

She wasn't sure how to even explain her thoughts, so she dropped it, "Just… nothing."

Joel didn't want to push her anymore than she already had been today, so he dropped it, too. "Go lay down, Darlin."

She smiled, standing up, "…There's that accent again."

He scoffed under his breath, standing too. 

This seemed to be the longest Ellie had been quiet. So, she took it upon herself to break the moment, "How long are we gonna be here?"

Joel sighed, "We'll survey the roof in the morning."

Then he started scattering glass around the door, leading all the way to their makeshift beds, which consisted of old couch cushions. 

The sound of glass falling was killing their ears, and finally, Ellie yelled out, "Joel!"

He stopped, "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want someone sneaking' up on us while we're sleepin'."

"Oh! I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch." She got a smirk, "Are you sure you're gonna hear it?"

"Of course, I'll hear it. That's the damn point."

…

Joel woke up to the sound of Y/N's panicked voice. "Joel…?"

"JOEL!"

His eyes opened.

Ellie was held at gunpoint by a man in his twenties.

Y/N was still seated on the ground with her hands up in surrender.

Joel turned.

A young boy held a gun to Joel's head.

The man spoke up quickly, "Eyes on me."

Joel simply stared at him, determining his next move.

The man continued, "You don't have to worry about what to say. We don't wanna hurt you. We wanna help you."

Joel's voice was strained, "Okay…"

"Okay… um… I don't know what the next step is with something like this, but… if I lower my gun… We didn't hurt you, so you don't hurt us, right?"

Joel's eyes never left the man. "That's right."

The man tilted his head in panic, "That's a weird fucking tone, man."

Ellie spoke up, "That's just the way he sounds. He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he's okay."

"Everything is great."

Y/N looked over her shoulder. "Joel…"

The man was confused, "Fuck. Okay. I'm gonna trust you."

He began to sign to the boy. They communicated back and forth a few times before he spoke up again, "Okay. But if you guys try anything… yeah?"

Silence ensued before the man motioned for the boy to step back. 

Joel's jaw clenched when they didn't pull their guns away, "Can I sit up?"

"…Yeah. Slow. Get up slow."

Joel did so, keeping his hands raised, "Who are you?"

"My name's Henry. That's my brother, Sam."

…

The five sat in the building around a lantern, eating rations.

"Where did you get these?" Henry asked.

"From Bill," Ellie answered. "He's dead."

Joel reached out, giving the rest of his portion to Sam, who took it happily. He motioned to Henry.

Henry spoke up again, "He says thank you. I'm guessing you don't have much, so, this means a lot."

Ellie smiled, "How old is he?"

"He's eight."

"Cool. I'm Ellie."

Henry's eyes moved to Y/N, waiting for an introduction. 

She felt his gaze, "Oh. Uh. Y/N."

When Joel didn't answer, Ellie slapped his leg.

He grunted. "I'm Joel. Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other, let's call this a win-win and move on."

Henry nodded, "Well, I'm betting that y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up… I'll show you one."

…

"Highways. Downtown. Us." Henry pointed out on his makeshift map. "This whole are belongs to Kathleen."

Y/N spoke up, "She's in charge?"

Joel wrapped his arm around her waist slowly and unknowingly, as if instinct. She in turn, leaned against his side.

Henry nodded, "Leader of the resistance. So. How do we get across?" He signed to Sam.

Sam wrote on his paper tablet the word tunnels.

Joel scowled, "Kansas City has a subway?"

"No, maintenance tunnels."

"Alright. Great plan. So what do you need me for?"

Henry sighed, "You noticed anything strange about this city?"

Ellie hummed, "No infected?"

"Oh, there's infected."

Y/N connected the dots, "But not on the surface…"

Henry nodded, "Exactly."

Joel was growing angry, "So you want US going in a tunnel?"

"Everyone thinks that it's full of Infected, but I know it's not. They cleared it out like… three years ago."

Joel scoffed.

"Okay, so maybe there's one or two. That's why you're here."

"And what if there's more?"

"Like those ones that see like a bat?" Ellie asked.

Henry stepped back, "Wait. You ran into a clicker?"

Ellie smiled, "Two of 'em."

"And you're still alive. See? If it gets bad, we turn around."

Joel's scowl never left, "So THAT'S your plan?"

Y/N grabbed Joel's hand. "Joel…? Can we..?"

He leaned down, "Yeah, uh. Give us a minute"

The two walked out of the room into the hallway.

Joel sighed, "I don't know about this, sweetheart."

"Me neither."

He stared at her, "Tell me what's going on in that little head of yours."

"It's dicey but… it's all we have, isn't it? And that would make four people dependent on you."

He nodded, "How do you know we can trust this guy?"

She smiled, "Look at him, Joel. He wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. The guy is harmless."

"What if he harms you?"

She stopped. "Is that what you're worried about?"

Joel sighed, "I'm always worried. About you," he stops, trying to cover the meaning of his words, "…and Ellie. You and Ellie."

"Well," she continued, "Trust me about this one thing. When have I steered you wrong?"

Joel stepped back in thought, "That one time when-"

"-Yeah. Okay. I heard enough." She walked past him into the room. "Henry, we'll do it."

Joel was so blindly in love with her. 

…

Here they sat in a safe room in the tunnel, waiting for daylight to end.

Y/N still hadn't recovered from yesterday's events, so Joel was insistent that she rest.

But when she tired to lay on the ground, he held her up, dragging her over to the table as he sat in a chair.

He pulled her into his lap, "Floor's too cold. You'll get sick."

That's how she ended up asleep in his lap, her head tucked in the crook of his neck as she slumbered.

"You know," Henry said, "I didn't take you as the… caring type."

Joel scoffed, "What?"

"With your… your wife," he pointed to Y/N in his lap, "and your daughter," pointing to Ellie.

Joel's voice hardened, "This isn't my family."

Henry stepped back from the chair, "Sorry, man. I… I just thought-"

"-well, you thought wrong."

He thought Y/N was asleep, but she wasn't. 

And she heard every word.

…

The group exited the tunnels, beyond happy that their plan was working.

Ellie smiled, "So, cross the river, and then what? Where are you guys gonna go?"

"Don't know yet," Henry thought, "Probably gonna head toward-"

Gunshot.

They all ducked.

Joel grabbed at each person, "Move. Move! GO!"

They hid behind a car.

Henry was panicked, "Where is that coming from?"

Joel turned, "Shut up."

He turned to Ellie and Y/N, "You don't move, and he's not gonna hit you. I'm gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back."

"But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you." Ellie protested.

"It's dark and he has shit aim. No one is gonna kill me." He leaned towards her, "Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

He turned to Y/N, "You'll be alright."

She leaned in towards him, "Just… be careful."

He reached forward, taking a strand of her hair in between his fingers and studying it, as if it will be his last chance to. "I will be."

…

Joel's voice was heard from their hiding place, "RUN!"

Y/N's head perked up, "Ellie. We gotta go."

Headlights.

And soon, a snow plough began clearing out the cars leading up to the four.

They ran as fast as they could, hearing Joel firing at the car from his place in the house.

He managed to hit the driver, making the vehicle crash into the house.

It caused an explosion.

Joel watched carefully trying to locate Y/N and Ellie through the smoke.

Kathleen exited her vehicle, soldiers following suit.

And the four were hiding behind a car.

Henry spoke up, "I'll come out! Just… let the others go."

Kathleen smiled, "No. Sorry. The girls are with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam… well… Sam is with you."

"You don't understand!"

The snow plough suddenly fell through the building and into the tunnel, causing a massive hole to show.

And the sound of Infected.

The four began to run as Infected ran out from the tunnels.

In the chaos, Y/N had lost Ellie. 

She made it to the tree line, looking back for her.

When Ellie was nowhere, she grumbled, taking out her gun from her pack, and going back out.

She dodged Infecting, shooting at some as she went.

When one grabbed at her arm, a bullet moved straight through its head.

Joel.

She looked up to the house in gratitude before continuing.

She finally found Ellie stabbing at Infected that were trying to attack Henry and Sam. She ran as fast as she could to them, helping Ellie finish the job. "C'mon."

Y/N led them all back to the tree line. They were only feet away when Kathleen stopped them, her gun aimed carefully. "Stop."

They watched an Infected jump at her and begin to rip at her face. 

They were all frozen.

Joel grabbed at Y/N from behind. "This way. Now. Move!"

She jumped, turning around as they others began to run, "Thank you."

He nodded "Let's go."

…

"Think they'll be okay?" Henry asked.

They all sat in an abandoned house, the kids in the bedroom reading a comic book, the adults in the living room.

"Yeah. It's easier when you're a kid anyway."

Y/N stood on shaky legs, "I need fresh air."

Joel's eyes watched her carefully, "Hey. Don't wander, alright?"

She turns back with a defiant look, "Not like you'd care."

And she shut the door behind her.

…

Joel stepped outside a little while later. 

Y/N was sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the stars.

He stood behind her, "You alright?"

She turned as far as she could towards him, "I'm fine."

Joel didn't like that answer.

He sighed, moving to sit next to her. When she didn't look at him, he grabbed her jaw gently, pulling it towards him. His voice was soft, as it always was with her, "Hey. You're obviously not fine. And what the hell was that back there? Tell me what's going on."

She stared into his eyes, trying to decide what to say to him.

He tried to make her sit in the silence, but even he couldn't handle it. "How am I supposed to fix what's wrong if I don't know what it is, sweet girl?"

She scoffed, "I just wish you'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

She turned her head away from his hand, "Quit looking at me… like… like that."

Joel looked confused, "I don't get it."

She sighed deeply, "You look at me and you talk to me like… like I mean something to you, Joel. It's frustrating."

He leaned back in shock. "You… you think I… I don't care about you?"

She laughed slightly, standing up and walking out into the yard slightly, "You've made that much clear, Joel. You said it yourself."

How could she think that? Joel began to ponder anything and everything he's ever said to her. It was angering him, "I've never said those words to you. I care about you."

"Only because I'm Tess's sister."

"Watch. Your. Mouth."

She paused, watching Joel stand on the stairs. Her tone dropped to a quiet mumble, "I think I've been on this journey long enough. I should just go."

Joel stepped down one of the stairs, "I've already said it before. You're not going anywhere. I want you here."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Joel!" She yelled, "You don't even consider me family!"

Oh. 

She heard that.

He sighed, trying to control his tone, "No one wants you to leave. I need you on this trip… and Ellie. She needs you."

"I just want you to be honest."

"What do you want from me, baby?"

They just stared at each other.

"I want you to tell me what you want from me, Joel."

He stood in thought, before descending the stairs. "There are no wants in this world now, sweet girl. You and I both know that."

"You don't need me to be around. I'm extra weight."

"LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU YOU'RE FUCKING NOT!"

Her eyes hardened at his loud tone. "Don't try to spare my feelings. You don't want me around and I see it. Just…" her eyes saddened at his look, "…stop looking at me like that. Please."

She moved past him, going back up the porch stairs.

"Darlin', wait."

She sighed, turning around.

But she was thrown off by the sudden feeling of his lips on hers. 

One hand wrapped around her waist, the other across her back, pulling her closer.

He pulled away.

"There are no wants in this world, but I do. I want you."

Her eyes scanned his face inquisitively, checking for the truth.

"You can look all day, sweet girl. I'll always tell you the truth. Please, stay."

She nodded, pulling away from his arms. "Okay. I'll… I'll stay."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "Uh...good."

He moved past her to go inside, but she gently tugged at his sleeve.

He turned to her.

And she kissed him back.

He hummed into the kiss, pulling her to him once again.

He had always wondered how soft her lips were. 

And now he knew. 

She pulled away this time, "Let's go inside. I'm fucking cold."

Joel chuckled. He shrugged off his jacket, placing around her shoulders. "I think I like it out here more." He gently kissed her lips again. "I'll keep you warm."

She smiled, "I love when you look at me like that."

.....................................................

Part 6

Tag list: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

[teasteeper]

street fighter bf!yangyang

pairing: street fighter!yangyang x f!reader

genre: fluff, smut 18+ mdni

warnings: blood and injury, violence, drug use, weed, oral (f receiving), pinv

street fighter bf!yangyang who's such a tryhard. he's the youngest and rowdiest fighter, hopped up on adrenaline with no regard for his safety, taking on anyone at any time. he feels best when he's covered in blood, stimulants buzzing in his system and his hands numb from his unrelenting punches. which is why he wants you there - he invites you to every fight so he can seek you out in the crowd right after he's done. cups your face in his shaky hands and pulls you in for a deep kiss, the metallic taste of his blood on your tongue. loves the way it stains your teeth and tints your lips red, laughing when you try to wipe it away and stain your fingers instead. he just can’t control himself, particularly around you, managing to drive home for about two minutes before pulling onto a quiet side street and telling you to get in the backseat. “you’re still bleeding” you whine out to him, pressing your knees together. “and?” you watch him push your legs apart and flip your skirt up, tugging your panties to the side with his bruised fingers before dipping his head down and lapping at your pussy. he’s still high and sloppy, drool and blood dripping from his broken nose making a mess between your thighs.

street fighter bf!yangyang who only feels safe with you. behind the cocky, blood hungry street fighter is a kid who was forced to grow up too fast, swept away by the violence and drugs and money of it all. when he’s with you he doesn’t have to act tough or put on a straight face. so he loves your softness and femininity, spending his free time driving you around, paying for your sweet vanilla lattes and new mini skirts and makeup. he wants to provide for someone with the dumb amount of money he has from beating people up, and he thinks you deserve it more than anyone. he sits patiently as you put pink hair dye in his hair and paint his nails black, brows furrowing and getting serious when it’s his turn to paint your nails, muttering curses when he gets polish on your skin. he smokes weed instead of popping uppers when he’s with you, feeling the stress leave his body as he lazes back on your bed, watching your manicured fingers ghost over his bare abdomen. you trace the dark bruises on his pale skin that nearly cover him completely, from the dark ring around his eye to his broken ribs, “does it hurt?” “what, that?” he looks down at his wounds as if seeing them for the first time before looking up with a dopey lopsided smile, “i don’t feel a thing”

street fighter bf!yangyang who sees every man as a threat. takes protecting you too far, ready to maim anyone who comes close enough. he has half a mind to lead you out of the club with a hand on your lower back, ushering you into the passenger seat of his car before turning around and shoving past the bouncer. all you can do is stare silently when he comes back ten minutes later, blood splattered on his white shirt and his knuckles raw.

street fighter bf!yangyang who isn't as careful with his drugs as hendery is. he knows the older street fighter doesn't let his girl anywhere near that shit (hendery's words), but yangyang doesn't think of the long term consequences. getting high makes him feel okay, and it makes you silly and soft, malleable in his hands. both your pupils blown wide, skin glowing with sweat. his thrusts are slow and sloppy as you squirm restlessly under him, catching your jaw in his bruised fingers so he can see your fucked out expression. "look at me when i fuck you" he's slurring, and you're both so gone, feeling a soft smack on your cheek that makes you flutter your eyes open. his heart swells at how clingy you get, tugging on his hair and pouting your lips for a kiss, broken whines caught in your throat. "hi, baby" he pushes two fingers past your lips, something to suck on so you stay awake, "s'okay. you're okay. i'll fix it, baby. i got you"

#౨ৎ street fighter diaries #street fighter!yy #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv #nct #yangyang smut #yangyang x reader #yangyang x you #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv hard hours #wayv hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #mine

[aurorawritestoescape]

LOVERS ON THE RUN || 2,5k

Pt 3 of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang series

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, rough Joel/soft Joel cos I want it all, m!oral, injury(not reader), blood, cum eating, ball sucking, pussy grinding

Summary: it gets risky… and hot

A/n: hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and @iamasaddie for the gif <3<3

Series masterlist || Masterlist

*****

The sirens and gunshots are still ringing loudly in your ears as Tommy is driving Joel and you to a safe place. Yet you can only hope it’ll be safe.

You are sitting in the back of the car with Joel, still clutching the gun in your trembling hand, the other gripping Joel’s jean clad thigh as if grounding yourself to him. The bags with money are at your feet but you forgot all about them. Your widened eyes are fixed on the road. You don’t seem to be followed now but Joel taught you to expect the worst.

“Fuck! That was close!" you exclaim with a tint of hysteria in your loud voice, attempting to shout over the roaring engine of the car and your heart pounding in your ears. You're so high on adrenaline, fear and thrill that you feel invincible, almost immortal.

Tommy's nervous chuckle shows that he's on it too - the only drug that gets you off the best - escaping death with an armful of cash.

Just mere minutes ago you were standing on the brink of the precipice, one wrong move and you’d fall meeting your death. But destiny spared you once again.

“You two are fuckin’ lucky… I had that feeling.. couldn’t relax for shit. Came back and …fucking cops.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” You reach to him and pat his shoulder as he gives you a warm smile in the rear view mirror.

You glance at Joel and say with adoration and almost piety in your voice.

“And thanks to Joel’s number one rule.”

You and Tommy chant it together parodying his drawl, “Always have an escape plan!”

Joel smiles with a corner of his mouth. Your nerves alight, one glance at the man and you wish you two were alone so you could pierce yourself with his cock and ride him until your legs give out. Or suck him off, choking on his length and getting a new fix of adrenaline when you almost suffocate on his member.

But it’s not the place nor the time and Joel isn’t even looking at you.

His head turned to the window, his thoughtful gaze is sliding over the trees and streetlights you’re passing.

Finally the cloud of the high dissipates and you look at him. Really look at him. His forehead is glistening with sweat. He’s chewing on his lower lip and clenching and unclenching his right fist. He’s nervous.

Well he must be, you think, after what happened. Wishing to comfort him you scoot closer, bracing your hand on his chest and lean in to give him a kiss…

“Fuck!, “ Joel winces startling you by a sudden jerk of his whole body and in the next moment you feel the claws of something terrifying grip your heart.

“Where?” You ask with a shaky voice as your eyes are frantically searching all over his body.

He nods down and to the side and you notice his dark shirt stretched over his broad shoulder is glistening. His right arm, the furthest from you, is pressed tightly to his torso.

Your fingers dart to his shoulder but you stop and look at him, eyes screaming ‘What the fuck do I do, Joel?’ You’re frozen, trembling hands raised. You’d never raise them for the police like that but you’re doing it now, staring into the face of your biggest fear - losing him.

“ ‘s gonna be ok baby, don’t worry,” He says through clenched teeth.

The stupor you’ve been in disappears and your head whips to Tommy.

“Joel’s been shot! Floor it!”

*****

The next few minutes flew like a whirlwind of actions and feelings and at the same time dragged on like hours. When you finally arrived at some old abandoned garage you’d already done everything you could in the moving car.

Joel popped a couple of Oxys and now he’s sitting on a stool, shirt ripped off his shoulder exposing a bullet wound. You’re stitching him up, having sent Tommy outside to watch out.

Joel’s every muscle is taught, teeth clenched and he growls with every push of the needle through his skin. The sounds he's making don't let you concentrate. You feel sad for him but can't forget that he growls like that only buried deep in your tight wet heat.

“Can you stop?” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Your growling?”

“Why?” He asks and growls again when you make another stitch.

You shrug and feel him staring at your face, reading you.

It doesn’t take him long, never does, and you hear a soft chuckle coming from the pits of his chest. You glance at him, meeting his narrowed eyes and a shit eating smirk.

“Dirty girl, soakin’ your panties while your man is sufferin’, huh?”

“I’m the one who’s suffering here,” You reply earning another chuckle from him. “And I’m not soaking anything”.

“Should I check, baby?” He smirks tilting his head to the side.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whisper trying to hide that he’s right.

“Don’t call for him yet. I ain’t dead”.

You freeze with a bloody needle hovering over his skin. You can’t see it anymore, your vision gets blurry with tears. You try to hide your face from Joel leaning closer to the wound. But he notices.

“Hey,” he cups your face with the hand he can use, pulling you closer to his face and wipes your tears away with a calloused thumb.

“I’ll be ok, baby.”

“You don’t know it”.

“I do. It’s just a graze”

“No, it’s not. The fucking bullet went through you! You were bleeding so much and.. and …”, you cut yourself off suffocated by the fear.

“Hey,” Joel says and grabs your shoulder, “You stopped it. You did good, ya hear me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glistening eyes downcast.

“Look at me,” he asks gently, his gaze is warm and comforting, “Thank you, baby”.

You jerk your head in a nod and a tear falls down on his hand.

“I’m almost done.”

You continue your work in silence.

When it’s done and his arm is secured in a makeshift sling, you take some water from the car to clean yourself off the dark crimson blood. Joel’s blood. Then you start carefully wiping away the red off his big hands and can't help but imagine the world where these hands can’t hold you anymore, can’t wipe away your tears, can’t make you come, can’t be kissed by your loving lips. The wave of panic covers you whole again and you burst into tears.

Immediately embracing you with his healthy arm, no matter the pain he must be in, Joel holds you close kissing wherever he can reach, your hair, eyes, nose, cheeks. No one would believe that this big brutal man could be so gentle and soft.

“I’m s-sorry”, you hiccup after a few minutes of crying on Joel’s healthy shoulder. Your body is still trembling against his and you hate yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

“Shh.. it’s ok, sweetheart. I’m here. We’re safe,” Joel whispers, pressing you closer to his naked chest peeking from his ripped shirt.

“We aren’t safe, Joel. Not after today.”

“Always have an escape plan, right, baby?”

“You think it’s time? Did we save up enough?”

“Yeah, baby. Enough for us and for Tommy. Can’t wait to see you in that micro bikini you promised me,” he groans in your ear and you quietly giggle. You press your cheek to his broad chest and furrow your brows in thought. You love this life, always have, but you can’t deny that your luck has run out. Going on will be like driving your car towards the edge of the cliff at full speed. With a pang in your heart you realize that it’s time to take another road while you still have each other.

You straighten up, check Joel’s shoulder and arm again and then look deep into his eyes. He notices myriads of thoughts swirling in your mind, wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck and lightly squeezes.

“If you need somethin’ to calm down…?”

“I can’t smoke now… need clear mind.”

“I ain’t talking about weed, baby”.

“What then?”

“Oh, think, sweetheart. What always helps, huh?” He moves his hand to your face and his thumb brushes your lower lip.

You look confused, head tilted to the side, until he pushes his thick finger into your mouth. Your eyes sparkle with excitement while you’re sucking on his thumb.

“Good girl. C’mon now. Get on your knees.”

He pulls the finger out and you lower yourself kneeling between his legs.

“Sure I won’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine. Take what you need, sweetheart,” he replies, spreading his thighs wider for you.

Your heart sings and pussy tingles as you slowly open his jeans, tug them down to the middle of his hips and pull out his soft heavy package.

You press your cheek to his warm crotch and feel his cock twitch. You don’t do anything for a few moments, just breathe in his musk and purr into his soft lightly trimmed hair. Joel’s petting your head and you sink into a trance, as he holds you close.

When you’re ready for more, you start leaving open mouth kisses to his inner thighs, balls, shaft, tip. With every touch of your lips, you feel him grow bigger, stiffer, harder and you can’t help but whine feeling yourself gush. So you start grinding your clothed pussy against your booted heel, desperate for any pressure.

You look up at Joel with your doe eyes, full of devotion and love and he groans, scooting closer to the edge of the seat.

“Go ahead, baby. Suck on it. It’ll calm ya right up.”

You know it will. So you take his already hard cock in your hand and latch on the fat tip. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as precome hits your tongue. You hum as you lick it off him and then take his length deeper into your hot mouth. In a few moments you’re already drooling around him, soaking his cock with your saliva while your warm palms gently caress his heavy balls.

“Fuck… yeah, baby,” Joel groans making your pussy ache with need.

When his cock is nice and wet you pull your mouth away replacing it with your hand and bend lower to suck on the velvet skin of his sack. You trace its seam with the tip of your tongue and take a ball in your mouth. You roll it with your tongue and then suck. Joel’s huge fist clutches your hair, not too hard but enough to signal you to keep going. You suck one into your mouth, slurp and lick around it and then part from it with a pop.

“Hnggg…That’s my girl,” Joel praises you through growls when you start working on the other ball. Your hands aren’t resting, one clasped around his long cock, sliding up and down from the girthy base to the throbbing head, as the other caresses the other ball.

You’re burning up with arousal and not being able to contain yourself, you grind, grind, grind your aching pussy against your heel.

Joel lightly tugs at your hair to get your hazy half lidded eyes to look at him and chuckles when you do,

“Shit, look at ya. Already gone just from suckin’ on my sack.”

You let go of his ball with a pop and his cock twitches in your hand. A clear drop beads on the slit and you lick it off, not tearing your eyes from the man.

“Yeah, now onto the main course, sweetheart,” he groans with a smirk.

You smile back, licking your lips as your hand returns to his sack.

“Don’t hold back, Joel. Please.”

You don’t think it’s possible but his gaze turns even darker, completely obsidian with lust, his cock is throbbing as you’re holding it at the base.

“Ya got it, baby”.

His hand, soft and gentle just a second ago, grabs your hair tight and pulls you closer. You gasp as your lips smash into his warm head but you don’t hesitate to open them and take more and more of his cock, until your nose touches his dark pubic hair. Your throat is trying to accommodate his length, eyes are welling up with tears, fingers gripping his thighs. He fills you so well that all the fears are quickly pushed out of your head by him. You nearly suffocate on his thick cock, squirming between his thighs but he’s holding you tight.

“Keep it in, baby, ya doing so good…”

Your throat contracts around him and he pulls you off with a curse. You cough, swallowing air, drooling all over yourself while he’s holding you by your hair like a dog on a leash.

“Gonna make me come too fast… lemme enjoy this mouth of yours.”

Your mind has already shut down, all your actions, senses, emotions are focused on pleasuring him.

Your mouth is on his cock again, tongue pushing on the underside as you slide up his length and swirl it around his fat head. You’re drunk on Joel, his taste, sounds, scent, his essence is inside you, around you, everywhere. He’s your whole world and they almost took him from you. Angry tears roll out of your eyes while you hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, in control of his pleasure but completely under his power. You feel his cock stiffen and then it starts pulsating in your mouth. You take him deeper and drink his cum as Joel is spurting it generously right into your throat. With another roll of your hips against your boot you come, moaning around his length in your mouth, seeing stars behind your eyelids. When he discards of the last drop of his seed, he coos over you,

“Oh, baby, did your little pussy come already?”

Not waiting for the answer, Joel roughly tugs on your hair again, dull pain making you whine, lifts your head off his softening cock and finally sees your face, stained with fresh tears.

“Fuck, baby, c’mere,” he pulls you up on your feet wincing at the pain in his shoulder. You immediately push your face into the crease of his neck, trying not to hurt him, breathing him in. He turns to you and his lips find yours. You kiss each other, desperately and feverishly, like it’s the last time before your old life ends and you meet a new beginning together.

Joel holds you tight one second and in the next his arm falls and his whole weight slumps on you. With his name on your trembling lips, you see his eyes roll back and then close.

*****

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[hihomeghere]

UGH! Holy crap! You did so well with the Five smut! I love me a good soft dom y/n 🤭😩. So how about a fluff? Five and Y/n are working together at the commission and Five gets injured, he thinks Y/n will just continue fighting because her job is very important to her but as soon as Y/n sees Five in pain she grabs him and rushes him away from the fighting and the bad guys get away. Five's all aloof like "Why would you do that? I know how much your job means to you" and Y/n's bandaging him up and saying "Well maybe you mean more"

Et tu, Brute? | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

First off, thank you for your kind words! I hope this lives up to what you had imagined! Word Count : 1.2k, a little guy Warnings/Tags : Gore, stabbing, hospital setting, blood, fluff, Aged up!Five, I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters. Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff, cursing.

“Five!” You yelled, Five felt someone punch his lower back. He turned and swung at the target behind him. His fist connected with the man’s temple, knocking him to his knees. Seriously, a back shot? Why had you been so worried in the first place? He reached back to rub the dull pain on his back when his fingers connected with the handle of a blade. There was a knife in his back. He fought every urge to pull it out, knowing he would be in a worse situation after doing something like that. If he wasn’t so disappointed by his lack of situational awareness skills, he would have laughed. Getting stabbed in the back, really? Where were the 22 senators waiting in the shadows? 

Missions are never this easy, he should have seen the obvious trap. Cornering one target before another sneaks up behind you. You let out a groan of pain as the man’s fist connects with your cheek. You stagger back, your hand covering your cheek. You flipped your hair back, passing a glance at him. Your face immediately fell.

“No!” You yelled, reaching out to him as the knife was pulled out from his back. His legs gave out from under him, his knees smashing against the pavement below him. Just another injury to add to the list. What a stellar partner you are Five. He hung his head, tears pricking in his eyes, hot and heavy as they fell down his cheeks. The target behind him ran, taking his knife with him. You jumped, twirling your body as your foot connected with the target's face. Sending him sprawling onto the pavement. 

He twisted his arm wildly behind him, trying to cover the gushing slimy blood. He had less than five minutes until he bled out, oh the irony of it all. You sprinted over to him, dropping to your knees.

“Fuck!” You hissed as your hand pressed over the hole on his back. Five cried out, bile rising up into his throat. He clamped his jaw shut, keeping any cries and puke in. Millions of tiny needles seemed to be digging into his skin. 

“Can you walk?” Your voice sounded miles away, like you were yelling at him from one side of the Grand Canyon. Your hair had fallen into your face, your wide eyes staring into his. He tried blinking the black spots that filled his vision away.

“Et tu, Brute?” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as Five chuckled to himself. His hearing was slowly going, like he had been plunged underwater. 

“Fuck it.” You grumbled setting the briefcase down in front of you both. No. You wouldn’t. He looked back at one of the targets, still lying on the ground. There was no way you would throw away a mission like this, not for him. He reached out, his cold fingers covering yours.

“No,” he groaned, bile rising up in his throat as the spots returned to his vision.

“Yes.” You said through gritted teeth as you turned to glare at him, “I’m not letting you die here” You said as your sticky red stained hand encased his own. As you clicked open the briefcase, Five succumbed to the darkness.

-

The incessant beeping of machines woke Five up. He snapped his eyes open, the bright led lights blinding him momentarily. He sat up, hissing as his back throbbed. No doubt pulling on his stitches.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright.” Your soft voice soothed as your hand covered his shoulder as you gingerly pressed him back down on the bed. 

“What?” He croaked, his throat dry and scratchy.

“You lost a lot of blood so just take it easy, Caesar.” you teased pulling your chair closer to his bed. Tubes were attached to his arms, liquids pumping into his body. 

“How long was I out?” He asked, turning to look at you, you had changed out of your suit. A soft sweater hanging off one of your shoulders, your cheek had a bit of purple bruising. You sighed, shaking your head, a small smile pulling on your lips.

“Already thinking about work?” You breathed, a weak excuse of a distraction.

“Tell me.” He said propping himself up on his elbows, the sharp pull on his stitches making him wince.

“Just two days.” You said as your hands returned to his shoulders, pressing him back against the bed. He relented, rolling his eyes as he laid back down. 

“And the target?” You pursed your lips, smoothing out his blanket. “Y/n.” He furrowed his brows watching you avoid the question. 

“I’m gonna get enough shit from the Handler so can you just-”  You stopped, shaking your head, “Can you just say thanks for saving my life.” You tried to play it off as a joke, but he caught the slight waver in your voice. 

“Why did you let them get away?” Why didn’t you let me die, is what he wanted to ask. It’s not like you owed him any loyalty. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m still not hearing a thank you.” You teased, your gaze raising to meet him.

“Thank you.” He rolled his eyes, sitting in the comfortable silence between the two of you. It was something he could appreciate, knowing neither of you had to say something to fill up the space. You could just be. But the question still nagged at him in the back of his mind, why? Why did you let them get away? You could have easily left Five to bleed out. One of the targets was unconscious in front of you for god's sake. Not to mention this damn place was your life. As much as he hated your undying loyalty, he also admired it. Found some sort of resemblance of himself in you, for Five his siblings pushed him to keep going. His reason to get up everyday, to save them. For you, it was the commission.“I know how much this job means to you.” You narrowed your gaze, tilting your head slightly. A smile began to spread across your face before you looked down at your hands. 

“Maybe you mean more.” You said as you shrugged. Five was sure his heart had stopped beating, but the EKG continued its steady beeping.

“Oh.” He said, unable to think of anything smart to say.

“Can’t have my partner dying on me.” You teased, lightly shoving his shoulder. He sat frozen like an idiot, watching as you stood up brushing your hands off on your pants. “Rest up, now that you’re awake I can’t avoid the Handler any longer.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against the door to his room. “You owe me for that by the way.” 

“Apparently me being asleep has helped you avoid that witch for longer than you should have. So you owe me.” He said, raising his eyebrows. You crossed your arms, scoffing in false offense. 

“Even on death's doorstep you find a way to be a sarcastic little shit.” You laughed, Five couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

“Please, you love it.” He said with a smirk.

“Maybe I do.” You returned his smirk before you walked down the hall and out of sight. 

Five’s usual smugness returned to him in all its glory. He rested his hands behind his head, getting more comfortable in the hospital bed. Maybe getting stabbed had its perks.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #aidan gallagher #aidan gallagher x reader #hihomeghere

[catcze]

You want some Wriothesley requests, eh? I’m more than happy to provide ;))

Wriothesley is a busy man, he’s the Lord of the fortress of Meropide for gods sake, so the last thing he needs is more distractions.

So I raise you this:

Reader hurts themselves on a commission or something, and instead of telling their boyfriend about it and bringing him even more things to worry about, they decide to treat their wounds themselves and hide their injuries from him entirely.

When Wriothesley inevitably finds out, he scolds them and tells them that their health is always his number one priority, and that he’s more than happy to leave his work behind to take care of them.

It’s safe to say that reader always informs their boyfriend of their injuries from that point onward.

AUGHHAKDJS AUGHAJKSD LOVE AND CARE AND CONCERN 🥺 oh LORD

AAAAAAAAAA MY GIJUKANSDJKAJKSDNJKASJKD

OKay OKAY OKAYSYDKUAJS okay okay. Okay. ok. yes.

This,,,, this was supposed to be a blurb,,,,, and then somehow,,,, along the way,,,,, it evolved into a short fic like what the fuck i just can't shut up when it comes to him 😭😭

「 CWS : 」 Light descriptions of injuries, established relationships, Wriothesley being so soft for you

Okay. So it's no biggie to you, really. Getting a little banged up on the job? Just a regular day for an adventurer. There's no real cause for concern— no need to go to a hospital or a clinic, and certainly no need to bother Wriothesley about it. Not when he's already up to his neck with extra work since the court has just sentenced some new convicts to the Fortress.

You're a seasoned adventurer! You know how to do first aid. It's easy!

Until it gets a little bit more difficult.

Applying salve and bandaging up your arms and legs gave you no trouble. Your lower back was just a smidge bit more difficult, but nothing you couldn't do. The main difficulty, you conclude, huffing in annoyance and staring at your reflection in the bathroom of your home, is that stupid laceration between your shoulder blades that for the life of you you just couldn't reach, much less patch up and slap some gauze over. Your arms are already aching from all the stretching they've gone through, all in vain because you couldn't reach that stupid spot on your back. And to make matters worse, all the movement was beginning to make the laceration sting and you worry that any more exertion would make the scratches on your arms and shoulders open back up, which is a whole other can of worms you'd rather not deal with.

You're hyping yourself up, convincing yourself to try just one more time— no, if you're careful your wounds will absolutely not open back up and you'll definitely be able to clean up before your boyfriend gets home and—

You're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even hear the front door opening. What does catch your attention is Wriothesley's voice from down the hall, calling that he's home and oh shit in your haste to patch yourself up you hadn't closed the bathroom door and fuck fuck fuck he's too close and you're too far from the door to slam it closed and you grimace to yourself when you see Wriothesley appear at the open bathroom door, his expression melting into one of surprise (and not the good kind) as his eyes grow wide and his mouth opens just the slightest bit, taking in the bandages wrapped around parts of your arms, parts of your legs and around your torso.

"...Hi." That's all you can come up with as your eyes meet his in the reflection of the mirror, looking both guilty and sheepish.

"...Hi," he echoes, still staring. Then it breaks, his brows furrowing with concern. You can see the questions on the tip of his tongue. Are you alright? What happened? Why didn't you call?

But instead, he approaches, taking the open salve you've placed on the counter into his own hands. "Arms down. Don't strain them," he says, giving them a gentle nudge until they fall to your side. He scoops a liberal amount of the salve up, gently covering that pest of a wound with it. The cooling sensation feels delightful on the clotted scratch, but you can't help protesting his help.

"I- I can do that, you don't..."

"I may not have to, but I certainly want to. The gauze, please, dearest." You hand it to him over your shoulder, and he takes it with a mumbled word of thanks, tending to the wound that had given you such a headache. He does it better than you ever could yourself, even laying a small kiss on the bandage that has your heart melting.

The he releases you, catching your eye in the mirror as he makes a turn around motion with his hand. "Come on, dearest, let me check on the rest of you."

You do as you're told, spinning around slowly. He helps you sit on the counter of the sink, hands careful to avoid any of your injuries where he grips your waist and hoists you up. He doesn't speak while he checks you over, hands skimming your skin so gently it almost tickles. He checks if you've done your bandages right, if you've missed any scratches or scrapes. To his relief you have not, and the only wound that you hadn't treated was the one he had helped with.

Wriothesley's checkup ends at a scratch on your face that you stuck a bandage on, and his hand gently cups your cheek when he's done. On instinct, you lean into his touch.

"You're all good. Nice job with the bandages, dearest," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. Then he raises a brow, face turning just a bit more serious, tone becoming more like that of the duke that many people feared. "Now. Can you tell me why you tried to do it alone when you could have asked for my help?"

"Because I could have taken care of it myself." You tell him in a huff, looking away from his eyes. "You're busy and I wouldn't want to bother you over something I was capable of doing myself. It would have given you more things to worry about."

You make a pointed effort not to look at him, and Wriothesley can't help it when he laughs under his breath. "Even if I'm busy, you can always come to me for help. Work or no work, you'll always be my priority."

Before you can even protest, adamant that you would never want to willingly interrupt his workflow, the thumb of his hand comes to stroke your bottom lip, silencing you. "Nope. No if's or but's. Especially when it comes to your wellbeing, I'll never turn you away." He can feel the flustered warm that spreads through your cheek under his palm and has to stifle a smile.

"You're always worried about me, so let me worry about you too," he murmurs, giving you a peck on the forehead, and he can practically see your stubbornness crack.

"Okay," you acquiesce, sighing, but you can't deny how warm it makes you feel to have him dote on you like this. Your boyfriend, the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide, one of the biggest softies to you and only you. "I'll come to you the next time I need anything."

"You promise?"

"Yes, Wriothesley, I promise," you exclaim, dramatically rolling your eyes, but smiling all the same.

A similar smile is reflected on his own face, and he can't help it when he feels the need to kiss you again.

"Thank you, dearest."

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #Wriothesley #Genshin Impact #cw gn reader

[backmuscles21]

Punishment

Tonowari x Reader x Ronal

Summary: I think the title speaks volumes. Tonowari gets angry at you for getting hurt and so he punishes you for it and Ronal happens upon you two.

Warnings: smut, porn without plot, punishment, rough sex, orgasm denial, explicit language, face fucking, dom/sub undertones, dub con, slight brat taming

Your skimwings just hit the shore, the hunting party was back. You knew the second you got off and onto the shore, you were going to get it. While on your hunting trip, you were chasing down a decent-sized fish, it would be a good score. However, as you did, you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings, just the water below you. Turns out the rocks were closer than you thought and when you went to turn, you realized and had to maneuver not to hit them.

It just made it worse; you ended up falling off your skimwing and scrapping your hip against the jagged rock. You hissed in pain and looked at your hip, your thigh, hip, and lower side was red and angry, along with some blood seeping out of the lines of shredded skin. It wasn’t too bad, not the worst thing you’ve dealt with. You’d heal quickly and it wouldn’t stop you from hunting or working.

Tonowari quickly made his way out to you, he grabbed your spear in the water and gave you his hand.

“Are you alright, yawne?”

“Yeah, I’m fine its nothing.”

You could see the rage pooling in his eyes, he would never show it here but he was pissed. He was angry that you’d get hurt like that, that you’d be that stupid and get yourself hurt. You knew when you got home, you’d be taught a lesson and punished for your negligence. He moved around to your other side to look at your injury, the salt water making it redder as the salt sunk into the wound making it sting.

“Ronal will have a field day when you get home.”

“She will be fine. It's not that bad. I’ve come back with worse.”

He looked up at you with annoyance, “I know.”

As you came back with nets full of fish, you were glad to be done for the day and get to relax. As you got off your skimwing and it swam off, you saw Tonowari speed walking up to you, he looked pissed.

Was it bad that it was making you more wet?

He grabbed your bicep and sped back to your shared mauri; he pushed you in first. His eyes were dark, he looked so mad that you felt small and weak.

But that’s what he wanted, that’s what you wanted.

“On your knees.”

You didn’t move right away and clearly that only made Tonowari angrier.

“I said get on your knees,” he was using his chief voice and man did that do something to you.

You started to move, but not fast enough, he walked up to you and pushed you down to your knees by your shoulders. He undid his loin cloth and took his cock out, already semi-erect, he started to stroke it and once it was hard enough, he pushed his hips closer to your mouth.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth a little, you were pissing him off more by being bratty. You knew you deserved this punishment, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. His hand went to your jaw and squeezed till your mouth opened fully and he started to push the tip in.

“You will take all of me. Till I cum down your throat.”

Your hands settled on his thick thighs and he started to thrust his hips back and forth making his tip hit the back of your throat. You gagged every time and that only made him want to continue, your nails dug into his muscular legs and tears pricked your eyes. He was fucking your mouth and you were so horny for this. He was using you the way you wanted him to and he was good at it.

You could feel the throbbing on your tongue and the roof of your mouth, he was very close. He had rough and deep puffs of air coming from his nose which also told you he was about to cum. When he did, you felt it slide right down your throat, his hand on your head gripped your braids tightly.

“I’m nowhere near done with you yet. You worried me today for something as stupid as you not paying attention. Now our mate has to heal you. She is busy enough as it is.”

He didn’t want to hurt your feelings he just wanted you to know where he came from.

He got on his knees in front of you and picked you up to lay you on your back. He as a Metkaiyna woman, both of your mates were taller than you, Tonowari having at least a whole foot on you. He was huge, him leaning over you turned you on more, and he made you feel so small and tiny.

You were eating this shit up.

He took your loincloth off and fingered you for a moment to ensure you were wet enough for him to slide in. He touched you and he smirked at you; he knew right away he didn’t even need to. You were already soaking from the moment he stared at you out on the water. You wanted him to fuck you like this, you wanted him to manhandle you, you wanted him to bruise you. He slowly pushed inside and once he bottomed out; he took no prisoners.

His hips thrusted in and out of you so fast, the top of your head hit the floor right away as you moaned out in pleasure. Your hands gripped his biceps to help ground yourself as he fucked you hard. He was hitting deep every time, you couldn’t take it, it was so fast and he was good at fucking.

The things this man made you feel.

Your legs peddled as you tried to get away from the intense pleasure and overstimulation. Your body knew where this headed, you were going to cum if he kept fucking you this good.

“Wari, please, can I cum?”

“No.”

“I have to, please, Tonowari, I can’t-“

“You will.”

He kept fucking you harder, you were crying out at this point. Tears slipped down your temple to your hairline, you were trying so hard to hold back your orgasm. Your legs kept trying to push your body away from him, his hands held your hips down as he just kept thrusting.

“Tonowari! Please, please, I have to cum. Please Wari. I need to. I can’t hold it back. Please.”

Your moans were more like cries and pleas, your body was so overstimulated and you just wanted to cum. You were lost in your own thoughts of trying not to cum, Tonowari was grunting and focused on how he moved in and out of you. Neither of you heard Ronal enter the mauri until you both heard her footsteps.

“What is going on in here?”

Your head turned to look at her, she kneeled by your head and pushed your baby hairs back from your sweaty forehead. Tonowari stopped his thrusts briefly when he saw Ronal and now, he’s back at it, making your eyes slam shut. Ronal knew that Tonowari was being rougher on you than he normally was, he didn’t get like this unless he was mad.

“What happened?”

“Look at her hip,” Tonowari grunted

She looked at your hip closest to her and nothing than the other and she could see how red and angry it was.

“Please, Wari, please, I can’t last.”

Your body was squirming heavily, you just needed to cum.

“Has she cum yet?” Ronal looked at Tonowari and he shook his head.

Her fingers rested on your lower stomach before diving down to your clit and rubbing, you arched more and screamed.

“Cum, sevin, cum.”

And you did, it was the most intense orgasm of your life. When you came so did Tonowari who, in the process of punishing you, was also edging himself.

“Now, someone tell me what happened?”

Your body was still shaking coming down from your orgasm, your breaths were still laboured.

“Hunting accident. Stupid hunting accident,” you breathed out.

Tonowari grabs you and lays you on his chest as you start to go unconscious. Ronal moves to get some herbs to make an antiseptic and anti-inflammatory paste for your scrape. She applies it gingerly on your body as you sleep on your mate’s muscular body.

“Next time you’re angry like that, don’t torture the poor girl.”

“I think she liked it. Should have seen how wet she was, I slid right in. No prep or nothing.”

“Still, she passed out right after.”

“Then I did my job right.”

She scoffed laying next to him and throwing her arm over your back to slowly rub your lower back, she knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

#tonowari x reader x ronal #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x reader #tonowari #ronal x reader #ronal #avatar twow #avatar the way of water #avatar #atwow #polyamory

[swayziiwriter]

Tangled Emotions | Pedri González

summary: for some jealousy isn’t a good look on a man, a torturous feeling. But for Pedri? He looked good anyway. Mostly on top of you.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

NOTE: we won’t get to see him play for a few weeks because of injuries so thought i’d cheer everyone up with a chapter for him

Your cunt was dripping with lewdness from Pedri’s constant attack, the bedroom was loud with the sound of skin slapping and heavy moans. The white juices that leaked from both your and Pedri trickled onto your white sheets, staining the light material. Your pussy was throbbing at the consistent effect of Pedri’s cock. His large hand often going down to slap your ass, kneading and running his palm against it.

"Mierda eres tan jodidamente apretado" Shit you're so fucking tight Pedri moaned, his head tossed back, his right hand grasping your hair, and his left hand clutching your hips. Your body canvassed in bruises brought about by the one who had you twisted and tangled.

Your hands moved unsteadily attempting to keep yourself up. Pedri manhandled your body, inflicting pleasure upon every inch. “So good for me baby, your doing so good” Pedri praised, smiling to himself at your compliance. You were unable to see his sweat-soaked body behind you as he stroked your hips. He let go of your hair and got your neck from behind, his shirtless chest contacting your back. It was to much. “Pedri I can’t-can’t take anymore” you cried unsure.

He leaned in your direction. “I know you can take it, begging for my cock like the slut you are but cry when you get it-“ you clenched your pussy that was wrapped tightly around his member at his words. “fuck you just braced around me” He moaned as he let go of your neck and put his left hand on your left cheek. He swiftly slapped your cheek, then caressed it slowly. You shouted in torment as your walls got more tight around his pulsating cock.

"Pedri, ah-ah Pedri” you groaned as Pedri kept his body near your back, leaving indentations around your shoulder. He knew how to quiet you down; he realized you maintained that him should relinquish his displeasure on your delightful body. He moaned as he continued to push into your opening. Your legs started to shake from the sensation of strain on your lower body. You pushed your thighs together, attempting to keep awake, and your arms were battling to keep you up.

"Your close, I can feel this pussy getting tighter” He let out a low chuckle as he felt himself getting closer to you as you whimper. His muscles fixed, pummeling himself in your lecherous set opening that made such a scurrilous clamor at whatever point he pulled out and hammered himself back in your core. He expected to screw you stupid until the sun came up again, hours and hours. Oh fuck

He knew your body, fucked you harder than ever before, and he could feel your legs trembling. Within seconds, your arms gave out and you crashed into the pillow that laid messy on your bed. He let go inside of your tight hole, ropes of cum spurting rapidly before spilling out of you. Only to then  plummel himself back in brutally.

Your tongue was out as clearly groans got away from your lips, your pussy leaked out hot, sticky fluid Pedri moaned to the feeling of your tight hole throbbing around him. Pedri continued to drill into your core, whispering Spanish tongued words to himself that could only be explained as filthy praises.

#Spotify #football #soccer #world cup #football imagine #imagine #football smut #mature reading #smut stories #oneshot #footballer #football fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri fanfic #pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri one shot #pedri x reader #pedri barça #pedri x y/n #pedri smut #pedri x you #fc barca #fc barça #fc barcelona #futbol club barcelona #futbol #futból #spain #barcelona spain

[rodolfoparras]

Sprained my knee due to sliding on ice and GOOODD i need old man price to take care of me so badlyyyy *grips the table with my molars*

Pairing: John Price x Male Reader

Cw: suggestive, 18+

Price would never admit it but he’s genuinely scared of losing you. All his life he’s spent fighting without a real cause and when you came into his life he found a solid reason to stick around. Losing you would send him spiraling

So every injury you get, every cold you endure, he’s glued to your hip, attentive to your every need. especially when you waddle through the door, knee bandaged up with crutches supporting your form.

“What happened?” He says, pale in the face while wrapping a strong arm around your waist.

“Just a small accident, nothing too serious” you say, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as to not worry him any further.

“Nothing serious huh?” He scoffs in response, as helps you sit down on the couch.

“John I really mean it”

“Who patched you up?” He ignores your words, and kneels on the ground to get a better look at the wound.

“Hm? Oh Vincet did”

“Did he use anti septic?” He says calloused thumb carefully brushing over your bandaged knee.

“John it didn’t bleed”

“Doesn’t matter” he grunts out, still carefully gauging your knee “It’s swollen. Did he ice it before he wrapped it up?”

“Yes” you say with a fond smile on your face, eyes rolling slightly at his dramatic behavior.

“Fuck me I knew I should’ve gone with you,”

“Nothing you could’ve done about it” you say with a shrug, fingers fondly carding through his hair.

Price mutters something under his breath, eyes still glued to your injured leg.

“You worry too much you know?”

“How could I not? Didn’t you almost spend 4 days in medevac last week and before that your arm was in a sling and didn’t you and gaz -“

“Okay I get it” you say, swiftly cutting him off in his rant.

“Point is I have plenty reasons to worry kid, “

“Alright you got a point, but really I’m fine,just a small sprain, nothing serious,”

A scoff in response is all you get from him before he’s placing a kiss on your leg “going to give me a head full of grays,”

“Don’t you already have that?” You say playfully but he doesn’t respond. Instead he continues to place kisses on your leg, working his way from the top of your injured knee down to the sole of your foot.

“John” you croak out, feeling blood pool to your lower half.

“Hm?” Is all he says, looking at you with eyes half lidded as he continues to place kisses along your leg.

“Get over here” you croak out, leaning back onto the sofa to make room for the older man.

“But your knee-“

“Fuck, don’t care just come here please”

#alec answers #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #sub male character #bottom male character #dom male reader #also sugar I hope ur knee gets better #my knee jumped out of its socket last year and it was hell on earth

[tasteleeknow]

pairing: fairy!minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, fantasy au. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 4.8k moodboard by @staysrain​

summary: you stumble upon a forest fairy, enraptured by his glittering wings.

This was a terrible idea. Hiking alone? You were an idiot. You had been sick of being trapped inside. School and work, that’s all your life had consisted of for months—years. A nice hike outdoors, it had seemed like a healthy, normal idea. 

You yelp as you trip over a tree root, catching yourself at the last second. “This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, holding your arm up to shield your eyes as you look up through the tree foliage. The sun is still high in the sky. “You’ll be back to the car in an hour. You can go home and shower and feel good about yourself for being an outdoors person. It’ll be fine,” you say, speaking to yourself like you usually did when you were totally alone. You trip again, your ankle landing an awkward angle. You drop to the ground, biting your lip to keep your cries back—used to your small apartment with its very thin walls. You hadn’t seen a single person on the track, no one would hear you if you shouted at the top of your lungs. Still, staying quiet was practically ingrained into you. 

warnings: afab!reader. profanity. minor injury. unprotected intercourse. size kink.

By the time the sharp pain has dulled enough for you to gather your thoughts, the wet ground has soaked into your pants. You sigh, attempting to pull yourself to your feet. You wince, keeping your weight on your good ankle. You were fucked. There was no way you could walk an hour like this. The sun is still filtering through the canopy, giving you enough comfort to prevent you spiralling into an instant panic. “Phone,” you mumble, turning your backpack around to your front so you can fish it from the front pocket. Three bars, thank fuck. 

By the time you’ve called your roommate and explained your situation, your leg is aching from putting all your weight on one side. She was coming with her boyfriend. It’d be at least an hour before they arrived. You look around you, spotting a large smooth rock through a break in the trees. The undergrowth isn’t too dense, if you had to be here an hour, it was probably worth making yourself comfortable. So you hobble towards the clearing, steadying yourself against the trees as you go. 

By the time you reach the rock you're exhausted, collapsing into it. It’s bigger than you thought, the centrepiece in a small clearing in the trees. The grass around it is littered with small blue flowers. You drop your backpack, climbing up onto the smooth surface and curling in on yourself, suddenly feeling very much like you could nap here. You had at least an hour, closing your eyes for a moment couldn’t hurt. 

You swipe at your face, a reflex in your waking state to the soft tickle that had trailed down the bridge of your nose. As you drowsily blink your eyes open, the face of a man directly in front of you startles you awake—yelping as you scramble backwards. He reaches out to you, grasping your arm tightly just before you tip back over the edge of the rock. You freeze. 

“It’s okay, little human,” he says, voice soft and dreamlike. “I won’t hurt you.” 

Something sparkles behind him, the sunlight still filtering through the trees. It draws your attention over his shoulders. He’s wearing … wings. Why was this man in the middle of the forest, wearing fairy wings? You lower one leg down over the rock, pulling your arm from his grasp the second you find your footing. 

“Don’t run, you’re hurt,” he says, stepping around the rock slowly. Your eyes drop to your backpack. You dive for it, snatching it off the ground and turning to run. You collapse, predictably—unable to hold back your cry this time. The pain is worse, your ankle swelling in your sleep from your earlier injury. You turn quickly, hyper aware of the stranger behind you. He’s approaching slowly, hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. You feel like a wounded animal, lured into a hunter's snare. 

“What are you doing out here?” you gasp out, hands wrapped around your ankle. 

He stills, crouching down into the grass—just out of reaching distance. His eyes drop to your ankle, his brows pulling together into a small frown. Then he looks up at you. “I live here.” 

“Please… leave me alone. My friend’s are coming, they know where I am… they’ll be here any second,” you plead, attempting to convince him you weren’t easy prey. He doesn’t break eye contact and you get a proper look at his eyes for the first time. At first sight, they look brown. But as you concentrate, really look: it’s clear they aren’t. They're deep purple, brown flecks scattered around his iris. His dark blue hair you had brushed off as a creative dye job. But his eyes? They… weren’t natural. You squint as the wings he’s wearing catches the sunlight again. 

“Would you like to see them properly? I’ve been told they’re beautiful. You can judge for yourself,” he says, turning his back to you. It puts you a little more at ease, giving you the upper hand. Or he doesn't think you’re a threat at all, even with his back turned, a little in your head voice offers. The wings. Your anxiety sinks deep down inside you, overtaken by awe. They’re iridescent, sparkling as the sunlight bounces off them—small rainbow specks of lights dancing across their surface. Where the hell did he get these? You fall forward on your hands and knees, arm reaching out towards them subconsciously. Just as your fingers ghost over the sparkling surface, he turns—catching you in the act. 

“They’re a little sensitive,” he says, a small smile on his face. “Pretty though, right?” 

“So pretty,” you mutter, attention still drawn to where they peak over his shoulders. 

“Can I see your ankle?” he asks, his hand reaching towards you snapping you out of your trance. You quickly sit back, resisting scurrying away from him further—knowing it would do you no good. 

“I can heal you,” he says, hands out in front of him again—palms towards you. “I’ll let you touch my wings,” he adds on, his lips curving into a lopsided smirk. He looks sincere. It confuses you. 

“I don’t… understand. What are you doing here? Why are you…?” you trail off, afraid to voice your thoughts. 

“Give me your ankle, I’ll show you, hm? Please.” 

You take a look around you. Offering him your ankle wasn’t going to make your situation any worse. If he wanted to attack you, he would. You stretch your leg out towards him. He looks into your eyes, nodding his head. “I’m just going to pull these down a little, okay?” he says, fingers brushing against the hem of your socks. You nod. He rolls them down gently and you wince, getting a good look at your swollen ankle for the first time. He wraps his large hand around you, so gently you don’t feel pain at all. You look up at his face, his eyes are closed lightly. “Look at your ankle,” he says, somehow sensing your eyes on him. 

A soft tingle pulls your attention to where his skin meets yours. Your lips part, taking in the sight of a soft glow leaking out between his fingers. It dies just before he pulls his hand away, your skin now it’s normal colour. Your eyes snap up to him, his eyes are open—fixed on your face. “Try standing,” he says, offering you a hand as he pulls himself to his feet. Your eyes drop to his palm, the same one that had glowed around your ankle. You reach to take it, out of curiosity more than anything. He pulls you up and you're so focused on where your hands are joined that you don’t notice the lack of pain. 

He rocks back on his heels, pulling you forward a step. You catch yourself, suddenly aware you were standing with ease. You drop his hand, taking two large steps away from him. “What was that?” you ask, anxiety leaking back into your chest. Maybe you’d hit your head when you’d tripped. You were still lying back there on the path, unconscious—dreaming up this sparkly man with glowing hands. 

“I told you, I can heal.” 

“Your hands glowed… and you have wings…”

“Oh, right. I said you could touch them,” he says, turning and making his way back to the large rock—perching himself atop it. You turn and look behind you, recognising the direction back to the path. “Come on,” he calls, “you have no idea how rare an opportunity this is.” You turn back to the man on the rock, his lips curved into an inviting smile. You take a step towards him. His hand stretches out towards you, offering you help. Fuck it. You close the distance, taking his hand and letting him pull you up to join him. 

You cross your legs, gently pulling your hand from his as he mirrors your position. “You have to promise to be gentle. I wasn’t lying when I said they’re sensitive.”

��Alright,” you agree. 

“Alright,” he repeats, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t a terrible idea. “Go on then,” he says, keeping his body facing you this time. It feels invasive, leaning over to touch them like this—but you can’t resist—hand reaching over his shoulder. You see the shiver that runs through his body the moment your fingertip brushes against them. They’re soft. You expect them to be hard and smooth like glass, but they feel like velvet as you trace your finger over the surface in random patterns. His hand snaps up to grasp your wrist, startling you. His head is lowered, hiding his expression from you. “Think… that’s enough,” he breathes out, lowering your arm slowly. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, suddenly concerned. 

He sucks in a deep breath and then lifts his head, looking completely composed. “No,” he answers. “It doesn’t hurt.” You’re a bit taken aback by your concern over potentially hurting him. A few moments ago you’d been scared he would hurt you. It’s unsettling. You’re still not convinced you aren’t passed out on the path, dreaming this whole thing up. 

“Are you real?” you blurt out. 

He laughs, small lines appearing around his eyes. “Yes, little human. I’m real.” 

You’re too afraid to ask what he is, the fact he is something… other is blatantly obvious. Referring to you as ‘little human’ was merely the icing on the cake. It’s odd though, how you aren’t afraid anymore. You’d been more afraid when you’d thought he was just a man, out in the forest alone wearing a fairy costume. Was he a fairy? It felt silly to ask. A man was sitting in front of you, wings growing out of his back, hands healing you with a soft glow, and still you felt silly asking if he might be a fairy. 

“You live here?” you ask instead, a much more normal question—even if ‘here’ was the middle of a remote forest. 

“Not here exactly. Near here.” 

You look around again, not sure what you’re looking for. Maybe a small cottage poking out between the trees? 

“I can show you,” he offers. “If you like.” 

You’re aware alarms should be firing in your brain. Don’t wander off into the forest with a strange man. Even if he has sparkly wings and glowing hands. Even if all he’d done so far was take away your pain and offer gentle words of comfort. You could be lying unconscious on that path, you may as well enjoy the dream. 

“You.. won’t hurt me?” you ask, fully aware someone who was going to hurt you wouldn’t just announce it before leading you into their trap. 

He smiles. “I’ve let you touch my wings, little human. Very few have had the privilege. I won’t hurt you.” 

You let yourself believe him. He had healed you after all. He stands beside the rock, holding his arms up for you. You crawl to the edge and he lifts you down to the grass, your weight apparently causing him no trouble at all. Maybe he wasn’t a fairy? Fairy brought to mind Tinkerbell. Tiny creatures who could barely lift a thimble. This fairy was bigger than you, apparently stronger than you too. He takes your hand, leading you out of the clearing and into the forest. Your backpack sits abandoned amongst the small, blue flowers. 

You aren’t walking long before he stops in front of a large tree. Maybe the biggest tree you’ve seen in your life, wider than your car is long. In fact, you estimate around three of your cars could fit end to end. There’s a large hollow in the trunk, too far off the ground for you to be able to climb up to it. He turns to face you. “My name is Minho,,” he says. “I’m going to need you to trust me.” 

“I think… wandering off into the forest with you demonstrated enough trust,” you say. He smiles, pulling you gently towards him. His arms wrap around you and you hold your breath. 

“Alright, don’t forget you trust me then,” he says cryptically. Then, your feet lift off the ground and you yelp—burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his breath brushing against your arm as he laughs. Your eyes are squeezed shut, his arms wrapped tightly around you. When he drops his arms from your waist, reaching up to attempt to untangle you from his neck—you panic. 

“You’re safe, little human,” he says, amusement evident in his voice. You peak an eye open, soft glowing light illuminating the cave you find yourself in. Cave… tree? You spin on the spot, taking in the cozy living space nestled in the hollow of the gigantic tree. There’s a large bed, a wooden table covered in trinkets, and a bookshelf. You take small steps towards it, mouth dropping open in awe at the curved shelves—shaped around the curve of the tree. Your fingers ghost over the spines, recognising many of the titles. 

“I steal them,” Minho’s voice breaks you from your daze, spinning to find him watching you—a small smile on his face. “That’s how I learn about you: reading.” 

“About me?” 

“Humans,” he corrects. You feel your cheeks warm at your stupid question. Of course he didn’t mean you specifically. 

“I’d like to learn about you, though,” he says, stepping towards you. “What’s your name?” 

“Why?” 

He frowns, confused. “I told you mine.” 

“No, why do you want to know anything about me? Am I the first human you’ve come across?” 

He laughs, as you’ve asked him something truly ridiculous. “No, little human. I’ve come across many of your kind.” 

“And did you want to learn about each of them?” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

He’s directly in front of you now. You take a small step backwards, a little startled by his proximity. Your back hits the shelves. His eyes trace over your face, like he’s searching for something. 

“I sensed you there, on the rock. Humans pass through this forest every day, but you felt… different.”

You frown. “Different how?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he mutters, one finger reaching to stroke down your nose bridge—halting at the tip for a second before pulling away. It’s the feeling you’d had on the rock, when you’d first woken. “Did you think my wings were pretty?” he asks. 

“What? Your wings?” 

“Mm, the things sticking out of my back,” he teases. 

You look over his shoulders. They’re no less beautiful without the sunlight bouncing off them, the iridescent quality taking on a slightly purple sheen—to match his eyes. “Yes,” you breathe. “They’re—They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, lips parted. He takes a large step back and then walks quickly over to the wooden table, sweeping trinkets aside as he searches for something. When he turns he holds something small in his palm, gazing down at it like he’d never seen it before. “Come here,” he practically whispers, keeping his eyes on the thing in his palm. You hesitate for a moment and then do what he says, approaching him slowly. 

It’s a small glass ball, bigger than a marble, maybe the size of a golf ball. A small ball of light flickers inside, bouncing off the walls. “Do you see it?” he breathes. 

“The light?” you ask, looking up at his face. His eyes are wide, swirling purple irises missing their golden flecks now that you’re both out of the sunlight. He lifts your arm from your side, tucking the small glass ball into your palm. 

“I know what you are,” he says, his lips pulling up into a gentle smile. “You’re mine.” 

He’d dragged you across the room, back to his wall of books. You’d watched in awe as he’d lifted off the ground, fluttering up to the shelves that went up higher than you could see. When he returned he had a large book under his arm, quickly dropping to the ground as he opened its worn pages. You lowered yourself to your knees, letting him read out passages in a script you didn’t recognise—small illustrations seeming to match up with most of his recitation. He explained what it meant, when that small ball of light appeared in the glass ball he’d given you. How it represented a light inside him igniting the moment he found his other half. He’d tried to explain in terms you might understand: soulmate, paramour, life partner. He seemed to grow frustrated at himself the more words he offered you, none of them quite satisfying the meaning he was trying to convey. When someone finds this person, he’d explained, one of the signs was how they felt about each other’s wings. They’d appear more beautiful than any other’s, he’d said. When you’d pointed out you didn’t have any wings, he’d agreed it was unusual; he’d only ever heard of anyone’s person being a human in old books that were written more like myths and legends. 

“Stay with me,” he asks now, closing the large book with its strange script. You groan, pressing your palm to your forehead, a sudden dizzy spell overwhelming you. “What is it?” he asks, hand hovering over your arm. 

You blink open your eyes, taking in the worried man across from you. “I think maybe I hit my head when I fell,” you mumble, leaving out the part where you’re not quite sure you ever woke up. He frowns, giving you no warning when he scoops you into his arms—carrying you over to the large bed across the hollow. He lowers you onto the covers gently. 

“Tell me where it hurts,” he says, pushing the sleeves of his turquoise sweater up his arms. 

“Just my head,” you answer, closing your eyes as his palm presses to your forehead. It tingles again as you imagine the soft glow, a peace falling over you as your head feels clearer than you can remember it feeling in months. It reminds you of why you’d come into the forest this morning in the first place, attempting to distract yourself from the grind of your life—the dull monotony. Your eyes flutter open, taking in the man hovering over you, his brows pulled together as he takes in your expression. 

“Better?” he asks. 

You smile. “Do your glowing hands also clean? I would really like a magic shower.” 

“You don’t hurt?” he asks, clearly expecting a straight answer. 

“I don’t hurt. You fixed me,” you reassure him. “Shower?” 

He trails his eyes down your body, taking in your muddy hiking attire. “I can offer you a bath,” he says, finally—pointing over his shoulder at a large wooden tub across the hollow. You’d missed it until now, the dark wood camouflaging with the tree. You leap off the bed, stumbling into him in your excitement. 

“Yes, please.” 

He chuckles, guiding you over to the tub by the hand. You watch as he holds his palm out over it, water pooling up from the bottom like a spring. You drop his hand and lean over the edge, reaching down to feel the bottom as it continues filling with water. Solid. The water fills quickly, the warmth soaking into your dirty skin. It’s too lovely to question how he does it, why would you question this after everything you’d witnessed today anyway? You’re tempted to pull your clothes off and dive in, company be damned. 

“The water will clean you, you don’t need soaps,” he says. “I’ll bring you a towel.” Your eyes stay fixed on the clear, swirling water—only faintly aware Minho has left your side. The call of the warm water wins as you drop to the ground, pulling your hiking boots off along with your socks. By the time you’re stepping into the tub, every piece of fabric removed from your body—Minho is totally forgotten. This tub may as well be your soulmate. You let out a breathy sigh as you rest your head against the edge, the water level lapping at your clavicles. 

A thud pulls your attention to the man, standing frozen with a towel, hairbrush, and pile of clothes at his feet. You look down at your bare skin, feeling no shame at all. You wonder if perhaps you’re simply overloaded by the day's events, or if when he’d placed his glowing hand over your head he’d healed you of all those things: the anxiety, the negative thoughts. It didn’t really matter, you were so comfortable you felt like nothing mattered at all. 

You turn back to Minho, still standing with everything dropped at his feet. “Thank you,” you say, snapping him from his trance. He grabs everything from the floor, keeping his eyes fixed on his feet as he brings them over to you—placing them gently on the ground beside the tub and turning his back. 

“I’ll leave,” he says. 

“You don’t have to, I don’t mind.” 

He’s quiet, body still. “I think…” he starts after a moment. “I think if you don’t have wings… it’s all of you.” 

“All of me.” 

“More beautiful than any others,” he says, like how he’d described a soulmate’s wings should appear to their partner. Your heart races in your chest, apparently your positive feelings were unaffected by his magic. 

“Minho? Would you please help me?” you ask, sitting up. 

He begins turning before stopping himself, keeping his back to you. “Help you?” 

“Wash my hair. It’s a mess.” 

He turns slowly, eyes raking over you. Then, he drops to his knees. You turn to lean your back against the side of the tub, lifting your hair over the edge. “It’ll need brushing before I can wash it,” you say, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your heels to the other side of the bath—attempting to get comfortable. 

He’s quiet and you’re about to turn and check on him when he lifts your hair gently. You expect a little pain and tugging, your hair knotted and full of debris: sticks and leaves mainly. But it doesn’t hurt at all, his hand smooths over your hair before each brush stroke—whether he’s untangling with magic or taking away the pain before you feel it, you don’t know. Nor do you care. You sigh, giving into the soothing feeling of him gently brushing through your hair—bristles gently massaging your scalp. You feel yourself nodding off twice before you turn abruptly and stop him, taking the brush from his fingers gently. 

He’s silent, mouth parted as you lean over the edge and press your lips to his softly. When you pull away he’s gripping the edge of the tub, wings fluttering a little behind him. “You’ll be mine?” he whispers, apparently taking your kiss as an acceptance of this entire situation you found yourself in. 

“Only if you’ll be mine,” you whisper back, watching as his lips curve into a wide smile—eyes forming those little crinkles again. He leans forward wrapping his arms around your wet torso, lifting you easily from the water. Your feet dangle from the ground, as he walks you across the hollow—and you can’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Who cares, you think. You wanted him. The man with the blue hair and the sparking wings and glowing hands. You wanted him. 

He lowers you onto the bed again, following you down this time. You press your hand to his chest as he hovers above you, stopping him. “Do you… do this the same way?” you ask. 

“Yes, I believe so,” he smiles. “No surprises, little human.” You’d told him your name as he was reading the book to you and he’d looked up at you like you’d told him a huge secret, his eyes flickering with excitement. He was yet to use it once. 

His body lowers down over yours as your eyes fix on the wings fluttering over his shoulder. He presses his lips to your neck, tongue flicking out to taste you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you. “Been waiting for you,” he mumbles. “So long…” 

“Can I touch them again?” you breathe, eyes still fixed over his shoulder. You’re not sure why you want to touch them again so badly. It feels right. 

He hums, pressing more soft kisses against your throat. “Whenever you want,” he replies, “they’re yours.” You don’t hesitate, lifting your hand from his head to stroke gently across them like you had earlier. You feel him shiver against you, a low groan vibrating from his mouth against your skin. 

“Does it feel nice?” you whisper. 

“Mm.” 

You imagine it feels something like when he’d played with your hair. That is, until his hips start grinding against you slowly. Nice in another way, perhaps. You reach down, pulling at the hem of his sweater—fingers brushing against his warm skin. He lifts his head from your neck, attaching his lips to yours in a slow, deep kiss before he sits back—pulling his sweater over his head. His wings remain unaffected, apparently morphing through the fabric. You shouldn’t be surprised by something so minor after everything, but it’s just another indicator that he isn’t like you. He’s something else. By the time he’s tugged his pants down his legs and resumed his position over you, you’re ravenous—gripping the back of his neck and tugging him down so you can kiss him again. 

He indulges you, soft lips moving against yours as you get your fill of him. You only release him when the heavy length of him settles against your thigh, reminding you there was more of him to explore. You press your hands to his chest, prompting him to sit up. Your eyes drop to his cock, standing up against his stomach—the tip reaching his belly button. Your lips part as you fall forward, breath brushing over him as you reach to touch him—as gently as you’d stroked his wings. “Don’t tease me, little human. I’ve waited long enough for you.”

You look up at him, keeping your eyes on his as you press a gentle kiss to his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut, hips jumping off the bed a little. You raise yourself on your knees, moving over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “You can have me now,” you breathe against his lips. He leans forward, closing the distance between your mouths as you lower down onto him—gasping as you struggle to take him. It doesn’t hurt at all, you get the feeling as long as you’re with him you’ll never feel pain again. 

“You’re so small,” he breathes, arms wrapped around you. “So—” you press your lips to his hard, cutting him off as you sink down fully. He’s the one to gasp this time, his brows pulled together as he adjusts to the feeling of your walls squeezing tightly around him. Once you’re both ready, he takes a hold of you and lifts, dropping you back down on his cock. He lifts and drops you like this over and over, messy kisses on and around your mouth as he loses himself in the feeling of you. It isn’t until you reach over his shoulder, brushing your fingers over his wings again that he cums, pumping you so full you feel him leaking out around where his cock is buried deep inside you.  

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[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 3

Warnings: Allusions to violence; injuries; accidental urination

You were almost certain your feet were bleeding, but you dared not stop to check, hesitant to even turn to inspect for bloody tracks. The heels had been left behind and you had no others. You hid the limp well, accustomed to pain. Your head remained lowered in subjugation, your gaze only high enough to see the back of Daryl’s legs. You needed to know if he stopped or changed direction. 

The food and water had proven to be both a blessing and a curse. While it had provided the nourishment you so desperately needed, it had also left you with a mighty problem: your bladder was almost painfully full. You debated on asking permission to step off the road, but feared the repercussions of speaking without being spoken to first. 

“I gotta take a piss.” Daryl huffed, not breaking stride when he veered to the left and into the ditch, heading toward the trees. You halted immediately, the sudden stop making the urge to go nearly unbearable. Standing still was impossible. You bounced painfully from foot to foot, your thighs pressed together. 

“Y/N.” You flinched at the sound of Rick’s voice. His tone was gentle. You just weren’t used to someone saying your name instead of some sort of degrading term. You slowly lifted your head, meeting his eyes for only a moment before dropping your gaze again. “Do you need to…?” He trailed off, and you looked up just as he motioned to where Daryl was currently relieving himself on a tree. You nodded meekly. Rick smirked. “Just go on over there with Daryl.”

You nodded again and stepped into the grass. The soft ground was a welcomed change from the gravelly pavement. When you would usually never dare to run, you moved quickly, only stopping when you came up next to Daryl. 

The man did a double take. “Wha’ the fuck, woman?!” He quickly turned his back to you as he finished tucking himself away, the look on his face one of surprise and frustration. He didn’t really appear to be angry. Regardless, when he whirled back around with his hand up, you just knew he was going to strike you. You covered your head to shield yourself from the impact, the sudden fear resulting in the loss of bladder control. 

When the hit never came, you lowered one arm to risk a quick glance. Daryl was staring down, no doubt seeing the rivulets of urine descending down your legs. In panicked horror, you began to mutter apologies, fully prepared to then be struck or forced to your knees for a different sort of punishment that would offer at least some gratification for him. 

I-I-I’m sorry, Sir! I just haven’t had that much water in ages and I— I just—”

“Jesus. Jus’…hang on.” He was already pulling his pack off his shoulders, kneeling down to dig through the contents. A moment later, a bandana and a sleeveless shirt were being shoved into your arms. “Clean up and n’ change into tha’ but…turn ‘round.” You didn’t hesitate, your back to him almost instantaneously. There was a shuffle of clothing and the distinct click of a belt buckle. 

Oh. 

So, that’s what he intended to do. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a belt was used on you. Regardless, you continued to unfasten the clasp on your barely-there top, allowing it to fall to the ground. The shirt was quite large on you, a bit of your breasts visible under the arm, but it was at least comfortable. 

“Here.” You looked over your shoulder to find him holding out a pair of boxers, his belt still undone. Your first instinct was to curl your lip, but you quickly crushed that thought. “I know it ain’t the best idea but ya can’t exactly walk up with ya business all out either. We got kids there.”

Kids? You finally accepted with trembling fingers. “Right. Thank you, Sir.”

The archer sighed, securing his belt. Free-ballin’ wasn’t his idea of a good time but he’d just have to deal with it. “Can ya please jus’ call me Daryl?”

You bent over to step out of your panties, using the bandana to clean up, and then pull on the gifted undergarments, not really considering the view you were granting Daryl in the process. What you couldn’t see was the sudden redness that filled his face or the way he quickly averted his gaze. “Big Jazz always said it takes a while for customers to adjust to being addressed so formally.”

Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ya done?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Fer fuck sake. Le’s go.” You lowered your eyes, only sparing a momentary glance at your discarded clothing before you began to follow him. He’d surely punish you after nightfall when Rick had gone to sleep and would probably prefer you naked anyway. When Daryl stepped back onto the roadway, he paused. There were small prints of blood leading up to where he’d last seen you standing. “Yer feet bleedin’?”

“It’s fine, really.” You replied, a little too quickly. He considered you for a moment before shaking his head. 

“Nah, can’ have ya leavin’ a trail.” Rick was watching curiously, his head tilted. Daryl had returned to the tree, digging a small hole in the earth with only his hands so that he could bury the clothing and bandana. Satisfied, he dusted off his hands on his thighs and returned to where the two waited. “Can’ do much ‘bout them prints but the trail’ll go cold here.”

You glanced down worriedly at your feet. They still ached and burned and bled. So what exactly did he plan on doing with you? He handed his pack to Rick, but when he pulled off the crossbow, you felt nauseated. 

“Sir?” Your voice was so timid, he didn’t hear it but he did see you take a step back, though it was obvious you hadn’t realized it. Please, don’t kill me. I can be better. The weapon was also passed off to Rick. 

“Ya got two choices.” You blinked up at him owlishly. Then he was moving toward you and you reacted, shuffling backward with your palms out in front of you. He stopped short, angling his head to narrow his eyes in an expression you couldn’t quite read. 

It was with learned control that you focused on slowing your breathing and heartrate. “I’m sorry.” Your arms quickly dropped to your sides, dainty fingers twisting into the hem of the oversized shirt. 

“Ain’t got time fer this shit.” A calloused hand wrapped itself around your bicep and pulled. Your body crashed into Daryl with a yelp but things didn’t end there. He swept his arm beneath your knees, fully pressing you into his own space. “S’this or piggyback. Which ya wan’?”

You allowed yourself to scrutinize the archer but not for long. Once you were settled in his arms, your eyes met his for the first real time.  How could anyone have eyes so blue? Even with the crease in his brow and the slight curl of his lip, that kindness in his eyes had been the one thing to remain. 

“This…this is fine, Sir.” You wouldn’t argue. He was worried about people following, not about how bad your feet were hurting. 

“Ya good with that?” Daryl jerked his chin toward the crossbow that Rick was maneuvering onto his back. 

“Yeah, I got it. Let’s get a little further before we set up camp.”

Daryl began walking a few paces behind Rick, his steady stride rhythmically rocking you in arms. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched you without the intent to harm in at least some fashion. The archer didn’t seem like the sort of man that would eagerly inflict pain upon you, but he did buy you. If not for his own gratification, then why? 

You had to admit he was attractive. He had an air about him that you found calming, contradictory to the indifference that was always settled on his face. Maybe it would almost be enjoyable when he inevitably fucked you. Maybe he wouldn’t take such pleasure in marking up your skin with unwanted contusions. 

You dropped your gaze to where his fingers wrapped around your legs, just shy of the back of your knee. His hold was sure but not overbearing. He didn’t hold onto you like you were his property, even though that’s exactly what you were. He cradled you gently. He carried you like he actually cared. 

It was confusing. You shouldn’t let your brain be lured into such impossible fantasies. Maybe he was being kind now, but once Rick was asleep and Daryl had you alone, he would certainly give you what you had coming. It was the way of the world now. It was what men had become. 

But would it really hurt to let yourself imagine, just for a moment, that he was different?

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[bonny-kookoo]

Oh please please please please can we have a Drabble of off duty kook watching the body cam to learn what happened to OC!?

A/N: you wanted this. Obviously Warnings for angst, injury, medical emergency, gun violence.

The bodycam footage is a little shaky, but very good quality- and Jungkook kind of wishes it wasn't. Because the resulting details are just that much harder to cope with than if he couldn't quite make out properly what was happening.

"Put the gun down!" An officer he knows as George barks out on the laptop screen, holding out his own weapon. He repeats this command time after time,but the guy doesn't cooperate, your body on top of his, strangling his legs so he can't escape.

You're suddenly fighting with the man again, gaining the upper hand now as you kick the gun from his hands, successfully somewhat holding him hostage.

It's when the officer gets closer to you, others putting the violent man in cuffs, that Jungkook has to swallow hard.

"Medical is on the way. Good job there." George tells you, who's breathing deep and fast, swallowing often, looking around frantically. Jungkook knows what you're probably trying to prevent from happening- all of these things telltale signs of you being nauseous. "You still with me?" The officer asks, and you nod, eyes looking around. "No no no hey, stay here, yeah? Come on, you can do it-" George urges as you attempt to get up now, skin having lost its color as you struggle to stay composed, pain probably catching up to you.

There's blood on your hands, on your neck, and chin, darkened stains on your uniform. It's not clear where your wounds are, until George attempts to figure it out as well, finding multiple in the process. "Shh hey, hey puppy it's alright, it's okay. We're gonna get you help alright?" He calms you as you begin to panic more and more, eyes tearing up. "What's wrong? Talk to me?" He worries, as you look at the officer in front of you, having now somewhat laid down.

"I can't feel them-" You whimper, and George doesn't understand.

"Feel what?" He wants to know, keeps you up and alert for as long as needed.

"My- my legs, my tail, my-" you begin to whine, struggling to stay coherent, voice slurring. It's now that the officer removes your bulletproof vest and harness to search for something.

"Where'd you get shot darling?" The older man wants to know, and you whimper something out he can't quite understand. And even at the second attempt, your words stop making sense.

His hands find an entrance and exit wound in your thigh thats not bleeding much. Another shot has clearly landed in your lower back, another one right next to it. There's no exit wound to those two.

"Fuck- where's medical?!" He barks out towards some officers, who call something back that's not picked up by the camera on his vest. "Well tell them to hurry, she's bleeding out!" He urges angrily, before he moves to reassure you again as you start to become more and more panicked. The sound of your distressed crying makes Jungkook bite the inside of his cheek.

He hates the sound of it.

"Jungkook?" You slur out, a few times, and his heart breaks.

"Jungkook is okay, focus on yourself right now." The officer tells you instead.

"They're almost there." A young officer tells George.

"I sure hope so, I don't know how long she can keep fighting." He worries softly, watching you. "Hey- hey, no no, keep those eyes open!" He suddenly demands as you become awfully quiet, no longer crying anymore. George calls your name- but only your ears move a little towards him at the familiar sound, eyes becoming glossy and distant.

Jungkook can't stand the sight.

"You did a real good job, alright?" George tries to soothe you, keep your attention on him. "See? There's help- over here!" He calls out, as the medical personnel finally arrives to tend to you.

"And that's about it." Seokjin sighs. "That's.. well. That's what we got for now."

"Did she lose the leg?" Jungkook asks, and Seokjin shakes his head.

"No. The wound there wasn't actually that bad- the bullet had missed any larger arteries." Jin informs his coworker. "The issue where the other one's."

"Spinal injuries." Jungkook sighs.

"No." Seokjin denies, catching Jungkook's attention. "One bullet fractured her pelvis. the other ones damaged nerves, according to the doctors at the hospital. She's had her pelvis fixed during surgery-" the older police officer sighs. "But she'll probably have to receive one or several mods to fix the severed nerves."

"And that'll take months to heal." Jungkook mumbles. "Not even taking into account how long it'll take her to get used to everything." He hums to himself. "Fuck.."

"She'll most likely be let go." Seokjin states, and Jungkook nods.

"I know." Of course Jungkook knows. He's stuck in the same position after all.

And he really wished he could switch places with you, take all the hurt and give you the easier spot in this tough battle. But he can't.

All he can do, is try and be there for you for whatever time you've got left as partners.

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