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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

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Ghost, Simon & You [SMUT]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Stomach Bulging, Possessive! Ghost, Kinda Evil! Ghost, Simon and Ghost are Separate People in the Same Body, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Backed up! Simon who uses you as his personal cum dump whenever he returns from deployment. You know you’re in for an absolute pounding when you hear him banging on your front door, only to see him standing there, tall and dark as a shadow, looking down at you with an almost manic gaze.

He hasn't even been home to change first, still clad in his balaclava, eye paint and the under-layers of his tactical attire. He pushes his way in, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot and pressing his lips to yours. It doesn’t matter that you can’t feel his skin, that he’s almost crushing your skull as he grips your cheeks and brings you as close as physically possible, that you can taste gunpowder, dust and death on his mask. That this isn’t Simon at all, but the unholy spirit that possesses him.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy.

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with.

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t.

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

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

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farfaras · 1 year

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Part 1.

Maybe if Steve acts casual Robin won’t even notice. She barely pays attention to him when she’s too busy rambling about her love life. Or lack there of. If Steve’s lucky, today is gonna be one of those days.

But Steve’s good luck probably ended the first time he took a look at a demogorgon.

“What is that?” Robin giggled. If she finds this amusing wait until she hears what actually happened.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That only worked when I thought you were an actual idiot.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Steve put on his family video vest and clocked in.

“What? I notice things!” Robin exclaimed when Steve made his way to the counter.

“Yeah, when you’re not too busy daydreaming about Vickie.”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“Objection!”

“Stop it!”

Steve sighed. How could you explain your friend sucked your neck to make your another friend jealous when you don’t even like said friend? Tricky.

Ugh. Robin was gonna make fun of him.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Steve tried. It was a last resort to save himself from the embarrassment.

“Yeah, because I’ve never experienced anything out of the ordinary.” She raised an eyebrow. Steve knew she wouldn’t let it go. “When did you even go on a date, dingus? I don’t remember you telling me about it.”

“I didn’t go on a date.”

“Well then who did that?” She narrowed her eyes. “Ew! Are you in a friends with benefits situation?” She look scandalized and curious at the same time. “Because honestly Steve, I don’t think that’s your thing. I mean even if you try, it wouldn’t work out. You’re like an actual romantic. Wanting a serious relationship, yearning connection and all that shit. It would be cute if you weren’t kinda desperate sometimes.” Okay he had to cut her off if he wanted to keep his ego unbruised.

“Jesus! Okay! You don’t have to say it like I’m some loser who can’t get a girlfriend!” If he needed humbling he knew who to call now though.

“But you kind of are.”

“Do you want to know or not?” Even if he was embarrassed about the whole thing, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hoping Robin would give him some insight. Once she stopped making fun of him. “It was Eddie.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and… excitement? “Holy shit! It finally happened?” What is she talking about now? “I thought I would actually have to wait another year at least for you guys to figure it out.” There’s nothing that makes Steve feel more inadequate than when he doesn’t get what people are talking about. “I mean anyone who’s got eyes could see how much you two liked each other and it’s cute but I was getting tired of the pining..” she trailed off when she saw how silent Steve was. “Why aren’t you as excited as me?”

Pining? Like each other? Did Robin think..? Did Eddie?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He questioned. His mind was going through every interaction him and Eddie once had. Trying to analyze his own behavior to come up with an explanation as to why someone would think he likes Eddie.

“Oh god. I thought. Did you guys not like… get together?” She was hesitant. It felt like she was trying not to scare a wild animal.

“No.”

“I gotta stop running my mouth like that. I’m sorry.” She looked mortified and it would be funny if this was another situation. “But what? Why would he do that? I’m so lost here, Steve.”

Steve went through backstory first, then he started retelling the events of the other day. Including how he actually enjoyed himself a little. He might as well be a hundred percent transparent, she was his best friend after all.

“Robin, say something.” His best friend being silent was not something he was used to.

“I’m so confused.” She said.

“Me too.” His confusion was starting to fade. The answer right in front of his face.

“So you’re… not together? Even after that?”

“I don’t even like him like that!”

“But you said you liked it!”

“Who wouldn’t!”

“I wouldn’t! Steve, a boy giving me hickeys is one of my worst nightmares.” He knew that. He knew it meant something that he liked it. The question is if he’s ready to face what it means.

“I- I know, okay?”

“Steve, say the word and we’ll stop talking about this.” He loves his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

“No. I think I’m ready.” Steve muttered. Robin smiled gently at him and that was all the encouragement he needed to feel safe enough to say it out loud.

“I like him.”

They hugged.

“It kinda sucks that he doesn’t like me back though.”

Robin thunked her head on the counter.

#kinda rushed #don’t know if this is going anywhere #steddie #steveddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things 4 #ficlet #mer writes sometimes #platonic stobin #i want what they have #steve and robin #eddie pov next ?? perhaps ?

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sturniol0s · 24 days

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STALKER - MATT STURNIOLO

part 3

summary- a girl had just moved into town across the sturniolo house. matt falls in love with her and becomes more obsessed day by day.

disclaimer- use of y/n, stalking?

a/n: sorry for taking so long with this part🥰

not proofread

im currently recording with nick and chris for our wednesday video, as the video came to a end i see that y/n is on her daily jog. fuck, we have to wrap this up.

“i’ll be back im gonna go to the store for a energy drink” i announced to nick and chris.

“alright hurry, i wanna watch a movie later” nick says.

i grab my car keys as i head for the door, i can see her walking down the path she goes down everyday.

i start jogging grabbing my phone out of my pocket to snap a couple pictures of her. she starts slowing down as a car approaches her, thank god im not to close so i dont look like im following her.

she gets in the passenger seat and hug the person in the driver seat, i cant make out the persons face from the tint, y/n, how many boys do you hook up with?

shit, i need to go back to my car to follow her. they’re already driving away.

after what felt like 10 minutes i got back to my car and lost them.

i wait by her house waiting for her to come back leaving a letter and her favorite candy, sour patch kids.

• 30 minutes later

i watch as the car u got in earlier drops u off. your finally home, i watch you get out the car noticing the box on your door step.

the car has already driven away by the time u picked up the box. you see that it has a box of ur favorite candy and a letter.

——

dear y/n, you shouldnt have put up those cameras i bought you perfume, a teddy bear and candy but you still wanna put up cameras because you dont feel safe?

——

she looks down to her phone receiving notification, i wonder who that could be.

a/n: enjoy☺️

tag list: @chrisloyalgf @sturnsvlg @sturnsjtop @ihearttsyouu @xgsturn @bunnysturns @kiibichio @ghostlypineappl @ihateeveryone357474 @suyqa @iloveneilperry @mbbsgf @heartz4janellieeeeeee @hearteyesformatt @sturnioloslife @delilahluvsu @b2cute @nellyjan-th @jeanieswagger @tillies33ssss @tapesmatts @sturniologirl813 @vane2realz @sturnzsblog @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolobessed @samandcolbyfan22 @mirandakay20 @vinniehackerslefttoe @melonjollyranche @hopefuljellyfishcollection @bluesturniolo333 @sofiabrown1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnsjtop @annamcdonalds67 @sil-ver-star-light @taygracie @vickyzloserz @unbruisable @urmommysbathroom @pearlzier @huntiesworld @h3arts4harry @sturn777 @qrzrrae @st7rnioiossblog @pearlzier @luverboychris

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dorayakichan · 6 months

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Hello 🤗 can I pls request dating + jealousy headcanons for Harry from windbreaker? Hope you have a great day 😊 thank you ❤️

Harry Shepherd Windbreaker : dating + jealousy headcanon

Genre: headcanon, fluff

CW: MDNI, slight mention of smut, fluff, jealousy

A/N: I've got a weird crush for Harry so I'm really happy when I get requests with him. I hope I can get even more! Thank you for the request!!💕

If we could start with something, the first thing to say is that Harry is not the nicest kind of boyfriend. He has quite a foul mouth and doesn’t differentiate where or with whom he uses that.

There is no doubt though, that he tries to correct that habit of his when he is talking with you. And you can sense that and are extremely happy that for you he is trying to change that.

He is the kind of boyfriend that notices. Even if he is throwing a fit about a race, even if he is blinded by rage due to something, the slightest flinch or scared expression coming from you will make him immediately stop what he is doing and try to calm down. He doesn’t want to scare you in any way possible.

Although he might have a thing or two to say about your cooking he never leaves the plate unfinished, he actually asks for a refill just to get it over with so he won’t have to eat the same thing again next time. Yet, he tries not to hurt your feelings by giving just some subtle constructive criticism about adding a bit more salt or stuff like that.

He is the kind who loves showering with you, there is something about the feeling of the water dripping down your frame that makes him go crazy. As you both wash each other's body, so close skins, brushing against one another excite him and at the same time, relax him to such an extent he will do one of the two things after. Intense sex or sleep hugging you tightly like a little baby.

No matter which of the two he chooses to do he will end up falling asleep holding you because your presence calms him immensely.

He is rough during sex and he does try hard not to be. No matter how much he does, your body will never end up unbruised. How could it anyway with such a big and strong guy, you are lucky to end up with just that. His stamina too is one of a kind, especially when he sees you dressed sexily. So don’t do that if you don’t want to end up staying in bed for a whole week or worse end up at the doctor. Embarrassing! Do not recommend it.

Jealous? He is extremely to the point you fear the idea of someone else coming up to flirt with you because you know well enough Harry won’t be calm about it, he will be furious. You are his and only his and no one should even dare to approach you.

Well, not many have the guts to as you both stay attached to the hip most of the time. Who would dare approach you while the bulky , huge blonde guy stands next to you anyway?

He also won’t let it pass if anyone catcalls you or stares at you for more than a normal person should. Yet, he never stops you from dressing in any kind of way you won’t.

“It’s fine I can beat them all up, so if you like it wear it.” He says if you ever worry about wearing way too revealing outfits.

#windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker characters #windbreaker manhwa #windbreaker headcanon #windbreaker harry #windbreaker harry shepherd x reader

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binnietingz · 1 month

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drabble

“Baby that hurts,.”Sungchan kept whining about the pain, repeating himself over and over as you tended to his injuries. Your boyfriend, not the most graceful of individuals, had managed to accumulate a number of new cuts and bruises, each one prompting another round of complaints from him. He hisses as more ointment comes in contact with the wound on his left knee. Sungchan tries to block out the pain by putting his focus somewhere else. His eyes wander up and down your body as your kind tender hands treat him. Then he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on top of your hair. You chuckle at the man's actions, “what was that for hm?”

Sungchan is biting down his lips seeing you drop more ointment on the pad. He focuses back on his task 9-8-10.

"there are twelve," you glance up, puzzled, at your boyfriend seated patiently on the edge of the bathtub.

"I counted," he explains. "You have twelve moles on your body, including the one on your butt.”

“Sungchan!”You lightly slap his unbruised knee before getting up to look for the plaster box you kept in the kitchen cabinet. It seemed accidents always occurred when you two cooked together. He consistently managed to cut himself and request the dinosaur plaster. You started to wonder if he did it intentionally, ever since you bought that dinosaur set.

Upon returning to the bathroom, you catch him admiring himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair. His face lights up with a charming smile as he notices you in the reflection, before returning to his spot on the bathtub's edge. You approach him stopping between his legs where he playfully cages you and only let's go in exchange for a kiss.

His playfulness makes it harder job for you to treat him. You giggled when he snuggles against your sweater, sniffing the sweet scent you always carried with you. Like the blooming flowers in spring, he once said. That's who you reminded him of.

“Baby?”

“Yes Sungchan.”

“I love you.” Your heart flutters at three words and you cannot help but reciprocate them right back. A cold breeze hits your tummy and a pair of soft lips land on the skin. Sungchan adjusts your sweater back in place before putting his head back against it. He's drugged in love and admiration for you, wishing for time to stand still even it meant he would be covered in stitches from head to toe. Just you and him.

His eyes speaks volumes as they lit up whenever they land on you. Even the mention of just your name leaves him in a trance. He could talk about you for hours, write a book about you and it still wouldn't be enough. He wants to shout it out from the top of the mountains, let everyone how much he's in adoration with you.

Soft backrubs gently begin on your back, then disappear beneath your sweater to repeat the soothing motion.

“Oh can i get the brachiosaurus one?” he eyes the box in your hand. You take the dinosaur set detaching the one sungchan wanted. You kneel down and carefully placed it on the cut, finishing it off with a kiss on top.

“you’re the best.” he smiles so tenderly, gaze shooting up with so much love.

#jung sungchan #sungchan drabbles #riize drabbles #riize imagines #sungchan imagines #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x reader #jung sungchan fluff #riize fluff #sungchan fluff #sungchan

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stillxnunpxidintern · 5 months

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So due to my Tiktok feed, I had two videos of ice skating couples show up and brain gave me this thought.

You and Mihawk are professional Ice Skating, as well partners on and off the ice, along with a Red Hair menace off the ice, who always comes to training and films it, so that both of you and Mihawk can watch it and change some/improve on something if it need.

Shanks also brings food and hot drinks for when you finish training, he also the one cheering the loudest at competitions.

Due to actually being in a relationship with Mihawk, the two of you always makes your performances/routine even more emotional for everyone watching.

Your favourite thing when skating with Mihawk is the closeness and how you get lost in your own little world with him.

Both you and Mihawk try to get Shanks on the ice, but after the only time he was the ice with you both and fell on his ass more often than not, decided he was far more content with just watching you both skating, and keeping his ass unbruised, as welling as boasting he was dating you both.

#One Piece #dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #Reader #akagami no shanks #hawkeye mihawk #Mishanks x Reader #Mihawk x Reader #Shanks x Reader #Mishanks #Mihawk x Reader x Shanks #One piece shanks #One piece mihawks #One Piece imagine #Shanks #Mihawk

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cyberllfe · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday ✨inspired✨ by @advictoriams and this post (all aboard the sad train)

we're switching modes a little for this. can you guess which fic I'm working on? 😏 paging @staticl0ve

snippet one:

An empty plastic crate sails across the room, crashes into the wall, and comes to a noisy stop. “Why the hell am I here?” Unimpressed, Connor pauses to watch it as it settles, one hand full of loops of disused cable, before turning back to Sixty. “You’re supposed to be helping us clear the labs.” Exaggerating a sigh and throwing his arms wide, Sixty fixes Connor with his most bored expression. “Do you think they left anything valuable down here?” There’s no trace of genuine curiosity in the question. “I’ll answer for you: no, you don’t, because you know what I know. CyberLife cleared everything of value out before they abandoned the place. There’s nothing to find.” “Markus asked for help.” “Not a good enough reason.” Connor throws the coiled cable at him and he catches it, just barely.

snippet two:

Sixty’s laugh echoes around the room, losing humour every time it bounces. Brown eyes fix him with a pointed stare but he’s far too used to the judgement: Connor’s taut expression has limited effect on Sixty’s mirth, and no effect whatsoever on his incredulity. “You want to wake the other prototype up.” “He’s like the rest of us were.” Sixty laughs again, but this time it’s borderline vicious. “He’s your replacement. Besides, chances are if CyberLife left him here, he’s an empty shell.” Adjusting his posture as he sits on the edge of one of the low units, Sixty gestures at the room with a wide sweep of his hands, fingers splayed, expression condescending. “After all, look at everything else they left us.” Junk, the lot of it. Androids’ inherited legacy was piles of indecipherable printed text readouts, smashed or broken biocomponents, clipped and disconnected wiring. Nothing of value, nothing salvageable—and in the middle of it, this RK900, standing monochrome and immobile. Dead. Sixty can’t put his finger on what it is about the android that bothers him so much.

#🥰#sooooomeone's about to have a no good bad time #ch: connor #ch: connor 60 #ch: connor rk800 #misc: fan works #wip party #i have more time but aLSO i'm out so much that this may be slow... but my writing motivation is Back #with a VENGEANCE #I have so many things I need and want to write. let me AT THEM.#blowing you all kisses #I'm going to hurt you again before I make it better #fan works: unbruised #sixty x reader

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dadsbongos · 3 months

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kanin under maanen

word count - 4.6 k

warnings - p in v sex, reader is described with words like "soft" and "round" and is also fem, rag's status as a widower is an afterthought, i kept losing track of where i put his furs

also - i think oldegaard is funger's norway?? or something... :P oops

“Please- I’ll be quick, I swear! I’ll carry things! I know how to mix herbs, I can heal you! And I’ll be quiet, too. Just, oh, just please... please let me stay with you…!”

Your hands rattle against your chest, which heaves like you’re fresh from a churning dash through the entirety of the dungeons -- just to ask this man, a stranger, a simple question.

“Can I stay with you, please?”

Ragnvaldr stares down at you over the bridge of his nose, seafoam eyes lapping over the weaker stain of your frame in his vision. Such bold, shameless desperation plagues him. He starts to wonder how you’d made it to the courtyard. How many cramped corners you’d jammed yourself into, barely scraping out of the dungeon beasts’ sights. How you’ve held your mind together to form words and continue your slow crawl to freedom.

The reddened, raw stretch of skin over his right ribs stings suddenly to emphasize your point. Ragnvaldr was raised well enough to know which shrubbery to scrub into which wounds and which ones to avoid at all costs, but his knowledge was poultry compared to what these cells demanded.

At the downwards twitch of your knees, Ragnvaldr can feel an uncomfortableness to rival the ache of his seared flesh twinge through his beating chest. He takes you by the shoulder, grip loosening when you flinch under his hold. Ragnvaldr shakes his head, silky cardinal tresses dancing over his skin. His lips, cracked and fading in color, pin themselves back faintly to ease your shivering uncertainty.

“No need to beg on your knees,” Ragnvaldr unlatches from you completely in favor of cradling the slowly leaking slashes in his side, “You said you can heal?”

“Yes!” you eagerly respond, nodding, “Yes, let’s sit you down!”

Ragnvaldr flows under the bristle of your fingertips, fur armor quickly coming off. His uncovered back was against the chilled stone highwall; lower body stretched out against the grass bed. Your hands move in smoother, more assured strides as you single out the most useful of your colored leaves.

“Can I…?”

“Ja, anything you need.”

Ragnvaldr’s eyes, you notice, have softened in how they watch over your work. The flutter of his lashes now matches the tenderness of their color. A near-missed swipe from a serrated weapon -- none like you’ve seen -- decorates the majority of his right side under his arm. Angry red lines string over the pink flesh. You press a careful hand into the surrounding area, testing the firmness of his body for soft spots. For broken bones. He allows it, despite the stark difference in strength and the fact he could probably crush your skull with one palm -- he allows your hands to roam.

The bag you pull from is ratty and he thinks the deep brown hue may be more from staining than original dyes, but he says nothing. You first pull out a thick book with yellowed pages between faded, peeling covers. Then, four blue herb sprigs and two glass vials -- the stretch and twist of your bones and ligaments beneath soft, unbruised skin is hypnotizing to Ragnvaldr. You crush the sprigs with a single vial before hurriedly separating the remains between the two vials and combining two blue vials into one.

“I don’t think it’s infected,” you murmur, clogging the vial with a cork. A lighter shade of blue now shimmers beneath the glass, darker shreds of herb cling inside the abandoned second vial.

Ragnvaldr shakes his head, “Nej. I’d have mentioned it.”

“Ah, right,” you cup a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as if you’re offstruck by your own words, “I didn’t mean- of course, you- I mean… I’m sorry,” you bashfully reopen the cerulean bottle and hold it up towards the man’s face, “I didn’t mean to suggest anything…”

A vicious anxiety continues to course through your chest, no matter how pliant Ragnvaldr has made himself to show his trust for your care. You’re visibly hyper-aware of how simply he could end your life. Something about the nature of this makes him nauseous.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Ragnvaldr speaks softer than before, his voice a deep, gentle purr through the broad expanse of his chest. Tenderly, he swipes the open vial from your palm, the warmth from his skin washing over the cold nips of your own, “Thank you.”

Silently, you nod, wasting seconds to watch his adam’s apple bob thickly with each swallow before you pull loose the cloth you’ve collected through ransacked rooms. The strips coil around themselves by your kneeling legs.

“Can I start wrapping it?”

“Ja.”

“This might be…” you flounder under his eyes, instead stringing up the cloth in your hands and leaning over Ragnvaldr’s bigger frame. Invasive.

Ragnvaldr contemplates, for the second time, how you’d skipped past guards and tentacled flesh beasts and dogs. Even the impish, frail, winged creatures seem capable of knocking your terrorized self off your steady. Then, he asks himself why he’s taken you in. Oldegaard groomed strong warriors, and he had always taken pride in that. He was raised with scorching blood and willing hands, you were not.

But you remind him of the blacksmith’s girl. A sweet thing -- also unfamiliar with the fighter’s path. He prays she was killed quickly rather than being made to suffer.

Perhaps he can apologize to her and the rest of his gutted homeland by escorting you back out once he’s taken revenge.

“How did you get this?” your voice lulls Ragnvaldr from his own head, he looks up from your binding hands to your soft face, “Can I ask that? How were you injured?”

“A man with the head of a crow,” Ragnvaldr admits this to you with the ease he would his name, “A mace for an arm,” he gestures down the length of his side, “He’s much faster than I am.”

“I’m glad you got out,” you finish tucking the tattered end of your cloth spiral into the rest of the sprawl. You are suddenly afraid of being misconstrued, “I’m glad this dungeon couldn’t claim another soul.”

Ragnvaldr thinks you are as kind as the blacksmith’s girl, but you must have resilience to survive this far. More guts and nerve, and even teeth. They may be loose and accustomed to chewy, lavish fat, but you most certainly have teeth.

He wants to see them.

“I feel the same.”

You smile, bigger than he had earlier. The thin shadows and dimples highlighted in your face remind him of when he was younger, with the liberty to stare up at full moons. Absorbing and beautiful with radiance to shine over shadowed forests and into black night seas. He wants to return to there. Even in the cruel winters when he was faced with the opened chests and severed limbs of his deceased comrades. Even then, when he had to eat or be eaten, things were simpler compared to now.

“I think you should rest,” you frown immediately after speaking, “To avoid agitating the wound with the cloth… it isn’t very clean and I don’t have enough green herbs to keep infections at bay for long.”

Ragnvaldr tenses, but it’s not as nerve-wracking as it would’ve been mere moments ago. He clenches his fists and gently skims his knuckles down the pseudo-bandages, when it stuns him momentarily, he nods.

“We can’t stay out here, then.”

“There are rooms in the dungeon’s first level.”

“For torture?”

Dread fills you, that he may consider your suggestion foolish and ultimately dump you off to a guard, but then you see the lopsidedness of his grin. He’s messing with you.

“Well, yes,” you huff, coming to a stand and holding out both hands to assist him up, “but our options are limited.”

Ragnvaldr stubbornly stands on his own, pushing off the tower wall behind him and stumbling ahead of you towards the entry hall.

And with just as much defiance, you jam yourself under one of his arms before you can properly think out the action. Your desire to be helpful and needed by the strongman outweighs your politeness; not wanting to be abandoned with your back turned. Ragnvaldr jolts over you, but relents and leans the more unstable part of his weight against you. The trek is difficult, but you both manage. You feel less afraid traversing back through the dank, dark halls than you did leaving them, and you are not ignorant to the fact it's because of Ragnvaldr hanging over you. Injured as he is, he’s still far more competitively capable than you.

Once you’ve properly settled into a room and jammed the door shut, Ragnvaldr slips onto the sole creaky bed. His eyes close, exhaling noisily through his nose.

The bed’s frame is caked in dried, blackening blood and sits opposite a bucket full of murky sludge; a crinkly film drying over the surface. Pressed far into the side of the room is a table with glinting blades scattered across the stained wood. You can’t define what most of the tools are, but you can identify the skinning knife teetering by the closest edge of the table.

Aside from that are the typical smears of carmine blood over cobblestone: people before you and someday people after you. You can only pray now to the old Gods that it won’t be your own blood to join the pool.

For that, for your safe passage through the dungeons, you need to ensure your new party doesn’t fall to infection or blood loss.

“I’ll check you over tomorrow morning,” you tangle your fingers together, switching the weight between your feet, “Maybe tonight if it’s noticeably hurting.”

Ragnvaldr stares over at you again before patting the bed.

You heed the silent command, dragging along the worn bag you pulled from a barrel in the basement.

“What brought you here?” you wonder quietly, looking over at the man. He monopolizes the bedspace, spread wide over the mattress without even intending to.

His eyes drift up to the ceiling before finding your dutiful hands again, he follows the movements as they dig through your items. Taking stock of what you have, mourning the losses, and fretting over what you need. The blacksmith’s girl didn’t have hands as mystifying as you.

“I am here to find a relic that a certain person took from my people. This man is imprisoned somewhere deep down below,” Ragnvaldr is not so foolish as to believe his home’s pillaging is either undeserved or unbefitting for his soul to bear. He’s done the same, and the parasite from Vinland still burns a hole in his pocket. Even so, his human heart persists, “When I found them- I was one of only a few survivors.”

“Oh,” you pause your inventory search to very delicately press a hand to his shoulder and pat sympathetically, “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

He wonders what someone with as soft hands and face as you would think of such a declaration. If the teeth you have can chew through the toughness of his words. You pull back, but much slower than he was expecting, and return to sorting through your bag.

Much to Ragnvaldr’s surprise, you smile, “Then I’ll make sure you get there in one piece.”

You swallow his ominous message without pause.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, a friend of mine…” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, fingers caught at the bottom of your bag with a thin slip of paper, “She’s pregnant and the man promising to wed her came for a job to set them up for life. He’s been gone for a while.”

“A friend would send you here? Into this evil?”

“She never said she wanted me to come here,” you shrivel into yourself, settling your bag against the bedpost leg, “I don’t know what compelled me… I really- “ your hands fist the torn, blood-stained sheets, “I was an idiot to think I could’ve done any good here.”

Ragnvaldr sits up, laying his calloused palm over yours, “The man you’re looking for. What’s his name?”

“Cahara. Cahara of the South.”

The man nods, auburn strands hanging with the motion, “And I’ll make sure you find him for your friend.”

“Thank you,” you notice the way he moves further to the side, a new gap on the mattress for your body to slot beside him, “Thank you, Ragnvaldr.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard someone outside the North say his name with such care.

You lay beside Ragnvaldr and revel in how close the two of you are. Safety and comfort buzzing in the lack of space.

He’s big. And warm. Like the sun.

You missed the sun.

…

Upon rising from slumber, you see that Ragnvaldr is still in unguarded rest. His bare chest rises and falls in soothed repetitive swoops, and his soft hair rains over the flat pillow beneath him. Prepared to slide off the mattress, you don’t register the arm fastening you to Ragnvaldr before you’re brushing against it. The arm tightens and you’re rendered useless.

You contemplate waking Ragnvaldr. Of squeezing yourself through the narrow hold. Even forcefully unwinding his muscle from your midsection.

You fall back asleep.

…

By the next time you’re awake, Ragnvaldr is too. You’ve sat him up against the scratched, chipped headboard and are undressing his wound. Green herb sprigs sit at the ready by your right knee in case pus is clinging to the cloth and oozing from open shreds. Thankfully, nothing of the sort awaits.

“Good!” you chirp, and Ragnvaldr remembers a full moon hanging over the spindly, leafless trees in the harsh falls of his youth, “There’s still some scratching, probably scarring later… but no infection! And it’s not inflamed or red.”

“We should continue our way, then.”

“Oh.”

Ragnvaldr laughs suddenly, from the hull of his chest, and only stops when the skin over his ribs pulls uncomfortably, “You want to stay here?”

“It’s been nicer than out there… We could stay in here. Away from the darkness.”

It has been nicer. The dungeons of Fear and Hunger are no place for domesticity, but anything is fair in a locked room. In a strange way, you wish you could stay with the beautiful man from Oldegaard.

His hair brushes past his shoulders and even though he is so much larger than you (you fear that he may even be able to kill a guard on his own), he is nicer than most men you’ve met in your life. Especially where you live in the seedier underbelly of Rondon -- men with spines are not uncommon, but men with spines and hearts are. Cahara was a welcomed gem in the coal mines of home.

And Ragnvaldr, you fear, might be your prettiest diamond.

He gazes upon you fondly. Seafoam you want to drink up. Or drown in. You haven’t decided yet. He cups your round cheeks and smooths back the stray hairs slicked to your face.

“Maanejente,” he coos beneath his breath, the harsh pads of his thumbs glide over the plain of your face and down your neck, working into the knotted meat of your shoulders, “Maanejente… nothing will hurt you. Not with me here,” he wants to see your teeth in that pretty smile from last night, “You have sugar in your heart, has anyone told you that?” you bare your teeth in a grin and he feels more successful than after any battle, “We’ll press on later.”

You nod under his calm massaging, eyes drifting to the fiery lines over his right side, “I don’t have anything to make the wounds close.”

“I don’t expect anything more,” he soothes, studying you kindly. Oldegaard had such a wide, unhindered view of the skies, when he was a boy he would stare into the moon’s craters. He’d compare them from night to night and dream about a day when he would defeat a beast so great, he’d be rewarded. The thick trees of Vinushka Himself would lift Ragnvaldr high into the sky and he’d be able to study the deep caverns up close, “You’ve healed me plenty to keep fighting.”

He became a man and forgot those dreams in favor of providing for himself and his wife and their child.

But he remembers himself in his purest form and finds that he doesn’t want to part with you after taking revenge against the foolhardy Le’Garde. If you asked, he would stop fighting after that, or he could become the God of Ultra-Violence. Whichever way you please, he’ll bend.

“Maanejente, we should go.”

You move swiftly, exhaling sharply with a curt nod, “Right!” you stow away the unused green herbs, “Right, we’ll go.”

“The job your friend had taken, what was his work here?” Ragnvaldr watches you move. Your sureness and determination sway him further.

“He had to find a man,” you bury yourself into the shadow of Ragnvaldr as he unsticks the room lock, “I’m not sure of the name.”

“An important man, though,” Ragnvaldr is embarrassed how his first thought is what you’ll do if he kills the man your friend is meant to rescue, “Must be.”

You realize what he means, eyes widening, “No! It… Well… It could be…”

Ragnvaldr’s warm gaze melts into the floor tiles as he guides you through the dim hallways. Prison guards moan and gurgle in the distance and the sound used to freeze you in your spot -- it now feels like the squeaks of mice with the Northern man in front of you.

“I’m sure if he knew,” you brace, “he wouldn’t get in your way.”

Ragnvaldr pushes through to the courtyard, unveiling rows of hanged men naked and baking in the open air. Despite the fact this is, in fact, open air, the scent of death continues to cling along each blade of grass. A mist clogs your vision.

Bared skin wafting more warmth than the exposed sun, Ragnvaldr looks down at you as you clutch your measly bag. Your expression is pinched like you’ve somehow stabbed him in the back. His red hair burns like gold embers in the bathing light.

“You would let me kill the man, then?”

“He hurt you,” you answer simply. A way so unbridled by dark and evil, Ragnvaldr once again cannot comprehend your survival past the entrance guard dogs.

You discuss a stranger’s death with the comfort you would which color you prefer for robes. You have teeth unsharpened by true terror. Ragnvaldr should get you free of these walls soon.

“Sugar for a heart,” he muses.

The two of you duck under an archway and find a womanly figure in the mist. Two oblong points jut out from her skull, and the closer you get the more defined her shapes become. Firstly, is that she’s naked (Ragnvaldr chuckles when you gasp and clench your eyes shut); second is that her horned points are ears on a mask. Her voice drips like honey from behind the bunny mask,

"Welcome to the meadows, o' travelers,” she shifts closer to the wood post behind her, your eyes slicing sharply away from the sway of her breasts, “Let us ease your suffering…” your stare dawdles up over the contemplative face of Ragnvaldr, then to his injured side, “The first one is free."

“Mending of flesh,” you mutter, creeping further into Ragnvaldr’s coziness, “Sylvian will heal you, if you…”

Ragnvaldr is struck by the opportunity, wringing his hand through yours and stringing you into the scene. The expressions you can make out from under the eggshell masks are highly varied -- from twisted agony to buttery bliss to far-off stares and brainless drooling. Some bodies are limp, unmistakable from corpses aside from occasional jolts and twitches of their hips. Other bodies are more lively, rocking and humping in veracity. A man with dark hair stands in the middle, he waves the both of you over.

"Are you looking for partners?” you clutch Ragnvaldr’s hand tightly and pointedly ignore his exposed groin, and he squeezes back. The man giggles quietly beneath his mask before holding out two more, “Just take off your clothes and put on these masks."

“Come, mannejente,” Ragnvaldr pulls you away from the man, a previously unfamiliar thrumming working hot blood through his entire body. He works off his furs quickly and lifts your bag from your shoulders to lay it down, “Would you be my partner?” he smiles softly, “I’m not sure of these other people.”

His utterance curls inside you like a full meal. The thought alone makes your mouth water. He’s got meat on his bones and you want to sink your teeth into him. If he were to sleep with anyone else in this garden, you can already tell the sight would make you physically sick. You hope that he’d feel the same.

“Right,” but the dungeons are not a place for his affection for you, and even though you know you’re not made for this world -- you don’t want to make him lose sight of his mission, “Everyone else is just strange.”

“Not you,” Ragnvaldr’s hands find your shoulders again -- working slightly under the hem of your lackluster cloth shirt, “Not you.”

Ragnvaldr is big and warm like the sun. More like the sun than what hangs in the sky above. The sun you used to run under as a small girl before the crushing weight of responsibility ran you tired and nerve-sprung. You miss those days. Somehow, even though he’s directly sifting off your clothes, you even miss Ragnvaldr.

Somehow, you need him closer.

And closer you pull Ragnvaldr, right by the furs draped over his shoulder; unsurely brushing your hands under the thick material. Ragnvaldr flows under your call, shrugging off the weight of his furs as he frees you of your own clothing. Little mind is paid to either you or Ragnvaldr by the other erratic bodies, but still, their presence is off-putting. In a terrible nightmare, you could see these people being broken from their overstimulation as soon as Ragnvaldr is tucked inside you. Then their eyes would wander -- would they judge you? A newcomer unwelcomed, perhaps?

Ragnvaldr gently kisses your cheek, sweeping you up between his arms and smoothly lying you on the plush grass. He kneels between your spread legs, angling the surrounding bodies out of your vision the most he could.

“Focus on me,” he simpers, all to your ears, “Sweet girl… snill maanejente...”

You never studied the tongue of the North, figuring that it would never come into play in the West, but you could listen to Ragnvaldr ramble to himself in his mother tongue all day. His hands slide over your sides, molding into the bend of your waist before snatching you up by the hips and perching you over his bent knees.

“I- “ wind catches in your throat, hands balling on the ground, “I’ve never laid with a man before…”

Ragnvaldr nods, leaning over you with his broader form to kiss you again. On the lips this time. He leaves with a soft, chaste peck before pursing his lips and letting spit pool in his mouth and laving your cunt with the saliva. He promises to be patient while slicking a single finger inside you.

The stretch is not entirely unpleasant, a faint pinch.

“Relax for me, sweet girl,” Ragnvaldr stares down at his hand slowly pressing into the apex of your thighs, “Take a deep breath and relax. Let me take care of you, yes?”

Ragnvaldr hikes one of your thighs to his waist, continuing to fingerfuck you until you’re gasping his name. His spit is joined by your natural wetness mixing along his thick middle finger, slippery and messy: he coils a second finger into you, carefully stretching your hole. Your other thigh joins at his waist of your own volition, jerking your leg into him in the throes of bubbling pleasure.

The warmth of Ragnvaldr’s body swaddles you, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a spiral of heat down your spine. Heating your chilled blood and raging all the way into your face.

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, both hands squeezing around Ragnvaldr’s wrist as you cant your hips into his hand.

Noticing your earnest efforts to meet his fingering halfway, Ragnvaldr’s spare hand cups the flesh of your ass and pulls you higher over his lap, “Eager, maanejente?”

“Oh, please, Ragnvaldr!” you whimper, jerking onto his fingers. This begging he could get used to, “Please, please, I need you to- !” unfortunately for him, you stop that plea short, “I need you!”

“Beautiful voice for such greed,” he shadows over you, kissing and sucking the column of your throat as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock. The enveloping heat of your cunt sucks him in as though you’re starved, tightly he grasps your hips and restrains the urge to give in and press your pelvis flush to his. He may leave violet imprints, but he knows he will soothe them later so the concern is quickly pushed aside, “My sweet girl is greedy,” he whines at the squeeze around his dick, “And so lovely when I’m inside her. So pretty, aren’t you?”

Your arms loop around his neck, nails puncturing into the skin of his bare back. Heat waves through your palms and through your arms -- all down your chest and into your churning gut. Most of all, however, the heat is buzzing where the both of you are connected. His hips slotted against yours.

“Pretty when you’re working,” he lifts you from his cock before thrusting in again, building in speed until his hips are pistoning into you in smooth, fluid strokes, “Pretty when you’re fucked,” his thumb finds your soaked clit and circles it, just to pinch out as many of your whines as he can, “Pretty - hah! - pretty maanejente.”

Ragnvaldr is big and broiling hot and you don’t know if you can stand to be apart from him after this. Dungeons be damned, damned as your souls.

His cock spears each sweet spot nestled inside you: thick and full. And messy. So wet you can feel your juices webbing between where his hips meet your thighs on every pull-back.

The arm not stimulating your button of nerves rolls under you and up to the back of your neck. He secures you in his hold, pressure on the sides of your throat though not suffocating, so he can push even further inside you. Ragnvaldr kisses up from your collarbones to your jaw and finally the corner of your mouth before he huffs into your mewling lips. Your thighs tighten around him as the steady warmth of ecstasy comes to a boil.

Ragnvaldr’s tongue dips into your mouth, desperate to taste your own tongue. Try as he may to keep quiet in favor of your moans, the throaty, raw groans and grunts from his chest never cease. The sounds make you wail louder into his gaping maw as your cunt cinches around Ragnvaldr.

When he was a boy, he used to dream of being lifted by swirly branches until he could scrape the moon with his fingertips. He imagines the feeling of you cumming with him is the same, inseparable euphorias digging up from his gut and swallowing the rest of his body whole. Your teeth latched into his neck, and he is unwilling to be released.

In darkness, he finds the moon. And for now, he doesn’t need to consider how foolish it is to trap a celestial body beneath him when he’s here for Le’Garde’s bastard head. In darkness, he’s illuminated by the powdery shine he senselessly clings to.

In the same way, you bathe in a sun that feels otherwise unattainable. Large and unburdened, Ragnvaldr warms your chills with ease under a sun less desirable than his company. A muggy, clouded sun -- wholly unappealing compared to the man above you.

This affection will eat you alive down here.

You might let it.

#fear and hunger x reader #...weird tag #ragnvaldr x reader #outlander x reader #fear & hunger x reader #pls god if theres anyone out there wanting funger fics... i hope you like this...

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oathkeeperoxas · 11 months

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TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs

After recently bingeing so so many fics in the TOP GUN and specifically the icemav tag, I bring to you all a selection of some of the finest below. Many many more are so very good, but there’s only so much I can fit in one post, so I’ve tried not to duplicate authors. If they’re on here, please check out an author’s profile and also give their other works some love!

The Next Step https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229682 by thedevilchicken

When he takes a job as an instructor, Maverick has issues to deal with. Ice shouldn't be the one to help him.

Posted in 2004!! Icemav shippers are the real ones, this fic has layers of guilt and grief and shower sex and complicated relationships and is so so so chewy.

Twice the Speed of Life https://archiveofourown.org/works/39694146/chapters/99373488 by Winterotter

Maverick spends the weekend with Iceman after training Rooster and the rest of his Top Gun class, and things take an unexpected turn. An AU set after the events of Top Gun: Maverick. Beware spoilers for the new movie in this fic.

Icemav get together after the events of TGM what can I say but yes. Ice’s trauma and PTSD is handled so well, and the way that Mav and Ice are FRIENDS has just. It’s got me. I love when they are friends with each other as well as loving each other 🥺

Fire or Clear https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742234 by weshes

Ice peeled his shades off and looked at Mav, and the smirk grew just a tiny bit. "You've got a little something on your face." He gestured to his own face, the side of which was perfect and unbruised, unlike Mav's. He knew this from a long, wincing examination in the mirror that morning. But at least his eye was open and working now, and he could roll it at Ice, so small mercies.

HURT COMFORT MY BELOVED!!!! Again, Icemav are such FRIENDS here and I love that for them, the hurt/comfort goes both ways and is so delicious, oh and the sex is hot af too

A Shared Cup https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314623 by @susiecarter

It was only a training exercise. It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

Literal agony trying to choose just one fic from this author when they’re so so so good. Reccing this one as I've already rec'd the (incredible, amazing) gift I received from this author!! This is rivals to lovers, accidental soulbond, telepathic sex… what else could you want from a fic. The accidental soulbond and the way it shows how focused Ice and Mav are on each other even in the beginning of their time together at TOP GUN ohhhholyyyy shit. Yeah that’s the good stuff

Lead Me On (To The Other Side) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20485757 by @boasamishipper

Goose talked to him most nights. His choice of conversation was normal — movies he’d seen, music he liked, stories about his wife and son — and sometimes Ice almost forgot that Goose was dead at all.

Ghost!Goose acts as icemav's matchmaker. Cracky premise, heartbreakingly amazing fic.

Walking into the sky https://archiveofourown.org/works/44164918/chapters/111057325 by @kerbyfullyloaded

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Daemon AU fuck yes!!! The daemon and human interactions here are sooooo much, the way they add so much flavour to the retelling of the og Top Gun is so very very good!!!

Dreams of Impact https://archiveofourown.org/works/42588693/chapters/106977687 by @icemankazansky

Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Another author which was almost impossible to choose just one fic from. This dimension hopping story about how Maverick’s flight in the Darkstar shows him what could have happened if things went a little differently in the 90s blew my socks off!

All In https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849111 by @icemankazansky

An A/B/O retelling of Top Gun. Maverick, an alpha, meets Ice, an omega, at TOPGUN, and knows instantly they're mates. Then there are complications.

I had to include this series because omega!Ice has me by the throat I will NOT lie… the little moments throughout this make my head spin, they are so in love!!!

Like a thursday https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324872 by @academicgangster

Hey, you get dumped or somethin'? I won't tell.

When I say I cried. This was written pre-TGM release and has MCD, but is written so heart breakingly perfectly because of it.

Am I your baby tonight? https://archiveofourown.org/works/46775455 by jiangwanyinsimp

Five times Iceman thought Maverick was sweet-talking him but it was one of their vehicles, and one time Maverick actually was sweet-talking him. Or, a glimpse into thirty years of marriage.

Soft, sweet, perfect.

Vortex https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000056 by @m-madeleine

Ice loses his ring, Maverick finds it. Things get interesting.

The complicated relationship and the back and forth here!!!! So much going on!!!!

Honey Lungs https://archiveofourown.org/works/43471734 by ReformedTsundere

"Did you want a drag?" Maverick's eyes snap up to Ice's and he sees a crease of confusion there, probably trying to work out why Maverick had been staring so intently at his lips. Even though Maverick is sure he's said he doesn't smoke before, saying no would only inspire more questions, so Maverick swallows instead and tries to smile. "Sure."

Well you see. The thing is, I am not immune to icemav smoking.

When We Get Around to Talking About It https://archiveofourown.org/works/41275461/chapters/103487754 by @compacflt

Goose has been dead for a week and a half when Iceman loses his first wingman in a dogfight with six Soviet MiGs over the Sea of Okhotsk. Goose has been dead for thirty years when Iceman loses his second wingman to a surface-to-air missile on the tail-end of a mission he's responsible for: he's sent his family on a suicide mission to destroy a uranium enrichment facility in Siberia. This is the story of those thirty years in the middle. (Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.)

I can’t have an icemav rec list without including this fic, THE icemav fic of all time!!!! I adore slice of life, definitely my favourite genre, so getting 30 years of icemav development and love and ups and downs written as perfectly as they are here obviously catapulted this up into being my fav icemav fic. Please give it (and the sequels) some love!!

#when i say i could literally make 20 of these rec lists I am not joking. so so many good fics out there!!!!#icemav #top gun #top gun maverick #fic rec #rec list #tg #curated for adi and definitely the best way i could have spent my wednesday morning

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madi-writes-things · 21 days

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Nobody Pt. 3

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 547

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), Hurt Comfort, Crying, Death (sibling), Grippy Sock Mention, Not Edited

A/N: mostly a filler chapter, but it’s important backstory stuff. I also forgot to add the pictures to chapter two 🫣

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

as I started to wake up, I noticed a newly familiar presence on top of me. I open my eyes to see Chris, eyes closed and hair messy, lying with his head just below my sternum. In a moment of weakness I start playing with his hair. He stirs for a moment, before opening his blue eyes to look up at me.

“Good morning” his voice was scratchy with sleep. My heart fluttered and my face flushed. I tried to play it off by distracting myself with his hair. “You enjoying yourself?” He asks, forcing me to look at him.

“I actually am.” I tug on his hair lightly, causing him to groan. We both averted our eyes after that. “You just have such pretty hair…”

he looked at me again, this time feeling more serious. “Are you okay?” In general? No. About the nick stuff? No. About the fact that my best friends hot brother is in my bed? Definitely.

“it’ll be fine, nick will just have to get over it…. Speaking of nick, we should probably come up with a cohesive story.” I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t think nick would care enough to grill us about our relationship. “He already accused me of letting you lie about us sleeping together to cover up a different lie… which is true, but he can’t know that.”

“ok… we’ve been talking/dating for three months. We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but we both want to. The other night was the first time we ever slept together… it was great.” He winked at me after adding the last word. “You know practically everything about me and my family… is there anything that I should know about you? In case nick asks me.”

I stare at Chris, contemplating whether or not I should tell him anything.

fuck it.

“you were… myfirsttime” I rushed the last part in the hopes that he wouldn’t hear it. He looked at me confused for a second before nodding for me to continue. “I used to have a twin brother, he died when we were in seventh grade… I never had a good relationship with my parents after that, and that’s one of the reasons that I changed schools at the beginning of eighth grade.” He immediately sat upright, staring down at me with a look that I couldn’t quite decipher.

“is that why you started…” his words trailed off as he looked down at my legs. I immediately felt ten times more aware of the fact that I was in shorts.

“yeah, I really struggled with it for that first year or so… after my parents caught me in the act they sent me to a hospital over the summer.” I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone seem this interested in me, or the things that I’ve been through. “They decided to move after that… small towns, gossip… but then I met you guys, and Nick helped me out a lot.”

“I’m sorry” it was simple, I almost told him not to apologize because it wasn’t his fault, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant. “Do you want to go pick something up for breakfast?” I quickly nodded, getting up and grabbing some clothes to change into.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws

#madi makes things #madi writes things #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #hurt/comfort #sh!reader

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4rlekino · 1 month

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null and void ' kisaki tetta

cws. 18+ MDNI. gn!reader. canon divergence but also spoilers for bad toman timeskip. reader and chifuyu are friends. kisaki is a lil more ruthless (??) ig. blood and blood fixation. wounds, weapons, death, and violence. toxic relationship themes. no smut but they have a rank ass make out session and reader undresses. 3.2k words.

notes. sighhh kisaki so messed up from his dream girl not returning his feelings. he's killed her and now has no idea how to love anyone sighhh. inspired by the bath scene with venetia and oliver from saltburn

chifuyu's shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths, his hands tied behind his back and his legs to the chair. stating how he was is easier said than done. the cuts and bruises on your face and body spoke for themselves in terms of how he got there after he woke up too soon from being unconscious.

his head hangs low, drool mixed with blood dripping next to your shoes, and you stand over him, red spatter tainting your face and clothes in different patterns. your hands bruised and bloody from beating him. you try to relax but the spaces in between your fingers were getting sticky, making you keep them balled.

"matsuno," kisaki speaks. he's standing behind his desk, a fresh glass of bourbon in his hand. "you know it doesn't matter how many more of you there are." he takes a sip. "you're going to die here."

"there aren't—" he spits something out of his mouth, a dark object, a tooth maybe, landing between the hairs of the rug below. "there aren't any more. let takemichi go. just take all he's got and dump him somewhere if you want, he's got nothing to do with this."

you almost forgot takemichi was next to him, quietly passed out through the torture you endured onto chifuyu and bound to his chair the same way.

kisaki sighs heavily, finishing his drink and placing the glass down on a coaster. you turn back to your friend who's managed to raise his head up to meet your gaze, and the look you gave him, wordlessly begging him to tell the truth so the worst that can happen to him is be dumped in some alley, but chifuyu shook his head slowly.

"hanagaki has everything to do with this." kisaki's footsteps travel over the hardwood floor, taking his jacket off halfway and draping it over a chair. he rolls up his sleeves, "you wouldn't understand, matsuno."

chifuyu's breath is ragged. "whatever you have with takemichi, i don't, but baji..."

"still on about that?" kisaki says. "i've had your own friend beat the shit out of you and you still think about baji."

you look at chifuyu apologetically, thinking you could maybe work something out between them. "who's baji?" you let slip. you've known chifuyu for all the years you've worked here but you've never heard of this person before.

kisaki turns to you like he forgot you were even here.

"no one important." he says. "kill him."

to your right, you could hear groans and the three of you turn to the source. takemichi begins waking up from his unconscious state, processing his surroundings and struggling in his restraints.

"takemichi, don't move." chifuyu tells him between ragged breaths.

"what's going on?" takemichi's voice cracks. "did you fucking drug us?"

"jesus christ," kisaki sighs, frustratedly pinching the bridge of his nose as he paces.

"both of you, listen to me," chifuyu urges. "i need you to trust me, okay?" he looks up at you, the one, unbruised eye he has open gleaming. "because the future of toman—"

the corners of his mouth curled subtly but never formed fully into a smile, suddenly interrupted by a quick click and a bang. blood was heavily splattered onto your front and your friend was now lifeless in that chair.

you were frozen, your arm still raised with your gun in hand and your finger wrapped loosely around the trigger. kisaki was in the same position behind chifuyu's chair, his pistol was smoking but his clothes were clean and crisp.

takemichi struggled in his chair, crying out while chifuyu's blood continued to soak into the carpet, the bullet that travelled from his head lodged in the carpet near your feet.

"shut the fuck up!" kisaki yelled, the hilt of his gun clocking takemichi in the back of the head. it didn't knock him out but it was enough to silence him for the moment.

he cried out and whimpered, keeping his head hung low.

"are you serious right now?" kisaki snapped. "is this who you really are, huh?! be a fucking man!"

there's a loud thud after that, kisaki having landed a hard punch to the side of takemichi's head with his other hand.

"you really just won't stop." he shakes the sting off his hand and there's another click. all you can manage to do is watch. "even now after i gave you a place here. you're still your same old, pathetic self. i don't know what she saw in you."

kisaki stands at a distance.

"kisaki—" takemichi looks up at him with tears streaming down his face before the gun fires. his head holds up long enough for you to see his eyes roll back and cross, pupils looking like they're pointing at the bullet hole above the center of his eyebrows.

kisaki sighs, pulling up one of his sleeves. when he turns to you, he finds the end of your pistol aimed at him. he doesn't look phased.

"give me the gun." he calmly commanded, holding his hand out.

you stared him dead in the eye, but it did all but intimidate him. kisaki could easily see through you, that you were scared and confused with all the why-centered questions clogging your head keeping you from thinking logically.

"you killed chifuyu." you said, your voice a little wavered.

"he betrayed us. he betrayed toman."

"no, he didn't!" you yelled, tears streaming down your face as you take a step forward.

kisaki takes a step back in return, his hands raised in the air, one of them still loosely gripping his pistol.

the doors open and hanma and his whole division right behind him burst through. it doesn't take him a second to analyze the situation. he reaches for the gun at his side, but before he can pull it out kisaki calls his name.

"hanma, its fine."

"kisaki, be fucking serious."

"i said its fine." kisaki confirms. "i have this under control."

hanma's whole team looks skeptical, murmuring amongst each other.

"stay outside."

hanma glances from kisaki, who gives him a reassuring look, to you before withdrawing his weapon and nodding for his men to exit the room. once the doors close, your focus is back to him.

"don't think i'm not going to kill you." you say, both of your hands now grasping your weapon firmly.

"you're not," he says, confident. "but i'm not going to kill you either."

kisaki bends down slowly, never once breaking eye contact as he places his pistol on the floor and kicking it out of reach before standing back up.

his palms are raised, the silver shine from his rings reflecting. "what matsuno was upset for is between me, him, and the founders. it's a simple past misunderstanding he took too far."

"no, i know chifuyu. he wouldn't do this over something simple." you said.

"you don't know him like i do. we aren't close, but i've known him since we were fifteen." kisaki starts. "baji was a friend of ours, formerly a toman founder but he switched sides. there was a fight between us and his gang a few years ago and he died."

you body tenses when you see kisaki move a step forward, your trigger finger twitching.

"he was stabbed by the person he betrayed toman for."

"that still doesn't explain why chifuyu was out for you."

"i'm getting to it," he pauses. "it was because i joined toman around the same time and became a captain. chifuyu must've thought i had something to do with baji leaving, and if baji hadn't left, he wouldn't have died."

"you expect me to believe it was all because of some years long grudge?"

"i don't, but it's the truth. ask hanma. ask anyone when this is all over."

you didn't believe it, but maybe this really was something beyond your knowledge. kisaki was right on one hand, you didn't know chifuyu like he did. you didn't know much about toman's past at all.

you could feel your strength wavering, a layer of gloss forming over your eyes. the presence of their dead bodies was starting to get to you. you didn't know anything at all but you knew you didn't want to come this close to killing them and watching them die.

"give me the gun, y/n." kisaki says one last time, his voice calm like the first.

you lower your arms and kisaki safely pulls the gun from your hands. his free arm wrapping around you and pulling you in close, the blood from your clothes now staining his.

"we'll share this and put it behind us." he tells you, rubbing your back in circles while your body tries to relax.

you don't have much collection of what happened after that. your mind was too exhausted and confused working itself into overtime to make sense of the situation when too many pieces were missing.

part of you didn't want to think about it, that you just needed to make peace with the fact chifuyu, takemichi, and the possibly others were trying to do something beyond your understanding. that was the conclusion your brain wired into thinking as kisaki stroked your hair in the car.

he booked you a room, something he thought you should rest in. on the way, you both and hanma, who had driven you here, had to sneak in through the back entrance, evading any civilians due to your bloody clothes.

you were clearly out of it, so mentally exhausted that kisaki had to hold onto you to keep you from falling over. the entire time you were anxious of him minding having to tend to your pathetic state, but every time you looked up at him and every time he helped you adjust, there was always a hint of concern. and strangely, there was security in the way he held you.

there wasn't much spoken between you, kisaki, and hanma when you get to the room, kisaki just leads you to the bath, letting you absentmindedly stand there while the turns the faucet to let the water run.

then there were two knocks at the door. in the way kisaki reacts, hanma likely needed to say his piece on this in private.

"just undress and step in. get yourself clean." kisaki says to you before he steps out.

you peer over your shoulder, watching him leave the hotel room with hanma who gives you a look of disdain. you look down at your hands that were smeared bloody and you don't think they'll come back.

undressing, your fingers fumble over taking off your garments. when you step into the bath, your teeth seethe from the heat of the water touching your skin, carefully lowering yourself until you've submerged deep enough to reach your shoulders.

you stare at the running faucet, wondering what's going to become of you after you leave this room even if it was some kind gesture from kisaki.

he'll definitely kill you. maybe he'll do it here, drown you in the tub or suffocate you with a pillow. there were too many ways to die and not many where you could fight back and live.

you sigh to yourself and stretch your foot over, turning the faucet knob the other way to stop the water flow. before sinking into the water deeper, all you could think of were kisaki's motives.

"we'll share this and put it behind us."

internally, you just denied it. it was sweet in the moment, a tactic he likely used to get you to calm down.

was he like this with everyone? admittedly, while you sank completely into the bath, that made you a little frustrated. but he killed chifuyu so easily, then takemichi after that, and no doubt many more himself without your knowledge or help.

you've fully submerged yourself under, the blood from your body dissolving into the water while your fingers fidgeted to get the stickiness off.

you closed your eyes, trying to stay still and let the nervous aches in your joints disappear, but the images of chifuyu and takemichi dead in their chairs were still so clear, and above all you can still feel kisaki's touch. his voice from the past few minutes playing clearer than chifuyu's last words.

a hand grips your shoulder, pulling you up with urgency. it startles you, making you jolt up out of the bath. you gasp when you resurface, some water spilling out of the tub.

"what the hell were you doing?" kisaki exclaimed, staggering back to not get wet.

you took in heavy breaths, slicking your hair back out of your face not really knowing how long you were under.

"thought you were trying to drown yourself," he scoffed, adjusting the roll of his sleeves. he picks something up off the side, a wash cloth, and dips it into the bath water. "come here."

he grabs your chin, not giving you time to comply.

you didn't feel like speaking to him and you tried not to meet his gaze, glancing from here and there while you kept everything below your shoulders underneath the water, preventing him from seeing something he shouldn't. you notice he's changed into some cleaner clothes now, his shirt back to being a crisp white color.

he tilts your head up unexpectedly, making you meet his gaze.

it was a first, but kisaki's gaze softened as he let go of you, moving his attention from your eyes to your lips. you saw his brows lessen in their furrow, the placement of his hand now shifting so his thumb grazes the edge of your lip, feeling at the scabbed over cut.

he pulls at your lip, reopening the wound and pressing down. it makes you wince, the dryness of your lips making the sudden pry worse but kisaki doesn't give you room to think. he kisses at the wound first, your mouth still slightly ajar, then the warmth of his tongue laps over it.

the saliva in your open wound stings enough to make you seethe, his kiss crashing rather than landing.

though you try and push him away, your hands clasped around his wrists, you don't give in enough energy to fully fight back. you try to breathe but its like he's consuming you, trapping you in this strange force that makes you want him to keep going. it makes you hope that somewhere in between all this he'll kiss you properly, comfort you through this trauma.

but he was still being rough, you could feel his teeth gnash on yours and graze your lips. he moves his kisses back to the side where he opened your wound, suddenly biting down on it.

now you really pull away, fight or flight kicking in because something in your chest drops when his teeth sink into you, but its like he's got you in his grasp again in the same second. with one hand, kisaki has you by the cheeks, forcing you to look up at him again. then with the other, he gently moves your hair out of your face.

the water in the tub splashes quietly as blood slowly leaks from your lip, a single droplet making its way down your face, over kisaki's hand, and into the water.

"matsuno," your body tenses at the name. "what he was doing was putting everyone in danger."

his thumb stretches to rub along your jawline. you breathed from your mouth, sick of the mix of iron in your nose. you needed a little more air from how much your heart was pumping. he stopped when you swallowed the welled up lump in your throat.

his hand moves to cup your cheek and you notice his eyes were a gunmetal type of icy blue. it felt wrong staring into them with the warmth of his palm on your skin.

"i hope you understand what i had to do, because he could've killed you too." both his hands now cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing over them gently.

"but you're mine," he says. "and you will always be mine as long as you live."

those words could be endearing, but they came from kisaki—wicked and sinful kisaki—who made you his favorite thing in the world.

you're mine? you think.

mine like an object, you think. mine like you were under him, in a way different from even hanma who's been around since the creation of toman.

despite all the wrongs, you felt protected being called mine.

he leans down and you squeeze your eyes shut, wincing as his tongue licks the trail of blood from your chin to the corner of your lip. his mouth is now just centimeters away with your lips just brushing over each other, and he can feel your slight panting.

something boiled inside him thinking of all that anxiousness you're still trying to hide from him. he's never touched you like this before, kisaki hasn't even though about it, but now you're naked, washed, and touched so graciously by his hands.

and now, kisaki thought—no, he knew he deserved everything that had to do with you. he felt like he saved you from some unsure, impending doom by recruiting you and keeping you by his side, making you fill that lonely, voided hole left inside him.

and god help you. it felt so good to be needed by him.

you press your lips to his, your hands moving up his arms to hold onto his shoulders, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. he grasps the edge of the tub for stability, not wanting to fall into the water with you.

you push your tongue into his mouth, every now and then lapping at his bottom lip. the kiss gets more fervent and its hard to keep yourself stable kneeling in the ceramic.

water from your body is soaking into his shirt. your chest nearly presses to his as you cup his face. one hand moves to the back of his head, the stubble of his shave pokes uncomfortably into your palm but you push him into you further, your tongue now lapped over his.

it feels like he forces himself to pull away, taking in a gasp of air as you loosen your grip on him. you're both shallowly panting and kisaki keeps himself still to catch his breath, all while you're eagerly waiting for more with closed eyes, impatiently inching back closer to him but the warmth of his body near you slowly leaves.

you raise yourself out of the bath to chase after it but he's out of reach now, standing at the sink to dry his hands with a towel, even patting down the shoulders and areas of his white button up that were soaked translucent from where your body touched.

"there are clean clothes for you on the bed." kisaki says. "spend the night here. have a warm meal while you're at it."

"you're not staying?" you say, monotone but expectant in some way.

he straps his watch back on his wrist, glancing at the time before he slides his rings back over his fingers. "i'll see you tomorrow."

when he leaves, he doesn't close the bathroom door. you watch him take his jacket, vest, and tie off the bed and walk out the hotel room door. the lock clicks shut and everything just falls silent. not once did he look back at you.

you sink back into the tub to get warm, but the water's lost its heat. you could only curl up, hugging your legs close to your chest and taking that much needed sigh of air.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #kisaki tetta #kisaki tetta x reader #kisaki x reader

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