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eruden-writes · 7 months

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Graveyard Smash

Just a dirty little tale that happens around Halloween. Fair warning, I did not re-read this or edit. This was all pretty much written in 1 sitting yesterday.

I have ideas for 2 more installments, but not sure if I'll get to them.

A witch pushes a cemetery's ghosts too far and the the resident "keeper" - a ghoul - decides she needs to pay penance.

tw: noncon/dubcon, spanking, caning, restraint.

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Read in full on Patreon.

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Dark and brisk, it was the perfect October night to stroll through a local graveyard. The half moon hung low in the sky, behind blue-tinged clouds. Light pollution made it hard to see the stars, though Tillie had an easy time maneuvering the cemetery. Her cell phone’s flashlight helped, but so did her sense of confidence when walking between tombstones.

Having recently moved to the area, Tillie thought to cross off “meeting the local spirits in the cemetery” off her list. The night was relatively temperate and it was the spooky season, after all.

As such, she found herself conversing with the spirit of a young woman, Abigail, dressed in 1800s garb.

An expression of increasing discomfort spread over Abigail’s face as the conversation continued. Until she eventually whined, “I don’t wish to speak to you any longer.”

“I just have a few more questions.” Tillie raised a finger up, looking imploringly at the ghost. She had already asked about Abigail’s family life and what led up to her death. With each question, the phantom’s frown grew and a distant look sunk into her eyes.

“Enough! Please!” Abigail spun away, a cold breeze kicked up around her. She floated away from Tillie, her hands pressed to her ears though it would do nothing to abate the witch’s curiosity.

Undeterred, Tillie followed after Abigail, notebook and pencil poised in her hands. “Please, did you have any suspicions that your husband would kill you? Did you try speaking to your family about it?”

From a near distance, Mortem watched the scene play out. Though his beaky mask obscured his expression, a displeased aura emitted around him.

The figure made a motion with his hand and glowing green skeletal arms shot up from the ground. Tillie yelped, dropping her journal and pencil as bony fingers curled around her wrists. The disembodied arms tugged until she was embarrassingly bent over a tombstone, the hem of her dress riding high. Tillie flushed, feeling the cool breeze caress along her legging- covered upper thighs. Her plush stomach cushioned her from the stone, but the overall position was still awkward.

“What’s the meaning of this,” Tillie demanded, struggling against her bony binds. Her boots kicked out, trying to gain leverage against the tombstone. Cold dread drizzled through her as someone spoke up behind her.

“You have disturbed the spirits in their final resting place.” Stepping from his shadowy perch, Mortem neared the witch. He hadn’t meant to drape her over a tombstone, but he couldn’t say he necessarily regretted it as his gaze trailed the curvature of their rear.

The black dress she wore was relatively short, with lacy sleeves, but she maintained her modesty with her leggings. A necklace with a star and dangling crescent earrings hinted to what Mortem could smell on her. The scent of a witch.

She had traipsed into his graveyard and introduced herself - Tillie Ravenswood, she/her and they/them - to any spirits she could find. Each discussion led to her overwhelming the spirit until they dissipated into the void. Then she would saunter off to find another victim.

“I was merely asking questions!” This was ridiculous! She had simply been asking the spirits questions, which is what she had done in her hometown. Albeit, those ghosts were used to nosy witches, since she and her family had grown up with them. A small bead of guilt swelled up in her chest at that thought. Had she gone too far?

Her struggles appeared to falter, rousing Mortem’s curiosity. No matter, she had already issued damage. Taking another step forward, he continued, “In incessantly doing so, you have upset many residents within these hallowed grounds. A punishment is necessary.”

“Excuse me?” She jerked, trying to look over her shoulder at whoever spoke. She caught a glimpse of a long dark coat encasing a tall, lithe figure; a mask and wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a plague doctor. However, with the darkness, it was hard to discern details beyond the silhouette.

It had been a long time since a witch meandered into his graveyard. Even longer still since he felt the stirring of carnal attraction. Perhaps that was merely thanks to the time of the year, when the population at large turned their mind to ghouls and ghosts. Acknowledgement fueled power and power could make a being do unusual, ill-thought things. Which was where Mortem found his thoughts heading.

Mortem flipped her skirt up, running a gloved spindly finger along the curve of her ass. Tillie squeaked, mortified heat licking up her cheeks. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Eliciting penance,” replied Mortem, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. He kept his gloves on, tugging on them to be sure they would not slip before setting his hat atop his folded coat.

“Excuse yo—” Tillie didn’t get a chance to finish her defiant statement when Mortem’s hand struck her rump. Her words dwindled into a confusing groan, a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound repeated as he spanked her again and again, his open palm stinging across her skin. Tillie gasped with each hit, squeezing her thighs close together as an involuntary whine wheedled from her throat.

“Ah, you don’t sound penitent. Perhaps more drastic measures?” Amusement colored Mortem’s tone as he watched the squirming witch.

She didn’t like the cruel smile she heard in the figure’s voice. A second later, her suspicions were confirmed as something blunt struck her fleshy ass cheeks. The breath escaped her in a sharp exhale, her back arching and her head tossing backward. Her toes curled as her legs straightened, unintentionally pushing her rear higher up.

Mortem gave an amused huff before bringing his cane down against the witch’s rear again. The way she jolted at the impact, a delicious groaning-gasp escaping her, made dangerous feelings swarm through his body. He hadn’t felt so delighted in such a very long time.

He stepped back, watching her gasp down breaths. Her face flushed a pleasant pink and her legs trembled slightly. On the air, he could taste something heady, something alluring. It made him hungry for more.

In a droll tone, he sighed, “Oh no, you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” Tillie panted, though even her own tone sounded uncertain in her ears. She couldn’t necessarily say the pain was bad. In fact, it sent tingles coursing over her body. Her nipples stiffened under the fabric of her bra and heat churned in her center. Part of her didn’t mind admitting to enjoying the treatment, even as she experimentally tugged at the bony hands holding her wrists.

“Another tactic then.” Mortem grasped the tight pants she wore under her dress, yanking the waistband up and over her round derriere. He peeled the leggings and her underwear lower, until swaths of her skin lay bare under his eye. Unable to help himself, Mortem ran two gloved fingers along her slit, excitement pulsing through him as she flexed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tillie swallowed, still not entirely sure how she felt about the situation. The spanking and caning, though not on the up-and-up, hadn’t been terrible. The strikes could have been much worse and she still wasn’t sure who - or what - she was dealing with.

She highly doubted they were a sorcerer or warlock. They certainly weren’t a spirit.

Oooh, no. They did not feel like a wispy spirit or phantom. They were too warm, too firm to be anything incorporeal, Tillie thought. Which meant they had to be a ghoul, which honestly didn’t narrow down the list of abilities or weaknesses. Ghoul had increasingly become a catch-all term for any number of spirits or entities, hybrid or atypical.

Unaware of Tillie’s assessing thoughts, Mortem leaned over her. His hands slid up her sides, his chest pressed to her back. He palmed both her breasts in his still-gloved hands, excited by how her breath caught. Feeling bold, he tugged the neckline of her dress down, scooping one hand into the cup of her bra.

Tillie arched into his touch as his thumb skimmed her hardened nipple. Mirroring his words, his fingers dug into her breast as he said, “I will squeeze penance from you yet.”

At the touch, she exhaled sharply before breaking into a laugh. For whatever reason, she didn’t feel altogether frightened of them. “Are you sure it’s not me who will be squeezing something from you?”

“Aren’t you cheeky?” Mortem leaned further over, letting his mask of a face hover near her shoulder. His hands slid away from Tillie, unfastening his trousers enough for his arousal to escape.

Just as he moved, a cloud puttered away from the moon, shining fresh light down onto the graveyard. Tilting her head, Tillie got a much better look at her companion.

As their silhouette had suggested, they wore a plague doctor mask. At some point, they had divested themself of their coat and hat. If there were any other details, she couldn’t see. What she thought was a black bodysuit seamlessly tucked up to the mask and extended below their shirt. Tillie thought she caught eyes in the glass goggle-like structures of the mask, but it was too difficult to confirm.

She couldn’t focus on the thought of his mask for very long as something very firm and very warm wedged between her thighs. Licking her lips, Tillie frantically sought something to say. The ghoul tilted their head, as if amusedly waiting for her to speak.

Tillie couldn’t help herself. She swallowed hard, fighting down a smile as she asked, “Are you a graverobber? Because that’s a big bone you’re smuggling in your trousers.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Mortem to choke, but the sputtering sound he made came close. He pulled back from the witch, carefully pressing his forehead to the back of her shoulder so as not to poke her with his beaky mask. His hands drew away from her breasts, grasping the tombstone beneath her for support.

“What?” Tillie laughed, her smile growing as she sensed the awkward incredulity radiating from the ghoul. She faintly wondered if her words shocked them out of their horniness.

“I believe,” Mortem began softly, his voice low and stern, “that deserves extra punishment, witch.”

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Read the rest on Patreon!

#halloween #halloween smut #plague doctor #ghoul #ghoul x human #ghoul x witch #witch #spooky season #halloween 2023 #Mortem is a ghoul who looks like a plague doctor #BUT ghoul is just a catch-all term for spirits not easily filed into particular definitions #Also I really really liked Tillie's awful graverobber joke #extra terrible #10 points #lol #this was kind of difficult to write since Tillie couldn't see Mortem for pretty much any of it and he has interesting anatomy

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outofthiisworld · 7 days

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. ✦ ݁ ˖ @5mind sent in: "It says here you'd like to look more trustworthy. " Through his helmet, Antares just kinda squinted at Father Necrosis. From what he knew, the public already trusted Necrosis despite the fact that he's .. uh... yeah. But that may not really apply down here in Bayfloat where ATLAS had not have as much of a presence.

[☣️] “Ah, you saw that, didn’t you?” Was … that embarrassment in his voice? From Necrosis of all people?! <- That couldn’t be … right?

“I will admit, it was not something that concerned me before. However … I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve been planet-side,” Necrosis’ posture remained as tall as he could, yet even then, his shoulders slumped ever so. “I am afraid I frightened a child today.”

Oh, wow— he looked … rather bothered about something like that (y’know, as much as someone covered head-to-toe in a vacuum sealed suit that not even the grim reaper would wear, could).

“That is not something I wish to do. There weren’t any children in the space colony, so I am afraid I am a bit out of my element.”

Father Necrosis would commit atrocities under his name for the sake of experimentation and ruin the lives of families forever but he’ll draw the line at making a kid cry in public (I guess).

#☣️... ic #🎤 … asks #5mind #necrosis ... antares #//necrosis shocked that his plague doctor grim reaper aesthetic scares the local bayfloat children populace. more at 10.

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kjzx · 8 months

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Don't wanna reblog this and derail the conversation, but this is how I feel about human Bird/Rag AUs. I am alright with human John just when he isn't born one. I agree with OP on this, you're just changing too much of the character at this point.

#Malevolent #Plague doctor #The most cursed fandom idea is when they draw human Bird as like that one eccentric character played by Sergey Goroshko #The one in a fur coat #That character has nothing to do with mgpd mind you it's just the fact people find them kinda similar and they're played by the same actor #///#The intimacy of sharing a body is 10/10 though absolutely agreed

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ask-the-practitioners-idv · 10 months

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How’d you two meet?

"Since then, we have become inseparable!"

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

#ask plague doctor #ask plague nurse #idv oc #idv oc ask blog #idv survivor oc #// hehe birbs lore #// tyty nez for the comic! I love it 100/10 ~ mod mandika

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catboy-shadow · 2 years

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So ngl the cat maid outfit has been a smash hit for bisexuals on dating apps

#10/10 would recommend #doesn’t do well with the hets but like 90% of my matches have been bisexual women #and the literal first thing they say is always about the cat maid for or the plague doctor fit

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peace-and-light-poetry · 1 year

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Plague Headdress

For reasons, she couldn't identify She came across the idea To procure

A plague doctor's headdress And make it ornate

Perhaps, it was just pesky eccentricity Or, being so death obsessed, the idea was there Still, she has the idea

Currently browsing the shops For the base and then she'd add onto it Should she get it

Her idea being something Of a plague doctor’s mask and a nun's wimple

She wouldn't get the full costume Just the headdress

She'd admit she's strange To have such the idea Stranger still is how she can't state

Her reasons why

#reality subtext #musings #eccentricity #plague doctor #the idea is there #ambiguity #short poem #free-verse #written on the fly #written 10/18/2022 #death obsession

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glacioclasm · 2 years

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I HATE THE COLLECTOR

#i just had a whole party wipe right when we were close to the end #shout out to the plague doctor who managed to survive like 10 deaths door ticks #quartz plays darkest dungeon

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the-punforgiven · 8 days

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#Pun's text Posts #Polls

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darklordofthesimp · 1 year

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Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters?

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.”

Therapy.

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it.

Everyone.

“This is training,” the doctor smiled. “Training of the mind.”

You visibly cringed. They’d made sure to give you the most disarming person they could find. Kind eyes, an easy smile and a relaxed posture. They looked vulnerable. If the doctor was the most fragile in the room, then it would encourage you to step out and spill your trauma with tears and snot bubbles. Not you.

You sneered, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees. “Being chosen to be my therapist is a shit go, Doc.”

“Actually,” the corner of their lips curled upward. “This’ll piss you off more but I’m doing a friend a favour.”

You blinked, surprise snatching the next crude words from your tongue. The doctor leaned back into their chair, clicking the pen a couple of times as if emphasising a point. As you stared at them, they stared back, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren’t as vulnerable as they seemed.

“Laswell?” You queried.

The therapist snorted softly. “Price.”

Your spine straightened, a deep sense of anger twisting violently within your chest.

Price.

“Ooh,” the doctor tutted softly, leaning forward in their seat. “Didn’t like that one, did you?”

You sneered at them, your eyes narrowed and your walls higher than ever. What did they know about what you liked and disliked? What did they know of your relationship with Price?

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you had it your way, you wouldn’t talk at all,” the doctor frowned.

“Then take the fucking hint.”

Their gaze trailed over your body, taking in the way you leaned away from the conversation. You were an open book and no matter how aggressive the mask you wore was- you were readable. With a huff, the therapist tossed their notebook over their shoulder lazily. It clattered onto the bench behind them, scattering the miscellaneous items in its path.

“Alright, Birdy. Let’s go off the record then,” they gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “You’re shitty with Price.”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about him-”

“You feel like he’s betrayed you.”

You blinked, fingers trembling even though they were curled into fists. The overarching thought that had been plaguing you for weeks was picked apart by some random fucking doctor. The words were out, you weren’t the one that had said them but they were in the air anyway. It felt good to hear them aloud rather than the screaming thought over and over in the recesses of your mind.

“Yes.” The confirmation was bitter on your tongue. You waited for the doctor to shut you down, you waited for them to monologue about how your feelings were childish and unprofessional. They were providing you this service as a favour to the Captain, you could only assume that they were friends.

Instead, the therapist simply nodded. “I would too, Birdy.”

You loosed a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“What was your name again, Doc?” You rasped, eyes narrowing. They shifted in their seat, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject but willing to share nonetheless.

The doctor shot you a smile- genuine this time.

“They call me Saint.”

____

While you didn’t appreciate being ambushed with it, therapy hadn’t been as bad as you’d imagined. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in an attempt to release some tension as you walked.

Every day, you were required to present to the doctors office for a psych appointment.

Every day, Saint had picked your thoughts apart bit by bit.

Although you hadn’t intended to talk, you realized quickly that Saint didn’t just look disarming- they were disarming. There was no judgement as you spoke, not when you told them about your murderous nightmares and not when you told them that you’d wanted to beat down the new sniper.

They only nodded, explaining that it- surprisingly- was natural to feel like that after what you’d experienced.

You felt validated.

Less like a liability and more like a recovering victim.

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt as you laid eyes on the kitchen, the light spilling from the open doorway and out into the hall. You raised a brow at the sight, knowing that only one person would really be awake at this time of night.

Ghost.

The flutter in your chest caught you off guard, the thought of seeing Simon had you excited. It’d been a while since you’d both last spoken, a hand on the shoulder as he muttered a “see you soon,” and a “be safe.” All that, right before he boarded a plane with Sunshine in tow.

“Yeah,” the newest sniper had winked at you with a curved smile. “See you real soon, gorgeous.”

You hated them, you were sure of it. They were nauseatingly glib, each word rolling off their silver tongue with all the ease but no truth. You couldn’t believe anything they said, you’d be stupid if you did.

As you approached the kitchen slowly, you heard hushed voices. They were arguing- aggressive and quickly spoken.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunshine snapped, their words breathless. “For the rest of our time here, this is how you want it to be?”

From what you’d seen, the new sniper had a reputation for being self-posessed and controlled. They wanted to watch you unravel beneath their sentences, but in order for them to do that they’d have to be unphased by whatever’s thrown at them.

Right now, there was no sign of that person.

“What “I want it to be” is you doing your fucking job and me doing mine." The hostility in Simon's tone had you taken aback. You’d never heard him so aggressive towards a teammate and for a split moment, you felt bad for Sunshine.

“It was!” The sniper shouted, their exhaustion and frustration painstakingly clear.

“You were reckless.”

“I was saving you!”

“I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost finally snapped. The sound of something clattering followed by Sunshine’s sharp breath had you tense. “I don’t need anything from you.”

There was a soft touch against your shoulder and your heart stuttered in your chest. Fear electrified your body as you spun around. A hand pressed down firmly against your lips, suffocating the scream rising from your throat.

König’s eyes were narrowed, his head ducked so that he could meet your gaze head on. The look he gave you was accusatory and shame quickly flooded your cheeks. Your fingers came to rest shakily against his wrist, pushing weakly against his hold.

His brows pulled into a frown.

“Are you asking me to just let you fucking die?” Sunshine rasped, their seething voice reminding you of where you were. König’s eyes drifted from yours to over your shoulder aimlessly as he listened to their conversation.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ghost drawled. You could hear him struggling for control, the way he drew each breath like it was painful.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The sniper exclaimed. “If it was Birdy instead of me today you wouldn’t have an issue with it-”

“But you’re not Birdy,” Ghost snapped, “are you?”

Silence flooded the space between you all.

You felt ashamed of yourself. You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, you were listening to a conversation that you were never intended to hear. This was something personal, the hatred and electricity between Sunshine and Ghost forbidden for your understanding.

König must have come to the same conclusion. The man shot you a hard stare, his hands falling from your lips to grip your shoulders. He guided you backward quietly, trying to provide an escape that wouldn’t alert them to your presence.

“No, Sir,” Sunshine’s voice was faint now as you pulled away from the two. “I’m not Birdy.”

You knew then that something had changed. It was in their voice, it was in the air, it was in the venom of their words- it was a suffocating emotion that you knew too well.

They were hurt.

But, hurt breeds bitterness and there was nothing but hatred in Sunshine’s final words.

I’m not Birdy.

König sucked in a breath and you knew that he’d heard it as well. When he finally managed to pull you both through the doors of your dormitory unscathed, he let you go. There was no gentleness in his expression this time when he appraised you.

“What were you thinking?” He growled, running rough fingers through his hair. “That was wrong.”

“I know,” you whispered, shaken.

“You shouldn’t have been there,” König continued with a large step away from your quivering body. He was riled up and his anger stimulated your own. Who was he to lecture you?

“You shouldn’t have been there either,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

König shot you a stern look. “I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t find you eavesdropping, naseweis.”

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. While you weren’t falling apart at the sight of him anymore, it didn’t mean that you wanted to be around him. You still wanted nothing to do with König, no interaction, no contact- nothing.

“I don’t need you, of all people, lecturing me on being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you threw over your shoulder as you walked. There was a huff from the man behind you, then the fall of his footsteps following in suit.

“Doesn’t the incident make me an expert on that?” König questioned from beside you, keeping pace as though it were a leisurely stroll. You glared up at him, forcing the growing rage clawing at your chest to stay caged.

“You think it’s funny?” You hissed. “Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not!” König’s voice hardened. You both rounded the corner towards your room, it felt like the quicker you moved the easier it was for him to keep up. Another infuriating feature that the Austrian possessed, you’d add it to the already mile-long list.

“Then why can’t you just leave me alone?” You spun on your heel, facing the beast head on. “It’s like you’re everywhere, König. I can’t escape you, I enter a room and you’re there. I turn a corner, you’re there. I go to sleep and there you fucking are.”

König raised a brow, leaning his shoulder against the frame beside him. “I’m not stalking you, Birdy. If that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“Is that why you’re standing in my bedroom doorway?”

The man’s spine straightened as he took up his own weight, emerald gaze pinning you to your place. It was as though he were surprised, as though he was just now realising that he had been following you. Your chest was heaving as you glared up at him. You wanted him to deny it, to tell you that you were imagining it all- you wanted to be angry.

“You’re a worrying person,” König finally said. The words almost sounded like an admission, although of what you were unsure. You jaw tightened as you retreated another step back into the safety of your room.

“No,” you corrected, “you’re a worrying person.”

König sighed, letting the silence fall in between you for a beat. There was conflict across his expression before finally his eyes narrowed. He stepped into the room.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Do you think I want to hurt you?”

There it was.

It was the question that plagued you as you lay in bed every night, staring at your bedroom door. Or lack thereof, you should say. There was nothing on the hinges, not since König had kicked it down.

He’d thought you were in danger. You lay before him, unconscious and dreaming. He could have done anything, he could have finished the job.

But he didn’t.

König’s head tilted as he observed you, watching you struggle for an answer. His fingers lightly brushed against your forearm and you froze, eyes wide as you stared up at him. He was so tall, dominating every space he entered. He was a giant amongst men, a god.

“Do you think I want to hurt you, Birdy?” König said again. He didn’t lean down, didn’t drop down to your height this time. He wanted your answer, he wanted you to look at him and take him as he was- he wanted the truth.

“No,” you whispered.

The truth.

Your body trembled as though the room had dropped to subzero temperatures but your skin was on fire. Heat bloomed across your chest, racing the length of your spine, neck and cheeks.

König’s eyes softened and he swayed backward lazily, as though he were drunk fighting for his balance. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. He didn’t ask why you were still afraid, he knew that was an unfair question. He never expected you to be comfortable with his presence.

But the shift between you both was tangible.

“Am I right?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, desperate and vulnerable. An offering, an olive branch an extension of trust.

Something washed over the man before you, something you’d never seen before. His gaze was ferocious, jade fire burning beneath those lashes as it scorched your skin. Determination tightened his jaw and his thumb brushed across the skin of your arm like a promise.

An unspoken response.

Yes.

Your breath left your chest as you took another step away, suffocating in his presence. König inhaled heavily, his hands falling back to rest at his sides.

“I still-” You began, twisting your fingers anxiously.

“I know.”

You still hadn’t forgiven him.

There was a long way to go, but now the path had changed. Rather than there being a straight road, shrouded in hatred, there was a fork. A split in the path that required a decision, one that you weren’t quite ready to make yet.

König cleared his throat, softening his stance with conscious effort. It was as if he remembered that he was meant to be disarming. Watching the huge man try to shrink himself for your comfort was surreal, nothing like what you’d imagined when you’d first laid eyes on him after your recovery.

Ghost had never made himself smaller for you when you came out of hospital. He was slower, gentler, as though dealing with a frightened animal- but he never pretended to be something that he was not.

“Do you think they heard us?” You changed the topic as your mind fell back to Ghost and Sunshine. “How would we explain that?”

König blinked, clearly glad for the break in intensity. He shifted backward, moving to make his escape as your interaction came to a close. For once, he was the one running from you.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he muttered, an ironic smile playing at his lips. “They won’t have a hard time believing that given our history.”

The man offered you a nod, fingers tapping against the door with finality- his own farewell. You were glad that he hadn’t said ‘goodnight’, that he hadn’t bothered with niceties. You were not friends. Not allies.

You weren’t sure what you were.

When he disappeared around the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall, you finally let yourself relax. Jitters skittered across your body, the remnants of electricity from your confrontation buzzing beneath your skin.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The words struck a chord of discomfort within you.

They followed you through your night routine, plaguing you in the shower, lingering as you made a cup of tea, whispering sickness as you laid in bed. They made you nauseous, they made you dizzy, they were disconcerting.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The whole accident had been such a tragic coincidence, a monumental mistake. Almost impossible in an environment where communication is key, everything working in perfect tandem to ensure your demise.

Throughout the length of your military career, you’d always been taught to never take anything as chance. If a bush rustled beside you, there was a possibility that it was an animal- but also that it could be an enemy. If there was a light beneath a door, it could have been left on or there was someone waiting for you on the other side. You were taught not to trust coincidence.

The failure of comms, the false intel of a sniper on a roof, the unexpected of KorTac, the largest soldier of their team being sent to find you- all of it was a perfectly timed but tragic coincidence.

You tossed in your bed, trying to drown the thoughts from your crumbling mind. It seems you didn’t need a nightmare tonight to bring on terror. Your resolve began to slip, the sudden sense of dread gripping you by the throat.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You wanted to rake the thoughts from your brain with your bare fingers. You wanted to rip out the connection you’d made and go to sleep in bliss ignorance.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The way König had brought it up, the way he’d said it, maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe you weren’t as insane as you felt. Maybe your thoughts weren’t as unreliable as they seemed. You clenched your jaw, nails digging into the skin of your palm hoping that the pain would pull you back from the edge you teetered on.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Wrong for both you and König … but, as you lay staring at your missing door, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was all just right for somebody else.

#könig cod #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig #könig mw2 #könig modern warfare #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader

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doctor-direst · 1 year

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Y’all are so sweet for helping out! It really does mean a lot that you’re all willing to help pitch in and make my goal happen <3

Gonna keep plugging my Etsy while I’m at it:

#also so many of you are picking the $10 option???#we will get there so fast at this rate #currently at $35.54 out of $100 #plague doctor #doctor direst

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callmepere · 2 years

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Doctor #10 is just a gremlin with a cute face and I love that for him.

#the doctor #doctor 10 #doctor who should have a plague doctor

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honeykaes · 1 year

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—𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

⟡ him having a “photo” of you hc’s feat. alhaitham, baizhu, childe, kaveh

⟡ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

⟡ disclaimer: gender-neutral!reader with no pronouns, masturbation, fantasy shower sex (alhaitham), exhibitionism (childe), riding (baizhu), semi-exhibitionism (kaveh), body worship (kaveh), unedited

When Alhaitham hears a ding from his phone facing downwards on the table of his desk, he doesn't think much of it. Stress plagued the genius’ mind, trying to figure out the daily tasks to help run the Akademiya smoothly. With a sigh, he put his pen down reaching out for his device. As the screen flashed bright with your message, he clicked the icon only for his eyes to widen and mouth to part in shock.

There, laid a picture of you. He could see the curves of your beautiful form, hands laying across your chest shielding your nipples from his now darkened gaze. Your legs were cross, as he noticed your underwear mischievously hanging by the edge of your foot pointed up.

He darted his tongue out, moistening his now dry lips as he meticulously memorized every detail he could of your nude form. The Akademiya can manage without this paperwork for 10 minutes—a good scribe needs to know when to take a break, right?

Alhaitham shifted his legs feeling his half hardened cock press against his slacks. He quickly popped a button open, zipping the trousers down as his hardened member slapped across his clothed lower abdomen. Gripping the phone tightly, his other hand took a shaky breath as he clamped his hand on his cock.

With one pump, Alhaitham leaned into his chair lazily pumping his cock shutting his eyes close trying to search for the last time he slipped into your tight, wet hole. His mind drifted to a time the two of you took a shower together. As your front pressed against his muscular back, your hands eagerly pumped his cock as he tried to keep himself steady pressing his hand against the shower door.

Your hand felt so soft, sliding back and forth against him as you peppered your lips on his back.

With a choked moan, Alhaitham hips bucked as cum began to spurt out of his flushed tip—decorating his phone with it. The haze of lust that once clouded his mind slowly dissipated, narrowing his eyes at his now softening cock and cum-covered device.

He hated the effects you had on his rationality.

Baizhu could only sigh to himself realizing he would most likely have to stay at Bubu Pharmacy overnight as he got called in to treat a patient at the last minute. He longed to be in his small cottage in Qingce where you were, waiting patiently for him to return. The bed creaked as he sat on top of it before he went to grab his phone. He could at least check in with you that he made it to his office safely.

A small smile fell on the doctor's face noticing he had already received a notification from you. When he opened the message, Baizhu could only click his tongue in amusement, narrowing his eyes at the delight he was greeted with. Two fingers coated glistening in your arousal were deep inside of your hole as your legs spread wide. His body shivered, feeling his cock beginning to harden.

He might as well utilize the gift you had bestowed on him.

Baizhu placed his phone down before stripping his clothes off and laying in the rickety bed. He watched as he length slowly began developing in size before it was fully-hardened—his flushed tip beginning to drip in precum. He snaked his hand down, feeling his body shiver as he slowly made way to his cock before gently clasping the appendage.

He slid his hand back and forth against it, letting the tips of his fingers brush against his sensitive tips as he mind began to wonder. He would do anything to have you ontop of his again, feeling your walls tighten around his cock as he gently bounced you on it. He could easily remember the taste of your sweet lips, his own tongue coated with your arousal and juices.

His hips slightly raised, and gyrated trying to mimic the action he fantasized you doing. He wanted nothing more but to dig his nails into your hips, admiring the bruises he hand made along your thighs seeing you come undone by his actions.

Baizhu’s brow furrowed as he sucked a breath in, feeling his cock pulsating once more as cum pumped out—coating his hand with it. He let a shaky sigh out, letting the afterglow of lust consume him and his exhausted body before leaning up.

He’d be with you tomorrow, by nightfall. It was important for a doctor to take care of his beloved’s needs after all.

Childe absolutely hated whenever the Harbinger’s had to convene to update each other on each of the activities the generals were up to. He’d rather be fighting and showing them results of his scheme; results were better than ideas after all.

As he fought against the boredom glazing over his dull sapphire eyes, Childe leaned his cheek against the palm of his head hiding his phone from beneath the table. Seeing nothing catch his eyes, he went into his photo gallery trying to find anything that could help pass the time before he was dismissed. While swiping his eyes widened and finger paused gazing at a photo of you. There you laid, completely nude to the eye as his oversized Harbinger coat hung on your shoulders.

Childe bit his lip, shifting his hips at the sight. What he wouldn’t do to have you beneath him, cock thrusting inside of you with your legs perched up on his broad shoulders. He let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and grinding his cock against his slacks. He knew he had to stop—he would be a laughing stock among his peers but as lust and desire continued to shake his core, he couldn’t help not to care.

He discreetly continued to shift his hips to get any bit of friction to brush across his throbbing cock. He brushed one hand against his thigh, fighting the urge to not palm the obvious bulge in his pants. His nails dug into his skin wanting nothing more than to be inside your fluttering walls.

His stomach curled as he forced a fist into his mouth, as he felt his cock quivered—feeling only wetness in the bottom of his hands. He knew globs of his cum now hung on his boxers and thighs. He briefly looked down, noticing his slacks seemed dark enough to cover the stain up as he let out a sigh in relief.

He could easily clean this up at the next recess…

…And desperately have you once this meeting is completely over.

Being away from you was starting to get to the architect. He wished he could have brought you to the quaint oases the desert offered where he was trying to get inspiration for a building that could survive the heat and sandstorms the lang of King Deshret offered.

As he tapped his pencil against his sketchback, Kaveh groaned loudly before sighing. He couldn’t focus, he just wanted you to be with him at this moment. Maybe he should have asked you to accompany him, he didn’t realize he’d be this distracted. A frown crept on Kaveh’s sun-kissed skin as he looked through previous sketches he had done only to gawk in surprise.

There was your nude form poised on one of his intricate rugs he had purchased when he first moved in with you. He flipped, eyes shifting back and forth on the nothingness of the land. Perhaps if he got his fill for now he could focus on the task at hand.

Kaveh looked down at the sketch, placing it down on a rock as he shimmied his pants down—cock curved and throbbing at the very thought of you giving him attention. Kaveh grabbed onto his length tightly, clenching his jaw harshly as he began to pump himself.

He needed to get over this quickly.

His eyes clung onto your chest as his lips gnawed on the bottom of his lips wishing he could latch onto it. His hips began to move at a steady pace, pressing down against a prominent vein along the base of it causing pleasure to shoot through his system. A whine threatened to leave his lips as he leaned himself against a palm tree to stabilize himself.

God, he wanted to grab a handful of your ass watching the ripples glide through it as he sank his cock continuously inside of you. He wanted to press his lips against the arch of your back whispering how much he loved you in your ear. He wanted to empty himself inside of you as your lips pressed against one another.

Kaveh’s body shivered as he furrowed his brow, choking out your name as ropes of cum shot down and onto the desert sand. He could only continue to pump his cock and shakily thrust trying to nurse his high.

As he sighed, Kaveh slid down by the palm tree shielding himself from the cruel sun, sweat causing his clothing to cling onto him. His tired eyes drifted from the mess he had made back to his sketchpad where the oil-pastel nude still laid only to groan once against as his softening cock began to harden once more.

His body and heart were so insatiable for you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #baizhu x reader #baizhu smut #childe x reader #childe smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut

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