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captainfern · 6 months

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141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Three - Good Girl •

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - after hearing the kind of treatment you're giving his teammates, the number 8 thinks it's only fair for him to receive the same treatment too lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 7.5k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], oral fixation type beat, oral [m!receiving], dry (wet?) humping, thigh-riding, discussion of m!masturbation, degradation, light dumbification, praise, dacryphilia?? idk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, discussion of foursome/sharing, simon's a little possessive tho, and simon's obsessed with you tbh, and he talks about his dick a lot lol, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Ghost is a number 8, or eighthman – supports the back line, carries the ball well and tackles strongly. this position tends to be the perfect mix of strong and agile.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part two | part four ->

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"How was dinner?" Simon asked that evening, entering his and Johnny's shared flat, kicking off his shoes near the door.

It was late, nearing midnight, when Simon returned home. He, Price and Gaz had trained for several hours, and then went out to dinner. Simon returned home expecting for Johnny to be occupied, and so he entered tentatively, but he found the Scot sitting on the couch watching some shitty reality TV programme.

"It was nice," Johnny said flippantly. "Yeah... real nice."

Simon raised his eyebrows, coming to perch himself on the couch– the couch that, unbeknownst to him, you had made a mess on just a few hours prior. Simon looked over at Johnny, who ignored the blond and continued watching TV. Slightly annoyed, Simon snatched the remote and shut the TV off, much to Johnny's dismay.

"Hey!" Johnny frowned.

"Tell me about your date." Simon said, and Johnny sat up, leaning back against the plush armchair.

"It wasn't a date," Johnny rolled his eyes. "And I told you, it was nice. She's really nice company, you know."

Simon hummed, intrigued. "I bet..." Then, he waited for Johnny to continue, but he didn't. Simon cocked his head to the side, and Johnny mimicked the movement, a grin on his face. Simon rolled his eyes. "You already know what I'm about to say."

Johnny laughed. "No, we didn't fuck."

"How come?"

Johnny shrugged. "Just the way it went. Dinner was nice, and we talked for fuckin' hours. I could listen to the lass talk forever," he smiled, then continued. "By the time we stopped talking, it was too late, and she had to head home."

Simon narrowed his eyes at his friend, leaning back on the couch and stretching his arm atop the top of the backrest. He drummed his fingers against the fabric. "S'that all you did? Talk and ate?"

Johnny smiled. Simon knew that fucking smile.

Simon raised his eyebrows, imploring Johnny to tell him everything. Johnny cocked his head to the side again, wanting Simon to ask about it.

"Fuck sake," Simon shook his head. "Fine... what did you do?"

"'M glad you asked," Johnny split into a cheeky grin. "Since you really want to know–"

"Really is a bit of an exaggeration–"

"She played with herself while I watched. Right there on that fuckin' couch, Simon." Johnny nodded at the couch, and Simon instinctively looked down at the fabric. Johnny smiled. "Right where you're sitting, actually."

Simon made no effort to move. He looked back up at his friend. "You told her how to touch herself, Johnny?"

"Mhm," Johnny said proudly. "While I fucked my fist, too. Came so fuckin' hard I almost burnt my fuckin' roast."

Simon laughed through his nose. "I don't think the force of your orgasm is what made you almost burn your roast. It more likely had something to do with your distraction."

"It was a bloody good distraction, Ghost," Johnny said around a smile. "You... you need to try her, sometime."

Simon felt his eyebrows pinch together in a subtle frown. "Don't talk about her like that. She's not a toy."

Johnny looked offended. "No, no, didn't mean it like that. I just mean, you know, if you wanted too, she'd... she'd probably let you."

"Let me what?"

"Let you..." Johnny raised his eyebrows. "Let you fuck her."

"Wow, real mature, Johnny," Simon quipped, leaning back into the sofa, adjusting his sitting position with a shift of his hips. "What makes you think I want her like that?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "I'm not fuckin' blind, Ghost. You fancy her, as do half the fuckin' team, eh? And besides, who wouldn't like her like that. She's perfect."

"Perfect?" Simon mumbled out, looking around the living room.

If he put his head at a certain angle, in a certain direction, he could smell you– the sweetness of your perfume, the fragrance of your shampoo. It managed to linger in the air over top of the smell of roast, and the vague tang of citrus cleaning products.

In the armchair, Johnny shrugged again, eyes wandering. "Well, you know, I could put in a good word for you if you wanted me to."

Simon shot daggers at Johnny, then got to his feet, stretching out his back. His knuckles cracked when he flexed his fingers, a throbbing pain appearing at the base of his fingers. Johnny noticed the way Simon's face contorted into a pained grimace.

"Oh, so the appointment's real?"

"What?" Simon frowned.

"You're really going to see her 'cause you're hurt? I thought you'd made it up." Johnny said, and Simon huffed, annoyed, tossing his Scottish friend an unimpressed look.

"Yes, I'm hurt, you fuckwit," Simon muttered, holding his right hand to his chest. Then, defiantly, he turned back to his friend. "You know what?"

"What?" Johnny was grinning now.

Simon wished he could wipe that cheeky grin off of his friend's face. But he knew he couldn't. Not when his next words made the smile grow tenfold.

"I am going to try her an' see how perfect she really is."

•º•º•

Simon didn't want to come onto you to strong– pun definitely not intended. Not yet, anyway.

He didn't want to crowd you, or stress you out. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel as though he was taking advantage of you. He didn't want that. He admitted telling Johnny he wanted to try you was a fucking prick thing to say, but he didn't know how else to phrase it. Because, well, it was true. He did want to try you. Just like Johnny and Gaz did. The lucky bastards.

His interest piqued when he got a good look at you on the sidelines of one of their first matches. Of course, he saw you on your first day, and around the grounds several days after that, but he really got a good look at you when you were taping up Gaz's wrist all those weeks ago.

Simon was benched, and sitting at the very opposite end to you. He did find himself glancing over in your direction every so often, just to see what the fuss was about. Many of the lads had taken interest in you, but you seemed oblivious– or possibly just immune– to their charm. But, Simon did notice that Gaz's charm seemed to be working.

So Simon took note.

He noted the way Gaz was genuinely nice to you, polite and well-mannered. He didn't flirt with you heavily, not like how the other players described their flirting tactics. Gaz was feather-light with his advances, and he never forced you close to him. He simply allowed you to gravitate towards him.

And so that's how Simon knew he wanted to play it. He had always been a strategist– being a number 8, that line of thinking was critical. He read the play well, picked up on body-language and non-verbal cues– that was his job, basically. So he took note on how Gaz approached you, how he spoke to you, how he spoke about you to the others. The winger was polite, respectful and, above all, successful.

He had told Simon, Johnny and Price all about his little encounter with the team's physio while at the gym a couple of weeks before Johnny decided to give it a go. He explained how he did it, why he wanted to do it– and then proceeded to gush about how much he enjoyed it, how much he enjoyed you.

You, you, you.

That's what triggered Simon's interest in you.

Of course, like he said before, he picked up on a few things while you taped Gaz's wrist that day. You were so gentle with him, smiling and joking, and you did your job so well.

But when Gaz couldn't shut his mouth at the gym that night, and now how Johnny wouldn't stop fucking smiling about you– god, Simon really, really wanted you now.

And usually, when Simon wants something, he get's it. He got the number 8 position in the team. He got player of the year last year. He'll get the team's physiotherapist, too. If Johnny could do it, surely it wouldn't be too hard.

But Simon purposely made it harder for himself to ensure that everything seemed easier on you.

The first appointment he had with you, where you took his hand so gently into yours, running your fingers over his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, he willed himself not to get hard. Willed himself not to pop a fucking boner in his boxers at your touch, at the way your pretty eyes stared up at him, and the way you had that welcoming, warm smile.

That appointment, he made sure he didn't flirt with you. Not one little bit. He kept conversation casual, platonic. The small talk was polite and, dare he say it, mundane. It was his own fault, but he had to stick with it. He asked you about your day, about future appointments. He asked you about why you took the job, and how you were liking it so far. He didn't push it.

But, after booking the next appointment, he headed for the door, looking over his shoulder to give you the simplest of smiles. He then uttered, "Have a nice day, love."

Success. He watched you fidget on the spot at his words. Then he left.

He'd jerk off to your expression in the shower when he got home. But first, he needed to go to the fucking gym.

The next appointment, about a week after the first, Simon knew it was time to start wiggling his way into your mind. Get you thinking about him. He knew you were still thinking about Soap and Gaz– and probably still paying them visits, too– so Simon knew that putting thoughts of him into your head wouldn't be too hard.

So he planted little seeds. Polite, of course, without pressing into any boundary that he knew would make uncomfortable.

But he placed lingering touches– brushing his fingers against yours when you handed him something, or craning his head just a bit closer to yours when he looked over your shoulder as you showed him something on your computer. He wore more cologne so it'd linger in your office. He said hello to you in the hallway before anyone else could. He made sure to do his warm-up stretches in the middle of the playing field where he knew you'd have a good view from your office.

Strategic. Like all number 8's should be.

And he wasn't the best number 8 in the entire UK for fucking nothing.

He noticed it start to work that very same week. The following days after his second appointment, leading up to his third. Days he noticed your eyes light up when he waved to you in the hall; days you smiled from your window while you watched him warm-up; days where you got flustered when he winked at you while you were talking to Johnny.

Johnny noticed it too.

That happened just a few hours before his third appointment– an appointment he scheduled a bit earlier in the week than usual, only a few days after his second. He was so close.

Johnny teased him. "You're on the fuckin' prowl, Ghost."

"Don't say it like that, Johnny, what the fuck," Simon growled. The pair were walking from their flat towards their home stadium. Simon shook his head. "She's a human being."

"She sure is," Johnny said wistfully, as though remembering something he was fond of. Simon guessed he was, something fond of you, so he elbowed the Scot in the ribs as they crossed the road. Johnny laughed. "Alright, that's enough, I get it."

Simon grumbled under his breath as the two friends made their way towards the stadium along the roadside. As cars drove past, he heard the voice of a kid yell, "Ghost! Soap!" which made Simon smile.

After a moment of walking in silence, Johnny cleared his throat. Simon looked at him in annoyance.

Johnny pouted at Simon's expression. "What're you mad for? I haven't said anything yet!"

"You don't need to," Simon said. "I know whatever you're about to say is gonna be stupid."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Johnny grumbled. "You're no fun."

Simon looked at Johnny, then over to the looming stadium, then back to Johnny again. He sighed, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he walked.

"Fine," he said. "What is it?"

Johnny smiled. "Have you got a plan?"

"A plan...?"

"Yeah to, you know, woo the lass."

"Woo the lass," Simon echoed with a mouthful of disinterest. "You're a fuckwit."

"Hey, I'm just asking!" Johnny held up his hands in mock-surrender. When he put them back down, he wiggled his eyebrows at Simon. "...So?"

Simon rolled his eyes.

Johnny smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Simon sighed through his nose. Johnny was right, but he didn't want to admit that. Simon'd rather hurt his other hand than admit it, because the look on Johnny's face already– and Simon hadn't even admitted anything– was enough. Enough for Simon to shoulder Johnny and force him off the pavement.

Johnny laughed as he toppled over into a row of hedges. He yelled out at Simon as the blond kept walking. "Don't go throwin' me 'round, Simon! Otherwise I'll end back up in doc's office!"

Simon clenched his jaw. Don't bite back.

•º•º•

"How does that feel?" You asked, two hands holding one of Simon's large ones.

Your soft fingers traced over his lower knuckles, pressing gently on the space of finger between those knuckles, and the row in the middle of the fingers. You rubbed circles on each finger for a couple of seconds, and Simon watched you, his gaze unwavering.

You felt very warm.

"That's good," Simon said quietly when you got to his pinky-finger, pressing at the bones and joints and looking up to his face for any flicker of pain. He looked at you as you searched his face. He allowed himself a small smile. "It's good, doc. I promise."

You smiled back up at him and dropped his hand. He frowned.

You didn't notice. "Good, that's good. Alright, so I suppose this is our last appointment..." you meandered over to your computer, sliding into the chair and beginning to type at lightening speed. Simon watched your fingers fly over the keyboard.

"Our... last one?" Simon voiced, tone even and not at all betraying the disappointment he felt inside.

"Yep, our last one," you said. You finished up on your computer and then looked over at him with a beaming smile. "You're all good to go."

Simon slid off of the medical table, not having to drop far. He towered over you, which he knew you liked– based on the way you chewed subtly on your bottom lip when he stood over you.

So, phase one of his plan that, if Soap was somehow listening, definitely did not exist– use his height to his advantage.

You got up from behind your desk to walk him to the door, and Simon took the opportunity to walk directly next to you until you both reached the door. When you opened the door, Simon stepped into the frame and turned around so he could face you, leaning his shoulder against the framing and crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest. He watched the way your eyes followed the movement. You swallowed nervously.

"Thanks for that, doc," he said lowly. "I appreciate it."

"O-oh, yeah, it's no big deal," you stuttered. "Just... just doing my job, you know?"

Your eyes didn't meet his. Not when he was executing phase two– holding eye contact. A soft kind of eye contact, the same Gaz always used. Simon kept a slight crinkle in the corners of his eyes, his lids lowering a fraction as his eyes scanned your face, darting from your eyes to your lips in perfectly timed intervals.

Your throat was drying. You cleared it with a low cough. "Right, well... did you need anything?"

Phase three, the riskier part of the plan–

"You like the way I look at you, doc?" Simon whispered. He felt nerves twisting in his own stomach as he waited an eternity (less than a second) for your response. He looked down at you softly.

You cleared your throat again. "I... I mean, I don't– I don't mind if, you mean– if you meant it like that–"

Phase four, even fucking riskier–

"Answer my question, doc," Simon whispered. "An' use your words, hm? You like the way I look at you? You like the way I'm talking to you?"

And, if his plan worked, if it somehow worked, then the outcome would be–

"...yes." A whisper from your pretty lips.

Perfect. Mission-fucking-successful.

"Yeah?" Simon was still leaning against the doorframe. "How do I make you feel?"

"...warm," you confessed quietly, not meeting his eyes. "You... fucking hell, you give me butterflies."

"Butterflies?" Simon grinned. "Do I? How else do I make you feel?"

Simon walked forward, and you walked backwards. Enough so that he quietly shut the door and then spun the lock. It clicked. Locked.

You swallowed. "I– you–"

"Look at me when you're talking to me, doc."

You looked up at him, his hazy blue eyes and the mosaic of scars running across his face.

"How do I make you feel when I look at you like this?" He asked, moving forward. You were backing yourself towards your desk. He cocked his head at you. "How do you feel when you look at me?"

"Good," you breathed. "Feel's good... I like the way you look at me and... and I like looking at you."

"Yeah? You do, love?" Simon goaded, and your backside hit your desk. "D'you want to know how I feel?"

You nodded quickly. Simon chuckled.

"O'course you do..." He stepped into your space, the lower part of his chest up against the top of yours. He looked down at you, his arms coming to rest on your hips. "Is this okay?"

You nodded. "Yes..."

Simon leaned down until his nose brushed against yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, your lips just a hair-length apart. You could feel his breath fanning across your face, and your stomach flipped at his close proximity.

"I love the way you touch me," he whispered, his words tickling your lips. "Love the way you look at me, too. Y'look at me like I'm the prettiest thing on earth, don't you? Love the way you look at me with them pretty eyes, like you want me to fuck you, hm?"

Your mouth dropped open in a gasp, and Simon took the opportunity to press his mouth to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. One of the hands he had on your hips moved upwards to cup the back of your head, moving you closer to him as his lower body pushed yours against the wooden desk.

"That's what you want?" He asked, breaking the kiss and shifting his pelvis against yours. You could feel the hard, large imprint of his cock against your front, and it made you whimper, squirming in his hold. He hummed, closing his eyes as you ground yourself against the growing bulge in his trousers. "Yeah? You want me to fuck you? You want me to fill your tight cunt with my big fuckin' cock, hm?"

You moaned, and Simon swallowed it– kissing you roughly by pulling you into him using the hand he had on the back of your head. His tongue licked against yours, running over the ridges of your teeth, and he groaned. He groaned at the taste of you, the warmth and the wetness of your mouth. His cock twitched in his boxers.

He pulled out of the kiss, placing one quick peck on your lips before pulling his face away. "Got a pretty damn mouth on you, doc."

The hand on the back of your head shifted to the side of your face, and you were blinking back surprise when his thumb brushed over your lips. You opened your mouth when he flicked his thumb against your bottom lip, and he grumbled in his chest– a pleased purr, almost– when he slipped his thumb into your mouth. You wrapped your tongue around the digit, retaining eye-contact as you sucked his thumb further into your mouth, the rest of his hand holding firmly onto the base of your jaw.

Simon pressed his thumb down onto your tongue when you took the digit further back into your mouth. You gagged, but he kept his thumb there. You gagged again, eyes watering, and Simon slowly dragged his thumb back to the front of your mouth, flicking it against the tip of your tongue.

"You wanna suck my cock, love?" Simon asked in a whisper, swiping the pad of his thumb along your teeth, feeling the ridges of your molars and the points of your lower canines.

You whined around his thumb, still sucking gently, nodding as his eyes swept over your face.

"'Atta girl," Simon praised, pulling his thumb from your mouth and then gripping your jaw, smearing your saliva across your cheek. "How about you get down on them knees, doc?"

He spun you both around so that he was now leaning his backside against the desk. He then let go of your head and allowed you to lower yourself to the ground in front of him, your hands resting on the thick of his strong thighs.

He gestured to his fly and button, and you got the hint. Saliva already pooling in your mouth, you popped the button of his jeans and then unzipped the fly, lowering them enough to get a good look at the imprint of his cock in his boxers. There was a small wet patch on the front, and it made your pussy flutter around nothing.

Acting on your own accord, you leaned forward and pressed kisses along the bulge, tongue moving against the cotton, laving over the patch of pre-cum that stained the material. Simon's hand shot down to hold the crown of your head as you kissed the hard imprint of his cock, whimpering in the back of your throat at the warmth against your lips and tongue.

His hips bucked, the stain of pre-cum growing bigger as his cock leaked within the confines of his boxers, twitching as the warm wetness of your mouth pressed open-mouthed kisses over it.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it, love," Simon breathed. "Kiss my cock– use that pretty mouth."

You whined against him, nose sliding over the waistband of his boxers. Your fingers trailed up his thighs until they reached the waistband, and you leaned your head back so you could pull his boxers down far enough for his cock to fall out.

Simon's cock was heavy, curving forward under the weight of his arousal, his balls heavy too, waiting– just waiting– to bust a load all over your pretty face, or in that warm mouth. His tip was flushed red, all the blood flow having travelled down while you kissed him, leaking droplets of pre-cum. And then your favourite part– the dark blond hair of his happy-trail leading to the patch near the base of his cock.

You whined again, bringing a hand to your face and spitting in it, before wrapping your fingers around the girth of his cock. Simon groaned, fingers flexing around the top of your head, holding you still as you began to work your hand up and down.

"Dirty fuckin' girl, that's it," he hissed, your eyes on him as you jerked him off. Your lips were just a whisper away from his leaking tip, and with each laboured breath you panted out, his cock twitched. He looked down at you with a lust-drunk gaze. "Are you going to keep playing with my cock, or are you going to put it in your mouth?"

You answered him by opening your mouth and letting your tongue drop out slightly. He hummed– a deep grumble from his chest– pleased with you, before bringing his free hand down to grab the base of his cock. You dropped your hand away from him, instead resting it against the solid warmth of his thigh.

Simon fisted his cock in front of your face, one hand keeping your head in place. He angled his hips so he could tap the flushed tip against your tongue, smearing pre-cum along the flat of the smooth muscle. A bead of saliva pearled at the tip of your tongue, and he smacked the tip of his cock against it, forcing your saliva to drip out of your mouth and down your chin. You frowned at him, and he smiled, whispering, "so messy."

Your jaw was just beginning to ache when he finally dropped more of his cock against your tongue, the solid weight of it wiping the frown from your face. You continued to look up at the rugby player before you as his cock inched further into your mouth– slowly enough that you could feel the velveteen ridges and veins across the surface of your pre-cum tainted tongue. You whimpered softly as Simon held your head firmer, feeding his cock into your mouth, forcing your tongue to draw back inside and your lips to seal around him.

"Take it..." Simon whispered, his tone soft. The fat head of his cock nudged the back of your throat after a moment, and you immediately gagged around him, tears springing to your eyes. Simon tutted, shifting his hips back and pulling his cock away from your uvula. His fingers massaged the top of your head. "What's 'a matter, pretty girl? S'my cock too big?"

You frowned at him again, your hands tightening against his thighs. Without his instruction, you pushed forward and took more of him into your mouth, the leaking tip nudging near the back of your throat. You withheld a gag, tears blurring your vision as you took most of him, your nose parallel to his pelvis. He was still holding his cock, so your lips pressed flush against his knuckles. You worked your tongue around him, smoothing warmly around the girth of his cock, and he tossed his head back and groaned, hips twitching.

"Yeah, that's'a fuckin' girl, baby–" he growled, head flopping forward to watch you once more. "Yeah, take my fuckin' cock. Take it all in this pretty mouth."

He removed his hand from his cock, instead gripping the edge of your desk for leverage. His other hand remained on your head, gently beginning to guide you. You worked with him– taking him as far back in your throat as you could, coating his cock in saliva, running your tongue along the underside of him until he eased back into your mouth a bit– then, you circled the tip, sucking gently, hollowing your cheeks, before he was pushing further in again. You took one hand, still sticky with your saliva, and pumped the base of his cock– all of which you couldn't fit in your mouth.

He grumbled out grunts and groans, his eyes on you the entire time. You did your best to maintain eye-contact as well, but tears were still fresh in your waterline, and the force of his thick cock sliding down your throat urged your eyelids shut.

A tear slipped from each eye, dropping down your cheeks. As he panted, focused on the warmth of your mouth around his desperately hard cock, Simon moved both of his hands to your face. He cupped both of your cheeks, running his thumbs along your cheekbones and catching the tears, smearing them across your soft skin. You blinked up at him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked down at you. He continued to cup your face, both large hands heavy on your cheeks, as he gently guided your mouth along his cock.

"There you go, that's my girl..." He muttered, pulling your head right down to the base of his cock, your throat constricting around him as you resisted the urge to gag. You whimpered around him, the heady tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat, messing with your oxygen intake. The vibrations from your whimpering made Simon groan above you. "God, love, keep doing that. Jus' like that, yeah... fuck– keep using that pretty mouth."

He continued to look at you– in such a way your stomach was doing flips, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You desperately blinked the moisture from your vision so you could see more of his handsome face, and the way he occasionally drew his lower lip between his teeth, and the way his dark brows pinched together in pleasure.

He still had both hands on your face, guiding you, petting you, stroking your cheeks and thumbing your cheekbones. His eyes never left your face as you sucked his cock. You were the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen.

Simon groaned at his own thoughts, hips twitching, more pre-cum dribbling out of his slit and down your throat. You swallowed around him, and he groaned again.

"Fuck– fuck– m'close, love, m'so fuckin' close–" Simon whispered, gritting his teeth as he felt his balls begin to tighten, along with the muscles in his lower abdomen. He held your head just a bit tighter. "M'gonna paint your face, doc."

Romantic, you thought, and you couldn't help but let slip a small giggle around his cock. Simon groaned, his hips jerking faster as he held your head in place, essentially fucking your throat. He was still so gentle though, despite the urgency of his thrusts into the warm heat of your mouth. You let him move you along the length of his cock, saliva dripping down your chin, before he was pulling you all the way off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting the tip and your lips.

"Tongue." He said breathlessly.

You stuck your tongue out as he fisted his cock quickly, wet sounds eliciting through your office. He groaned, a hiss of your name, before he was coming across your face. Most of his cum spurted across your tongue and in your mouth, but splatters flecked over you, milky strings along your saliva-slick lower face. Simon groaned the entire time he came, still pumping his cock in a bruised-knuckled fist, dribbles of white dripping from his cock while you curled your tongue back into your mouth and swallowed.

He was breathing hard, stuffing his semi-hard cock back into his boxers and trousers, and reaching down to take you by the upper arms. You let out an involuntary yelp when he effortlessly hauled you to your feet– as though you weighed absolutely fucking nothing– and pulled you with him. Wordlessly, he rounded your desk and sat down in your office chair, yanking you down onto his lap.

"Good girl." He was whispering as he brought his face to yours and kissed you. You hummed a moan against his lips. His tongue coaxed your mouth open, and the warm, wet muscle was smoothing against yours before you could even think.

One of his large hands cupped the side of your face, his thumb smearing a fat droplet of his cum against your cheek, while the other hand held your hip. With that hand, and all while kissing you, Simon guided you to straddle just one of his thick thighs, and slowly began rocking you against it. He tensed the muscle, and immediately felt the warmth of your clothed cunt beneath your trousers.

He broke the kiss to moan against your lips. "Fuckin' hell, doc, you're fuckin' soaked."

You whimpered, almost embarrassed, as Simon gripped your hip harder and ground you against him. He pressed you down heavier against him, revelling in the way he could feel the warm wetness of your core through both yours and his trousers. He kissed you again, rougher this time– a small clink of teeth, and a large amount of cum-tainted spit.

Butterflies in your stomach, you helped his urging movements. You moved your hips back and forth, sliding yourself against the taut muscles of his thigh. A high-pitched noise filtered from the back of your throat as your clit began to throb, your underwear damp against your slit. You tilted your head back, breaking the kiss so that you could mewl quietly into the silence of your office. Simon immediately attached his mouth to your throat, sucking harshly.

He grunted against your throat. "This pussy's all wet from suckin' my cock?" He then angled his head to suck kisses along your jaw, you face still inclined towards the ceiling.

"Yessss–" You whined, moving your hips faster. He let you– smiling against the skin of your jaw– letting the hand he had on your hip keep up with your desperate pace.

The two of you fell into a short, comfortable, lust-filled silence. The sounds of you panting, his grunting against your neck, and the shifting of fabric the only noises in your office. You whimpered as Simon continued sucking and biting kisses along the expanse of your neck and throat, the skin there sticky with his spit. You could still feel his semi-dried cum on your face.

But as you neared your first orgasm, rocking your clothed cunt against his thigh, your noises grew louder. You whimpering turned to stretched-out whines, and your panting increased in volume, coupled with airy moans– sounds that Simon loved and sounds that had his cock throbbing hard in his boxers. But he didn't want to compromise this situation at all.

The hand he had cupping your head moved along your face, two fingers dragging along your cheek and collecting a generous amount of his cum. Then, he simply shoved them past your lips and pressed down on your tongue, cutting you off mid-moan. Your eyes flew open, finding his, as you instinctively began sucking on the digits.

"You're a noisy girl, aren't you?" Simon muttered, eyes mapping every aspect of your face. "A noisy girl, and a messy girl."

You whimpered around his fingers, eyes almost rolling as your orgasm built heavily in your lower stomach. Your thighs quivered alongside his, and he could feel your cunt pulsing against him– all warm and wet and begging for his cock. But not yet. Not fucking yet.

You were so close– your entire body buzzing against him, skin flushed with a layer of sweat, face and neck sticky, lips tender from the force of Simon's kisses. Your orgasm was building, and building, and building still, and you were so close–

"Come for me," Simon ordered in a soft whisper, his two fingers rubbing against your tongue. "Come for me, love."

It was like your body had been waiting for his permission. The band in your lower belly snapped, your orgasm racking through you in forceful waves, your body shaking against him. A loud moan was caught in your throat, his fingers pinning your tongue to the floor of your mouth, forcing you to whimper out to him instead. Your eyes dropped shut, a bead of saliva pushing out from between his fingers and your lips, running down his wrist. He groaned.

But he didn't stop rocking you against him. Even when you tired and your desperate movements slowed, he didn't. He didn't slow. With all the stamina and strength of a good number 8, he kept his hand tight on your hip and continued to grind you against his muscular thigh.

After a moment of realising that he was not stopping, your eyes flew open and found him already looking at you. His eyes had been on where his fingers disappeared into your mouth– and he pushed them in further, until the middle knuckles slid past your lips. You almost choked, moving your tongue around them now that he wasn't pinning them to the bottom of your mouth. His eyes then found yours.

"So pretty..." He muttered. "So pretty when you come. Want you to come again."

You whimpered, frowning. Simon chuckled, a beautiful smile stretching across his face. He leaned in, moving his fingers to one corner of your mouth so that he place a chaste kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he was still smiling.

"You thought I was done with one?" He asked you, not quite condescending, but enough so to make you pout around his fingers. "No, no, love, we're not stoppin' at one. We're not fuckin' stoppin' until you've drenched my trousers, got it?"

That had your second orgasm creeping up inside you. You nodded wildly, and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth briefly to give you a pat on the side of the face.

"Good girl." He said, and then his fingers were back in your mouth again. This time, he hooked them around your bottom teeth and, with his thumb on your jaw, he pulled your mouth open just a little bit– enough so he could lean in and kiss you deeper than the last time. He licked into your mouth and you squirmed against him, the feeling of his tongue against yours making your hips stutter against his thigh.

He kissed you like that, with his chin resting on his own fingers, until your second orgasm hit you. He pulled away with your spit smeared across his lips as you came, your cunt pulsing against him again. He could almost feel your heartbeat in the warmth of your pussy, making the muscles of his thigh flex again. He continued to rock you through it.

"I think one more will do it," Simon hummed, more to himself than to you. He could feel the heat of your slick soaking through your own trousers, but it was yet to soak through to his. He wanted a wet patch on his fucking leg. "You can do one more, can't you, doc?"

Simon pulled his fingers from your mouth and gripped both of your hips now. He renewed his efforts, dragging you across his thigh, your legs shaking around him as your glazed eyes struggled to stay open. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, brain fuzzy, body warm against his.

You mewled, hoarse and barely above a light whimper. "Simon–"

He groaned. "Fuck yeah, love, want you to say my name like that again. Go on. Say it again while I drag this pretty pussy over my thigh."

You did as you were told, moaning out quietly, your head dropping onto his shoulder. You mewled another "Simon–!" against him as you mouthed at the flushed skin of his neck. You were met with another deep groan, rumbling in his throat.

"Fuck," he grunted. "You– fuck– you have no idea how many times I've fucked my fist to that sound in my head. So many times I've come all over my fuckin' hand thinkin' about this perfect fuckin' pussy."

His accent was thickening. That made you moan.

He ground you harder against him, tensing his muscles tighter. You moaned into his neck, your body shaking.

Simon placed a gentle kiss your damp forehead. "Come on, love, come one more time. Soak my fuckin' thigh. I know you can do it, doc, I can feel how wet you are."

You whimpered. "Simon, please–"

"Look at me."

You did. You picked yourself up and looked at him as he guided you towards your third orgasm– your third orgasm in your fucking trousers only by grinding against his leg. Oh my god–

"When you come..." He began softly, one of his hands moving from your hip to hold your throat carefully. He held your head still, forcing as much eye-contact as he could. "When you come, I want you looking at me with those pretty eyes. Got it, doc?"

You nodded.

He smiled gently and repeated a soft "good girl" for what felt like the hundredth time. But you weren't complaining. It had your stomach twisting, your swollen clit pulsing, and finally your third orgasm washing over you.

Like a good girl, you listened to what he said. You maintained eye-contact as you came, despite the overwhelming urge to shut them. Your body shook against his, your cunt gushing into your underwear. You moaned his name and he kissed you quiet.

He chuckled against your lips– a triumphant smile forming as he felt your arousal dampen the leg of his trousers. He pulled away and lifted your hips lightly, getting a good look at the dark patch on his thigh. He moaned, cock twitching.

"God, what a messy fuckin' girl..."

You mewled, high on pleasure, beginning to palm at his crotch where his bulge pressed up against his zipper. Your hands groped the shape of him, and he hissed, grabbing hold of your hand.

"You want my cock that bad?" He whispered, your foreheads coming together and the two of you staring down at his bulge. "You want my cock in this pretty pussy?" The hand he had on your throat somehow found the wet space between your legs, rubbing his fingers along the seam there. You were so wet. He groaned. "You want my big cock to stuff this wet cunt, hm? Fill you with my cum? Fill you up and ruin you for anyone else?”

"Simon, oh my god." You uttered, still pawing at his hard cock. Your cunt was throbbing so fucking bad.

"This pussy just can't get enough, can she?" Simon mused, still rubbing at your overstimulated core, fingers grinding against the damp material covering your slit. "You fucked Gaz an' Soap, an' now you want my cock? So greedy, baby. Such a greedy little slut..."

His tone was so soft, that you almost missed the degradation. Instead, you shook your head, whimpering quietly as your fourth orgasm built in your lower tummy, the base of your spine tingling.

"No, no, haven't– fuck– haven't fucked them." You whispered hurriedly as he worked his fingers against you.

Simon tutted. "But you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love for both of them to fuck you, yeah? Just want three big fuckin' cocks stuffin' this tight fuckin' cunt."

Strong accent, more cussing. You moaned loudly. God, he was hot.

"I bet you want the captain's cock too, eh? Wouldn't be fuckin' surprised."

You moaned again, orgasm building heavier and heavier inside you. You imaged Price for a split second, and you moaned again.

Simon chuckled darkly. "Yeah? Needy girl, wanting four men? Want four cocks? Want us all to fuck you dumb, eh?" 'Course you fuckin' do."

"Please, Simon..." You whispered, body on fire.

He groan from the back of his throat. "But s'just me now, an' I'm the one making you come. So go on, pretty girl, come once more for me."

You came for a fourth time and you swear you almost blacked out. Stars burst behind your eyelids, a long string of whimpers falling from your lips as your cunt leaked arousal into your underwear, wetting your trousers even more. Simon peppered your face with kisses as you came down from your high, trembling, before he gathered you into his arms and hugged you to his broad chest.

"Good job, love," he whispered soothingly, rubbing your back. "Did such a good job for me. Such a good girl."

You were about to reply, something along the lines of– probably– begging for his cock even though you were so tired. But your phone buzzed against your desk, a brief vibration. You turned to look down at your screen to see a reminder flashing. Your eyes grew wide, realising you had another appointment in twenty minutes.

You peeled yourself away from Simon.

"Fuck, fuck!" You cursed. "I have another appointment in twenty minutes, Simon!”

"So?"

You looked at him, annoyed, then gestured to your trousers. "So? So? Simon, I've come four times in my fucking trousers and I'm wet."

He smiled.

"Don't fucking smile."

His smile dropped and he cleared his throat. "Right, sorry, love. I'll get you a pair'a my joggers if you want."

"You're taking the piss." You muttered as Simon got up, adjusting the way his hard cock sat in his trousers. You tried your best to avoid eye contact with it, as well as the large wet patch on his thigh. “Your joggers?”

He passed by you, kissing you gently on the forehead.

"Mhm," he hummed, already unlocking the door. "Anything for you, doc."

He disappeared, and you stared after him, shaking his head. Then, you spared a glance at yourself in the small mirror near the medical bed. You looked an absolute mess, with cum and saliva on your face. You groaned, heading towards the washbasin.

Maybe you had time to pop home and freshen up. Surely the captain wouldn't mind if you were a bit late.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #141rugby!au #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost x female reader

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Text

Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

-------------------------

This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #hbo war fic #eugene roe #band of brothers

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cryptwrites · 1 year

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Poisons

Hello! I'm gonna share how I go about writing poisons and the things I think are helpful to keep in mind. Now, I have never actually poisoned someone - shocker - but I have done extensive research on the topic, so I would say I know a decent amount about how to effectively poison someone. Disclaimer: This is for writing purposes only, don't poison people. Thanks.

Keep In Mind:

Poisoners need little to no physical strength although they do need a strong sense of self control & nerves of steel. Shooting or stabbing someone takes a mere moment of consideration and is frequently the result of a split second decision, while position requires dedication. Many poisons require a certain amount of time to work and the poisoner usually must administer several doses of poison in order to work. The poisoner also usually must be within close proximity to their victim and often will have to look them in the eye and engage with the person while the person slowly dies.

Exotic poisons can be more trouble than they’re worth. Importing exotic poisons leaves a trail for authorities to follow, and they require more research to correctly use.

Smart poisoners work with what they’ve got. The clever killer looks for drugs that are already in the victim’s medicine cabinet and that could be deadly. Read medical warning labels to get an idea of how to use them.

Poison can be used in ways that aren’t deadly. If the goal isn’t death, you can render someone dizzy or dopey, making a character vulnerable to a bad influence.

Common Poisons

Hemlock: Poison hemlock comes from a large fern-like plant that bears a dangerous resemblance to the carrot plant. It was readily available for treating muscle spasms, ulcers, and swelling, but in large doses will cause paralysis and ultimately respiratory failure.

Mandrake: It was used as a sedative, hallucinogen and aphrodisiac. Superstition mediaeval denizens believes when the vaguely human-shaped root was pulled out that plant gave a piercing shriek that would drive anyone to madness or death - hence the harry potter scene.

Arsenic: Arsenic comes from a metalloid and not a plant, unlike the others but it’s easily the most famous and is still used today. instead of being distilled from a plant, chunks of arsenic and dug up or mined. It was once used as a treatment for STDs , and also for pest control and blacksmiths, which was how many poisoners got access to it. It was popular in the Renaissance since it looked similar to malaria death, due to acute symptoms including stomach cramps, confusion, convulsions, vomiting and death. Slow poisoning looked more like a heart attack.

Nightshade: A single leaf or a few berries could cause hallucinations - a few more was a lethal dose. Mediaeval women used the juice of the berries to colour their cheeks, they would even put a few drops on their eyes to cause the pupils to dilate for a lovestruck look which is why Nightshade is also called ‘Belladonna’ or “Beautiful woman.” The symptoms include dilated pupils, sensitivity to light, blurred vision, tachycardia, loss of balance, staggering, headache, rash, flushing, severely dry mouth and throat, slurred speech, urinary retention, constipation, confusion, hallucinations, delirium and convulsions.

Aconite: This toxic plant, also called Monkshood or Wolfsbane, was used by indigenous tribes around the world as arrow poison. The root is the most potent for distillation. Marked symptoms may appear almost immediately, usually not later than one hour, and with large doses death is near instantaneous. The initial signs are gastrointestinal including nausea, and vomiting. This is followed by a sensation of burning, tingling, and numbness in the mouth and face, and of burning in the abdomen. In severe poisonings pronounced motor weakness occurs and sensations of tingling and numbness spread to the limbs. The plant should be handled with gloves, as the poison can seep into the skin.

If someones poisoning another:

The character should analyse the daily life of the target well before attempting to poison them. Note what sort of medicines they take, at what moments they are most vulnerable, how attentive they are to their surroundings, and so on.

Choose a poison that suits your needs. You need to be as discreet as possible and not arouse suspicion. Too dramatic and people will know something is up. Choose poisons that are easy to slip into meals/don't have to be administered constantly, or you could simply frame it as an overdose by using the target's own medicines.

Think of how you want to administer the poison. Some take effect through touch while some require being swallowed. Based on that, come up with a plan to poison your target.

Make sure everything corresponds with the plot and characters, and nothing becomes a plot hole. Don't have a typically nervous character be perfectly calm when thinking of poisoning. Don't poison someone just for the sake of it. Have everything tie back to the plot, your characters rarely should be poisonings someone just for the "cool" effect. Trust me, it doesn't actually have that effect and just comes off like lazy writing. Have your characters act in accordance with their personalities.

Research time periods and history when choosing poisons. Not all poisons were popular during the same time periods, and not all of them are native to the same geographical areas.

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venturelovebot · 1 month

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A/N: Another request off the list! This one was pretty fun, and thanks again for requesting! It really does mean a lot to me! Link to request here!

Premise: Takes place a little while after Venture's Adventures trailer! Silly goober does not realize taking on a deadly organization is not good for their health!

Warnings: Blood, a small argument but other than that there's nothing to worry about!

You press down the gauze onto the fresh wound on their arm, soaking up as much as the blood as you could manage. Within minutes it soaks the tight knit fabric a dark crimson red and you discard it into the nearby bloody scrap pile. You take another piece of clean, dry gauze and apply pressure to the area before wrapping it up and taping it off. Sloan winces and grits their teeth from your rough care.

"So..." You continue to treat their wounds as they watch. "You really did all of that? By yourself?" You ask.

Tears formed in their eyes as you dug into another wound to clean it. They blink them away before you can notice–

"Sure did!" They grin.

"Didn't we have this talk before?" You chide. The grin on their face immediately fades.

"Yeah, but if things went bad I could've gotten out of there no problem." They attempt to mask the defensiveness in their voice. You sigh and continue your cleaning and dressing.

Your soft, warm hands continue gently wrapping layers of fresh gauze around Sloan's clean wounds. The silence between the two of you feels immense. Without pressing the matter further, you finish up your work and move on to the next noticeable injury. However, there are several other cuts and scrapes across their skin, so you definitely had your work cut out for you tonight. At least the worst of the worst were already taken care of.

A laugh escapes their throat and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You're turning me into a mummy!" They joke.

You shake your head and sigh once more. They pout in response.

"Jeez, tough crowd." They add.

You hold back your frustration as you roll up their jeans to reveal more injuries in need of treatment. Once again you begin to wipe their skin clean with medicine and discard all bloody cloth into the growing mountain of medical trash. Your anger is evident in your body language.

"Hmph. Angela wouldn't be this mad–" You cut them off and they're caught by surprise. You shoot straight up and scowl.

"Well I'm not Angela, okay?" You argue, angrily tightening the cloth around their leg. They audibly express pain from your harshness.

You turn around for a moment and look for more medicine. Everything you grab lightly stains the container and their labels red in the shape of gloved fingers.

"I... didn't mean it like that..." There's noticeable guilt in their voice.

"You really just don't get it, do you?" You bite your cheek to stop yourself from further outbursts.

"Get what? That artifact was important to me–"

"And you're important to me!" You turn on your heels and meet their gaze directly. "You really think you could take on Talon all by yourself and not get hurt? You could have died!" You cry.

They blush and look away. "Aww come on, it wasn't that bad..."

"Wasn't that bad?! Look at your arms! I'm not even done with you yet! What were you thinking?" Tears of frustration form in your eyes.

Sloan is quiet again as the realization hits. They look down at their disheveled clothes and half patched up body. Oh my God– you were right...

You open your mouth to start yelling again but you stop when you feel their arms wrap around your waist. They nuzzle against your warm skin and close their eyes.

"I'm sorry." They admit.

You let out another sigh and affectionately pat their head in defeat.

"You really should take better care of yourself. I can only fix so much. What you did was extremely brave and admirable, but it was also extremely stupid and reckless–" You stop yourself mid lecture so you wouldn't make them feel worse than they already did. "What I'm trying to say is... archeology is important to you, and you're important to me. There will always be more treasure to uncover but there's only one of you. You can't ever be replaced, you know?"

They sniffle and hug you closer. You continue comforting them to the best of your ability as their emotions pour out onto your soiled shirt. You remove your stained gloves and reach into your coat pocket for an emergency lemon lollipop.

"Here." You take off the wrapper and hand the sweet to them. Immediately their eyes light up with joy, and they quickly wipe away their tears on their jacket sleeve.

"Aww yeah! You're the best!" They immediately pop the sweet into their mouth. "Thanks!" They mumble with a full mouth.

"This is not an excuse to forget what I just told you."

You take your hand and tilt their head up. From a nearby glove box you grab a pair of clean gloves and get back to work.

"I won't forget! I promise!"

"Isn't that what you said last time?" You remind them.

They remove the lollipop from their mouth and look at you in full seriousness.

"I promise I'll be more careful! You're my treasure. No one else is allowed to discover you. Finders keepers!"

You couldn't help but smile from the cheesiness.

Satisfied with your expression, they continue eating away at their lollipop. You continue to hold their face carefully while wiping away the dirt, grime and blood. As an extra treat you reach into your pocket again and place a skeleton bandaid on their cheek across a minor scrape they obtained.

"Alright. I think you're good to go. Don't get into anymore trouble, okay?" You ask them, borderline begging for them to be safer in the future.

"Finders keepers." They repeat, hopping off the table.

You finally toss the huge mess you made into the garbage and wash your hands. They head for the door before they stop dead in their tracks. They flick their leftover lollipop stick into the trash.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" They walk over to you and place a kiss to your lips.

"Finders keepers..." They smile. "But you make it hard to want to stay safe because I love seeing you."

You blush and let out a tiny giggle.

"You're my favorite patient. Just don't get maimed, alright?" You swat at them lightly. "I'm serious. Doctors orders."

"Sure thing, Doc. Are you free this Saturday by any chance?" A cheeky grin lights up their face.

"Only if you can go the rest of the week without getting injured." You place your hands on your hips and put on your serious face.

"You betcha!" Their grin somehow widens further as they spin around and head for the door.

You wait for them to fully leave before leaning back on the table and crossing your arms.

"I give them eleven minutes." You whisper under your breath.

#had to add some snark to this one i apologize hehehehehhehe #venture x reader #venture x you #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #sloan cameron #sloane cameron #venture overwatch #venture ow2

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evan4ever · 7 months

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Sick

Kai Anderson x sick reader

Warnings: Kai being a (slightly more caring) jerk, vomit, sick reader, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: it’s short but I just loved the thought

—

You felt feverish all night and even into the next day. You knew, by 1 pm, that you had to be running a fever of over 100 by the way your body shook yet your forehead glistened with sweat and your teeth chattered. Your body was hot but you felt freezing. But you didn’t bother attempting to ask Kai for medicine or even a thermometer so you knew the severity of the fever. It would be burdening him and he was busy, especially today.

You barely could keep your attention on Kai during the meeting in the basement. Your eye would flutter shut every so often as your mind focused on not allowing you to give in to the new feeling of vomiting. Your mouth salivated, a warning sign that you were very close to throwing up, but you focused harder and harder to keep it down — at least until the meeting was over. This only made you sweat more and tremble more.

You felt the occasional eye(s) on you, wondering what your problem was or if you were okay. If you could, you’d open your eyes and glare back at them, not wanting their attention on you to bring Kai’s attention to you when everyone’s should be on him.

“Y/n.” You heard your name, your eyes shooting open and immediately landing on Kai who only stared at you with anger.

Fuck.

You cleared your throat and readjusted your position on the floor and nodded to him, a quiet “I’m sorry” being heard just enough for him to shake his head and turn away from you, continuing where he left off.

But that short moment you focused on him rather than on not vomiting led to your stomach turning into a tight knot, your throat involuntarily gagging and you knew you couldn’t keep it down any longer.

Your hand immediately clutched your mouth to hold any vomit that may come up in and you grabbed the couch with you free hand, pulling yourself to your feet and booking it for the staircase. You didn’t care that you interrupted Kai, or that every single human in the rooms eyes were on you before you disappeared up the staircase. You just needed to make it to the bathroom.

Running as fast as your feet could carry you, you made it into the main floor bathroom and threw yourself over the toilet, allowing your body to vomit into it. And it did, over and over again.

You still trembled as you held yourself over the toilet the best you could, vomiting once more before you finally felt some sense of relief. You groaned into the toilet bowl, using some toilet paper to wipe your mouth before flushing the vomit down and pushing yourself from the bowl and into a sitting position next to the toilet.

“Are you pregnant?”

You jumped at the sudden voice from the doorway, looking over to see Kai standing in it, his eyes on you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, almost wishing you were.

You knew Kai wanted his “special” child. And you were lucky enough to have been chose by Kai to carry it when the time would come. So if you were pregnant, the treatment from Kai would be much better than what it’ll be when you announce that you’re not pregnant, but sick with the flu.

Kai sighed, crossing his arms and leaning himself against the doorframe.

“Why are you so sick? Haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” He asked, annoyed at the inconvenience you’ve caused him. “I had to cut my meeting short.”

“You could’ve carried on without me.” You stated as you turned away, trying not to sound as upset as you were. He replied with nothing, so you glanced at him only to see him just staring at you from the same stance. You sucked in a sharp breath and opened your mouth to apologize to him but another vomiting episode began, your body leaning back over the toilet to ensure it be caught.

Your muscles stiffened as they were used extra to throw up everything your stomach held inside of it, and even after every bit of food and drink had been thrown up, you dry heaved and threw up stomach acid.

At some point, Kai had made his way to you, collecting your hair that had been falling inside the toilet and holding it up. You were even more surprised to feel his hand against your back, gently, rubbing it as you continued dry heaving.

“You have nothing left to vomit, y/n.” You heard him from above you, nodding as you slowly pushed yourself back from the bowl again, careful not to allow yourself to gag.

“fuck” you breathed out, feeling Kai let your hair fall before he wrapped your arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around your torso, pulling you to your feet easily. You let out a groan, the feverish feeling returning.

Kai noticed it too, his eyes quickly meeting your with concern. You narrowed your eyebrows not understanding his expression but his free hand found your forehead and then your cheek, and you understood.

“You’re burning up.” He states, your head nodding to agree. His concerned eyes change back to his previous cold eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh before helping you to his room, where you’d been allowed to sleep since he’d chosen you to carry his future child. He helped you next to the bed then let go of you, your arms catching yourself on wall and rolling your eyes at him. “You can rest in here. I have to finish some things downstairs. I’ll check on you later.”

Though you were slightly grateful for the tiny bit of concern he showed you, you were also annoyed because now he expected you to lay down when you were desperate for some kind of fever reducing medicine. But you didn’t dare object to the care he’d shown you, otherwise you’d receive the opposite treatment from him and that’s the last thing you needed.

So, you nodded at him and pulled his covers back, glancing at him once more, his eyes just watching you, before crawling into the bed and pulling his comforter over your body just below your chin. Your eyes met his again, a silent hope for his approval which was granted with a nod of his head, watching as he turned and left the room, turning the lights out before shutting the door behind him.

You sighed hard after he left down the stairs, slapping your arms against the bed as you now lay flat on your back and stare at the ceiling fan as it spins around and around. Your mind wandered to yours and Kai’s interaction in the bathroom, how the first thing he asked was if you were pregnant. He was hopeful, you knew it already but heard it in his voice. He wanted his baby so bad and your body hadn’t given it to him yet. But, yet, despite the disappointment when you told him no, he was still caring for you in the little ways Kai knew how. It wasn’t often or a familiar feeling, but it HAD happened before, Kai caring for you. There were very few occasions but when he acted like he cared, for the moment in time, you couldn’t help but fall so deep in love with him that it made every bad, painful, horrible thing he’s done to you in the past seem like nothing.

It was dangerous.

But he was addicting. And that’s how he kept you addicted. Showing you the slightest bit of love when you didn’t realize you needed it the most. A smart man, indeed.

You heard a knock at the door and looked up, meeting Winter’s soft and careful eyes as she approached you. Your eyes fell on the items she held and you shot her thee most thankful eyes you could, her smile being a you’re welcome.

“Kai, actually.” She nodded as she sat next to you, your body now leaning against the wall as you took the Tylenol and pepto bismol from her. You glanced at her confused. “He sent me up with them.” She smiled, setting the bucket next to the bed and handing you a bottle of water. “Some tea is being made, too.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, quickly popping each medicine in your mouth and taking a swig of the water to swallow them down.

“Wow.” Was all you muttered, resting your head back against the wall.

“Right.” She chuckled lightly. “He can be so… full.. of surprises.” She admitted, you agreeing with her.

“Keeps me wrapped around his finger.” You sighed, your eyes falling on the bucket and smiling at the fact that he knew to even send that up with you in case your body decided to vomit again. It was such a small detail to think about but, it meant a lot. “Makes me love him more than I should.” You whispered so just Winter could hear, your eyes meeting hers sincerely.

She looked at you with pity, knowing what you meant and also knowing it would eventually be your demise. Not many, if any, survived Kai. Winter truly believed that neither you or herself would be any different.

And you knew exactly how she felt but despise her feelings, you knew you’d never get away from him.

“Get some rest.” She squeezed your hands before standing and exiting the room without a second glance, leaving you to your thoughts while the medicine worked on your ill body.

Some time later, another gentle knock at the door brought your attention back to it as Kai now entered, holding the mug full of your favorite hot tea in his hands. You couldn’t read him. He looked neither happy nor mad. He just… was.

His eyes held yours as he approached you and sat the mug by your bed. You pressed your lips together and held his eye contact for another moment before finally clearing your throat.

“Thanks” you nodded.

“You should feel better soon.” He stated. You nodded, thankful for him. “Yeah. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He said so simply before turning to leave.

You tried to stay quiet but couldn’t help yourself.

“Stay” you blurt out, silently cursing yourself, but you started so you weren’t going to stop now. “I mean, if you want.” You cleared your throat in uncertainty as he stood still, facing away from you. You stared at him a moment, then continued. “Just stay… please.” You said, now in a whisper.

Kai was never readable. No one ever knew what he was thinking or what his next move or reaction would be. So you sat in his bed, your body tense with nerves, awaiting his next move.

But to your surprise, you watched as Kai easily slipped his shirt over his head. Your eyebrows shot up, almost having no time to react before he was crawling into his bed next to you, his arms pulling you to him. You weren’t sure how to react, so for another minute your body remained tense. That was, until you felt him hold you tighter, silently telling you it’s okay to relax.

And so you did. And you laid in his arms, something you’ve only done a handful of times.

And it felt so nice.

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl l @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life @simp4petermaximoff @totta69

(I need to redo tags!!!)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Whisked Away 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Delaney wishes you good luck as you go. Your heart is fluttery with nerves. It’s been a while since you actually had an interview. These days, most send you a link where you record yourself answering generalised questions. You never do well at those. In fact, you’d only ever had one job.

You worked at a cafe in high school and after you went and got your culinary schooling done, you were promoted. It held you through the first few years of your twenties until Delaney got sick and you had to move to the city for her treatment. Your squirreled away savings got you the apartment and her stipend helped, but you’re running dry on credit.

You need this. Desperately. But you can’t show that if you want it. You have to play it cool. Be a professional.

You catch a streetcar down to the main row and check your phone. You’re well ahead of time. Good. You’ve never been to this particular place. You don’t go out much if it isn’t to the grocery store or the pharmacy. Delaney stopped wanting to go outside a while back. You try to encourage her but you can tell it only makes her feel worse.

You follow the map directions on the app and stop before the cafe windows. They’re slightly tinted with curling golden calligraphy painted across them; Golden Crust. The facade is brown and yellow brick and there are flower boxes just below the windows. Behind the glass, loaves of bread lines a shelf, on display to tempt passerbys.

The door is wide and thick and painted red. You push inside and pause to look around. The long counter is made of dark wood with clear glass cases on top containing dozens of colourful and sugary desserts. Behind the counter, the walls are lined with shelves; some ingredients, some with unfolded boxes, and more bread and packaged biscuits to go. It’s all finely organized.

Lights hang above with brass shades, lending a low hue to the shop. Several customers wait in queue as two employees work tills at opposite ends of the counter. You don’t know whether you should join the wait or go ahead and let them know that you’re there to see Thor for an interview. That was his name, right?

You look at your phone again. You have time. You wouldn’t want to be rude. You adjust your bag and stand at the end of the line. The women ahead of you marvel at the pristine mini white chocolate cakes with dark candied cherries on top as another whispers about cheesecake being devilish. Your own eyes wander gluttonously to the assortment.

You peel away your gaze and look down at yourself. You put together the best you could; a striped blouse, navy blue on white, and a pair of straight-legged pants. They’re a bit outdated but professional at a glance. You hope no one notices the scuff on your right toe.

You get to the front of the line and step up. The young girl behind the till asks what you’d like. You give an apologetic smile, “um, actually, I’ve got an interview.”

“Ah, yes, another one for Thor,” she chimes, “well, you just come with me.”

She’s young. Still a teenager. Her and the other cashier look to be barely graduated if that.

She walks toward the end of the counter and she beckons you over, “I’m Thrud,” she pulls back the short little door for you to step through, “that’s Nari,” she gestures to the dark-haired worker at the other till. He’s too busy taking orders to notice.

You introduce yourself as she takes you around to a doorway, “I think he’s just doing these in the kitchen. Last one ended early so...” she talks brightly as she bounds ahead of you like a happy puppy, “dad?” She calls as she enters the large kitchen. “Dad? I’ve got the next appointment.”

Your anxiety spikes. You’re not the first or the last. The competition deflates your hopes even further.

“Eh?” A deep grunt comes as head pops up from the other side of the large marble island. The man is so large his head hits one of the pans dangling from the ceiling rack. He rubs his brow and hisses, “sorry, I was just looking for my pen.”

Thrud laughs as she crosses her arms. You notice the golden pen tucked behind his ear. She raises a hand, keeping her other arm folded, as she taps her temple. His brows arch and he feels around his wave locks and fishes out the pen.

“Right,” he gives a sheepish look and wiggles it in triumph.

“Anyhoo,” Thrud trills, “this is her.”

“Thank you, Thrud,” he drones back.

“Mhmm,” she turns and smiles at you again before she goes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure how to begin, “er,” you introduce yourself, once more “I have a resume on hand--”

“No need,” he waves you off, “come, I try to keep these things straight to the point.”

You near him and rest your hand on your bag, chewing your lip.

“Wash your hands,” he directs you towards the sink, “you may put your things there.” He points to the empty counter on the other side of the deep metal sink. You put your bag there and scour your hands deliberately, taking your time as you scrub nails, knuckles, palms, every bit. You dry off on the towel he offers as you face him.

“Here,” he gives you and apron, “would want you to make a mess.

You tie on the apron as he turns and grabs a tray. There are half a dozen cookies on the sheet, some empty piping bags, nozzles, a bowl of icing and small tubes of food dye. You look between him and the cookies.

“You may choose the design. You will decorate and I will ask questions, does that work for you?”

“Um, sure,” you answer. It’s unexpected. “All six?”

“All six,” he confirms and crosses his arms, making himself even broader. He is not only tall, but wide, and his apron does little to conceal his indulgence in sweets that gathers around his middle.

“Okay,” you accept the challenge meekly.

You step up to the marble island and take a moment. You twiddle your fingers nervously as you think. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to go to simple.

“Take your time, I’ll ask some questions and you can begin whenever you’re ready,” he assures, “so, you’re availability, it is flexibly? Our open ours are eight to six, but you are available on weekends?”

“Yes,” you say as you set an idea in your head and read for the icing. You stir it with the wooden spoon, testing its consistency. “I have open availability most days.”

“Most days?” He echoes.

“Um, yes, I may have an appointment now and again.”

“Oh, appointment?”

“For my sister,” you explain, “but it wouldn’t get in the way, I'm sure.”

You cringe. You’re already making yourself feel bad.

“And so, you’ve had one previous role, what was included in that?” he asks.

Only one... that can’t be good on paper.

“I worked at a cafe. I was a barista for the first two years, then I was promoted to baker, and ended as assistant manager at the branch,” you explain as you fill one of the piping pages and fit the appropriate tip, “but I completed by culinary diploma while I was there.”

“And after? What did you do? I see you’ve been out of work.”

You’re quite as you lean over the cookies and start on the first one. Your idea is simple in premise but not in execution. Delaney loves to do cross-stitches, so that’s what you’ll do. First, the white grid and the lacing along the edges, then you’ll fill in the squares with all different colours to make the illusion of stitches.

“I’ve been a caretaker to my sister,” you say quietly, “we only just moved here last year so I haven’t found much.”

“And you would be able to work fulltime?” He asks.

“Yes, she’s... she’s doing better now. I can do it,” you assure him as you keep your eyes on your precise lines.

He’s quiet. You’re sweating. You just concentrate on the work. Maybe your answers aren’t the best but you hope your work is. You finish the crosshatching and look up. You find him watching your hands intently. As you pause, his blue eyes meet yours. He gives a smile.

“Ha,” he scoffs, “my hands are too big.” He shows his thick fingers, “I can’t quiet get my lines that tight.”

You nod and bow your head again. You’re not even done the first cookie. You have six to prove yourself. Six cookies to seal your fate.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #whisked away

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antianakin · 1 year

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Antianakin's Anti-Anakin/Pro-Jedi Fic Rec List

The theme for this rec list is fics that either center on Anakin getting some consequences for his actions or are just generally more critical towards Anakin as a character. Please note that this means these fics will also be critical towards most Anakin ships, most notably Anidala and Obikin.

This list is dedicated to all of the people who have been sending me messages asking for fic recs over the last several months, there's clearly a market for fics that aren't kind towards Anakin.

A lot of these fics take things like the Tusken massacre, Order 66, and Anakin's treatment of Padme, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Rex very seriously. Please take that as a warning if any of those things might be triggering, and keep an eye on the tags for all of the fics included here just in case.

Here are the categories!

Anakin/Consequences: Anakin experiences consequences for his actions in some way shape or form, but doesn't die.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It: Anakin experiences the specific consequence of dying by the end of the story, usually at the hands of someone he's hurt.

The Jedi Deserve Better: There's a bigger focus on the Jedi recovering, Jedi culture, or the Jedi being philosophically right than there is on anything specifically "anti Anakin" as such, but the story is still critical of Anakin's beliefs and/or behavior.

Helpful terms:

Unfinished: Any fic that is marked as incomplete, or a series where the fic(s) in it are still incomplete and cannot stand alone

Ongoing: Any series marked as incomplete, but the fics in it are marked as complete or can stand alone as they are

There is no specific order to this. I tried to group fics from one specific author together, but other than that, I didn't place anything in any specific position for a reason.

This is not an exhaustive list of good anti-Anakin fics that exist, obviously. If your fic or your favorite fic isn't on this list, please feel free to rec it yourself in the notes, leave a reply or reblog with a link. I'm happy to read more anti-Anakin fic, especially if it's very Pro-Jedi!

One final reminder: NOTHING IN THIS LIST IS ANAKIN FRIENDLY! If that's going to bother you to read, please just skip this entire list, it's not for you.

Anakin/Consequences:

and the tide rises, the tide falls series by @blackkatmagic (unfinished, 119k): When Anakin's actions with the Tuskens on Tatooine become known a few months into the Clone War, Agen Kolar comes in to temporarily take over the 501st while Anakin is sent back to Coruscant to face the Council. I cannot recommend this fic enough. This is the fic that introduced me to Agen Kolar as a real character (as opposed to just one of the random Jedi who immediately die going up against Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith) and now he's one of my favorite Jedi of all time. Agen is such a beautiful character and his relationship to his identity as a Jedi gives me just about every feeling I think I've ever felt in my life and the development of his relationships with Rex, Kix, and Ahsoka as the fic continues is such a well-written slow burn. I'd recommend reading more of blackkat's works just in general, too, because they're pretty much all Pro-Jedi and have a delightful tendency to focus on more niche Jedi and clone characters and rarepair ships if you're interested in that.

Commander Fox's Ultimate Bucket List by @blackkatmagic (27k): Fox is sent back in time, immediately murders Palpatine, and surprisingly nothing but good things follow so he's got plenty of time now to get to the other things on his bucket list, including but not limited to: murdering Count Dooku, murdering Anakin Skywalker, saving Senator Amidala from her atrocious taste in men, and seducing Mace Windu. This fic is BLISTERINGLY funny, Fox's very dry point of view on things and readiness to shoot Anakin at literally any moment literally had me struggling to not laugh out loud at work. This is also an INCREDIBLY pro-Mace Windu fic, with all of the clones, for once, in love with Mace Windu instead of the more popular suspects. It's what he deserves, and Fox agrees.

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Time Travelers by @blackkatmagic (unfinished, 78k): Fives is stuck in a time loop where he tries to stop Order 66 from happening and his latest plan is to kidnap Mace Windu for his own protection because he's the only person capable of defeating Palpatine. Fives' opinion of Anakin is now INCREDIBLY low, and the constant comparisons to Mace and how much better Mace is, are deeply satisfying. Fives' immense distress and somewhat manic passion don't take away from just HOW competent Fives is, and I really love getting to see a depiction of him that really allows him to fully be both at once and neither one takes away from the other. I love how his relationship to Mace develops from Fives' initial desperation into something so trusting and passionate through difficult circumstances.

in search of a sky for smoke to rise to by @blackkatmagic (7k): Padme has to go on the run after reporting Anakin's massacre of the Tuskens to the Jedi in fear of Anakin's rage. She lands on Sundari to try to hide there and meets with Arla Fett who sparks her interest. Padme gets to be a total BAMF in this which is always fun, and I LOVED Arla in this so so much!

sanguine series by @glimmerglanger (157.5k) (EDIT: this AO3 account was deleted several months after I made this list and so the link below is now broken. I am leaving this series in regardless, as a record of the incredible work glimmerglanger did and as a reminder of the consequences of online harassment): Obi-Wan is a vampire in an AU where vampires exist in the GFFA and this changes some things. The ramifications of what it means to be a vampire in this AU and the biases and prejudices that Obi-Wan has to deal with are so interesting from a worldbuilding standpoint. The way Anakin's relationship with Obi-Wan CHANGES because of it is also an interesting thing to see develop in this series.

uncomfortable by @panther-os (1k): When Anakin won't respect Padme's boundaries in the beginning of Attack of the Clones, Padme requests a different bodyguard from the Jedi. Short and sweet and removes the rather unfortunate "yes means no" theme that taints Padme's storyline in Attack of the Clones.

Slices of Happiness series by @feybarn (unfinished, 40k): No Order 66 AU where Obi-Wan takes a short sabbatical after the war to handle his mental health and is joined by some of the clones before he returns to the Temple. It is, as the title of the series says, mostly just little slices of stories as the clones and Jedi heal and reconnect after the war. There's a large emphasis on Obi-Wan healing from Anakin's rejection of the Jedi and having to come to terms with his relationship with Anakin having perhaps been less healthy than he'd realized and learning to enforce healthier boundaries when Anakin gets entitled and selfish.

Wasted Training by @thesecondbatgirl (700): Obi-Wan finds out about Anakin's "training" for Ahsoka from TOTJ. Very short but OH so satisfying to see someone react appropriately to this.

Liberosis by Be_Right_Back (2k): In a No Order 66 AU, Anakin's secret marriage comes to light and the Council asks Anakin to make a choice. This one is a tad softer on the "anti Anakin" aspect of it, but the Jedi are portrayed as entirely within their rights to make Anakin choose which life he wants to live.

Stay by @amukmuk (2k): Commander Thorn has been helping Padme out in a No Order 66 AU as Padme's been dealing with her divorce from Anakin, and Padme finally comes to a decision about her feelings. I am an unrepentant Thornidala shipper, and as many problems as I tend to have with the way Padme's written and the implications about her as a character because of that, I also have a nostalgic attachment to her and wish she could just... have a happier healthier relationship with someone who ACTUALLY loves her and respects her. I would take an entire series of this AU, I'd read a longfic of this AU, but I will also happily accept this short sweet little peek into this AU and let my daydreams do the rest of the work.

The Burden of Secrets by @jedi-order-apologist (9k): In the aftermath of the Deception arc, Ahsoka discovers the truth about the Tusken massacre and confronts Anakin about it. This one is a little lighter on the "anti Anakin" elements, but his choices on Tatooine are very much called out for the horror that they are, as are Padme's for hiding it. The fic also delves a little bit into the Rako Hardeen arc, Obi-Wan's choices in it, and Anakin's reactions to it and how appropriate they are.

Consumed by Greed by virdant (900): Obi-Wan travels back in time to the beginning of Anakin's apprenticeship and tries everything to try to keep Anakin from joining the Sith, and fails until he comes to a crucial understanding about Anakin as a person. The concept of this is absolutely heart-wrenching, thinking about Obi-Wan going back over and over, changing everything about himself and the Jedi in an attempt to save Anakin, only to finally realize that the problem lies in who Anakin is at his heart, and he can't change that. The ending is a gutpunch, but it feels so absolutely true, too.

Justice by virdant (1k): Padme makes a different choice at the end of AOTC and decides to report Anakin's crimes on Tatooine to Obi-Wan instead of marrying Anakin. Obi-Wan confronts Anakin about what he's done in the aftermath and forces him to face the consequences of the choice he made. I really like that the concept here isn't just that Anakin gets kicked out of the Jedi and sort-of set loose upon the galaxy, but that either the Council or Obi-Wan decided Anakin also needed to face reparations ON TATOOINE, from the Tuskens themselves, and that Obi-Wan plans to ensure that it happens. Anakin cannot be a Jedi until he makes as many amends for that as he can, until he recognizes the truth of what he's done and accepts the responsibility for it, and even then there's no guarantee he could be a Jedi afterwards. Either way, the Jedi are not not the only people Anakin has hurt, and not the only people with the right to ask for reparations from Anakin.

The Cost by luvewan (5k): Anakin jumps off the gunship after Padme in Attack of the Clones and deals (badly) with the fatal consequences of that choice when Obi-Wan dies at Dooku's hand before Yoda can show up. So this has been a favorite of mine for just about as long as I can remember, predominantly because of just how tragic it is and the very realistic consequences of the choice Anakin makes here. This fic was written before Revenge of the Sith had come out, so none of the choices Anakin makes in that film are taken into account, but the accuracy with which Anakin absolutely unravels and devolves into darkness because he lets his guilt turn into anger that he turns on other people in the name of justice feels so immensely in character. Seeing it all happen from Padme's point of view as she watches Anakin's descent, knowing she's the reason it happened in the first place, is so devastatingly beautiful.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It:

@glimmerglanger's fics are getting an entire section dedicated to them again. I'd honestly just recommend reading all of glimmerglanger's work, but here's some fics that specifically showcase (deadly) consequences to Anakin below (EDIT: this AO3 account was deleted several months after I made this list and so all of the links below are now broken. I am leaving this section in regardless, as a record of the incredible work glimmerglanger did and as a reminder of the consequences of online harassment):

A Treatise on Breaking and Repairs (60k): Anakin captures Obi-Wan shortly after Revenge of the Sith and it goes very badly for Obi-Wan. This shit's dark, y'all, and things get way worse before they get better, please mind the tags, there's a reason the series is labeled the oof!au. That being said, this fic is sort-of the peak example of what I want out of a really good hurt/comfort story, where both halves of that are equally emphasized.

But What We Make series (ongoing, 125.5k): Cody from post-Return of the Jedi travels back in time to just before Order 66 and this changes some things. My favorite part of this series (so far) is the way Obi-Wan, future-Cody, and present-Cody are all forced to come to terms with their respective traumas and relationships to each other and none of them are handling it perfectly, but none of them are treated as more or less important than the others either.

Convergence Zones (115.5k): A sort-of modern day fantasy Jedi AU where the clones are made of clay and brought to life via magic. It's a little hard to explain in like 20 words or less just read it, it's so great. The collaboration between the clones and Jedi in this is so sweet, and the worldbuilding of the "clones" in this verse is really good.

Haunt Me, Then (31k): Post Order 66, all the surviving clones can see their Jedi as Force ghosts except Cody and the 212th, and when Cody's chip breaks early he helps start a revolution to gain justice for their Jedi. Cody's going through it in this one, too, and things get pretty dark, but this is another really great catharsis fic if you're in the mood for that.

Make Your Bed (Lie in It) (58k): Cody and Obi-Wan share a bunk during the war and this changes some things. I love all the ways in which this AU moves events just SLIGHTLY to the left and then the butterfly effect impact afterwards. The Cody and Obi-Wan relationship development is also just impeccable.

Natural Wonders (56k): Shapeshifter modern AU with nature photographer Cody and park ranger Obi-Wan and a murder mystery they solve together. There's some really cool facts about Yellowstone National Park in this fic as a delightful bonus to the sweet relationshippy stuff and the fun murder mystery storyline.

Greater Than Your Hoarded Gold series by Quietbang (ongoing, 96k): Anakin doesn't burn on Mustafar AU where there is a different kind of rebellion in the galaxy post Order 66. This author focused in on and centered the Jewish elements to the Jedi and brought in more Jewish culture to the Jedi, which is so interesting to read. The shifting perspectives, including totally outside perspectives, on the Jedi and the situation in the galaxy at large, makes for a really cool story with some incredible worldbuilding.

Unmasked by @schizo-fractured (17k): Footage of the Temple during Order 66 is released and this causes a series of changes in the galaxy as they confront what REALLY happened to the Jedi and the person who caused it. This got recommended to me based on a post I made wishing we could've seen Beru and Owen learn the truth about Anakin and what might've changed for them as a result, and while that's not the singular plot of this fic, it is kind-of an example of the underlying theme of the entire thing. It's a nice almost wish-fulfillment style concept where the loss of Anakin Skywalker's good reputation allows the general populace to rise up in defense of those he betrayed in righteous rage. It's time for the galaxy to defend the Jedi for a change.

the time when stars align by @deniigi (7k): Cody accidentally adopts some young stormtroopers post Order 66 and escapes with them to the Rebellion after Vader finds a way to "cure" him of his accelerated aging. Cody goes through so much horror in this fic and is still so SO funny with the way he looks at the world and speaks to his loved ones, allowing this fic to still feel sweet and wholesome despite how awful Cody's life is and has been.

When Night Falls series by Penguin Kiwi (ongoing, 7k): Cin Drallig gets more of a warning in the Force just before Order 66 and is able to put up a defense of the Temple and stop Anakin at the steps. I love these AUs that allow more niche Jedi to shine through, especially when it means they get to defeat Anakin because the Force looked at Anakin's choices and decided to abandon him for a better option. The conversation between Cin and Obi-Wan in the second fic really hits home, too.

The Jedi Deserve Better:

grow bold in a barren and desolate land by @blackkatmagic (5k): Mace survives Order 66 and Anakin's betrayal and stages a rescue for two clones left in prison who he knows never would've had their chips activated: Slick and Dogma. This has literally the barest mention of Anakin, but that mention is that Mace could easily beat Anakin in a fair fight, so I'm including it anyway. This is another one of those AUs I could read an entire longfic or series for and be eternally happy. There's a follow-up to this fic that's more explicitly Mace/Slick which is by no means ever a ship I had ever even considered before, but it works SO WELL here and gives me some interesting feelings. I'm also just always down for Dogma being treated kindly and getting a happier ending than canon chose to give him.

i am creation, both haunted and holy by @blackkatmagic (800): A'Sharad Hett makes a visit to Kamino where he meets Alpha-17 and finds they share an opinion about Anakin Skywalker. I'm so intrigued by A'Sharad Hett as a character and wish there was more content written about and for him. A'Sharad and Alpha-17 bonding over thinking Anakin Skywalker is an entitled selfish jerk is the best possible beginning to a ship, I'll be honest.

that was a spring of storms by @blackkatmagic (unfinished, 9k): When Alderaan is destroyed by the Death Star, Leia's grief causes herself, Luke, and Bail Organa to travel back in time to 8 months into the Clone Wars, where they are determined to ensure things go a little differently. This fic is only 2 chapters in, so I don't know precisely what kind of consequences Anakin may or may not end up getting, which is why it's in this category, but unsurprisingly neither Bail nor Leia are feeling particularly benevolent towards him and it is so incredibly satisfying. But holy FUCK am I hooked to this entire concept. Bail and Leia's relationship is heart-wrenching as all get out, Bail's protective instincts towards the Jedi absolutely kills me, and I'm so intrigued by these ship tags!

The Crime of Grief Series by @feybarn (ongoing, 34k): Padme goes into labor early while on the way to Mustafar, so neither she nor Obi-Wan ever make it there, and they go on the run with Rex and Ahsoka afterwards instead. Sides are drawn in the aftermath of Anakin's choices that causes friction among them before they can find healing. There's a large emphasis in this series that Anakin's choices are, in fact, HIS CHOICES, and the blame for them cannot be placed on anyone but Anakin, as well as the conundrum of whether it truly matters whether Anakin's got good left in him or not and if it's even worth it to try to save him.

吃飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? series by virdant (1.5k): A look at Obi-Wan and his experience of Jedi culture through food. Virdant's fics focus in on the Asian influences in the Jedi and builds out their culture from there. Not every fic in this series is explicitly anti-Anakin, but a few of them are more critical of Anakin's view of the Jedi and his unwillingness to understand their culture or point of view.

things the way we want them to be by virdant (600): No Order 66 AU, where a teenaged Leia talks to Obi-Wan about the struggles she's having with Anakin as a father and the future she knows she (and Luke) should've had but weren't allowed. Leia is just absolutely heartbreaking in this, and Obi-Wan's inability to truly help her the way they both want is equally so. It's a devastating look at a possible less happy future even in a happy fix-it AU because leaving the Jedi would never be enough to "fix" Anakin.

Not This Crude Matter series by @talesfromthebitterbeast (53k): The clones have picked up some misconceptions about the Jedi which causes the Jedi to distance themselves from the clones, even after the war ends in a happy fix-it AU. The fics showcase the situation from multiple different perspectives as misunderstandings abound, but is always firmly on the side of the Jedi. I really like the way the Jedi relationships are showcased here, the ways they communicate and lean on each other even in the face of being misunderstood and misrepresented by people they'd hoped would understand them better than anyone else.

Harmonic Oscillation by @jessepinwheel (2k): Originally a short tumblr fic that has since been posted to AO3. Obi-Wan time travels back to the Clone War era and confronts Anakin about what he's done. I always love getting to see Obi-Wan refuse to let Anakin get away with his bullshit and finally see Anakin for the piece of shit that he is.

Released by @jedi-order-apologist (6k): Cody is rescued from the Empire post-Return of the Jedi and has to come to terms with everything he's happened to him now that he's at the end of his life and spent the majority of it brainwashed and enslaved to the Empire. This is a fic I come back to a lot because I really love the way Cody works through what's happened to him and the way he's viewed from an outside perspective via Luke. I also really love how the relationship between Cody and Obi-Wan isn't made explicitly romantic, but is portrayed as immensely important and meaningful to both of them, regardless of how you choose to view it.

Knightrise by @deviantaccumulation (unfinished, 89k): Obi-Wan and Yoda choose not to try to fight Anakin or Sidious and instead retreat to Mandalore to attempt to rebuild the Jedi Order as much as they can there under Satine's protection. This is an AU where Maul genuinely dies on Naboo which is a major plus in my book all on its own, quite honestly. There's some interesting political aspects in this for how the Jedi Order attempts to rebuild an actual community within Mandalore, with Mandalore still being a member of the Neutral Systems, and the Empire having risen already and all of the ensuing issues with that.

|keep the wolves away| by littlekaracan (unfinished, 46k): Obi-Wan and Yoda find Reva in the Temple and she accompanies Obi-Wan to Tatooine where they have to survive and recover together while watching over and protecting Luke. This is such a brilliant character study into Reva as a young child survivor of Order 66, being taken care of by someone who loves her but is equally as traumatized by the same event and the way that shapes their relationship and Reva's upbringing. I love her SO SO MUCH and I adore her perspective as she struggles to figure out what it means to be a Jedi in a world where being a Jedi openly means certain death but it's the last connection she has to her home, her family, and her culture.

our caches and constellations by johanneb (98k): "Eleven years ago, the Jedi order got wind of the closing pincers of a Sith trap and scattered to the remote corners of the galaxy. Ten years ago, millions of clone commanders and troopers were introduced as the Republic’s new Army, made for fighting a war alongside people the galaxy seemed to be forgetting ever existed." I couldn't come up with a better way to explain the fic than its own summary, but Cody and the 212th pick up Obi-Wan and Luke on Tatooine, while Senator Organa has to figure out how to get himself, Leia, and Leia's "tutor" to a rebel base without their two new Coruscant Guard escorts figuring out exactly how disloyal to the Republic they actually are. I absolutely SLAMMED through this fic, it's so good. Despite some of its heavier themes, it's honestly very sweet and wholesome with lots of cute Luke and Leia, some incredibly wonderful romances, and really interesting worldbuilding for this just slightly to the left version of the gffa. Anakin never makes an appearance in this, but he does get mentioned a few times for his betrayal and his part in the current state of the galaxy, and I REALLY loved that at no point in this fic was it ever important to either twin who their biological parents were.

ring the bells that can still ring by rain_sleet_snow (22k): Reva's been working with the Rebellion in-between the events of the Kenobi show and A New Hope, but when she hears Obi-Wan has made an appearance recently and goes to try to find him, she discovers Luke and Leia instead, with nobody left to train them but her. This fic was like a warm bread roll or a perfectly brewed cup of tea, it was just absolutely wholesome and exactly everything I could have wanted from this concept. The relationships between Luke, Leia, and Reva are both hilarious and sweet while allowing their respective traumas to still remain relevant to their journey together. Their discussions about Darkness, Reva's past, Obi-Wan, Anakin, the Jedi, and the events of A New Hope are all heart-wrenching and really feel so in-character but also so in line with the tone of the original trilogy. I could sit here and list things I liked about this fic all day, but it'd be faster to just read it yourself.

#fic #fic rec #star wars #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #jedi #pro jedi #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #anti anakin fic rec series

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lxstfathier · 9 months

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Heat

Cowboy! Alejandro Vargas x Horse Hybrid! Reader

Summary: you’re given to Alejandro as a gift, soon becoming an important piece in his new life as a lonely cowboy. But things get out of hand when you get your first heat.

Warnings: slight degradation, unprotected sex, p in v, pussy slapping, breeding kink, corruption.

A/N: i absolutely love the hybrid!reader fics that i see around here, but they’re always a puppy or a bunny, so i decided to write one with a horse reader and finally here it is, i hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as i enjoyed writing it! 💗 (and before y’all come at me, no, this is not zoophilia and i don’t expect it to look like it)

Soon after catching Valeria, Alejandro decided to leave the military, leaving Rudy as the colonel of los vaqueros, opting for a more peaceful life away from violence.

He bought a nice house in the outskirts of las almas, with lots of land to plant and raise cattle. So, once he moved in to his new home, he put his hands at work to get everything nice and perfect, planting some seeds and acquiring some animals, just starting with some chickens, a small herd of cows and two horses.

His new life in the middle of nowhere seemed to go just right, like dream come true. That’s until, one day, he received a gift.

A black truck came into his property, saying that the had a special present from another high-ranked colonel in the mexican military that he used to know. And how could he deny such thing? of course it would be something to be grateful for.

However, nothing could have prepared him for when he saw you for the first time.

Getting out from the backseat, you finally put your feet on the dry soil, looking at Alejandro with big innocent eyes as he admired every single inch of your body. Hell, you were definitely a rare sight, one of a kind. He had never seen a hybrid before, and you looked almost human, but those pointy ears and long tail revealed your true nature.

“A beautiful young mare” that’s what the strange men told him you were, created in a laboratory with the most pure and strong bloodline. But to Alejandro? you were just a pretty girl who slightly resembled to a horse.

So he took you under his care, even though he knew nothing about hybrids and you were too shy to speak to him for several days, still not used to being out of the horrible lab where you were raised for almost two decades.

First, being careful not to scare you, Alejandro showed you around, all the way from his house to the vast land surrounding it, introducing you to the other animals there, with whom you connected immediately. Then, he prepared a stall for you to use every night, using extra wood shavings to make it more comfortable.

And, with such kind treatment, it wasn’t long until you started trusting your new owner.

Two weeks later, you got out of your stall by your own, running on the field with the other horses, hanging out with the cows and their little calves, or simply just sitting in the grass every evening, enjoying the last rays of sun while you watch Alejandro from afar, admiring the way he unloads bales of hay from his truck, shirtless, with his tanned skin and strong muscles glistening under the orange sky.

Sometimes you even eat diner with him on his kitchen, chomping on a bowl of grain and carrots while he eats whatever he finds, hearing him talk about all those interesting stories from his days in the military.

It all went well for a while, enjoying the time spent together, just getting to know each other. Until everything got complicated again.

After a few months, when your body reaches full maturity, you get your first heat. Something that you’re so innocent and naive to even understand what is going on. You feel weird all day, with a strange tingle between your legs and a sensitive hot skin, aching for any kind of relief.

So you ask Alejandro for help, thinking that an experienced man like him should know what to do in that situation, but he refuses every time, telling you to just get some rest till it goes away.

And you try, you really try, but by the end of the week it’s unbearable, growing desperate and needy, clenching your thighs together, almost whimpering in pain at the slightest friction.

It’s practically a torture for both of you. And he finally snaps when he sees you there, leaning on the fence, mindlessly trying to flirt with his stallions, even though the poor animals can’t smell your hormones due to your mixed dnas.

“Can you stop being a little whore for at least five minutes?” Alejandro grabs you by your arm, practically dragging you away from there, clearly fed up with all that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, i- i don’t know what’s going on, i just want to feel better” you apologize, still not quite used to that new change in your body, looking up at him with teary eyes and flopped ears. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He’s not mad, he’s just pent up after all those days of teasing. But he understands you, he knows full well that you’re going through something difficult and suffering because of it, and he doesn’t like to see his animals suffer.

“Then tell me what do you need to feel better” he says, as if he didn’t knew exactly what, letting go of your arm to caress your cheek and run his thumb over your pouted lips.

You don’t know exactly how to put it into words, but you try your best to communicate your needs and not get distracted by his pretty brown eyes, that delicate caress, or his bare torso where you can clearly see his toned muscles.

“Touch me. Please.”

“Así?” Alejandro asks, a smirk appearing on his face as one of his hands gets under your shirt to play with your tits and the other one finds its way between your legs, exploring your soaked folds.

You just nod, unable to speak, feeling as if you were about to melt from his touch, holding on to his strong arm for some stability.

“You’ve been such a tease for days. Whoring yourself out for everyone here to see, and do you know what happens to little whores like you? huh? they get treated like one.”

You can’t process his words, you’re out of your mind already, but you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you, as long as he keeps giving you that sweet relief that you’ve been craving all week.

Alejandro smirks, almost mocking how pliant you are him, easily pushing you with his arm until your back hits a pile of hay bales. Now totally cornered and slightly scared, feeling your prey instincts come to surface.

Then, he grabs you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you up to make you sit on top of a few bales, just at the perfect height for him to spread your legs and admire that pretty pussy between your legs, all swollen and slick, practically dripping with arousal.

“Look at you, hermosa. So fucking wet. Who would have thought that such a innocent creature would be a total slut begging for cock.” he says, placing a few hard smacks to your sensitive cunt, making you squirm and whine with each impact.

“Please” you cry, trying to stop his hand.

“Please what?”

“F-fuck me Ale. Please, i need it.” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes, wanting nothing more than to end your agony.

“Si?” Alejandro smiles, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, letting his hard cock spring free. “You want me to breed this little pussy?”

He wraps a fist around his length, dragging the tip along your slit, mixing his pre cum with your sweet juices. And the pure sight of that big veiny cock teasing you poor cunt is enough to make you clench around nothing.

You buck your hips, encouraging Ale to put it in already. And he does it, being kind enough to decide that it’s been enough torture for you, guiding his fat cock to your entrance, sliding it inside inch by inch, growling when he feels how tight you are around him.

There’s a slight stinging in the way he’s splitting you open, stuffing you so full and deep that you can almost feel him in your guts, but you like it, even if your eyes get teary and pained cries escape your lips.

“Tranquila hermosa. Let me take care of you, si?” he soothes you once he’s fully sheathed inside, caressing your fluffy ears as he kisses you softly, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Alejandro starts thrusting slow, just to get you adjusted to him, and also because he doesn’t want the moment to end so soon. If he could be buried in your warm cunt for an eternity, he would, without a second thought.

But, when both of you start to get eager for more, he picks up a fast pace. His thrusts become harder, impaling you with his girth over and over, making you feel as if you were about to break in half, but at the same time, an immense pleasure with each hit against that soft spot deep inside you.

It’s too much. You break the kiss to moan loudly, digging your nails on the soft skin of his back, already knowing that you won’t last any longer.

And he can tell quite easily that you’re close by the way your walls hug him tight and your body tenses. So he gives you a little help, moving a hand down to rub your clit with his thumb, in fast circular motions that have you screaming out his name.

“Ale! f-feels so good! ah! i’m- i’m gonna-“

You can’t even finish your incoherent babbles when the orgasm hits you, exploding with waves of pleasure, crying and shaking under him, with you arousal being enough to form a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

“That’s it, good girl” Alejandro praises you, slowing his thrusts for a few seconds while you ride out your high. “Now i’m gonna pump you full of my cum, and you’re gonna carry my child and be a good mommy, si? you want that?”.

You’re so cockdrunk that you can only nod, just being able to concentrate on how his hands keep your legs open, the way he fucks you with new newfound strength, abusing your tiny hole, and the filthy squelching noises between your bodies.

Alejandro mumbles curses in spanish while you whine from the overstimulation, and it’s not long until his thrusts lose rhythm, finally coming undone. His cock twitches inside your warm cunt, flooding your fertile womb with thick ropes of white seed as a deep grunt escapes from his throat.

He ruts into you for a while, enjoying the delicious sensation, and then slowly pulls out, keeping your legs open to admire the mess. Your pussy is absolutely wrecked, with slick smeared all over it, slightly sore and dripping with his cum. And he’s proud of it.

“You’re feeling better?” he asks, rubbing your trembling thighs and fixing his pants.

“Yeah. A little bit” you answer shyly, knowing that it’s going to take more than that to calm your heat.

“Well, i guess that we’ll have to do this all weekend. Until your heat is gone, or until you give me a little filly… or a strong colt, i don’t care.”

You smile at his comment, not caring about it either, anything sounds good to you. But Alejandro is not shy to hide his desire to be a father, in love with the idea of having a lovely kid just like you, with ears and tail, running around the farm.

But, for now, he has to take care of you, his precious little mare. So he takes you in his arms, carrying your exhausted body to the house as you cling to his neck, ready to give you a nice bath, braid your hair and dress you with another clean shirt.

All while thinking that you are definitely the best gift that he has ever received.

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod smut #call of duty fanfic #alejandro vargas fanfic

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abiatackerman · 22 days

Text

Detective Levi x Doctor Reader

Warnings: Description of sexual fantasy and sexual teasing. MDNI!

Levi is the most famous detective of your country. He's the best when it comes to manipulation, physical combat, figuring out hard puzzles and riddles, catching even the smallest clues that are left by the criminals. Not to mention pulling out information from people or making the criminals admit their crimes in the most unpredictable way possible, just through talking. Every single criminal in the country is scared of him because if he's the one who's taking the case, that's the end for them.

You were just a normal doctor, working in the same organisation with him. And since it's not rare for him to get hurt, dealing with the criminals.... You two meet each other often. And since you're the only one who takes care of his wounds, he couldn't help but fall for you.

Slowly but dangerously......

You smile entering the infirmary as you find bruised Levi sitting on the bed.

"Ah, Erwin did tell me you were beaten up pretty badly.... I'm really surprised that you're still sitting."

You offer him a sweet smile as you start to prepare the equipment for his treatment.

“I’ll be fine.”

He speaks in his usual dry tone as his piercing eyes fall on you. The eyes, everyone is scared of.....

"Of course, after all you're getting treated by me."

You say smiling and look at him as you speak.

"Take all of your clothes off without your underwear.... I need to know how much of a bad state you are in."

Levi can't resist any of your demands, so he did as you asked without saying a word and got undressed for you to examine him. You hum as you roam your eyes around his whole body and sigh.

"One gunshot, several deep stabs, lots of bruises.... What the heck happened? How many people did you fight?"

You ask, as you fill the injection with muscle relaxant.

“Does it matter?”

"Nah, just curious about the person who has beat you up like this. Sounds unbelievable...."

You say chuckling as you slowly inject his shoulder, where he was shot.

“It’s not important.”

Levi repeats, his tone of voice still rough.

He's suddenly feeling an urge to kiss the cute smile off your face and push you against the wall especially when you get closer to him… But he refused to tell you any of this. That's how stubborn he is.

"Seems like your ego is bruised?"

You say chuckling again as you lean over his shoulder and start to clean his wound making Levi freeze. He can feel your body heat and smell your shampoo, which is making his cock hard.

“You want to try my ego?"

"Why would I?"

You say as you pick up the bullet extractor and lean on his shoulder more and concentrate on pulling the bullet.

"Don't move."

You say in a commanding voice.

“Make me.”

Levi challenges you, his rough voice filled with hidden emotions that he tries to hide behind his usual tough demeanor. Every time you lean against his side, it is hard to keep his body from aching with desire. He wants to pull and kiss you senselessly and make love to you until you'll beg for him to stop.....

And when he's done you will be covered with his love bites and won't be able to walk properly.... But being completely oblivious to his feelings, you smack his chest.

"Shut up.... I don't want to accidentally cut any of your nerves. So stay still and don't be a brat."

You say as you slowly start to pull the bullet. Your words make Levi grunt as he tries to focus on keep being still as you pull the bullet out. You huff and sigh.

"Done. Now I'll stitch you up, ok?"

You say as you put the bullet on the tray and take the medical needle.

“Do whatever you want.”

He let out a rough huff of air making you chuckle. You hold his chin, making him look up in your eyes.

"Whatever I want?"

“Yeah, are you deaf?"

His words were stern and rough.

"What if I want to fuck this body?'

You keep looking into his piercing greyish blue eyes as you speak, making him freeze. His breathing has become heavier....

“I wouldn't resist.”

"I can see that. You can't...."

You say pointing at his bludge and smile making Levi freeze again. His heart starts to pound faster as his breathing became more shallow.

"Just do something, already…"

You smile evilly and push him back as he falls on the bed.

"Should I?"

You say, leaning down on him, placing both of your hands to his waist's both sides, stangeling him.

“Go ahead... I don't care anymore…”

You smile and put your hands on his bulge over his boxer.

"Of course, you don't.... You're too whipped. You thought I haven't noticed? I'm not that fool."

Levi is clearly too aroused to put up any resistance, and she knew it. He despises how weak you make him feel, but at the same time, he enjoys the feeling of your hands playing over his hard cock. He speaks as you feel his cock twitching against your hand, begging for your touch and release.

“I don’t know what you're talking about...”

"Then I will make you say the words."

You say confidently again as you start to stroke his cock over his boxer, to tease him.

“I know what you're trying to do... You're enjoying this.”

Levi tries to keep his tone of voice even and neutral. But even he could hear how weak he sounded. He tries desperately not to groan and buck his hips to your hands.

"You're so damn hard... Is it because of me? Tell me."

You ask as you stop stroking him and look into his eyes.

“You know it’s because of you…”

Levi says making you chuckle.

You remove your hand from his cock. You know now it's useless because he can control his emotions very well. He won't beg for you nor he won't moan the words " I love you" even if you make him cum in your hands. So instead of that you take the needle again and start to stitch the wound of his shoulder.

"So when are we going on our first date?"

You ask, chuckling.

“I’m not going on a damn date with you…”

Levi speaks in his usual rough voice. He is trying to regain his composure after you remove your hand.

"Ok then.... I'm going with someone else. I can't keep stuck on you forever if the feeling is not mutual."

You say as you keep stitching his wound.

“That’s fine. Go be with whoever you want. It’s not like I care."

"I see. Then don't you dare to blackmail or beat him up secretly. I swear I'll poison you if you do."

You say as you poke his lip softly with the needle. He furrows his eyebrows as you poke and speaks in a nonchalant voice again.

"Then don't date anyone else. I won't do anything."

"Wow! You won't take me to date, or even let me date anyone.... Is that fair, Mr Ackerman?"

“There is no fair and unfair in life, Dr. Y/N. There is only what is and what isn’t.”

Levi says bluntly. He hates that he feels possessive of you. To lose you to someone else would be losing his life... So he'll beat up every guy to the group if that's needed.

"Tell me, Levi. You don't like me."

After finishing stitching him, you say the words, making both of your lips touch others with every word. The touch is soft and sweet, making Levi's heart beating faster and sending his emotions into chaos.

”I hate you”

Levi’s words aren’t convincing and you can see it in his eyes. You smile and kiss his lips softly.

"Do you?"

Levi freezes for a few seconds, feeling your lips on his. But he doesn't kiss you back, instead replies in a soft tone.

“I hate that I can’t hate you…”

You smile as you start to stitch and take care of the stabs of his body.

"Why do you hate yourself for that? It's not one sided."

“You know me...I hate being vulnerable.”

"I really don't know how expressing your love to someone can make you vulnerable."

You reply as you keep treating him.

“Because it makes you vulnerable to the person you love. You’d do anything for them, you trust them to the end, and would let yourself get hurt because of them… How is that not a form of weakness to you?”

You raise your brows as you ask curiously.

"Why do you think I'll hurt you?"

“Isn’t it obvious? Look how I react to you when we're together. I can't stay rational or calm around you, I'm always an irritated mess when we're together.”

You reply, chuckling.

"But I absolutely like that... Seeing the greatest detective being a mess around me. I'll deal with that and you'll deal with my mess... Like my drawers?"

Your words change Levi’s mood a bit. He wants to organise your drawers... Organise you... Organise the bond of you two.

“So are they like... really messy?"

You nod.

"It's just, I don't get enough time to organise my clothes."

You finally finish taking care of his stabs and move away from him.

"I'm finished.... About the other bruises, they'll get healed, themselves. Most importantly, rest your shoulder for at least 3 days."

“Can I come over and help organize them? I can't stand messy stuff like that, especially clothes."

"So, you're willing to be my boyfriend Otherwise my disorganised clothes shouldn't bother you?"

You ask, chuckling making him freeze again. Levi doesn't know if you are serious enough to consider this a dating opportunity. But if that's the case, he'll gladly accept.

“I want to be more than your boyfriend…"

You laugh as you ask him playfully.

"Oh? What happened to your 'I hate you' earlier?"

“You should've known that my words weren't true. I can't hate you.”

You roll your eyes at his words and throw his clothes at him.

"Yeah yeah. Now get dressed.... I'll text you my address later."

You say as you walk towards the sink to wash your hands, making Levi was so happy and excited with your words.

He's not just gonna clean.... He'll definitely take revenge on your teasing earlier... Hell definitely make sure to cum inside you... Definitely.

“I’ll be waiting for your text…"

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jeonginluvrr · 1 year

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exhausted | bangchan

synopsis: you take care of your exhausted boyfriend.

pairing: idol!bangchan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, small bits of angst

“my love,” you sighed exhaustedly. your boyfriend promised you that he would finish adding the final touches to his song nearly thirty minutes ago, and it was already past midnight, the curfew you assigned for him. “it’s time to go.”

“one moment,” chan murmured under his breath, his mouse clicking repeatedly as he tried to perfect the album title track. he and the members were preparing for their upcoming comeback, and chan wanted to do everything in his power to make the comeback perfect for stay.

“you can’t keep doing this chan,” you sighed, standing up from the couch positioned behind his computer, taking his hands in yours, caressing your thumb over his knuckles. “it’s time to rest.”

“but..” chan sighed, trailing off before he noticed your worried expression. he sighed deeply, turning to look at his producing program, then at you, his partner who he loved very deeply.

“alright.” he caved in with hesitancy, shutting off his computer, groaning as his joints cracked from his several hours of inactivity. he wrapped his fingers around yours, turning the lights to his studio off, tiredly sighing.

you two walked to his car, and you entered the passenger seat, where you rested your hand on chan’s as he drove the car, his hand squeezing yours while he adjusted the stick shift to accelerate the car.

once you two arrived at your shared apartment, you took off his coat and offered to run him a bath. chan couldn’t protest any longer and could only accept, his eyes drooping with tiredness.

you helped chan into the bathtub, letting him soak in the warm water as you scrubbed his beautiful brown locks with shampoo, kneading your fingers into his scalp. chan sniffled, overcome with emotion at your compassion, and he appreciated that you were willing to take care of him through his exhaustion and physical pain.

however, he decided not to cry in front of you. that would only worsen your worry for him. he leaned into your touch, sighing in contentment as you continued to massage his scalp with layers of bubbles.

you rubbed his aching shoulders, tense and aching from his many hours of dance practice. he groaned at the touch, his muscles beginning to loosen and contract, relieving chan of his pain.

“you alright, hon?” you asked him, grabbing the shower head and washing the soap suds off of his brown locks.

he only hummed in response, enjoying the treatment he was receiving from you.

after washing his hair, you let him dry off and change before allowing him on the bed. he threw himself onto the soft mattress of you and his’ shared bed, immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist, his nose tickling your neck.

he left a small kiss on the back of your neck, peppering the area with a few small kisses before leaving a long lingering one. “thank you, honey.”

you turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. “anything for you, my chan.”

he flushed red, giving you a wide smile. he gave you a few more kisses as a way to repay you for your kindness, before finally drifting off into the well-deserved slumber he needed.

#bangchan #chan x reader #chan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan x you #stray kids #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #stray kids oneshot

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wildemaven · 10 months

Text

fall apart, again : chapter one | joel miller

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 5k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Heavy on the Angst, post-outbreak world, no specific age mentioned but reader is close in age to Joel, minor character death, Ellie and her smart mouth, leaving the rest to read at your own risk to not spoil things, reader has a name but there are zero references to her appearance/she’s a blank slate character, 2nd POV, this is way AU so can be read as Game Joel or TV Joel

A/N: I’ve been so excited and nervous for this series. I don’t have a timeline for posting with this one, just going to take my time with it. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me wrack my brain over this series and for being my second set of eyes!! Please go check out her new Dieter Series!!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Spring was slowly transitioning into the next season.

Bright fragrant blooms wilting away into the dry soil from where they were born— a poetic reminder of the time.

21 Summers.

21 years of surviving.

Enduring.

Remembering— the normal life before the outbreak that you mourn daily.

A giant Bur Oak lends itself to you, branches providing ample shade as you sit resting against its sturdy trunk, the ground cool beneath where you sit.

The harsh sunlight filters through the tree’s canopy, a warm dapple light speckled all around you.

There’s a gentle flicker to your left that catches your attention, a single light-ray hits the small diamond on your dainty gold band where it sits heavy on your ring finger. You hold your hand up, remembering back to when you both had found it, he had immediately dropped to his knee— it wasn’t much, but it was perfect.

“I give you this ring as a reminder that we face this world together. We’re an unbreakable team.”

Even after all these years and the circumstances of the world around you, it’s a vow you stand by.

Branches above rustle and crack as a breeze sweeps through, the edges of the paper that is resting on a book in your lap fold over with each small gust, drawing your attention back to the words you’ve written.

…We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise. Have all the animals that would give a homestead atmosphere. A coup of chickens where we would gather eggs daily, a flock of sheep and goats for milk, and a small herd of cows— because what’s a farm without some cows I can give silly names to.

We’d raise a family in that farmhouse— lots of babies running around to wrangle. Breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs, all of us together around our table, then tucking them all in at night after we’ve read them several stories.

We’d lay in each other’s arms as the crickets sing their chirping songs. A breeze washing over us through the open windows, the evening air lighter and crisp as the night fades and our worn bodies succumb to sleep.

There wouldn’t be heartache or sadness. No fighting or stressing over jobs. We’d be happy. We’d be together…

“Eve! Let’s get goin’— we only got a few more hours of light left. Should be at the cabin before sundown.” The thick Texas twang breaks through your thoughts.

Steve standing off in the distance, his blonde hair disheveled and wind blown as he looks back to where you’re tucked under the tree.

He’s handsome in his own right, not someone you would have ever found yourself with in different circumstances, but now you wouldn’t know how to function without him.

A chance meeting the day of the outbreak had brought the two of you together.

You were working as a traveling nurse at a hospital 4 hours from where you lived, instantly going into crisis mode as lead of the trauma response team, the ER quickly overwhelmed with patients seeking treatment for bites or flu-like symptoms— it was unlike anything you had ever seen before in all your years as a nurse.

Steve, a retired detective, was on vacation with his wife visiting a friend before the initial outbreak happened. The morning of, he’d gone on a duck hunting trip, while his wife went to breakfast with some girlfriends at a local Waffle House. He had brought her into your ER when he noticed she was acting strangely, similar to the symptoms the news was reporting as a widespread epidemic. Her outcome was not hopeful as you did your best to administer vials of antibiotics and fluids, the infection moving through her was beyond anything you could treat.

It was Steve who made the call to abandon his wife and the hospital and the realization hit fairly quickly that there was less you could actually do to help others.

Fleeing the area, seeking solace in one another as you both navigated through quarantine zones— searching for familiarity in your former hometown, only to be met with decimation and nothingness.

Steve’s way around a gun helped keep you safe when evading FEDRA, the nursing kit you put together came in handy when stitching him up between shootouts and fighting off the infected— this was now your new normal.

As the years progressed, you both found contentment with each other. Security gave way to a sense of comfort and revival, falling into a deeper connection beyond two people surviving a post outbreak apocalypse— if you were going to be in each other’s lives, you might as well be fully committed.

“Eve! Pack your shit up— let’s go!” He spits out a little harsher, no real malice behind his tone— he likes to stick to his schedule.

You don't respond, folding your letter carefully then tucking all of your items into your canvas pack. Standing to your full height, you give your legs a minute to let the blood reacquaint fully, your hands brushing the bits of dust and weeds from your pants.

You hear Steve continue his huffing, as you make your way closer to where he’s standing.

“I thought I told you to knock it off with those pointless letters!” He gruffs, hands secure at his hips and his head cocked to the side, hoping to catch your gaze.

Your letters. They had become a loose journal, your stream of thoughts you needed to get out so you were not plagued by the pain and anxiety that came with them whirling around your brain.

Letters to your past, letters to a new life that awaits you and sometimes to no one at all— you wrote about your travels, things you missed or longed for now, hope for the future.

They were too much to keep, pages and pages filled with your words and stories, some containing memories too painful to read or share, a weight you didn’t want to carry, so you scattered them throughout your travels. In the last 21 years, you’ve written hundreds of them, dropping them in abandoned mailboxes, or tucked away in the abandoned spaces you’d settled into in passing, as if to send them to whomever you were writing to— leaving a trail of your life across cities and states.

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me Eve— guess we don’t always get what we want?” You had asked him multiple times over the years to not call you Eve, that was your former life and you hated the reminder, but you know he doesn’t do it out of spite.

The gravel crunches under your boots as you walk past, not looking to argue with him in the heat of the sun.

Steve’s hand reaches out clasping around yours, halting your movements, his eyes fixed on you, furrowed brows as if he wants to say something.

“Hey— Ya know I love you, right?” He sighs, his fingers toying with the gold band on your ring finger.

You look to where your hands are joined, the twisting of the gold band a small gesture of his when things get tough or tense, you smile when you meet his gaze again.

“I know.” You do know, and you feel it too. “Come on, we’ve only got a few hours of light left.” He shakes his head, but gives you a smile at the way you throw his comment back at him.

It had been close to 2 hours of walking, nearly dark, by the time you both made it to the cabin, nestled among dozens of other abandoned cabins on the hillside of an old ski resort.

You imagine it was a popular spot in its prime, filled with families taking their kids on their first snow trips, friends racing each other down the slopes, non-skiers enjoying warm beverages in the lodge while everyone else enjoyed the snowy weather.

Now desolate and forgotten, a stop for raiders on the hunt for supplies and hostages or survivors seeking refuge in search of a town just north of here, Jackson.

Steve had managed to trade for a hand-held CB radio early on, he kept tabs on chatter that happened among FEDRA, staying one step ahead of their whereabouts. At some point he had stumbled upon private channels used by other survivors, he didn’t talk much about what they discussed with you, it was his realm of expertise and a small thing that was just his, so you didn’t push him to share more than what he was willing to.

It was a year ago he had connected with someone and heard about Jackson. There was an offer for a place for a fresh start, a community of other survivors, somewhere to feel safe and comfortable without fear of being attacked, placed in solitary confinement, killed— or infected. Steve decided it was where you both were meant to be, hashing out a plan and specific route on his tattered map, making sure to stay in constant contact with this person in Jackson as you both traveled.

Venturing further into the resort, you both settled on the lesser marred of the dilapidated cabins.

“I’m gonna check the perimeter, you go on inside— check each room first, I’ll be right in. But remember, if I’m not back in ten minutes, you don’t come looking for me— you wait until morning and you head over that mountain, under no circumstances do you leave that cabin before sunrise.” Steve instructed, his hands on your shoulders reassuring the doubt he can see written all over your face.

“Steve— W-what if, there’s something inside—“ Your voice is barely a whisper, nervousness creeping in as your hands grip onto Steve’s wrists that have moved to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing across the apples of your cheeks.

“We’ve done this a million times before, I know you can do it— I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable, you’ll be fine. Just think, this is the last time we have to do this. Then it’s you and me, in Jackson, together and safe— ‘kay?” His direct eye contact really drives home the message— together and safe.

“Okay.”

“I love you, go be brave.” Romantic and encouraging as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you— be safe, please.”

“Always.” He shoots a wink with his mustached smile, a few slow steps backwards then turning to make his way up the backside of the cabin, pulling the butt of his rifle close to his chest, hunched and scanning every inch of the surrounding area.

The cabin would seem warm and inviting if the possibility of a Clicker behind the door wasn’t a high probability.

Armed with the knife Steve insisted you keep on you at all times, your refusal at his request for you to carry a gun, you make your way up the front steps.

Each move was slow and calculated, the wood beneath your boots wobbled and creaked the closer you got to the front door. The handle is cold to the touch as you twist it open, pushing the door with a little extra effort to unstick it from the doorframe.

It’s dark and musty, uninhabited by the living and anything beyond that at first glance. Dust and cobwebs cover every surface, pictures still mounted on the walls slightly hanging uneven. A floral couch with two side chairs still arranged in an inviting way, waiting to be enjoyed during a long conversation. The kitchen was small but large enough that it still would have been possible to whip up a hearty meal over the stove, then gather at the tiny table to enjoy the meal and dessert.

You’re grateful the floor plan is an open space, no immediate threat to you upon entering.

There’s only two doors, which you assume hide a bathroom and a bedroom.

The first door reveals nothing but a sink, toilet and shower-tub combo— you’re looking forward to a hot shower when you get to Jackson.

You stare at the closed remaining door, the handle of the knife twisting in your hand as you prepare yourself, not really feeling like you have it in you to take out anything that might be waiting for you on the other side.

A deep breath in, reaching for the the handle you give it a quick jiggle announcing your presence, twist and a quick swing open— a queen size bed draped in outdated sheets, bedside tables with lamps covered in a layer of dust, a dresser opposite the bed with a giant mirror hanging above it.

Empty.

Relief washing away the dread.

Stepping into the room, you toss your pack and knife onto the dresser before finding a seat at the end of the bed, the mattress shifting under you, the springs groan as you settle into a comfortable spot.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the house, noting it’s been a while since you had heard or seen anything from Steve, but knowing he likes to be thorough, you’re hoping he makes his way through the front door soon.

The moon has crept into the night sky, shining through the small bedroom window, illuminating the reflection staring back at you.

Sometimes you forget how long it’s been since you’ve seen what you really look like. While it’s you that you’re staring at in the mirror, you feel slightly unrecognizable to yourself— aged by 21 years in every sense, tired and worn down by the state of the world and lack of sleep.

Your fingers lightly trace over your skin, taking in every detail, rediscovering every angle of your appearance— the old characteristics blending into the new ones.

A yawn escapes you, remembering what Steve had said about not leaving, you decide to get yourself comfortable in bed and wait for him.

Kicking your boots off, you crawl up the length of the bed, plopping your head down onto the stack of lumpy pillows, your mind wandering as you run through all the scenarios as to why Steve hasn’t returned yet, debating whether you should go take a look outside or listen and wait for morning— scared of what you might find waiting for you.

Your eyelids begin a heavy blink, struggling to remain open and alert, your breathing evening out as your body relaxes into the mattress, sleep consuming your mind.

Warmth surrounds you, the bed dipping and creaking pulls you from your sleep, immediate panic bursts in your chest as your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred as you seek out the movement of a shadowy figure behind you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay— it’s just me.”

“Steve?!” Turning your body to lay facing him, your hands fisting his shirt, scanning his face for any sign of distress or discomfort. “What took you so long?”

“I’m fine.” Placing a hand over one of yours that’s settled on his chest. “Decided to wait a bit, just to be sure nothin’ was out there— I’m sorry.” His hand moves to the base of your neck, his forehead resting against yours.

“S’okay.”

“No— I’m sorry for callin’ your letters pointless earlier. I know how much they mean to you. I just—“ He releases a heavy sigh, voice quivering as he avoids eye contact with you.

“What— what’s the matter?” You sense there’s something Steve’s not telling you.

“Nothin’s the matter. I just worry about what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours— you shut down on me and I just wish you’d let me help you carry the burden.” His gaze moves back to yours. “Promise me, when we get to Jackson, you don’t let your thoughts weigh you down any longer— promise me you’ll let yourself be happy there.”

“I p-promise.” You say, brushing the blonde strands of hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Nah, I was pushin’ your buttons— I deserved it.” You both laugh at his response.

Steve leans into your space, his lips slotting over yours, it’s angled and slow, his grip on your neck still steady as the kiss begins to deepen. Throwing your leg over his hip, canting against the sturdiness of his thigh, seeking out some sort of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs.

But before things are about progress, Steve’s pulling away from your mouth, slowing the roll of your hips with his hand.

“We should get some sleep— we’ve got close to a 3, maybe 4 hour walk tomorrow, we need to get all the rest we can get.”

“Y-yeah, of course.” Your response is breathy, a slight pang in your chest at his soft rejection, questioning whether you had been too harsh towards him earlier in the day— but your body could use the rest.

Adjusting yourself, you turn away from Steve, his large arm wrapping around and pulling you closer to him. Your back now against his firm chest, each one of your tense muscles slowly relaxing into him and his warmth.

Thoughts of a new start in Jackson flood your mind as you drift off into a deep sleep. A chance at a better life, where Steve and you can settle into normalcy together. Retire from the constant fear and panic of daily survival out in the open. The taste of prosperity and the sense of peace, an almost tangible reality for the two of you.

Steve senses sleep has set in for you, the ease of your regulated breathing paired with your gentle snores. He nestles himself into the crook of your neck, his fingers instinctively migrate to your ring smoothing over the cool metal, his thick whiskers tickle lightly at your skin as he whispers reserved confessions into the balmy. A gentle kiss to your shoulder before allowing himself to fully breathe easy, deciding to keep a watchful eye throughout the night.

“You’ll be happier Genevieve, I promise.”

The sun is in its full glory once you both set out on the last stretch of your journey over the mountain.

Steve had been rather short with you all morning, you chalked it up to his tossing and turning all night, his eyes bloodshot, evident in lacking sleep— he had promised everything was fine, so you believed him.

“How much longer do you think we have?” Not really knowing what to talk about with the uneasiness that’s been going on all morning.

“I don’t know, Eve— they guy said it was about a 3 hour walk from the resort. We’ve been walking close to 2 and a half, so we’re probably close.”

“Please don’t call me—“

“Jesus Christ Genevieve! I’m fucking sorry! But you don’t make it easy for me sometimes— I feel like I’m always at a fucking arms length away from you even after 21 fucking years.” Anger shoots from his mouth like bullets, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, at least never towards you. “It’s a goddamn name! Gen, Eve, Genevieve— they’re all the fucking same!”

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears prick at your eyes, you try your best to not let them fall— you’ll save them for when you’re alone in the safety of your new home.

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry— shit! C’mere.”

Steve pulls you into him, his face hot against your cheek as he holds you close, the button down he’s wearing is drenched in sweat, there’s a slight tremble to the grip he has on you.

“Are you okay?” You pull back to get a better look at him, beads of sweat glisten across his forehead, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yeah, just really fucking tired.”

*CLICK*

“Hands where we can see them! Slowly, no fast movements!” A woman’s voice echoes through the air.

Steve releases you from his arms, both of you slowly turning, arms raised up as you were told.

There’s 5 of them, all on horses with their guns drawn in your direction. The woman seems to be in charge of the group, her horse placed a few feet in front of the others.

“We don’t mean no harm, we’re just trying to get to the settlement just over this mountain. You must be Maria? I was told you might greet us before we got there.” Steve says, keeping his tone even as explains himself.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asks, her expression still unreadable as she waits for Steve to respond.

“No— you don’t, but I was told you would bring us the rest of the way in.”

Maria takes a minute to decide whether she wants to believe Steve or not.

“Scan them.” Looking back at one of the men behind her, nodding to where Steve and you are still standing with your arms raised. “I don’t care who you talked to, you get scanned before you come in.”

The man grabs a device from his saddle pack, then makes his way towards you, the other 3 men’s guns still aimed, fingers hovering over their triggers.

“Lady’s first.” The man states, placing the device on your neck, there’s a small zap to your skin when the scan is administered.

“Green!” He shouts, holding the device up to show the green screen in Maria’s direction.

You breathe a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were fine.

Turning towards Steve, the man places the scanner on Steve’s neck, Steve’s eyes locking with yours as the man presses the designated button to conduct the virus scan.

The man steps back quickly, a flash of red catches your attention.

“RED!” He holds the device up.

The other men direct their aim to Steve, his head hanging low and no sign of resistance to finding out he’s infected.

“Steve! No— Tell them you’re not infected!” Insisting he speak up. “He’s not infected! Scan him again! Please!” You scream at the group, your voice straining as you plead with them to scan Steve again, convinced it was a bad read.

“Please!! Scan him—“

“Genevieve— it’s not wrong.” Steve says.

You turn to him, chest heaving and your throat burning from yelling, confused by what he’s saying.

“What? What do you mean it’s not wrong? You’re not infected Steve— you’re just tired, they need to scan you again!”

“I was bit.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth. Your brain takes a moment to register what he had said.

Bit.

Infected.

“No— no! No, no no!”

“Genevieve—“

“W-when?”

“Last night, there was a runner that came out of one of the other cabins—“

Steve’s confession hits you like a ton of bricks in slow motion. You hate it and don’t want to believe a single thing he’s saying, because the reality is that this is where it ends for him— for you.

The tears burn as they begin to stream down your face.

“You didn’t say anything though—“

“I needed to get you here— I needed you to be safe.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, throwing yourself at him, anchoring your arms around his neck.

“No! I can’t do this without you— I can’t lose you too!”

“Yes, you can. You’re the bravest person I’ve known in a long time. You’re going to get there and you’re going to meet new people and you will be able to help out because that’s what you love— you love helping people and I love that about you. This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?” His hands cup your face so he can look at you, his eyes filled with tears as well. “Do me a favor, write me one of your letters— I want to know everything.”

You nod, unable to speak, the lump in your throat growing as your remaining time together dwindles away.

“I love you, Genevieve.” His words muffled against your skin, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You breathe out, your eyes closed savoring his soft touch one last time.

“How long?” Maria asks Steve.

“Probably ‘nother hour left, give or take.”

“Alright Genevieve— you’re riding with me, hand your pack to one of my men. Andrew, you hang back with Steve— you know what to do.” Maria orders everyone.

Wiping your tears before placing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then turning to where Maria is waiting for you, handing your pack to one of her men. Maria leans down to grab onto your arm, as you hoist yourself up onto the backside of the horse.

“Let’s head back.” Maria says, pulling the reins up and to one side to signal the horse to turn around, a click of her tongue has the horse moving forward in the direction of the settlement.

You can’t bear to look back in Steve’s direction, not trusting yourself to not run back to him.

Leaving him and knowing his fate is like reliving the same pain you endured 21 years ago. The outbreak takes everything from you for a second time.

Your world shatters, crumbling as the horse carries you further and further from him.

*BANG*

The sound ricochets out over the valley, your heart sinks as a new wave of tears silently fall.

You don’t remember the entire ride to the settlement or how you ended up on the porch of a two story house.

Maria had mentioned putting you up in her brother-in-law's converted garage, a small studio bedroom where those new to the settlement would stay while their permanent residence were being cleaned and prepped. She said it wasn’t anything special and you’d have to use the main houses kitchen and bathroom, but you’d have your own space in a few days— so interacting with a few strangers was the least you could do for the hospitality.

You honestly didn’t care where she put you for the time being, the stables would have been enough, you just wanted to be alone.

Glancing over your shoulder you see others moving about freely, children running about in the open, a stark contrast between what you had been so used to.

There’s rows and rows of homes, a small town-like area, a community garden— this place was everything that Steve had described to you, he would have loved it.

The opening of the front door pulls you back to the front porch where you’re standing with Maria.

“We’ve got a newcomer, she’s going to stay here until we get a room ready down the street.” Maria explained to the young girl who is glaring at you.

“Why do you keep bringing them here? This isn’t a shelter— can’t she stay somewhere else?”

“No, she can’t. This is Ellie, her bark is worse than her bite— she’ll grow on you. Ellie, this is Genevieve let’s let her get comfortable and situated— she just lost whom I’m assuming was her husband, so please make her feel welcomed.” Maria coerses Ellie into letting you stay, but you don’t miss the eye rolling throw your way.

The home is spacious and inviting, you decide it’s far more comfortable than the stables would have been.

“Ellie, can you grab Genevieve a glass of water please.” It’s more of a demand than an ask. “Here Genevieve, have a seat here at the table. I’m sure Ellie can make you something to eat if you’re hungry too.”

“So now we’re a shelter and we have room service? Her legs don’t seem broken to me—.”

“Ellie, glass of water!”

The girl grunts something under her breath as she follows through with getting you water, you settle into a chair and try to not let the unwelcome feeling that’s been looming over you since you set foot in the house add to the pain that is still radiating through you.

You wipe a few tears you hadn’t realized had fallen, a new wave of emotions hitting you, another moment of realization of Steve not being here with you like you had both talked about.

“Is there anything else I can get you Genevieve?” Maria cautiously places a hand on your shoulder, you take it as her way of apologizing for your loss.

“Umm, just my bag would be great and a shower would be nice.” You sniffle, ready to lock yourself away for the day, not wanting to be forced to have unwanted conversations with a teenager who already hates your new presence.

“I’ll go grab your bag from the stables, then you can start getting settled.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning for the front door. “Ellie, be nice.”

A glass of water is placed in front of you, a few cubes of ice float around the clear liquid. You don’t even remember the last time you had enjoyed an ice cold drink.

Ellie situates herself in the chair across from you, looking as if she wants to say something.

“So— your husband is dead?” 14 years old and a great conversationalist.

“No— y-yes.” Your chest aches at the mention of ‘your husband.’

“Well, that’s not confusing. So, did you watch him die?”

“Hmm?”

“Your husband, did you watch your husband die?” She asks again.

“N-no.”

“I’m all out of questions then.” She slinks back into her chair.

You stare at the ice, almost half the size it was when it was placed in front of you. Wishing you could slowly melt away, become the nothingness you feel like.

The front door swings open and closes with a gentle click, the clunking sound of boots makes the presence of whoever stepped into the house known.

“Hey kid, sorry I’m late. Tommy wanted to get drinks after our patrol.”

A deep husky voice permeates the room, its thick syrupy tone seeps into every little crevice of your memory, its familiarity prompting the goosebumps to form across your body.

“I didn’t know we were having guests— this a new friend of yours?” He asks, his foot step getting closer to where you're still seated at the table, your back turned to him.

“Fuck no! It’s one of Maria’s strays. Said she has to stay here until her room is available— which is bullshit if you ask me!” She spouts off, her annoyance very apparent.

“Ellie, manners!” He grits out.

You lift yourself from the chair, steadying your weak state on the table and chair as you turn in his direction.

Your heart nearly stops the moment your eyes land on him— a ruggedness to him, his soft brown eyes filled with a darkness that comes with loss and sorrow, his dark locks and beard sprinkled with tuffs of gray, an overall hardness about him that hides his true self.

“Joel?” Your eyes wide and filled with more tears, the name is barely a whisper as it falls into the air.

“Eve?” A name he never thought he would say again.

#fall apart again series #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #Joel Miller x ofc!genevieve #the last of us #tlou #the last of us au #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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runesandramblings · 1 year

Text

Dance With Me

Word Count: 2300

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: A company of thirteen dwarves interrupts a peaceful afternoon for the niece of Lord Elrond.

Requested by @dreaming-doodle 🩷 Took a few liberties but I hope you enjoy!

“Lady (Y/N), do you require anything more?”

You lounged back in the crystal tub as the warm water washed soothingly over your body. The flower petals and oils in the water mingled together beautifully, making the air smell sweet. A goblet of your favorite elven berry wine rested on the edge of the tub, and through the open window you could hear light strains of string music drifting in.

“No, thank you. That will be all.” You smiled kindly at the elf handmaiden as she bowed her head and disappeared from the room.

“I could get used to this.” You mumbled, slipping down further into the perfectly drawn bath and closing your eyes.

Your uncle, Elrond, was the Lord of Rivendell. It was typical for you to come on an extended vacation to visit him and your cousin, Arwen, during the spring months. You lived a simpler life with your family in another elven kingdom. The luxuries of Rivendell were never lost on you. Every time you came to visit, your uncle tried to persuade you to stay. Although it was tempting, given the exquisite treatment you were always given during your stay, you never did. You had family back home, and it didn’t feel right to leave permanently.

You lost track of the time as you lounged in the tub, sipping the wine and listening to the faint music you could hear coming from below. As you went to take another drink from your goblet, you jumped at the sound of clanging and crashing coming from the courtyard below your window. Your eyes flew open. What could that have possibly been? You paused for a moment, straining your ears to hear the source of the commotion. Just as you moved to lean back against the tub again, you heard another loud clash and clank.

“What is going on?” You muttered, annoyed that your peaceful bath had been disturbed. You stepped out of the tub and threw your silk robe around your body, not even bothering to dry off first. As you stormed out of your private bathroom and out into the hall, you were greeted by your uncle standing apologetically by your door.

“Uncle Elrond, what is that insufferable noise?” You asked, gesturing backward toward the balcony that ran from your bedroom to the bathroom. “It’s coming from the courtyard. Is everything alright?”

Your uncle looked unbothered, as he usually did.

“Everything is fine. We have some unexpected dinner guests.” He said simply.

You felt an eyebrow raise curiously.

“Dinner guests?” You questioned.

“Yes.” He continued. “A company of dwarves traveling through. Will you join us?”

An hour later you were dressed for dinner and heading down the stairs. Your bathrobe had been replaced by more appropriate dinner attire, a light green velvet dress that hung off of your shoulders and flowed out into a short train behind you. The handmaiden Elrond had left to attend you had styled your hair and placed a delicate silver headpiece, very similar to the one your uncle and cousin wore, atop your head.

As you rounded the corner into the dining space you could hear the ruckus of several voices speaking over one another. It drowned out the pleasant strains of the harp and flute players that often accompanied dinner. You’d never met any dwarves in person, but they certainly seemed like a rowdy bunch.

You felt all the eyes of the room turn to you as you entered. Without giving any of the guests a second glance you made your way to the table Elrond sat at, along with a shorter, bearded man you took to be the dwarves’ leader. And…

“Gandalf.” You said, smiling widely at the wizard. “Uncle Elrond didn’t tell me you were here!”

Gandalf stood, smiling in return as he took your hand and planted a delicate kiss on it.

“My dear, you look as lovely as ever. Elrond did not tell me you were here either.”

Your uncle and the dwarf both stood as well, and as you turned your attention to the much smaller man he nodded tightly, not bothering to reach out and take your hand.

“(Y/N), this is Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, this is my niece.”

Thorin nodded once again as Elrond made your introduction, still not bothering to so much as shake your hand. Something told you that dwarves were not ones for pleasantries.

You nodded politely in return as Elrond gestured for one of the servants to bring an extra chair. You quickly lifted your hand as well, indicating that it would not be necessary.

“It’s no trouble, uncle. There is a free seat over there. I’ll make some new friends.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes following you as you moved to sit at the last remaining empty seat at the longer table. It was between two younger of the dwarves, one blonde with beaded braids woven into his hair and mustache, and the other a brunette with a strange hat and twisted pigtails. You smiled kindly at the two as you approached.

“Is this seat taken?”

Both stared at you momentarily before they each shook their heads, indicating that you were welcome to sit.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said, offering an introduction as you settled into your seat.

“Bofur.” Said the one on the right with the braided pigtails.

The one on the left offered a cheeky grin as he took your hand in his.

“Fili, my lady. It’s an honor to meet you.”

You looked across the table at the dwarf who sat before you. He appeared to be young as well, with long dark hair and stubble in place of a full beard. He was looking at you uncertainly, with a shy smile across his face.

“And you?”

“M-me?” He stuttered out.

You giggled.

“Your name, sir.”

“Oh. Uh, Kili.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kili.”

The table remained deathly quiet as everyone ate. You were well aware of the tensions that existed between elves and dwarves; mostly due to the distant Mirkwood elves, who were known to be quite unwelcoming. You hoped their experience in Rivendell might be a good one. Hopefully they’d leave with a better opinion of the elves.

“So…” You finally started “What brings you this way?”

The confidence of your question finally opened the floodgates from the others. They began speaking, mostly over the top of each other, as they clamored to tell you of their quest. As they spoke you caught a glimpse of Thorin over Kili’s shoulder, glaring at the table. You weren’t sure they were supposed to be telling you the full details of their journey, but they certainly didn’t shy away.

The youngest dwarf sitting across from you had particularly piqued your interest. As you spoke with the others he watched you, joining in the conversation occasionally, but mostly watching as you spoke. He had soft, gentle eyes and a kind smile.

Before you knew what was happening you saw Bofur jump up from his seat beside you. You’d partially overheard some of the dwarves complaining about the music.

“Alright lads, there’s only one thing for it.” He said, running around the table. He jumped up on top of a smaller table and began to sing, stomping his foot along to the music.

The others joined in immediately, clapping in time or banging the table along with the beat. You found yourself jumping in as well, clapping along and laughing as several of the dwarves began hurling food at Bofur’s head. You enjoyed their merriment, their carefree attitude. Many elves were high strung, often too concerned with proper etiquette and manners. The dwarves did not seem to care what anyone around them thought.

As Bofur launched into a second song a few members of the company began to stand up and dance. You beamed at the opportunity, as you also got to your feet. You grew up dancing in your homeland. It was one of your favorite things to do. Although the beat Bofur was stomping out was a little more fast paced than you were used to, you were sure you could keep up.

You saw Kili watching you shyly as you stood, and you felt a small flutter in your stomach at the young dwarf’s longing stare. You circled the table to stand beside him and extended your hand.

“Dance with me?”

He beamed in return as he took your outstretched hand in his.

“I’d be honored, my lady.”

As he stood you remembered the small height difference between elves and dwarves; the top of his head came to rest just at the tip of your chin. Neither of you seemed to mind, as Kili’s beaming smile never faltered. He tugged on your hand and led you away from the table, to a clear space on the floor where you would have room to move. He placed one hand on your waist as you rested yours on his shoulder, and with your free hands you held each other’s. Kili quickly walked you through the steps to a dance the dwarves seemed familiar with. You were a quick learner, and within moments you were expertly moving back and forth with Kiil, your footwork matching his exactly.

You danced together through many more of Bofur’s upbeat songs. The pure joy radiating from Kili’s smile made your knees feel weak, and you couldn’t help but wish to know the dwarf better. There was a pull you felt toward him, and you were saddened by the fact that he was to leave in the morning.

As the dishes began to clear away and Bofur stepped down from the table, Thorin came back around to stand in front of his company.

“Everybody, get some rest. We set off early tomorrow morning.”

You felt a pang of sadness as you realized the evening was over. Thorin seemed like a strict leader, and you were certain he would not allow Kili to remain in your company while the others went off to their rooms.

Or, would he…

You caught a glimpse of your uncle from over Kili’s shoulder. He had a knowing smile on his face, as if he’d noticed the budding friendship between you and the young dwarf you danced with. He gave you a subtle nod before turning to Thorin and catching his attention. As soon as he turned his back to the company, who had slowly begun to filter out of the room, you turned back to face Kili.

He gave you a wistful smile as he turned to walk away as well. Without thinking you tightened your grip on his hand, and he turned around to look at you curiously.

“How do you feel about a walk?” You asked quietly.

He grinned mischievously in response. He glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure Thorin was not watching, before turning back to you.

“Lead the way, my lady.”

While Thorin’s back was still turned you quickly slipped Kili down the stairs and in the direction of one of Rivendell’s many gardens. It was your favorite, and always had been. This garden in particular held Elrond’s collection of rare plants and flowers, items he’d picked up from all over Middle Earth and replanted. Most did not have the skill to care for foreign plants, but the elves had their ways.

You led him down the paths of exotic blooms, showing him your favorites and explaining where each one had come from. You felt his eyes mostly on you as you spoke, and not the plants. As you walked together the conversation drifted from the garden to yourselves. He spoke of his family, it turned out the angry elder dwarf was his uncle, and his purpose in joining the quest. You told him of your home and your reasons for visiting your own uncle. You exchanged stories for what felt like an eternity and no time at all. It wasn’t until you realized it was too dark to see the flowers around you that you remembered the time. Kili had been gone for a while, and you were certain Thorin would not appreciate your kidnapping of his nephew.

“I should probably get back.” He said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Thorin has enough reason to distrust the elves without my disappearance adding to them.”

You nodded in agreement as you began to steer the two of you back in the direction of the rooms in which the dwarves were housed. Kili insisted on walking you to your chambers first, and as you neared your bedroom door you felt your steps begin to slow. You had only just met, but already you hated the thought of him leaving.

As you turned around to say goodnight you saw Kili holding a flower in his outstretched hand. A delicate, pink and white bloom with spiky petals. You recognized it as a favorite of yours from Elrond’s garden.

“For you, my lady.” He said as he placed it gently behind your ear.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to pick those.” You giggled, accepting the flower nonetheless. You reached up and tucked your hair around it to keep it in place.

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss against your skin. His touch sent goosebumps across your arm, and despite having just met him you felt yourself longing for more.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Should our quest end successfully, I might be inclined to pay a visit.” He smiled and gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he stepped back, walking backward for several steps in order to keep his eyes on you a little longer.

You felt another flutter as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he slowly disappeared from sight.

“Please do.”

Maybe you’d stay in Rivendell a while after all.

#kili durin #the hobbit #Kili #kili x reader #kili x you #kili x y/n #kili imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit imagine #an unexpected journey #kíli #kíli x reader

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candycandy00 · 1 year

Text

The Pirate and the Mermaid - A Shigaraki x Reader Fanfic Part 1

This is the AU idea that won the poll, and I’d planned to write it after finishing some other fics but I just couldn’t stop myself. It was getting too long so I had to break it up into two parts. Part two will be posted in a few days, so check back for it. Part two will also be more smutty than part one. Any feedback at all would be greatly appreciated!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. General rough treatment of Reader. Shigaraki is a pirate captain, Reader is a mermaid who gets caught in his net.

When you were a young mermaid, just old enough to begin exploring the waters around your home without being accompanied by your parents, you saved a human boy from drowning.

He was around your age, and he’d fallen from a cliff near the sea, his body breaking the surface of the water like a rock, knocking him unconscious. You swam for him, easily catching him before he sank too deeply, and pulled him to the craggy shore. You turned him on his side so the water would pour out of his mouth, then, not knowing what else to do for him, you waited, and watched. After a few minutes, you began to worry that he was dead. You crawled over and leaned close to his face, trying to determine whether or not he was breathing.

At that moment, his eyes snapped open, and you’ll never forget the strange red color of them. You’d never seen eyes that color on anyone before, human or merfolk. They reminded you of a bright burning sunset.

He stared at you for a moment, then suddenly began coughing, his body attempting to force the remaining water from his lungs. You took the opportunity to slip back into the sea, swimming past the rolling waves and disappearing into the depths.

It would be four years later before you saw the boy again. This time he was on a large wooden ship with black sails. The humans called this a pirate ship. He was working with several other teenage boys, scrubbing the deck, tying ropes, carrying buckets. When he came to pour some water over the side, he was close enough for you to see his face. He had two scars that hadn’t been there before, and his soft white hair was longer, touching his shoulders.

You watched him from beneath the surface of the water all day, sometimes coming up to get a better look when you were sure he couldn’t see you.

Humans had always fascinated you, with their strong legs and their loud, breathy voices. Though humans didn’t seem to know merfolk existed, merfolk were very much aware of humans and had learned much about them over the centuries. Some merfolk had even studied the corpses of humans that had been found on the ocean floor.

You were amazed that humans had no gills or fins, but even more amazed by the similarities. Human and merfolk looked almost identical down to the legs, where merfolk had fins from the knees down while humans had feet. Merfolk also had gills on either side of their torsos, right below the rib cage, and small translucent fins on their outer thighs.

Merfolk had learned to comprehend the human languages used near their seas, but they had trouble speaking it. Even when out of the water, breathing dry air, it was difficult to form words. Like most merfolk, you could say a few words, but anything more made you feel like all your oxygen was suddenly depleted.

So when you heard humans laughing or singing, you were transfixed. This had led to you floating a little too close to ships sometimes, something your parents warned you against.

On the day you saw the red-eyed boy again, you followed his ship for hours, even after the sky grew dark, just to catch glimpses of him on the deck. Eventually you had to abandon the ship, fearing that you would drift too far from home.

Over the next few years, you spotted him occasionally when his ship passed through your seas. Each time he was a bit taller, wearing clothes that were a bit sturdier, like a leather coat and tall boots, now carrying a sword at his side. He stopped doing random tasks on the ship, now spending time at the helm or deeper inside the ship where you couldn’t see him. At one point you heard someone else call him “Captain”. From what you understood, this meant he was in charge of the entire ship.

One night he came onto the deck late at night, when no one else was around, and looked out over the water. The moon was full and bright in the sky. You were watching, just under the water, daring to get a bit closer, depending on the darkness to hide you. His eyes suddenly shifted down to you, and they widened slightly. He leaned over the side, trying to get a better look, but you quickly dove deep, your heart thundering, worried that he’d seen you clearly enough to be certain of what you were.

That night was half a year ago, and now you find yourself watching his ship again as it passes through the waters surrounding your home. You’ve seen him at the helm a couple of times, but he’s been lingering on the deck much more than usual, pacing around and inspecting the work of those doing the tasks he used to perform. More than once he’s went to the side to look out over the gently rolling water, and your heart races each time. Is he looking for you?

You remain out of sight. Even if you’d love to properly meet him and interact with him, you can’t risk exposing your family and friends to humans. If you’re spotted here, the humans might search these waters carefully and find your home.

He’s at the side again, looking down, and you worry that you might be too close to the surface. You quickly swim to the side, darting under the ship to move to the other side. Just as you clear the dark shadow cast by the enormous boat, you feel rough tendrils wrap around you, like the seaweed merfolk use to tie things together, only much stronger. Isn’t this what humans call rope? Wait, isn’t this a net?

You try to swim away from it, but it’s tangled around your legs and through your hair. You struggle and pull, but that only seems to make it worse. At some point you realize you’re being pulled up, toward the surface. Toward the ship.

When you’re lifted out of the water, still tangled in the net, you find the red eyed captain standing there, staring at you. For a few moments, you both look at each other with wonder, and then the spell breaks.

“Haul her over,” he commands, then steps back to give his men room to swing the net over and drop you on the deck. You gasp at the pain of colliding with the hard wood, then try to disentangle yourself. If you can just get free of the net, you can crawl over and slip off the side of the ship.

The captain walks over, holding a large knife in one hand. You watch apprehensively as he begins cutting through the net. He’s freeing you! Could it be that he remembers being saved by you when you were both young?

After cutting most of the rope away, he gathers a long piece of it in his hands, then wraps it around your wrists. He stands up, hoisting your arms above your head so roughly that you give a little cry of pain. A couple of his men come over and secure the rope around your wrists to a tall wooden pole, effectively pulling you upright, your fins dangling a few inches from the wood.

You wriggle and jerk at the rope, trying to slip out. Your arms and shoulders are aching, and the rope is biting into the wet skin of your wrists. You look at the captain pleadingly. You almost beg him to help you, but you hold back. Speaking the human tongue is difficult and drains your oxygen. You decide to wait.

The men on the deck are staring at you with wide eyes. One of them steps a bit closer and says, “They really do exist!”

Another man turns to the captain and asks, “How did you know we’d find her here? When you accepted this job I thought you were crazy, but here she is right in front of our eyes!”

The captain’s eyes have never left you. “I thought I saw her around these parts a few months ago.”

One of the other men gives a cheer. “She’ll catch us a fortune! This is the highest paying job we’ve ever taken!”

The captain nods to the two men who had tied you to the pole. They touch the seaweed wraps around your chest and waist, and you try to shrink back away from them.

“It’s not cloth,” one of them says. “I think it’s seaweed.”

The captain is looking you in the eyes when he says, “Remove it.”

You immediately begin struggling against the ropes again. Merfolk have a tendency to be modest about certain parts of their body, only revealing them to lovers. Are they really going to strip you of your coverings, right here in front of all these men?

The two men take out knives and begin ruthlessly cutting through the seaweed wraps until they fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed. You whimper and try to clamp your legs shut in an attempt to cover yourself.

One of the men reaches a hand toward you, as if to touch you, but the captain suddenly says, in a commanding voice, “No one is to touch her! Am I understood?”

The man who had reached for you quickly withdraws his hand as several calls of, “Yes, Captain!” sound over the deck.

The captain himself walks over and stands in front of you, those red eyes roaming over your body. You blush crimson under his gaze, closing your eyes and turning your face away in shame.

The sun is burning hot in the sky, already drying you out, making you feel like you’re on fire. Merfolk could survive outside the water, but after a short time it became painful to do so. It was hard to breathe without the added oxygen from the water. Your skin and fins dried, cracked, and bled. Some brave merfolk had tested the limits generations ago. Yes, they could live, but only in misery.

You suddenly feel two warm, dry hands on your hips, sliding down your damp skin, roughly rubbing over your fins. You open your eyes and find the captain looking at the tiny fins on your thighs as he repeatedly runs his hands over them. They twitch from his touch, and he seems amazed. His hands move further down, past your knees, where they find your main fins. He strokes the scales there, sending tremors through your body. Then, all at once, he lifts your legs up by your knees and pulls them apart to stare between them.

You struggle to free your legs, but his grip is strong. You let out a strangled cry as he shifts one of your legs to be held beneath his arm so his free hand can probe your most intimate place. “She’s just like a human woman down here,” he says, his voice cold and emotionless. “I wondered how her people mate. I guess they do it just like us.”

He drops your legs, the sudden weight of them pulling on your arms painfully. Then his hands are on the underside of your arms, moving down beside your breasts, stopping at your gills. You draw in a sharp breath, causing them to flutter as they attempt to draw in water that isn’t there. His fingers slide into the folds, and you cry out again. Your gills are very sensitive, and his fingers moving into them is more painful than you imagined.

Withdrawing his hands, the captain steps back to look you up and down. One of the men beside him is looking at you as if you’re a deity. “She’s beautiful,” the man says in a reverent voice. “We should set her free.”

Still looking at you, the captain says, “She’s a monster, and she’s worth more than her weight in gold.”

The hot air is merciless on your skin, the sun’s heat unrelenting. You decide to finally speak, or at least try.

“Please,” you say in a weak, small voice, causing the men to look at you in shock. “I need… water.”

“She speaks our language?” one of the men asks, suddenly seeming afraid.

The captain calls for someone to bring him a bucket of water, then carries it over and sloshes the water over your body. The cool liquid feels so good on your dry scales, it almost overrides the soreness of your arms.

You shiver from the pleasure of it, then look at the captain. “Thank you,” you manage to force out.

He looks up at the sky, squinting at the sun, then turns to his men. “We’ll take her below deck. Get a cabin ready.”

You feel a small bit of relief to know he’s not going to leave you strung up under the blazing sun.

“Do you… remember me?” you ask in your weak voice.

The captain looks at you with those red eyes, but says nothing.

“You fell… from a cliff… when you were young…”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can see the recognition there, like the pieces all coming together in his mind. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, but he suddenly turns his back to you and says, “I don’t remember.”

You droop in despair, realizing he’s not the kind hearted human you imagined him to be.

Some time passes, and one of the men emerges from deeper into the ship and reports that they’ve readied a cabin for you. The captain approaches and cuts the rope holding you up, then catches you in his arms. Your own arms, sore and exhausted, drop over his head, effectively leaving your wrists tied together around his neck. It’s an intimate position that makes you redden. Your bodies are pressed together, you’re completely nude, and his hands are on you to keep you from falling.

He carries you down the wooden steps leading beneath the deck, down a hall, and into a room. There’s another wooden post here and you make a whining sound as he pulls your arms up again and ties them above your head. Your arms are throbbing in pain. You look at the captain with tears in your eyes and say, “Please… it hurts.”

He turns away from you and motions two of his men in. They’re carrying tall buckets full of water. They sit them on the floor close to you, and the captain lifts your fins, one at a time, and places them in the buckets. The water reaches up to your knees, and feels so wonderful. Before you know it, he’s holding another bucket. This one he splashes over you, from your head down to your thighs.

The captain hands the bucket to one of the men and says, “Pour water over her every hour. We have to keep her healthy until we sell her.”

Your eyes meet his. “Sell?”

He averts his gaze. “We have a buyer waiting to take you.”

“What will… they do to me?”

He heads toward the door as he replies, “I don’t know. It’s not my concern.” He hesitates, then adds, “Probably nothing good.”

Then, you’re left alone in the dimly lit room.

You count the hours by the number of times someone comes to splash a bucket of water on you. Four times. Four times you feel some small measure of comfort. The men stare at you, but none dare touch you.

Just before the fifth time, the captain walks into your room. He’s holding a plate piled with seaweed, kelp, and other sea vegetables. He steps closer to you and says, “I don’t know what your people eat, but I thought fish might be in poor taste.”

You nod at him, and he uses a metal fork to feed you. After you eat around half the items on the plate, he pulls a round orange object from his coat pocket, as well as a knife. He uses the knife to cut the outer layer of the object away.

“Have you eaten one of these before?”

You shake your head.

“It’s called a citrus fruit. They don’t grow on the lands around here.” He slices off a piece of the object’s flesh and holds it up to your mouth. You look at his thin fingers holding the “fruit”. They’re dripping with the object’s juice, and it looks delicious. You open your mouth, and he places the piece of fruit inside, his fingers grazing your tongue.

An explosion of flavor bursts in your mouth. You’ve never tasted anything like this! It’s so juicy and refreshing. After swallowing it, you open your mouth again, waiting for the next piece. He stares at your open lips for a moment before cutting off another slice.

He feeds you the rest of the fruit until only one slice remains. When he places it in your mouth, you instinctively close your lips around his fingers, licking the juice off.

His eyes seem to flash with something as he pulls his hand away and looks at the thin string of your saliva connecting his fingertips to your lips. Then he puts those fingers in his own mouth and licks them clean. You’re unaccustomed to things of a sexual nature, but the act makes you feel heated somehow.

He pulls off his coat and lets it fall to the wet, sticky floor, then walks around behind you. Not being able to see him makes you nervous, so you try to twist in your bonds. This causes a jolt of agony to race up your arms, and you cry out.

“What hurts you?” you hear his voice behind you ask. “Your arms? Or the lack of water?”

It was both, but right now one was worse than the other. “My arms,” you say.

His hands touch your upper arms, gently, and begin massaging them. It hurts at first, but then your muscles begin to relax slightly as his hands firmly but comfortably rub them. He moves down, working at your shoulders, then beneath your arms. You sigh in pleasure, just glad to feel something other than pain in your arms.

He does this for a few minutes, his body so close that you can feel the fabric of his white shirt against your bare back. Then, his hands slip around to cup your breasts. You stiffen, your small gasp seeming loud in the silence of the room. He massages them as he did your arms, and though you’re embarrassed, you can’t say it feels unpleasant. Your breaths get more shallow, and you realize it’s probably been more than an hour since your last bucket of water.

One of his hands slides down your stomach and moves between your thighs. You squirm, trying to escape his touch, but you’re helpless to stop him as his fingers press into your folds and rub circles around your clit. Your whole body trembles as he keeps up the motions, his other hand still groping your breast.

“Please,” you manage to breathe out.

His voice is calm, almost cold, as he asks, “Please what?”

You can’t answer, because you don’t know. Do you want him to stop? There’s a primal pleasure building inside you, making you quiver. Is it wrong to want to feel good, when you’ve only felt pain all day?

For years, you’ve thought about this man. You’ve daydreamed about meeting him, interacting with him. And as you grew into an adult, those daydreams sometimes included being touched by him. But you never imagined, in your darkest nightmares, that he would have you strung up painfully in his ship, taking you to be sold to strangers who would most definitely do terrible things to you.

Tears form in your eyes. Your heart is so confused! You feel his fingers stroking your clit, more roughly than before, as he pinches your nipple. You gasp again, loudly this time, then a moan escapes you as you shudder through rippling pleasure.

The captain finally pulls away and steps around to stand in front of you. He holds up the hand he’d shoved between your legs, and clear sticky fluid is dripping from it.

“Looks like you get aroused the same way humans do,” he says, examining his fingers.

You blush furiously. Was this just some experiment? But then he licks his fingers again, his red eyes staring at yours.

He walks over and picks up a bucket of water, then sloshes it over you. Without another word, he leaves the room.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki

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