#the amount of time this man clenches his jaw in the first gif

[thesedarkcafedays]

But slow down, okay? Please, be careful? Tim and Lucy in every episode of The Rookie 3.14 Threshold

Thank you, @heatherelf77, for the collab with the dialogue.

#the rookie #therookieedit #chenford #chenfordedit #tim x lucy #chenford in the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #otp: You know me so well. Too well. #otp: Some things matter more. #the rookie: thesedarkcafedays #the amount of time this man clenches his jaw in the first gif #500

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #john price smut #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x you #captain john price x reader #pornstar!au

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @l-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod mw22 #x female reader #call of duty x you #halcyone answers #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost #call of duty x reader #cod x female reader #cod mw ghost #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #mw ghost #cod mw #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #modern warfare

[crimsonbubble]

Hi! Liu Kang thirst anon, back at it again with another thought about my mans. Like, we all seem to unanimously agree that Liu Kang’s an absolute sweetheart and the softest dom to ever dom, but I kinda want to flip the script a little bit. Like, I want to see what he’d be like if his partner decided to deliberately push his buttons and get him to snap so he’ll punish them. I still don’t see him being mean about it, but I definitely see him as a brat tamer, and I think he’d honestly be amused by their antics. But yeah, if you want to write it, I’d love to see Liu Kang taming a bratty partner, thank you and ily! 💜

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, brat taming, spanking, slight degradation *not proofread, just pure horny

[im crying but not from my eyes]

I love soft dom liu kang

But I also love seeing normally calm and level-headed men snap

Soft dom liu kang has my heart but the thought of him getting irritated enough that he resorts to ‘physically’ disciplining you drives me crazy

First off, it takes a lot to get him angry

And I mean, like a lot

He has an insane amount of patience, given that he is a god

He starts with soft chides and gently redirects you

He laughs along with you as you pull another stunt

But his actions get slightly more harsh as you continue to poke and prod at him

You can see that you’re getting to him by how he crosses his arms over his chest and the tightening clench of his jaw

He gives you barren glances, his tone of voice becoming more stern

But the second you hear the screech of his chair being pushed back as he stands up abruptly, you know you’ve done it

He is quick to drag you over to his desk, holding your wrists against your back as he bends you over the polished wood

Uses his other hand to drag your pants and underwear to rest just below the curve of your ass

The type to say “If you utter a word, I will start over.”

And he’s a man of his word

The second you speak after he starts, he pauses for a moment, letting out a deep breath

He can hear the shit-eating grin on your face as you laugh

He starts again, this time harder than the previous attempt

You interrupt again, but this time he swats at your ass with the strength he has never shown you

The level of strength that he only uses in kombat

You’re sure that he’s gonna leave a mark

He doesn’t stop until there’s a sufficient amount of marks on your ass, tears streaming down your cheeks and pleasurable sobs raking your body

He’ll revert to a calmer mindset and apply a soothing gel to your sore skin

He’ll take care of you before carefully sending you on your way

But don’t worry, he’s nowhere near done with you yet <3

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mk x you #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n #liu kang mk1 #mk liu kang x reader #mk smut

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Seen

The first time you see Ghost’s face, you’re both nervous.

You’re nervous because you know it means he trusts you. He’s letting you see the man behind the coldness, behind the bad dad jokes and the expert killer. He trusts you to know him more than just the skull faced killer.

Ghost is nervous because he knows it’s more than just trust. Of course, he trusts you enough that you can see his face and knows you would never break his privacy but it’s so much more than that.

Showing you him, the real him, the Simon that’s protected by Ghost is what makes him nervous. The vulnerability he feels when he peels of his mask and stares at you, his heart in his ears and his stomach up in knots is unbearable.

Simon is everything Ghost isn’t.

Simon is scared, he is fragile, he is neurotic. Without the mask, without Ghost, he’s unprotected. He’s vulnerable to everything and everyone, and that includes you. He worries that the scars across his face make him ugly and disgusting to look at. The person he once was etched into his skin because Simon Riley may have died but pieces of him were still in the cracks, being the one that slips out of his shadows when his mask is gone.

He worries that when you look at him, self-conscious and anxious, you’ll hate what you see. You’ll hate the Simon that’s not always strong, who may cry when he has bad nightmares, who shuts down when he’s upset. You’ll hate the scars, his blond hair, his nose and uncovered mouth. You’ll hate everything about him and then you’ll leave him.

The very thought makes his heart race more and makes him nauseous. He wants to hide, he wishes he never let you see Simon and only let you know him as just Ghost. You didn’t need to see Simon, he wasn’t worth it and the longer you stared without a word, the more he regretted showing you.

The first thing you do is place a hand on his cheek. His eyes watch you as you ghost your fingers over a scar on his cheekbone. You hold his face in your warm hands and touch his scars with a kindness he isn’t familiar with.

Simon’s heart feels like it may have stopped as he sees you take in everything on his face. His jaw is clenched so tight it aches as your eyes, your beautiful, love filled eyes, rake over him in adoration. He’s never seen you look at him with this much love before and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Simon.” You whisper and caress his face. “My Simon.”

If Simon wasn’t in love with you before, he is now. He has fallen so hard, so deep for you that even if you rejected him, if you left him, he’d never stop loving you. He wants to be yours and you to be his. He wants all of you and he wants to give you all of him, even the ugly parts he’s kept hidden.

Simon feels safe without his mask when he’s with you. When you’re around him he doesn’t need Ghost to protect him, he doesn’t need to protect himself, he doesn’t need the mask.

He finally understands that when you see him, when you see Simon Riley he’s worth it. He’s worth the amount of love and patience you have for him. You make him feel loved, for the first time in his life, and he fully intends to give it all back to you ten fold.

Simon Riley will never let you go a day without you knowing how much he loves you, in his own strange way.

A/N: idk this was really random it’s probably not good. Wrote this on my phone a very quick drabble

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #cod ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #cod ghost imagine #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost #reader insert

[slut4thebroken]

Partners

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x assassin!reader

Summary | You and Jackson are paired together on an assignment. The job in question? Pose as a couple in a bdsm club and lure your target somewhere more private.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, humiliation, public humiliation, voyerism, exhibitionism, praise, degradation, objectification, face fucking, deep throating, girl on girl kissing💅🏻, grinding, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, spitting, ?, lol.

Words | 7k

Notes | Somehow I wrote this in like one day lol but I kinda love it.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s working with a partner. You’re perfectly capable doing a job on your own, but your employer said you could either work with someone or be fired. Fired means dead— he can’t have people who know what you know, not working for him— so obviously you chose the former. 

Your assignment this time was simple; retrieve his phone, leave him alive. What made it difficult were the amount of guards he had on him 24/7 and his major trust issues. You couldn’t just walk up to him and start flirting— he’d get too suspicious. Which is where your partner came in. 

The target regularly attends a bdsm club and you don't know how your employer knows this, but when he’s there, he only goes to one of the private rooms if it’s with a pair, not just one person. Which unfortunately meant that you have to play submissive with a man you met only a few hours ago— and not just any man. After your brief amount of time together, it didn’t take long for you to completely hate him. He was cocky and unnervingly charming, but had an undertone of misogyny to him— that much was obvious in the way that he undermined your work. But it was this, or death. So you had to put up with him. 

“What should I call you?” He asked, standing in front of the mirror as he adjusted his tie. You were sitting on the bed, buckling the straps of your outrageously high heels. 

“My name?” You said, as if you were talking to a child who just asked a stupid question. He paused and turned to you.  

“No sub goes to a bdsm club with a dom and is called by their real name. Should I choose for you?” He condescended, making you clench your jaw. Should you just come up with a name you don’t actually use or like? You probably won’t be able to get in character as easily though. 

“Princess I guess.”  

“Great.” He said dryly, making you roll your eyes. “You can just call me sir.”  

“Great.” You repeated, in the same tone as him. 

The drive was awkward. Neither if you talked unless it was about the mission, but both of you already knew what to do. You arrived before the target, so you took the time to get a feel for the place and get into character. While this isn’t your first time in a place like this, you haven’t been often and it still makes you blush. He led you over to a quiet corner, then sat down. When you started doing the same, he stopped you. 

“Kneel on the ground.” He explained, making you clench your jaw, but obey. You know what kind of partnership the target prefers. You have to just swallow your pride and do this with a stranger who already infuriates you after only a few hours together. You dropped to your knees next to him, trying to adjust your skirt so it wouldn’t show anything, but it was useless. It didn’t even cover your ass when you were standing, let alone sitting. You were just glad you were wearing underwear. The top wasn’t much better— your breasts were spilling out of it and it was short enough to barely be classified as a crop top. It was basically just a skimpy bra. The collar weighed heavy around your neck and while this wasn’t your first time wearing one, you’re usually in a deeper headspace and with someone you actually like while wearing it. Right now it was just a constant reminder of the demeaning position your boss put you in. You turned over your shoulder to look at the door, but he stopped you. 

“Look at me or your lap. I’ll tell you when he’s here.” 

“We’re just going to sit here until then?” That would be even more suspicious. 

“No. We have to already be doing something when he walks in.” 

“No shit. Like what, genius?” You spat, growing nervous when his lips twisted up into a smirk. 

“Grind on my foot.” He said, extending his leg. You gaped at him, too caught off guard to figure out what to say. 

“What? I'm not— No!” 

“Princess,” he warned, leaning forward to grab your cheeks in his hand, “if you want to live through this and not be killed by the target or your boss, you’ll do what I say.” He said lowly, making you swallow down a moan.  

“Fuck— fuck, fine.” You hissed and he let go of your face, letting you position yourself over his shoe. You let out a heavy breath through your nose and clenched your jaw, not able to look at him as you lowered yourself down until your clothed heat met the smooth leather. 

You started out slow, tentative, your arms moving around awkwardly, not sure where to put them. 

“Hands behind your back.” He said, making you look up at him. Your hands moved behind your back without hesitation and you internally groaned at the fact that you’re already slipping into that headspace. 

“Good girl, just like that.” He cooed mockingly, making you glare at him. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You spat, even though his words added to your unwanted arousal. 

“Careful, princess. Anyone could be listening.” He smirked, flexing his foot up, making you gasp as your hips bucked toward the pressure. He didn’t keep his eyes on you for long, wanting to instead scan the crowd and keep an eye out for the target. 

“I don’t like this, Jackson,”

“Try again.” You just gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, not wanting to call him that unless you absolutely have to. 

“I don’t trust you, I want to be able to see.” You finished. 

“Your options are this or sitting on my lap, but I’ll have to touch you another way to keep up appearances.” Fuck. Is being able to see the room really worth him touching you like that? He’s probably going to need to do so eventually, though…

“Fine.” You said, standing up. “Over my clothes.” You turned around and sat on his lap, feeling slightly less tense now. 

“Clothes?” He scoffed, making your cheeks flush. 

“Shut up.” You hissed. His hands suddenly settled on your thighs and your breath caught in your throat. He teased you, dragging them up and down, barely brushing the bottom of your skirt. He placed a hand on your chest— your cleavage— and you were about to say something, but he just pulled you back so you were leaning against his chest. 

“Open your legs.” He whispered against your ear, making your shiver. 

“I don’t exactly want to give the entire room a view up my skirt.” 

“Sweetheart.. they’re going to get much more than that soon enough. Might as well just rip the bandaid off.” You gritted your teeth at the pet name, but still did what he said. “Good girl.” One of his hands started drifting higher, pushing under your skirt until he brushed your core, making you bite down on your lip to contain any sounds. 

“You think I want this too? I didn’t exactly picture my next job being spent feeling up a whore assassin in the middle of a bdsm club.” 

“Fuck you, Jackson.” You spat and he reeled his hand back then brought it down just as fast, making you jolt as a quiet whimper escaped you. 

“What did I fucking say?” He growled, roughly cupping your cunt over the lace. 

“Fuck you, sir.” You said viciously, but the breathiness in your voice took away some of the bite. “You think I wanted to spend my next job getting felt up by some ammatuer?” His other hand shot up to grab your neck and roughly pull your head back against his shoulder as he squeezed. 

“If I were in your position, I wouldn’t speak like that.” He hissed. You grabbed the arm of the hand on your neck, clawing at it to get him to let go. “Now, how about you shut the fuck up and be a good little girl, like your employer told you to be, and stop drawing attention to us, hm?” You were suddenly hyper aware of the few pairs of eyes that were now watching you. Your hands went lax and dropped to your sides, making his grip loosen slightly. The hand on your cunt was moving more purposefully now, rubbing your clit slowly as your eyes fell shut and you squirmed, trying to ignore the fact that you were being watched and this was a stranger rubbing your clit right now. 

“I have to know your secret. What did you say to her?” A man suddenly asked and you opened your eyes to find him and a woman standing in front of you. “My girl likes being a brat but it usually takes longer to get her to submit, isn’t that right, pet?” 

“Just helping you practice your authority, sir.” She said sweetly and if you weren’t in your current predicament, you would’ve laughed. 

“Oh you know, the usual threats.” Jackson chuckled with a shrug. 

“C’mon, you gotta help me out— look at her! Only seconds ago she was acting out.” Jackson laughed quietly behind you and you wondered how he was going to play this. 

“I got lucky— she’s a cock hungry little whore. All I gotta do is just threaten to not give it to her and she fixes her attitude almost instantly.” He said proudly, making you blush as you whined and turned your head. “She gets a little shy. This is our first time here and she’s not used to so many people.” He explained and the man hummed in understanding. 

“Well, welcome. I’m Nick.” 

“Jackson. I hope it works out for you.” You could tell he was smiling through the obvious dismissal. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a try next time.” They both walked away and you let out a heavy breath as his hand slowed to a stop. 

“Screw you.” You muttered, making him chuckle under his breath. 

“Yeah I thought you might like that.” You took deep breaths, trying to calm down and not let your nerves consume you. “We need to do more. We stick out too much like this.” Looking around the room, you knew he was right. Everyone was either engaging in some kind of nudity and/or intense sexual act, or they were watching one. 

“I know.” You sighed. “Like what?” 

“You can suck me off, or if you want to keep watching the room, I can finger you.” He suggested, making your blush deepen. His hands rubbed up and down your legs as he waited for you to decide. 

“Fine. You can finger me, just leave my underwear on please.” You said quietly. It was almost as if he could sense your nervousness about the situation because he didn’t respond with a mean retort or a jab at you. 

“Okay.” Was all he said. One of his hands snaked up, then wasted no time slipping in your underwear and brushing through your folds. “Jesus.” He said through a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t act like I’m not sitting on your fucking hard on right now.” You hissed, making him go quiet. 

“Fair enough.” He pushed a finger in and your hand gripped his leg as you stiffened. He started curling it slowly and you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. “Feel good?” He rasped and you couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not. You cursed under your breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to completely give in to the pleasure. When he started kissing your neck, you couldn’t hold down the moan anymore. 

“Fuck,” You whimpered, hips grinding against his hand. 

“You like having your neck kissed?” God— it’s one of your favorite things. For some reason, the simple act never fails to get you hot and bothered and turn you into a pliant, needy mess. 

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, gasping when he pushed another finger in. 

“Look at that…” He cooed. “Just a few fingers and you’re already slipping. I can’t wait to see how dumb you get on my cock.” You whined, hips moving incessantly. Even though you knew he wouldn’t actually fuck you, the thought still made you dizzy. When he lightly nipped at the skin, you let out a low moan and squeezed his leg harder. 

“No marks.” You whispered, despite the fact that your body was begging for the opposite. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” He mumbled sarcastically. You let your eyes fall shut and rested the full weight of your head on his shoulder as he kept kissing the sensitive skin. He was grinding the heel of his hand against your clit as his fingers curled inside you relentlessly and you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“He’s here.” He whispered, making your eyes snap open. Sure enough, he and about five men were walking in. He walked over to a booth and waited as one of the guards spoke to the people sitting there, making them instantly scramble out of their seats for the man. 

“How should we play this?” You whispered and his fingers slowed to a stop, but didn’t leave you. 

“We can’t come on too strong, but we also need to do something to get his attention.” 

“He won’t want it if it’s too easy though.” You added, groaning internally at what that meant you had to do. “We have to be the most desirable people here.” 

“Draw a crowd.” He confirmed, removing his fingers, making you swallow down a whine.  

“How do we do that?” You don’t know why you were asking him and not just deciding. Actually, that’s not true— it’s because you were already so close to entering a head space that you should not be in while working. 

“Get on your knees again. I’ll be right back.” You stood up and watched him walk over to Nick who was watching someone getting spanked while his.. “pet” was working his cock over in her mouth. You kneeled, but kept your eyes on him as you waited. They both looked at you, then back at each other, now with smiles as Jackson patted the man’s shoulder. He made his way back to you as Nick started talking to a few other people. 

“I’m getting a crowd.” He explained. “Just play along. I’ll keep watching our guy and tell you when he’s coming over, okay?” You nodded and he cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Ready to put that mouth to good use?” He smirked and you swallowed thickly. His attention was drawn away from you when Nick approached, followed by a few other people, some of them crawling and being led by leashes. 

“I was telling our friend here how you want to work on your “stage fright.’” He explained, putting on a show for them. “What do you think, princess? This a big enough crowd for you?” You stared up at them with wide eyes, trying not to shrink under all of their gazes. 

“Yes, sir.” You said meekly. 

“Atta girl. Now how about you get to it? We don’t want to keep them waiting.” You nodded and reached for his belt with shaky hands. When you finally freed his cock, you choked on a gasp at the sheer size of it. You tentatively took him in your hand and stroked slowly, getting a feel for it. 

You’re no virgin, but you’ve been so busy with work for the past few months that you’ve been relying on your vibrator. So you’re a little out of practice and his size isn’t helping much. He placed a hand on your head to pet your hair. 

“You know what I want. Don’t be a tease.” He warned, making you look up at him. 

“Sorry, sir. Just got distracted.” You heard the group behind you chuckle. 

“What’d I say, huh, Nick? Cock hungry whore— she’s practically obsessed with it. Can’t even go a day without it.” He took in a sharp breath when you suddenly enveloped the tip in your mouth, still stroking the base. “Fuck, there you go. Give our friends a show, yeah?” You whined at the reminder that you were being watched, making his hips flinch forward. Despite his request, you kept your mouth on the head of his cock, not going much further. He suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, making you gasp and choke on a moan. He leaned down close to you and you grew nervous because of his expression. 

“I didn’t invite them over to watch you do a half assed job. Either do it right, or I’ll get someone else to do it and you’ll go the rest of the night without it.” He growled, making you press your thighs together. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” You whimpered and he loosened his grip as he leaned back up. You kept your hand at the base, but started bobbing your head more now, taking most of his cock in your mouth. 

“Wow she really is cock hungry.” Nick said, making you whine. 

“It’s a blessing and a curse.” Jackson said through a breath, starting to guide your head. “Can’t get anything done if she’s around.” He chuckled, making the rest of them laugh along with him. 

“Mind if I take her for a spin?” Your stomach dropped at that. Sucking off a stranger who you’ve known for a few hours is different than sucking off one you just met barely ten minutes ago. 

“Maybe next time. Like I told you, this is our first time and she’s already pretty nervous.” He said and you could’ve cried in relief. 

“No worries, man. My girl was the same for our first time.” Jackson was about to respond before you accidentally went down too far and gagged around him, making him moan. 

“Shit— Let’s show ‘em what you can really do, yeah? Attract some more people.” You were pretty sure that meant the target wasn’t watching you yet. You hummed around him in acknowledgment and he adjusted his grip on your head, then started moving you up and down. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately released his cock and put your arms back. He sped up slightly, but was still going slow enough to let you get a feel for it. When he pulled you down, then held you there, your cunt pulsed when you realized what he wanted. 

“Relax your throat, princess. Let me in.” He said through a breath. You tried to obey, but you started gagging, making it almost impossible. “She just needs a little help sometimes.” He said before roughly pulling you down until he breached your throat barrier, making you choke and sputter as he groaned. He yanked you off, then slapped you across the cheek, the suddenness of it all making you dizzy. 

“If I feel your teeth again, you’re done for the night.” 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, sir.” You rasped, then opened your mouth, waiting. 

“Fuck- she really is eager.” Someone commented with a snicker. 

“Oh you have no idea.” Jackson said before pushing you back down, then extending his leg so his foot was between your legs. “Go ahead, bitch. Show everyone how much you love my cock.” You whined, but had no control over your body when you started grinding on his shoe. You moaned around his length as you desperately bucked your hips, missing the stimulation you were getting from his fingers before. The tip of his cock was punching the back of your mouth with each thrust, making you gag and writhe. 

Eventually he gave you a break. He pulled you off his cock then immediately forced your head between his legs, pushing your face against his balls. 

“Suck.” He growled, making you obey instantly. As you worked him over in your mouth, he was letting out breathy moans and grunts that had you whining against him, wanting more. “I don’t know what you were so nervous about, baby. You seem to be fine with all the people watching you.” At first, you whined at the reminder, but then you realized that he might’ve said that to let you know the target was watching now. 

“She like rimming?” Someone asked, making you panic because no, you absolutely do not like rimming. You almost pulled away to speak, but he beat you to it. 

“She has to be pretty deep into subspace to get that filthy.” He said, making you relax a little. With his balls in your mouth and his cock resting on your face, you already felt pretty filthy. But it was just the right amount to make your hips move more eagerly against his shoe. He suddenly pulled you back and you looked up at him with an open mouth, waiting. 

“Spit on it.” Your eyes widened at the request but you quickly gathered the saliva in your mouth and spit it on his cock. The second you finished, he was rubbing his length over your face, smearing your saliva, making you grimace. He slapped your cheek with his cock a few times before letting out a quiet chuckle. 

“This filthy enough for you?” He asked, turning your head to face the audience, giving you confirmation that the target's eyes were indeed on you. 

“Can I make a request?” The same man from before asked and you prayed he wouldn’t request anything that required you to get anywhere near an asshole. 

“Depends on what it is.” Jackson said, playing along as he turned you back around to keep rubbing his spit soaked cock on your face. 

“Let some of us spit on her too, yeah? Really get her nice and filthy.” Jackson looked down at you and you were trying to come up with a response. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Sure, you’d have to take a very thorough shower later, but at least if it was interactive, it might entice your target to join. He seemed to be thinking the same thing. 

“What do you say, princess? Wanna be a good girl and let them do this?” You nodded with pink cheeks and he yanked your head back. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, sir. I- I want it.” You whimpered, making him grin. 

“You heard her.” He said, releasing your hair and taking a step back as he slowly stroked his cock. You turned around and the man moved forward, then looked at Jackson before doing anything. 

“Can I grab her face?” 

“If she agrees.” 

“You can touch my face, sir.” You said quietly, staring up at him through your lashes. He looked down at you and cursed under his breath before grabbing your cheeks and leaning down a bit. You flinched when the spit hit your face, then whined when he rubbed it in. 

“Fuckin’ disgusting. She likes it too, huh?” He chuckled, looking at Jackson again as he stepped back. 

“Oh she loves it. I’m sure she’s making a mess all over the floor.” He replied, making your whole face turn red because it sure felt like you were making a mess all over the floor. But from Jackson, not from these other people. 

Someone else stepped forward and carded his fingers through your hair before grabbing it and gently pulling your head back. His cock was out of his pants, fully erect, right in front of your face and you watched it jump when you whimpered after the man spat on you. 

Nick walked forward this time, having the woman kneeling at his feet crawl forward with him. 

“You have a safe word?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Red.”

“Good.” He leaned down and spat on your face, this one feeling more forceful than the others, making you flinch again when it hit your face. “Now, pet, after she tells us her color, I want you to lick it off her face, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They both turned to you expectantly and your eyes flicked over to the target for half a second before going back to them. 

“Green.” You said quietly, making him beam. The woman shuffled forward and placed a hand on your thigh to steady herself as she leaned closer and slowly licked up your cheek. 

“Clean it all unless she says her safe word.” He commanded and you let her lap up the spit on your face, including over your lips. Your entire face was on fire when she pulled back slightly, her breath fanning your lips. 

“Ever kissed a girl before?” She asked sweetly, making your eyes widened as you choked on your spit. You shook your head, making her grin. “Do you want to?” 

“I- I have to ask first.” You said through a breath, almost forgetting where you were for a moment. Your whole focus was on her— the hand on your thigh, breath on your lips, even her words were intoxicating enough to make your brain go blank. 

“Go ahead then.” She smirked, pulling back a bit, making you finally feel like you could breathe. You cleared your throat, then turned around, looking up at him. 

“She asked if I want to kiss her.” You said meekly. 

“And do you?” 

“I want what you want, sir.” It was hard to tell if you were still pretending. 

“I think it’ll be a good way for you to practice feeling more comfortable in front of a crowd— might even attract some more people.” You knew that by “more people” he meant the target, so you nodded and bit your lip as you turned back around. Her smirk was still intact and she moved back toward you, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your thigh. When she started moving forward, you closed your eyes and waited. 

The kiss started out slow and tentative, but quickly grew hungrier. Her hand snaked around your neck to hold you against her as she practically devoured your mouth. You could faintly hear whistles and more talking, but it was all hard to focus on. Hands were suddenly on your shoulders and you jumped, but quickly relaxed when you heard Jackson’s voice. 

“Spit on her face.” He rasped, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up once she pulled back. Her eyes flickered between you and Jackson for only another moment before she did what he said. You gasped and he gripped your cheeks tightly to keep your jaw open. “Now in her mouth.” You couldn’t hold down the moan when you felt her spit land on your tongue. 

“Be a good girl and lick it up again.” Nick added and she leaned forward to lick her spit from your face, then kissed you again, forcing her tongue in your mouth, making you whimper. 

“Fuck— that’s it. You’re getting quite the crowd, baby.” He said quietly, then placed a hand on your waist and squeezed to really make sure you understood that wasn’t just a normal statement. When the woman pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips and you panted, trying to catch your breath and clear your head enough to have a coherent thought. 

“Who else wants to spit on her?” Jackson asked, somewhat loudly. A few people started to agree, but quickly stopped once your target stepped forward. “I think we have another volunteer, princess.” He smirked and the woman in front of you crawled back to Nick. You looked up at him through your lashes, trying not to do anything that would accidentally blow your cover. 

“She’s a pretty thing.” He said, stepping even more into your space, making you crane your head back to look at him. 

“Oh yeah. Pretty, but stupid— the perfect toy.” Jackson said proudly as he stood up from where he was crouched behind you. 

“I bet.” He chuckled, making you flush and avert your gaze. “I saw how eager she was with a cock in her mouth. Is she just like that with you? Or is she like that with any cock.” 

“Any cock. But we weren’t going to do much more than this. It’s our first time here and she’s pretty nervous.” 

“I see. That’s disappointing.” He sighed and you craned your neck around to look at Jackson. 

“Permission to speak, sir?” You were really trying to play it up in front of the target. 

“Yes.”

“I don’t mind. I’d just prefer going to a private room than staying out here.” You said meekly and he gave you a small smile as he pet your hair. 

“You sure, princess?” 

“Yes, sir. If he’s okay with going to a room.” Jackson looked at the man expectantly and he stared down at you, thinking. 

“I don’t mind.” He finally said, glancing at a guard and giving him a curt nod. “Shall we?” He motioned to the hallway where the rooms are and you started to stand, but Jackson stopped you as he tucked his erection back in his pants.  

“You can crawl.” He said and you flushed but dropped down to your hands and knees, following along behind them.  

The door shut softly and you waited on your knees expectantly. 

“How about I test that mouth, huh? See how eager she really is.” He smirked and you prayed Jackson would make a move sooner rather than later. He took his cock out of his pants, then roughly grabbed your hair, making you whimper. When he suddenly forced you all the way down, you choked and your hands shot out to push at his thighs. He suddenly released your hair and you pulled off with a cough, finding Jackson’s arm wrapped around the man’s neck, strangling him. After another minute he finally went limp and Jackson let him fall to the ground in front of you. 

“You couldn’t have done that before he fucking punched my throat with his dick? That hurt.” You complained, grabbing his phone from his pocket, then standing up on sore legs. 

“I needed to wait until his guard was down.” He explained and all you did was roll your eyes and start walking toward the door, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you. 

“We can’t leave yet. His guards will be right outside the door and they’ll know something’s up if we leave now.” You paused, then let out a groan at the fact that he’s right. 

“Fuck— fine. But I’m laying down.” You said, snatching your wrist from his hand and walked to the bed. You grabbed one of the small towels from the side table and wiped your face with a grimace as he rounded the bed and sat on the other side. 

“You did a surprisingly good job.” He admitted, making you turn to him with narrowed eyes. 

“Thanks.” You said, in place of ‘fuck you.’

“I just meant that I didn’t think you’d take it that far.” He defended and you calmed down a bit. 

“Neither did I.” You muttered. 

“You make a pretty good sub when you’re not being a stuck up bitch.” He snickered. You threw the towel at his face, then laid down, deciding to ignore him… as well as the arousal still making your cunt ache. 

“If we’re going to be here a while, the least you could do is let me sleep.” 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” You turned away from him and closed your eyes, feeling the bed dip and clothes rustle as he laid down. When he let out a low groan, you stiffened and strained your ear. The second time, you turned over, ready to yell at him, but it died in your throat when you saw his head thrown back as he rapidly fisted his cock. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, making his lips curl up into a smirk. 

“Denial isn't one of my kinks, sweetheart. At least, not for me.” 

“Well— You could at least have the decency to not do it in the bed I’m trying to sleep in.” Your tone was not nearly as stern as you wanted it to be.

“My cock was literally down your throat, but you have a problem with this?” He scoffed a laugh, making your cheeks heat up. “Besides, it won’t be believable if I walk out of here rock hard.” He said, like it was obvious. “You could always help me and speed it up.” He suggested, making your mouth fall open. 

“I’m good.” You spat, making him chuckle. 

“Sure, princess. You keep acting like your pussy isn’t dripping down your thighs and maybe you’ll even start to believe it.” You flushed with anger, embarrassment, and arousal this time. 

“Maybe it is. But if I’m gonna get someone’s help, then I’ll ask the girl who caused it.” You smirked, making him freeze.  

“That’s cute.” He said sarcastically and your smirk widened. 

“Maybe I’ll go get her— tell the guards he wants a foursome instead.” You moved to get up, but he roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back until you were laying down again, then got on top of you.  

“Keep testing me. You’re not going to like where it gets you.” He warned, making your cunt throb. 

“I’m not your sub, Jackson. Get that through your thick skull.” He placed a hand on your neck and squeezed, making your breath hitch. 

“Maybe not. That doesn’t change the fact that you want me to fuck you.” That made you scoff. 

“Please get your head out of your ass, it’s not a good look for you.” 

“Sure, baby. Keep pretending I’m wrong.” He smirked. “You have a safe word. Use it.” He dared and you narrowed your eyes as you clenched your jaw. 

“Fuck you.” You spat, pushing at his chest, making his grip tighten on your neck. 

“Use it.” 

Your gaze hardened as you stared up at him, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t make yourself say it though. You’re too curious— too eager to know where this is going. 

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He spat, making you roll your eyes. He removed his hand from your neck to slap you, then immediately put it back. This slap was so much harder than the one he gave you out there and you almost whimpered at the sting on your cheek. 

“Go fuck yourself.” You said lowly, watching his cheeks tense as he clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose. 

“I’m sick of your fucking attitude.” He was turning you on your stomach before you even knew what was happening. When you tried to lift yourself up, he pushed you down and held you there with a hand on the back of your head. It was harder to breathe like this, but you couldn’t even slightly  care about that when he roughly pushed your skirt up over your ass, then pulled your panties down just enough to free your cunt. 

The blunt tip of his cock brushed your entrance and he didn’t bother teasing you before forcing it inside, making you let out a strangled whimper at the suddenness of it all. He only stopped once his hips were flush with your ass and you gripped the sheets as you did your best to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Fuck— I can’t believe such an annoying little bitch has such a good cunt.” He said through a breath. When you tried to push yourself up to curse him out, he just pushed down harder on your head, making you whimper. 

He slowly dragged out until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward, making you scream and try to move up the bed away from the intense feeling. 

“Ah ah ah— You’re not going anywhere, bitch. I’ve waited all fucking night for this.” He continued the same pace of slowly dragging out, then roughly slamming back in and you wished he’d do something that felt better for you— not that this felt bad… there are just other things that’ll actually feel good. 

He moved his hand to the back of your neck and you were able to turn your head to the side so you could actually breathe again. At a particularly rough thrust, you let out a choked moan and cried out. 

“I can’t believe you think people could ever see you as a respectable assassin after this. Not when you played your part a little too well.” You squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper, trying not to let yourself believe his words. “This is probably the only kind of job you’ll get from now on. No dignity, no self respect, just a wannabe assassin being used as a whore.” You let out a choked sob, his words going straight to your cunt. 

“And I’ll bet you’ll like it too. You’ll fuck anyone he tells you to, not just because it’s your job… but because you want to.” 

“Jackson,” You cried and he shushed you softly. 

“It’s okay, princess. You can’t help it— you were born to be a whore.” 

“Fuck,” You sobbed out, “oh god, please make me come.” 

“Of course you fucking like that shit.” He scoffed, making you whine. 

“Please, Jackson!” He pushed down harder on your neck, making your breath catch in your throat. 

“Last chance.” He said lowly. 

“Please, sir! Please make me come!” 

“Good girl… No.” You let out an anguished cry at the denial. 

“Please!” He was fucking you brutally now, his hips smacking your ass with each thrust and his cock punching the breath out of you everytime it was forced deeper inside. 

“You can fucking wait.” He hissed, voice getting more and more breathless. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me? Come when I tell you to?” He cooed, his tone significantly gentler now. You whined, torn between wanting your long awaited pleasure and wanting to be good for him. “I know, baby. I’m so close though, can’t you just wait a little longer?” You nodded with a whimper, watching him smile through your peripheral vision. “Atta girl.” He said proudly, making your walls flutter around his length. He let out a choked moan at the feeling, then leaned up and removed his hand from your neck to spread your ass apart for a better view of his cock stretching you. You whined loudly when he spat on your hole, adding more lubrication even though you were already doing a good enough job of that on your own. 

“God- you’re so fucking easy.” He groaned. “Praise is what does it for you, huh? Just need to be told you’re a good girl and you get all dumb and pliant?” You whined loudly, burying your face in the sheets to hide your blush. 

“Pathetic.” He spat, letting go of your ass to grab your hips and thrust even faster. 

“Fuck— sir, please.. I don’t think I can hold it.” You whimpered, fisting the sheets and trying to will your orgasm away. 

“I know, princess, it’s okay. You get a cock in that sloppy little cunt and you go all brain dead and come hungry… You poor thing.” He cooed mockingly, bringing you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead and come, baby. You can let go now.” He said softly— a harsh contrast to his rough thrusts. When you didn’t come immediately though, he got impatient. 

“Go on, needy fucking slut. Come on my cock- prove that you’re nothing more than a brainless little whore.” The knot of arousal in your stomach snapped almost violently and you sobbed out a moan when your orgasm finally crashed over you. His thrusts barely even slowed, not deterred by your walls spasming around his length. 

“Jesus— fucking…” He hissed. That was the only indication you got that he was affected by this. As your orgasm finally started to fade, it was quickly replaced by a more painful pleasure when he continued. 

“Sir- sir, wait,” You choked out, trying to move up the bed to get away from him. He fell over you, completely flush with your back, and kept rutting into your sore hole desperately as he chased his own orgasm. “Fuck— oh fuck, it hurts.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut to try and focus on something other than the overstimulation. 

“Shut the fuck up already.” He spat, moving his arm in front of your body to place a hand on your neck, squeezing hard enough to cut off any kind of sounds you tried to make. You clawed at his arm, your head starting to feel swollen and your eyes falling shut from a lack of oxygen and blood flow. “You can breathe after I fucking come.” He growled, ignoring your choking and your gasps for air. 

“God- you’re so much hotter when you can’t fucking talk.” He groaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he focused on his impending orgasm. You were genuinely starting to worry that you’d pass out before he came, but just as your eyes grew too heavy to keep open and your hearing muffled, you could faintly hear him groaning as his hips stilled, occasionally bucking into you. He released your neck and you gasped and wheezed, heaving in large gulps of air as your head rushed with the sudden blood flow. Now that you could actually focus on other sensations, you noticed how hot your walls felt with his come inside you. 

“Fuck— you didn’t use a condom.” You rasped, letting your head fall onto the bed, too tired to hold it up. 

“I don’t fucking care.” He said, almost amused. 

“…Me neither.” He chuckled breathlessly and rolled off of you, laying on his back. You turned your head so you were laying on your other cheek, wanting to face him. His eyes were closed and he was lightly panting, and you couldn’t help but notice how pretty he is. 

“Stop staring.” He mumbled, making you smile. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s creepy.” Despite his words, the corners of his lips just barely turned up into a smile. 

“Do you think it’s been long enough yet?” You asked, turning on your side so your neck wasn’t bent uncomfortably anymore. 

“Not even close. I’m just catching my breath before round two.” He glanced at you with a small smirk, making you roll your eyes with a blush. 

#jackson rippner x reader smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #red eye movie #red eye #cillian murphy

[aemonds-sapphire]

Acceptance

Summary: It’s your wedding night, so why are you knocking on Aemond’s door?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Virgin reader. Virginity loss. Friends to lovers. Consummation proof. Fingering.

A/N: You can most definitely read this as a stand-alone, but I do recommend reading part I, II, and III for some context. For those who have read each part, this is the final one. Hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5k

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were absolutely terrified. But no amount of fear could deter you from the decision you had made.

You stood outside his bedchamber, the pit of your belly tightening in anticipation. Even thiugh there was still a tiny part of you that urged you to walk away, you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want to.

Your knuckles tapped the door twice and your heart lurched into a frantic pace as you bit your lower lip, attempting to keep your nervousness at bay.

It didn’t take long before you were met with Aemond.

He gripped the doorknob while his eye fell to your face first and then to your forearm.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

Realising the conclusion he had drawn from the bruise that tinted your skin, you immediately shook your head with a chuckle. “No. I… tripped on my way here…”

He wasn’t convinced.

“Aemond… he did not touch me.”

Gradually, the tension on his face faded away, but he remained unmoving.

“May I?”

He stepped to the side at once, eye still fixed on you as you walked in. Closing the door shut, he paced until he was in front of you, bringing your feet to a halt.

You swallowed hard as you glared at the beautiful man with whom you had shared so much of your life. Lines were crossed and blurred beyond recognition. The friendship you had once share had morphed into something you had craved and yearned for.

Until tonight.

Until another man took you as his wife and severed that bond.

“What are you doing here?” he asked seriously.

You stared at him dazedly, feeling a jab at your heart. “He won’t bed me. He’s too drunk to bed me,” you said in a low voice, wishing to match his level of deadpan.

Aemond stood in silence for a long while before he crossed both arms over his chest, the linen undershirt underneath wrinkling.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated in a final tone.

Your jaw quirked angrily. “You do not know what I’m here to ask.”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh. “I already know,” he said simply. “You are not mine to take.”

“So you’d have me bed him?”

“He’s your lord husband.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. In truth, you had considered the idea that he’d be reluctant in having you. He had done so many times before, but you had hoped this time things would go differently.

“I’m willingly giving myself to you,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “My father will demand proof of consummation and…”

He held up a finger. “So that is why you’re here.”

“To give you my maidenhead? Yes.”

But Aemond saw deeper than that. “And proof of consummation.”

You stared at him long and hard. “This is the one thing I have control over as of right now. I was forced into a loveless marriage…” your voice faltered momentarily. “I’m married to a drunken fool who is too out of it to perform his duty.”

Duty.

The very thing that shaped Aemond’s being and one not easily broken.

“I will not take what’s not mine.”

“Please…” you said, realising how pathetic your plea sounded.

An empty silence weaved around both of you, only disrupted by the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace nearby. A warm hand touched your shoulder and you flinched away from his touch.

“I thought… you wanted this…” you said quietly.

His eye narrowed. “What I desire matters not.”

“It does,” you said, letting your robe slide off your shoulders and down your body. “You know I’m yours to take.”

You expected more resistance from him, but you could understand why he didn’t. After all, it was a feeling you knew all too well. Craving what is given to others.

He took a step towards you, eye roaming down the length of your body as you undid your nightgown. Aemond held out his hand to touch it before tugging softly until the sheer fabric came sliding down and pooling at your feet.

The exposure and cooler air had your nipples harden and you shivered as his hand traveled down your shoulder and arm.

“Please, Aemond…” you said, fighting back the urge to cry at how desperate you were. “Please…”

It was already appalling enough to be stuck in this situation, but you refused giving yourself to a man who meant nothing to you. Even if tradition called for it and had people marry each other out of pure convenience, you deserved better than that.

Especially when you had Aemond.

His hand came to rest under your breast and you felt his thumb caressed it slowly.

“You’re tempting,” he said as if talking to himself. “Too tempting.”

“Then take me,” you offered, bringing your own hands to rest on his chest, allowing yourself to feel his firm muscles heave underneath your palms. “I don’t give a fuck about my husband and I’m certain you feel the same way.”

He gritted his teeth. “Not even Vhagar’s fire would match the one flaring inside me when I saw you with him.”

Your fingers gripped the hem of his undershirt and he quickly got rid of it, exposing his torso to you.

“You should have killed him.”

Aemond’s lips turned into a smile. “A very alluring prospect, indeed.”

His hands were suddenly on your breasts and you bit back a moan as he caressed you. You couldn’t help but to have your own eyes travel down his torso, admiring how his muscles rippled under his skin.

“I’m sure Larys Strong will find a way.”

Aemond snickered. “Please do not mention him… it’s a sure way to ruin this.”

By ‘this’ he meant his restrained cock that had your nervousness turn into desire. Trembling fingers gripped the hem of his breeches, but before you could slip one hand inside he gripping your wrist.

“Tonight isn’t about me,” he whispered.

He ducked forward taking your lips in his and your eyes immediately slid shut with a soft sigh of pleasure. You could get lost in his touch for hours. A simple kiss shouldn’t be able to have wetness drip from you, but it couldn’t be helped. When you felt a nibble on your lower lip and his tongue lightly tapping it, you promptly parted your lips and deepened the kiss.

Without tearing himself from you, he took you in his arms, lifting you off your feet effortlessly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Aemond only broke the kiss once he reached the edge of the bed. He placed you on top of the soft bedsheets, bringing one knee to press down for support.

You suddenly felt very exposed and staring into his eye had a wave of embarrassment wash over you, breaking eye contact.

“Look at me.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, you did as you were told, pressing your thighs together to hide your desire for him.

Suddenly, he moved away from the bed and came back carrying your nightgown.

Confusion splattered across your face as dropped to his knees on the mattress and slid closer to you. He gripped both your knees and parted your legs slowly to reveal yourself fully to his gaze.

Without uttering a word be brought your nightgown to rest just below your entrance, tucking it slightly under your backside.

“You’ll need your proof of consummation.”

Oh.

Aemond then settled in between your legs, leaning into you to press a tender kiss to the corner of your lips, causing you to shift restlessly underneath him, very much aware of the weight of his body on yours.

Your back instantly arched your back as you felt his hard cock pressed flat against your folds, causing your clit to swell and throb in anticipation.

Aemond lowered his face to your neck, planting several open-mouthed kisses across your sensitive skin. Your eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped your lips. His tongue slid over your pulse point, sending your hips to lift from the bed, further increasing the pressure his cock applied to your clit.

“Aemond… please…” you groaned, deciding you were too tired of waiting for him to finally deflower you.

But what you lacked in patience, Aemond made up for in incredible self-restraint.

With one hand he stilled your rolling hips. “You’re not ready.”

You huffed in annoyance, dragging your fingernails along his chest teasingly. But he was right. He was well-endowed and you needed all the preparation he was willing to provide — and you willing to go through.

After ensuring you remained still, he snaked his hand between your legs, raising his own hips to make room for his prying fingers.

He pressed a kiss to your lips before sliding one finger inside.

But you could take more than that.

And you were aware he knew once a second finger joined the other.

You gasped into his lips, breath shaking and wet sounds filling his bedchamber. The head of his cock would occasionally hit your clit each time he shifted on top of you, making your entire body shudder in pleasure.

He gave you one final peck. “Can you take another one?”

It was possible you could, but you didn’t want another finger. You wanted his cock to push through your maidenhead and have you be bound to him.

You immediately shook your head. “I need more than that… please…”

Instead, he curled his fingers inside while pressing your clit with his thumb, causing you to cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Aemond held himself above you, watching you intently as more head flooded your body and wetness spilled from you. You drew your eye open and realised his gaze was as a fire that burned down on your face

Your mind drew a blank and you felt your lower abdomen begin to twist into a familiar knot. It never failed to amaze you how easily Aemond could get your over the edge.

Knowing your body far too well by now, Aemond was quick to withdraw both fingers from inside just as your walls were starting to clench down frantically around him.

“Aemond!” you cried out in despair at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

He brought his fingers to your lips, smearing your wetness across them before tasting it in a searing and scorching kiss.

You moaned, rolling your hips into him once you felt him lower himself onto you once more.

He cradled your face in his hand. “Are you ready?”

You nodded right away in between gasps as he slid his cock along your slick folds.

Aemond heaved a deep sigh as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest.

With a slight roll of his hips, Aemond managed to get the head of his cock through the barrier. You gasped loudly you felt a sting of pain followed by the uncomfortable sensation of something rolling down.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you felt Aemond kiss each of the away with his lips. He wasn’t moving inside you and you were wholeheartedly thankful for his thoughtfulness.

The pain wasn’t unbearable by any means, but it was enough to have you sobbing lightly.

“We can stop here,” he said lovingly, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You took a deep breath, mustering all the strength within you. “Keep going…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

No.

But it didn’t matter. You had been waiting for this for far too long to back down now.

“Try your best to relax.”

Aemond kissed you again, but you understood it was mainly to muffle your cries as he sank deeper inside you. You tried to ease the grip around him, but it was proving itself to be harder than expected.

He broke the kiss with a growl, breath coming out in hot pants. “You’re too tight… I won’t… last long…”

Even through the pain, you managed to feel the weight of his words as your clit pulsed once again.

By the time he had buried himself deeply inside, you didn’t dare breathe for a few seconds, your body still trying to adjust to his size.

Your hands clawed at his back as you tried to ease some of the tension.

“Are you well?” he asked in between gritted teeth.

“Thought it would hurt more,” you breathed out, noticing he was struggling to keep himself steady. “Are you?”

He let out a breathy growl. “You’re squeezing too hard…”

It was clear that he wasn’t going to last long, so you squeezed one hand in between your bodies, applying a faint pressure to your clit.

“Move,” you urged him.

You needed to feel more of him and when the young prince slid out slowly and back inside, you felt the air in your lungs rush out rapidly. Your clit demanded attention and you didn’t mind to provide it, but Aemond would have none of that.

He pushed your hand away at once replacing it with his own, setting a slow and steady pace as your walls finally began to ease down around his cock.

The overwhelming heat and size of him filling the aching emptiness was something you never thought you needed. In no time, your muscles were clamping down around him urgently and the bedchamber whirled away into a blur as orgasm crept upon you, catapulting you straight into the middle of a storm.

“Aemond… Aemond…” you gasped repeatedly, feeling the muscles on his back flex languidly with each slow thrust.

Once more, you arched your back and your vision went dark. Spasms and contractions of pleasure washed down your body, centered around where where his body was connected to yours. Aemond had buried his face in the crook of your neck, no longer bothering to silence your cries of pleasure.

It took you a long time to realise he had pulled out of you and was coating your belly with hot streaks of cum, letting out the most alluring growls you had ever heard from him.

He slumped to the side, removing the blanket of warmth he had enveloped you in with his body.

You felt incapable of stringing words together for the longest time, merely trying to get your breathing to steady while feeling the rolls of his seed streaming down your sides.

Aemond was the first to move, gathering your nightgown in his hand, displaying a few drops of blood that had stained the fabric.

“I think I may have to kill your husband.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you

[d-targaryenshoe]

Symbols Of Strength • Daemon Targaryen

Word Count: 1525

Summary: Giving birth to your first babe when your husband is not in the kingdom is never easy, is it?

As you sat at the long table that was decorated with all different sorts of food and spices that would fill your stomach in delight, to start your day.

You were eating for more than just yourself, since you were carrying the first child that would join your marriage to Daemon Targaryen.

Slightly pushing your fork into the egg yolk that was laying on your plate, you saw the orange substance flowing between your baked bacon strips, losing your appetite as you were watching your food.

"Do you not crave anything on this table?" Alicent leaned her elbows on the table, folding her hands and looking at you in a venomous manner. "People have had a lot of time, making sure you would have a great meal."

"I would like it if you would calm your tone towards my sister, no one called you an obstacle when you married our father, your grace," Rhaenyra spoke.

"Alicent, would you mind?" Viserys glared at his wife, starting to cut his bacon.

"No, father, let her be, all bite but no action towards me." You smirked at the dark-haired female, taking a sip from your water before placing your hands on your bump. "Because of what? Because I got married to the man that was betrothed to you?"

"You do not know anything about love or true desires." Alicent clenched her jaw, tightening her grip on her knife.

"Se iksin nyke beri naejot daor gīmigon skoros ao drējī desire, ondoso mirre gods, ābra (And am I lucky to not know what you truly desire, by all gods, woman). You placed your hand on your fathers, kindly smiling at him as if nothing happened.

"You may be Queen, you may be my wife and mother of my children, but you do not ever approach my daughters in this way." Viserys snapped at Alicent as she pushed her chair back and left the hall.

"Father, do you mind if we go and pay a visit to Syrax?" Rhaenyra stood up from her chair, holding a hand to you, supporting your back. "Or would you rather have us stay here?"

Viserys shook his head, smiling at the two of you, waving his hand dismissively. "No, not at all, you go and pay a visit to the beautiful beast, y/n, you should take some time to rest since Daemon is going for a ride with Caraxes."

You chuckled, intertwining your arm with Rhaenyra's, kissing your father's cheek. "I do not have any rest if Daemon is around either, father."

You and Rhaenyra turned your backs as you started to walk out of the castle into the cave where Syrax was to be found most of the time.

"Syrax, ao gevie dyni (Syrax, you beautiful beast). Rhaenyra whispered, slightly walking towards him, placing her hands on her neck before taking your hands and placing them under her own. "It's as easy as that."

You smiled at the huge beast, rubbing your hands on her neck, feeling her roar under your hands, you looked at Rhaenyra before both of you chuckled. "Such a weird yet satisfying vibration."

"Yes, it is indeed, how was the babe when the maester visited last week?" Rhaenyra asked, putting her hands behind her back. 

"Gevie riña, such iā gevives (beautiful girl, such a beauty)." You walked towards Syrax her head, holding out your hands, waiting for her reaction before she stepped closed, making the ground shake slightly. "There you go."

"Did the maester do anything special, gave you any remedies for the pain you've been experiencing?" The younger sister asked again, placing her hand on Syrax's head. "Y/n, for all gods I'm your sister."

"I'm scared, sister, I'm scared to fucking death. Because I do not know how this will end. Will I end up like our mother or will I live? I do not know." You sighed, taking your hands off Syrax, cradling your bump as pain struck your abdomen.

Rhaenyra placed her hand on your back, pushing your hair out of your face as you were staring down at the ground, looking down at a huge amount of water and a few drops of blood. "Rhaenyra..."

"Oh fuck, we must find the Maester, a few attendants, and Daemon, we must find Daemon, no I must find Daemon, I have to bring you to your room of course..." Rhaenyra chuckled nervously, grabbing your hand as her other arm was wrapped around your waist.

"Please, stay calm, so am i." You muttered, entering the huge gate from the castle, releasing Rhaenyra's hand as you release a sigh, feeling another pain entering your body. "Go search Daemon if he has already landed with Caraxes, I'll be fine."

Rhaenyra nodded her head, kissing your cheek before running off, onto finding your husband meanwhile you just screamed. "Maester Mellos and midwives are to be send in my room!"

As you stood in front of the stairs, you took a deep breath in as you already knew this was going to be painful, walking onto a high stair with a babe inside of you that was wishing to come out.

Stepping onto the stairs you bit your lip, breathing in and out before someone placed a hand on your back, helping you lead on the staircase. Well, Maester Mellos, you certainly do fulfill your duties."

"Of course, Lady Targaryen." The man answered as the both of you walked into the room where three midwives were already waiting for you to arrive. 

As a pain struck you once again you bowed forward, screaming out in pain, before a midwife strolled over to you, undoing the buttons of your dress.

Accepting the midwife's hand you stepped out of the dress, waddling over to the bed that you shared with your husband that was now dressed in white sheets.

You lay down in the bed, closing your eyes before you feel a cold towel placed on your forehead before you hear the door being opened.

You opened an eye, noticing Rhaenyra walking in but without your husband which made the nerves slightly get to your heart in worry.

As a pain struck your abdomen, you took a breath in and out, reaching out for your sister. "Is he back yet?"

Rhaenyra nodded, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles, softly smiling at you. "He had just arrived, almost lost his mind when I said the babe was on its way."

The both of you chuckle before you squeezed Rhaenyra's hand in pain, leaning your head back, hoping this torture of pain would be over soon enough.

"Lady Targaryen, I must apply some pressure to the belly, this might be unpleasant." The Maester spoke, placing both of his hands on your belly before applying pressure

You screamed it out in pain, releasing Rhaenyra's hand but grabbing the sheets instead. "Nyke jorrāelagon ñuha valzȳrys kesīr, nyke daor gaomagon bisa mērī (I need my husband here, I cannot do this alone)."

"Aderī mandia (Soon sister) " Rhaenyra whispered, removing the hairs that stuck to your forehead from the wet towel. 

"Lady, you must start to push." A midwife spoke as she placed your legs in the correct position, holding an elbow under you as another midwife changed the towel with a new one. 

Taking a deep breath you placed your chin on your chest, applying all the pressure on your abdomen even though the pain you felt was unbearable, losing this child would be even worse.

"Open this fucking door if you do not wish to be eaten, crushed or burned alive by my ruthless dragon." As you heard the voice behind the door, you sort of relaxed, knowing he would be here to see the birth of your first child.

"I'm sorry, Prince, but the Maester commanded me to-" 

"He commanded you what? To keep the father of this babe out of the room? Let me be with my wife." Daemon pushed the knight out of the way, walking towards you as you were pushing the best you could. 

Feeling a pair of lips on your forehead you smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, forbidding yourself to get emotional for seeing him at this moment. "You're here." 

"I am, you're not in this alone, we're in this together." Daemon placed his chin on top of your head, placing a hand on your back as you gained power enough to push again.

"Lady Targaryen if you could just wai-"

"Fuck waiting, I'm in pain." You groaned, pushing with all you got before you felt a huge release, staring up at Daemon when the room went quiet for a few moments.

A baby started crying, making you bust out in tears, opening your arms out for your newborn child, smiling up at Daemon before placing your lips on his.

"It's a boy." Maester Mellos spoke, smiling at the two of you, handing Daemon a knife to cut the umbilical cord.

Cutting through the cord, Daemon smiled down at the newborn, placing his lips on his son's head, looking into your eyes. "We already had a name did we, dearest wife?"

You nodded your head, leaning your forehead against his. "Rhaelar Targaryen."

TAG LIST: @babygirl-4986 @tsundere-cherry-girl @newtsniffles @sweetybuzz25 @moonmaiden1996 @ali-r3n @eddiemunson17 @bookish-time-travels @ayamenimthiriel @1-800-isabellapotter

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfiction

[sabokunsmalia]

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒; levi ackerman featuring: levi ackerman x thug fem!reader synopsis: you've known levi since his underground days, always by his side and making sure, he feels good before sleeping. content warning: smut, p in v, pet names, choking hi it's malia: no regrets made me do it, just know that.

One leg wrapped tightly around his waist, you allowed him to reach deeper with his harsh thrusts. Tonight, a mission failed because Isabel acted too careless with one of her maneuvers. Instead of bringing back another pile of food, they kept the smallest amount which fit their pockets to save the girl from being captured, and probably murdered.

Among the underground folk, Levi did not trust many people. Trusting the wrong person blindly, could be the easiest death sentence possible. So, Furlan and Isabel enjoyed a close friendship with a talented, young man, who taught them the movements with ODM gear. And then there was you, his most entrusted person, his girlfriend. "Feels so good, Levi," You moaned, almost too loud for th thin walls of the small apartment the group rented.

Face hidden in the crock of your neck, his warm breath fanned along the side of your throat. Puffs of air exhaled against the soft spot underneath your ear, adding another reason to feel like being brought straight to heaven. "Fucking hell, you are so tight," Levi's voice was a mess of raspy tones, the words muttered against your skin inbetween the quiet groans.

But the sweet and adored intimacy did not last long, as Levi pushed his body off yours. A flat hand placed on each side of your head, balancing his weight, he withdraw his hips until only his soft pink tip was left inside your warm cunt.

Corners of the mouth twitched, his lips turning into a satisfied smirk at the sight, you already presented him after such a short time of sex. Oh, how much you loved Levi's kind of genuine smiles. Sadly as the days passed, they vanished more and more from his face. His face was so close but yet so far, as you moved an arm to reach out to him. Slender and soft fingers caressed over his flustered cheek and along the sharp lines of his jaw. "I love you so much,"

You whispered with swollen lips and glossy eyes. The view enough for Levi to feel his dick twitch, and almost making him cum while being halfway inside of you only. The answer you've gotten from him, was a harsh thrust, bullying his entire length inside of you again, without warning. Such words from you released a chained animal inside of him. Eyes, blown-out with lust on both ends, connected in the heated mid-air, as Levi kept on with the relentless pace and deep thrusts, he just started.

Oh, the thief did not know how he deserved such a valuable present. One day, you marched through the underground, beautiful coat wrapped around your slim body while the men around you drooled over your clean appearance. A gang of three tried to jump you that same evening, when Levi and Furlan were around and safely escorted you towards their apartment with the help of ODM gear.

For the first time, you felt safe and a taste of freedom while flying through the air. And since that day, you haven't left Levi's side.

"You take me so good, princess," His words were a simple praise, you have heard more than once by now. But those easy choice of sylabelles had a promising effect on the way your body responded to him. Walls clenching, bottom lip quivering.

It would be insane for anyone from the underground to say that Levi had a sweet or soft side, hidden underneath the cold glare he usually wore. But you knew how much he changed as soon as the door closed. A young adult boy, who simply tried to find his place in this world, and maybe enjoy a second or two of the rebel behavior.

While you expected the unyielding harshness and never faltering speed tonight, after the glare he sent you earlier while entering the apartment, Levi's pace faltered once again. Three to four particular strong ones until he has gotten slower, more sensual. "Look at me," He demanded, leaning on his underarms to be closer to your face. It was one of those moments, where he questioned the world, questioned the future and had to switch his thoughts off.

The best way to do such thing was always to share longing gaze into the beautiful color swirls of your dilated pupils. Enough to keep him in the moment, anchored to the world of reality. But the on-going eye contact weakened your restrains of keeping the control over your orgasm for longer.

Levi memorised in which way his swollen lips had to trail along the span of your prominent collarbones. Following the path of the bone until the soft, unblemished valley between your breasts awaited the sensual kisses of the promised love.

"Shit, you're holding me like a fucking vice," Levi grunted, bathing in the warming grasp of your walls while convincing himself to steadily roll his hips. You haven't given him a signal yet.

Not a scratch of your nails sharp enough to announce your orgasm.

Not the sweet swords tumbling out of your mouth in stutters while the drool escaped the corner and dribbled down the side of your face. But your body offered him the signals he needed. As your breathy screams reached the mellow air stuck in the bedroom, Levi's grunts became slightly louder.

"You're so fuck," He could not finish his compliment, the way you tightened deliciously around his length blew the air out of his lungs in a deep groan. Soft pillow grabbed between his slender fingers, Levi felt how your core milked him without wasting a second. Hips rolling against each other, his somewhat stronger than yours as the ecstasy aftermath vibrated through his spent body.

"So fucking pretty," He muttered between the heavy breaths. Lids closed, the strands of black hair which loosely hung across his eyes, were glued to his sweaty forehead. Panting filled the calmness of the bedroom, the aftermath settling in as Levi offered you a small, but satisfied, smile.

#aot x reader #aot smut #aot levi #levi aot #aot imagine #aot drabble #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan smut #attack on titan levi #levi attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan drabble #attack on titan imagine #levi x reader #captain levi #snk levi #levi ackerman #levi smut #levi ackerman x reader #aot #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman x you

[havigurl]

Mrs. Perfect - Nanami Kento

Nanami Kento x Female Reader

tags/cw: smut, 18+, sub!nanami, femdom!reader, pegging, fingering, anal & vaginal penetration, some fluff, other stuff i cant rememberrr

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just dirtyyy (i wrote this fic like a year ago plsss)

As someone who didn't care much about work, nor being serious, you received many surprised looks when you informed others of your relationship with Nanami. He was the complete opposite of you, but opposites do attract. You both fit like pieces to a complicated puzzle. Did you argue? Yes. Were there nights where one of had to leave the house to get away because you could no longer stand to look at one another without lashing out? Also yes.

No one is perfect, and your relationship proved that, but you both did everything in your power to keep one another happy. Even if that meant trying new things in the bedroom to keep the relationship exciting and "fresh".

One night after you both engaged in a heated argument you thought of something that you hadn't considered trying with him. Pegging. You had first thought of this when you saw his ass when he had bent down to pick up his tie that you had ripped off during the argument; and you had to admit, it was much more plump and round than yours. You already owned a few straps from a previous relationship that you had with a very...kinky man.

After Nanami had yelled what was on his mind he made his way to your shared bathroom to take a shower. This was your opportunity and you took it. Tip-toeing to the closet you surveyed it looking for a box that held many of your old sex toys. Once you found the box the sound of the shower being turning on caused your heart to pound against your chest from the amount of anticipation you had. You had decided to choose the two-sided strap that could penetrate you both. You quickly discarded your clothing, inserted your side of the strap inside of yourself, tightened the buckle, and slowly entered the bathroom.

His eyes were trained on the ground when you opened the glass door and they remained there until you rested your head on his back. "I'm sorry..." you started, but you were quickly cut off by his hand he raised in the air. "Don't apologize. I was in the wrong, and I'm sorry for that. Could we possibly move on?" He asked with a bit of uncertainty behind his words. You simply smiled against his broad shoulder that was now holding your head up. "I'd love that...but I know a way that you could repay me." You kissed his shoulder, slowly moving to his neck where you peppered many butterfly kisses. He turned his neck to the side to give you more exposure which you gladly used to your advantage. He let out a low groan when you bit his ear and whispered "Can we try...this?" you poked the tip of the dildo against his ass and his eyes darted open. He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his composure. You ran your hand up and down his back to try and reassure him. "We don't have to do anything that you aren't comfortable with okay?" He nodded his head multiple while thinking over what you had said. After a few moments, he turned his head to look you in the eyes. "I want this."

He pressed his hands up against the wall of the shower and arched his back. You slowly circled his asshole with one finger, stretching him, then slid in another. You began pumping his cock to collect some of the pre-cum that could be used as a lubricate. He let out a loud moan which encouraged you to go faster, once he was on the verge of cumming you quickly removed your hand and spread his pre-cum on the dildo. It was a good 6 inches and you weren't exactly sure if he was going to be able to take it. "Are you sure?" You asked with a concerned look on your face. He pushed his ass towards the dildo, clearly annoyed. You positioned it, slowly inserting it into his tight hole. He clenched his jaw as hard as he could flexing it each time you slid in and out of his ass. You were starting to feel the effects of the dildo that was sheathed inside of your vagina. Soon both of your moans started to synchronize. Him being the most full that he's ever been, and you getting off on his moans, while both of your g-spots were constantly being hit. He grabbed onto your wrists to pull you in deeper and harder and you obliged. "You're such a good boy for me." You said smiling into the crook of his neck. He whimpered and moved his body with yours. The sound of skin slapping and moans filled the house, replacing the space that was once filled with angry screams.

After many minutes of you fucking him dizzy, he let out a struggled moan and came on the shower floor. You continued to ram into him until the knot in your stomach snapped and you came as well. You pulled out and leaned up against the wall trying your hardest to catch your breath while Nanami sat on the floor of the shower on his knees. "How are you feeling baby?" you asked crouching down to move the hair that was plastered to his face. “Dirty." That was all he said with an empty expression before standing up abruptly and going back to washing his body like he was before you "rudely" interrupted him. Slightly hurt and annoyed by his actions you scoffed and moved to open the shower door when he grabbed you by your shoulder and pulled you into a wet kiss. Your tongues slid across each other, feeling, tasting, and trying to explore every nook and cranny of one another's mouths as if you hadn't hundreds of times prior. It was an intoxicating feeling that you missed each time that it ended.

"Nanami-" You felt his mouth latch onto your nipple. "Ah..ah" You moaned running your hand through his now wet hair. He continued to suck on both of your breasts before he placed his thumb on top of your clit. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm you tried to move his hand. Refusing, he kept his thumb there, and moved his free hand to your neck. The cut-off of oxygen caused the movement on your clit to feel even more euphoric than what you thought was possible. "I want your fingers..." Without a second thought, he pushed 2 fingers in causing you to moan louder. His fingers weren't enough and you began to grind yourself into his arm. It became too much, and your vision became clouded. Snapping your hips forward, you came on his fingers.

He removed his fingers and moved them towards his mouth. He licked them, looking up at you through his lashes, before fully sucking them. “Taste so good..” he said after removing them with a pop. You grinned and pressed your lips into his. Back to the sensation from before, the intoxicating one that you loved. You had a grip on the back of his head keeping him in place while he held onto your wrist. You loved the feeling of his lips on yours, but you wanted something more. You reached down to his dick and guided your hips towards it so that your folds brushed up against it. You closed your eyes and leaned into his ear saying "I want you inside of me."

He readily complied and inserted himself, lifting one of your legs and pounding into you. He loved how warm you were, and how you felt so tight around him. "Ah shit.." he moaned. He knew that he wasn't going to last long, and that was fine as long as you were enjoying it. He loved how your face was contorted in such an erotic way. Each night he thought about how he was lucky enough to be with someone so beautiful, so intelligent, so perfect for him. He was lost in his thoughts when your loud moan pulled him out of them. "I'm almost there please don't stop-" He felt you clench around him, which sent him over the edge. You came and he pulled out, cumming on your stomach. He continued to rub your clit to help you come down from your high.

Nanami showered and dressed you before putting you in your shared bed. He went to the opposite side of you and wrapped his arms around your body pulling you into him. You mumbled the words "I love you." before drifting into a pleasant slumber. He breathed in your scent and basked in your warmth, hoping that he would never be so unfortunate to lose you because in truth you were perfect, his mrs. perfect.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #sub nanami #nanami x reader #dom reader #smut #fluff #fem reader #fanfiction

[improbable-outset]

𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬:

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 ★ || 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 ✎ || 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Hospital setting, memory loss, angst, emotional Miguel, married couple, wife!reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After waking up from a year-long coma, you find yourself in the hospital with the tender embrace of your husband sitting beside you. You have no memory of your marriage nor the life you shared together. As you try to navigate the scattered memories, Miguel becomes your guiding light through your journey of transcending memories.

𝐀/𝐍: It’s been a hot minute since I posted my writing on here. I’ve been working on my other series that’s AO3 exclusive so making this post in this layout brings back old memories. Anyways this is a two chapter story so enjoy getting your heart ripped from your chest :)) twice :D

You couldn’t remember how you got here nor could you remember how it even happened. For the longest time you’ve been surrounded by darkness and floating into nothingness. You felt disconnected from your surroundings and your physical realm though for some reason you would always hear a voice, echoing in the background occasionally.

“Por favor. Por favor, mi amor”

The voice would always sound distressed, almost begging for your attention that you couldn’t give. It served as a reminder that you were still alive but not fully present. You wanted desperately to reach out for that voice and see where it was coming from but you felt trapped, suspended in midair like an astronaut in space with no control over your body and no anchor to pull you down. You lost track on how long you have been like this but today, you felt a sensation on your fingertips. You started twitching your fingers, a sign that you finally had the ability to move your muscles on command.

Your senses were coming back now and you could feel the darkness fading away from your vision. You slowly fluttered your eyes open but they burnt momentarily against the sudden bright light that illuminated the new room. You started to take in your surroundings and the first thing you noticed was the tang of disinfectant and antiseptic that was woven in the cool, controlled air. You shifted your gaze from the bright ceiling to your side and was met with a man beside your hospital bed you were laying on. You couldn’t see his form but his skin was tanned with big arms and his hair was dark and pushed back. The most prominent feature was his sharp jaws and his red eyes that stared at you. You locked eyes with him and you could see his face light up when he saw your own eyes finally open.

“Mi amor? You’re awake!” Your heart clenched when you heard him speak. It was the same desperate voice you heard in your comatosed state, the voice that was pleading for you to wake up and now you could see who the voice belonged to.

“Awake?” You could only echoed back in confusion.

“Yes, sweetheart. You’ve been in a coma for a year. You’ve had a terrible accident but… Ay dios mío, you’re awake now and I can finally talk to you and hear your sweet voice.” He stood up from his seat and hovered over you as he spoke with a relief smile spread across his face. You could now see his physique in this position. He had broad shoulders and a muscular frame. He hesitantly held your fingers and rubbed the knuckles with his thumb. His fingers felt calloused yet his strokes and touches were gentle, almost like you were thin glass and would shatter at any sudden movement.

You tried to rack your brain and remember who he was. His name, it was on the tip of your tongue. You could feel it just about within your reach. “M-Miguel…” That was all your mind could remember.

“Yes. It’s me, Miguel. I’m here mi amor.” He said ecstatically, still maintaining a connection with you but you couldn’t reciprocate no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel the same amount of happiness as Miguel, not when you couldn’t remember who he was. You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts trying to remember with a blank expression that Miguel's face dropped, the sparkle in his eyes now diminished. “Mi amor, what’s wrong? Do you not remember who I am?” He asked with concern laced in his voice. He still held onto your fingers as he spoke, afraid to let you go.

“I’m sorry…. I remember your name but…. I can’t identify who you are.” You could almost hear his heart crack after he heard you say that, but he still held onto your fingers, almost as if his touch will somehow reignite your memories.

“I’m your husband…we’ve been married for three years! Do you not remember that? Do you not remember us?” He croaked. The weight of the situation was crashing down on him like a violent storm, too fast to comprehend.

“I’m sorry… should I?” Your chest tightened. You just woke up from a coma and you were already causing so much pain.

“Yes you should. We’ve shared a life together. We’ve made so many memories. Mi vida please… I don’t want you to forget me.” He sank back into the seat beside the bed, his hands now shaking and his grip loosened.

“I wish I could understand what you’re talking about Miguel but my mind is blank.” Your gaze at him softened and all you could do was witness your husband’s torment as he tried to grasp onto straws.

“It’s like I’m losing you all over again…. You’re here but you’re not you.” He squeezed his eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“I wish I could comfort you right now. I want to believe you and I want to be that person you need but…I’m just so lost right now.” You found yourself caressing his fingers now in a feeble attempt to comfort his anguish.

“Then let me guide you in this darkness…Do you trust me, mi vida?” He held his gaze on you again, his eyes full of faith - faith to rebuild your relationship again which made you nod in agreement to his promise. You were lost in a sea of confusion and you didn’t have anyone else to trust right now and Miguel was the only one patient enough to help you. He was your anchor. “Do you remember my surname mi amor?” You thought hard about that. The answer was there but it wasn’t easily reachable as his first name.

“Uh-O…” you fumbled through your memories making Miguel gaze softly at your attempt to answer.

“It’s O’Hara. Miguel O’Hara. You know, you’d always used to call me Miggy and it would always brighten my day whenever I heard you say it.” He smiled at you again and you started to grow a fondness for it.

“O’Hara? So does that make me Mrs O’Hara?”

“Yes. We’re Mr and Mrs O’Hara.”

“Do we have children?” You started to panic a little. The thought of your children having a mother that didn’t remember any of them made your heart sink. You already caused pain on your husband from your memory loss - you didn’t want to pass it on to your children too.

“No, we don’t but we always did talk about it.” You thought how building a family with Miguel would be like, the man whose love for you was so strong, he waited a year for you to wake up from your coma and still withheld his patience to rebuild what you've lost. Even if you couldn’t remember anything about your husband, you could already tell he was an incredible man and would make an amazing father. “Is there anything I can do for you now, hermosa?” Your heart swelled at his concern over you. He wanted to make sure you were content and comfortable.

“I’d like some water please.”

“Sure. There’s a water fountain out in the halls so I won’t be long. I’ll be back okay?” As soon as he got up from his seat and left for the hallway, you took this opportunity to take in your surroundings again.The air felt still as if the room seemed to hold its breath after Miguel left. The sound of the cardiac monitor that was resting beside your bed was beeping rhythmically with tubes and wires that snaked around the digital monitor. You could hear distant footsteps and murmurs from outside your room along with a few nurses walking past. The blinds were closed but you could see through the gaps that outside was dark - it must’ve been late. The disinfectant scent that was lingering in the air had faded now. You noticed your hair was pretty long, reaching your waist and your nails grew significantly. You’ll definitely need to trim both. Before long, Miguel came back with a plastic cup.

“Here.” He handed you the cup with cold water. You glimpsed at his big arms that were in close proximity now and felt your cheeks warm a little before you took the cup from him.

“Thank you.” You quickly dismissed your thoughts and took small sips from the cup. It took a little effort for you to swallow. Your throat was dry from the lack of fluids and the sensation was a little overwhelming at first since your body was now readjusting to the water intake after ages. The water was starting to relieve the parched feeling in your throat and your mouth felt more refreshed and cold.

“How does it feel?” Miguel asked you, he could see you were struggling to intake your first few sip of the water.

“Good… just taking some time getting used to the feeling of the fluid in my throat.”

“I can imagine. Just take your time, okay?” He said reassuringly. You looked back at him again and your eyes fixated on his big arms that crossed over his chest as he watched you. Your face heated again but this time, Miguel noticed and gave you an amused look.

“Something caught your eye, hermosa?” There was a teasing glint in his expression, startling you from your deep thoughts.

“Oh no, n-nothing I was just…” you stammered, trying to come up with an answer without embarrassing yourself.

“Just what, mi amor?” He cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He knew where this was going and your flushed face only added to his amusement.

“Your arms… they’re really well-defined.” You murmured with the cup near your face, trying to hide your cheek.

“Oh you noticed hmm?” He shifted closer to you which didn’t help with your flustered state.

“Uh yeah… kinda hard not to, you know.” You took another sip of water before you spoke again, carefully choosing your next words without making yourself look like you weren’t just gawking at him. “So, do you work out? Is it for your job or just to keep in shape?”

“A little bit of both” he replied, his teasing tone changed to something more affectionate and genuine. “My job can be physically demanding but I also work out to find peace of mind and to find solace.”

“Physically demanding? What is your job exactly?” You could see the hesitation in his expression, almost like he was debating if he should tell you or not and there was something else from the look of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place - like he’s holding back something from you.

“It’s a little complicated… it’s not something I can easily explain. We’ll discuss it later, for now let’s focus on your recovery.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry. I let my curiosity get the best of me.”

“It’s natural to be curious especially in your situation when you’re trying to piece things together. Speaking of recovery though…” Miguel got up from his seat as he continued to speak, “I should probably call a nurse now so they can see if everything else is okay with you.” Moments later a nurse came into your room. She checked your records and made a note on everything. Throughout the examination you were feeling a little unnerved and your heart was racing with anticipation with a new person in the room but Miguel’s presence gave you the reassurance you needed. The first thing the nurse did was check your heart rate with her stethoscope, moving it across your chest. The cold metal on your skin made you shiver. However, you particularly didn’t like the blood pressure monitor squeezing your arm, but you endured it, waiting for it to be over while focusing on Miguel steady breathing beside you. Miguel gave your fingers a gentle squeeze, a silent sign of his presence. You let out a sigh of relief when the cuff released its grip and gave out your blood pressure readings.

The nurse followed up by asking you a series of questions about your medical history and what you remembered during the accident. There was evidence that you were struggling to answer her questions, not giving her solid replies. Miguel decided it was time to explain the current situation.

“Nurse,” the nurse turned her attention to Miguel. “My wife has experienced significant trauma. She doesn’t remember anything before the accident.” Miguel explained. You smiled in relief knowing that Miguel was still by your side and the weight of your unspoken fear has been acknowledged.

“I see,” she replied, her expression was unreadable but she still carried the gentle spirit. You didn’t like not knowing where this was going to go next. “Memory loss is common after such events. I’ll be sure to put that on her records. Other than that, her pulse is stable, her blood pressure is okay and her oxygen level is in normal range.” The nurse told Miguel.

“Do you know how long she’ll have to stay before she can be discharged?” Miguel asked, concern evident in his tone, you could tell he was desperate to take you home.

The nurse expression softens in understanding. “We’ll still need to run more tests to monitor her condition and evaluate her neurological status so I believe she’ll have to stay for a day or two.” The nurse's words carried weight that seemed to hang in the air. You watched the conversation exchange between your husband and the nurse and came to terms with the fact that this was your new life now, your new reality. Miguel’s eyes fixated on you again, reflecting hope and loss. Just as the nurse was about to leave, you finally spoke up, your voice quivering in uncertainty.

“Do you know why I might’ve lost my memory?” The nurse stopped in her tracks and looked back at you, her gaze seemed to soften.

“I’m sorry Mrs O’Hara. It’s hard to say now but my guess is it might be some sort of head trauma. It is a complex case and we’ll still need to run some more tests.” You sighed in disappointment at her response even though you didn’t expect her to give you a straight answer. This was going to take more effort to come to a conclusion.

“Thank you,” you said. The nurse gave a brief nod before she left, leaving you and Miguel alone again. Miguel turned back to you and sat back on the chair beside you. He reached for your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We’ll get through this mi vida, we’ll find the answers no matter how long it’ll take.” You leaned your forehead on his, tears spilled out of your eyes which Miguel wiped with his thumbs. A still silence settled around you but it wasn’t the suffocating kind. It was filled with hope and promises with whatever the journey would lay ahead.

Part two here!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara spiderverse #atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #★— ayrus writes

[withwritersblock]

When He Sees Me

~When He Sees Me from the Waitress soundtrack but the Sara Bareilles cover~

Author's Note: AH yes, very specific song choice but covers sometimes hit better than the actual version of the song. That's my hot take for the day. Summary: Y/N is set up on a blind date Word Count: 1,267 Warnings: embarrassment? Cole Caufield x fm!reader

She never thought she would agree to this. Her friend, Penny, had this amazing idea, her words, to set Y/N up on a blind date. As if she would ever be comfortable enough to deal with the concept of randomly meeting up with a stranger.

After her breakup with her boyfriend, several months back, her friends have been dyign for her to get back out there. Seek out someone. She spent the last four years of her life in Montreal.

The city was always her favorite place to visit as a kid. Her father lived in Quebec for the majority of his young life. After he met her mother, he moved to Ottawa with her. That’s where Y/N grew up, but she spent a lot of her childhood visiting her grandparents in Montreal as it was only a couple hours away. 

Now, she lives there permanently with her friends she met at university there. She has a great job but according to her friends; she has a social life that is failing miserably.

Which is why she is going on a blind date with someone who she only knows his first name.

Cole.

Cole could be rude to the baristas. 

Cole could talk too fast. 

Cole could ask personal questions that are way too personal for a first date. 

What if he calls the barista by their first name?

There were so many different principles that could make this date go bad. She sat in her car staring into her reflection of her rear view mirror. Is this too much makeup? What if it’s not enough? Her fingers coursed through her hair, adjusting it to be perfect. But what if it was just perfect and now she just ruined it.

She took a deep breath as she stared at the time on her clock. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes until it’s socially acceptable to be early. 

She took another deep breath as she glanced at the text from Cole saying which coffee shop would be perfect. It was a small cafe that she had gone to many times before. She studied there as well as got all of her work done there as well. They know her. She drops her forehead against the steering wheel as her eyes shut. 

The music in the background was comforting for so long until it wasn’t drowning out the nerves rising in her throat.

What if he’s perfect? 

What if he’s so perfect she can’t hide how she feels? 

What if he’s genuine and kind?

What if he wants to go out again?

She lifted her head from her steering wheel and decided it was the perfect amount of time to leave her car. She took a hold of her small purse and dropped her keys inside of it. She took another shaky breath as she slowly stepped out of her car, shutting the door locking it multiple times before she decided to walk towards the cafe shop. 

She ran her hands across the top of her jeans as she walked across the empty street. Her gaze staring towards the window. She squints her eyes slightly at the man sitting beside the window. He was familiar in a way that felt wrong. She continued onto the sidewalk and got closer to the window to see Montreal Canadiens player Cole Caufield sitting in the chair. 

Cole. 

This is a coincidence. Cole is a popular name. Her blind date wouldn’t be the Habs player who her Montreal native father never shuts up about. Of course not. Her eyes continue looking towards him, she watches his head tilt upward. 

Her eyes widened as she quickly hid behind the brick wall beside the coffee shop. Her heart was racing. He saw her, there’s no way. She clenches her jaw as she pulls her phone from her back pocket.

She began dialing Penny, she pulled the phone towards her ear. It only rang twice before Penny picked up. “Cole? It’s not Cole Caufield right? Because the fact that I even think it could be is crazy? Right?” 

Penny giggles, “If I told you that it was-”

“How do you even know him?!” she whispered harshly.

“My sister is dating his teammate, you know this,” she said laughing.

Y/N stared blankly at the concrete as her brain wrapped around the fact that Cole Caufield was waiting for her in the cafe. He probably saw her run away from him and hide, not the greatest first impression.

“He knows what you look like, he probably saw you run and hide. You ran and hid, right?” she asked teasingly. Y/N rolled her eyes as she took a deep breath. “Just go in and sit down. If you hate it, you can leave,” Penny said, hanging up the phone. 

Y/N held the phone beside her ear for a few beats before she slowly dropped her phone from her ear and shakenly put it into her back pocket. She took a deep breath as she adjusted her top before she began walking towards the coffee shop again.

She looked towards the window where Cole was sitting, a smile planted on his face. He followed her movements into the coffee shop, her cheeks heating up as she clenched her jaw. She swung the door open and a small chim rang as she stepped inside. Her gaze turned towards Cole, he was already standing up to meet her in the middle.

“Y/N?” he asked, still smiling widely. She nodded. “Penny, didn’t tell you it was me did she?” he asked as he pointed towards the long line for coffee. 

“How’d you know?” she asked, chuckling. 

“I kinda saw you run when you saw me,” he said, fighting off the smile on his lips. Her mouth fell open as her eyes shut. 

“I think I may just go, that was-” she said sarcastically as she pointed behind her. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“No, no it was cute,” he mumbled before they shuffled slightly forward in line. She smiled softly as she dropped her gaze. 

They were silent for a moment, just taking in each other's presence. It wasn’t as awkward as Y/N pictured it would be. “Why’d you agree to this blind date, which was apparently only blind to me,” she said, chuckling nervously. 

He smiled before tilting his head back. “Guhle and Penny were getting on me about how “lonely” I’ve been since my last relationship ended. They told me that Penny has this gorgeous friend who is allegedly going through the same thing,” he explained, his face tilting back and forth as he air quotes around “lonely”. She nodded as a reply.

“I don’t usually go on dates with strangers,” she mumbled as they shuffled towards the counter, they were next in line.

“Me neither, it’s hard,” he mumbles, meeting her gaze. He smiles again. She returns it. 

“Why do you keep smiling?” she asked, teasingly. She wants him to continue, it was intoxicating. It was becoming hard to breathe.

“You’re hard not to smile around,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing red, “That was cheesy, wow. Maybe Guhls is right, I'm way out of practice,” he expressed. She giggled as they stepped up to the counter.

“My two favorite regulars, together? I’d never thought I’d see the day,” Justin, the barista said as the pair reached the counter. “Y/N, you want that lavender latte? Cole, the americano?” he asked, pointing between them. Their eyes widened as they looked toward one another, slowly nodding. Cole handed him his card before Y/N could fully react.

#cole caufield #cole caufield fluff #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagines #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #montreal canadiens imagines #montreal canadiens #hockey x reader #hockey imagines #hockey

[whxre-bxby]

Mansk(recom) Characterisation

I have Mansk brainrot <3 here's my interpretation of him and some random things I want to point out. Some of it is canon :)

I will totally be adding more things to this as time goes by.

(This is a clusterfuck of thoughts, no order sorry. It's a mess. This has absolutely no structure)

HE IS NOT NEARLY APPRECIATED ENOUGH AS HE SHOULD BE

Masterlist

MANSK HAS AN AMERICAN EAGLE TATTOO ACROSS HIS CHEST (I think that's what it is, I'll make a separate post about it with sketches)

Just like the eagle Quaritch has except its wings are spread above his (massive, sexy) pecs.

(I saw some art and maybe it's not an eagle but a three headed angel of death)💀

Here is a random picture I found of the back of Mansk's head. <3

love him sm

The look of DISGUST he has when handling Tsireya (gorgeous queen).

(ew it's wet, quickly tie it down)

She's wet from the ocean and his hands must have gotten wet and he's all grossed out from the 'fish-lipped alien' and has to touch it.

Deffo thoroughly wanted to wash and disinfect his hands after.

The man HATES nature. I mean he despises it, on Earth too (whatever was left of it). That's why he is wearing the opposite of Walker's outfits. He's covered, head to toe. Expect for, well head. But everything else can't come in direct contact with nature on Pandora because to him it's scary and gross.

He hates native Na'vi too but once he becomes a recom, it dies down a little. Now, his hate for them is divided between blue forest Na'vi and the water Na'vi.

He still thinks of himself as human rather than Na'vi. I'm saying, when the man woke up from recom, he needed to be alone for the rest of the day while the others were discussing the mission. He just left the room and locked himself in his room, sitting in silence. He didn't want to look at himself in the mirror because it was too much. He just died and now he was back in the form of his enemy. The enemy terrified him because that's how he died in the first place.

While Lyle's first thought would be to pull down his pants and check out (yk) , Mansk would refuse to remove his clothes because he was worried he would lose it if he genuinely saw himself properly for the first time. I'm saying if the man saw all of himself in the first few days he would be so lost in himself and overwhelmed he would break down and cry. He seems like this intimidating tall man who has it all figured out but I'm telling you HE IS A SENSITIVE SOFTIE AND TAKES EVERYTHING TO HEART. He would avoid reflections, keep his head down and prefer not to directly look at his teammates because they were blue too. (Blue Na'vi racist kinda, but with PTSD)

He is quiet. Not shy quiet, just observing quiet. When he does speak he uses the least amount of words to express himself. Mansk is clever and when he says things they have been thought through by him. He never speaks before thinking. He's confident but doesn't express it. Basically the opposite of Lyle.

He likes wearing his shades because 1. they look dope 2. he isn't happy about being in a Na'vi body so he wants to seem as human as possible. Adding to that, his tail freaks him out. He wishes it weren't there. Sometimes he forgets it's a part of him now and it scares the shit out of him. His new body has him feeling really down because he knows that he can never return to Earth like this.

Grillmaster 100% without a doubt. I love that this fandom just decided that. It fits so well. Can't cook things like pasta or make soup. He can grill and fry shit. That's his thing. For properly baking something he will need luck on his side but it might work.

Another random thing. This man NEVER gets sick. I'm saying he's immune to it all. You're sick? Have the flu? Covid? It never gets him. He's safe with the immune system of a god.

He gets a sore jaw from constantly biting down and clenching it due to stress (just like me fr fr)

Adding to that, he almost always looks like he is in deep thought. He looks almost scary because he seems so intimidating. It's rare when he smiles.

THAT'S WHY THIS PICTURE IS SO PRECIOUS.

(Quoting Taylor Swift: Yeah, you got a smile that can light up this whole town) :0

YOU PRECIOUS MF COME HERE AND GET SOME LOVE! ISTG SO FUCKN CUTE I WANNA EHUEIJDNJKE AHHHHHH

He is the type of person that lays in bed for hours before falling asleep. Maybe because of some fucked up shit he has seen that stays in his head. He also refused to sleep on his back in his new body because of his tail and braid.

If there would be a skiing holiday, THIS MAN SNOWBOARDS. Quaritch would be the dad with skis and a large backpack.

He is super precious and soft. Will never want any of his teammate to know but if he finds someone he likes, he will be silently obsessed. Not in a creepy way, but he can't stop thinking about them. He doesn't fall for people easily but when he does HE FALLS HARD.

Mansk is self conscious so if he likes someone he will never act on it and never tell anyone. At night when he is alone, he would be going over all the reasons of why it wouldn't work out and why his crush doesn't like him or can't like him.

All he wants is to be cuddled, taken care of and kissed to sleep. Honestly, that's it. He wants to give everything he can to the person he cares about but will need constant reminders that they actually like him back and that he isn't just imagining it. If the person is gone for a few days, his bad thoughts will return and when they come back he will be distant and ask things like 'Sorry, I'm bothering you aren't I? You probably have lots to do.'

TO WHICH YOU HAVE TO TACKLE HIM INTO BED, WRAP HIM IN A BLANKET LIKE A BURRITO AND CUDDLE AND KISS HIM ISTG HE NEEDS LOVE BECAUSE HE HAS BEEN DEPRIVED OF IT HIS ENTIRE LIFE.

Leading to his fam, he joined the military because his dad did and so did his grandpa etc. It's a bloodline thing and because of that, he's never been loved properly and always treated as a soldier in making. He needs to be drowned in love.

SUPER NERVOUS around his crush. Sweating palms, stuttering, all that shit. He's down bad.

Here is him freaking out that they are under attack and yelling "NA'VI" in his super masculine deep ass husky voice✨️

More...

gorgeous fuckin precious bean

- if ANYONE compliments ANYTHING on him he will never forget it and always think back to that moment

Example : "Hey Mansk, nice shoes/shirt/shades/tattoo's"

"Thanks." Is all he says but HIS HAPPINESS IS GOING THROUGH THE ROOF AND WHEN U GO AWAY HE WILL TURN AWAY FROM OTHERS BECAUSE HE CAN'T SUPPRESS HIS SMILE ANYMORE.

NSFW: if the person he likes is wearing an apron with barely anything on or nothing underneath = huge turn on, instant boner, Mansk will become putty in your hands

random: (lyle listens to taylor swift (shake it off while working out))

have a nice day :)

Tag list:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#private mansk #avatar mansk #recom mansk #mansk #mansk x reader #recom squad #avatar recoms #james cameron avatar #avatar movie #avatar the way of water #grillmaster mansk #mansk grillmaster #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet

[knipiko]

Change (In a house of flies) || Leon Kennedy x reader ANGST ||

Word count: 1k

A/N: I havent written in a while so dont expect anything good LMAOO

Summary: Leon was never a shell of a man he was, no matter what. he will still be the love sick Leon S Kennedy like he was yesterday.

WARNINGS!: Angst, Leon still loves ada, leons kind of a ass but hey we love a good angst fic

You were a simple person, never needing much. Maybe that was from the grueling days you spent in training to become where you were now, or maybe it was from how troubled you were financially before you were taken into the DSO’s hands. But there was one thing you needed, and that was the truth. 

It was a chilled night with you and your partner, Leon Scott Kennedy. The man who survived Racoon City, Saved the president's daughter, and managed to finish his mission in Lanshiang, China with the help of Helena Harper. He was an incredible man, he was your man. But with a loyal, corny and friendly guy came a troubled and traumatic past. He never spoke of it unless it was needed, but you didn't care. You were never the one to pry deep in someone's past, especially Leon Kennedys.

“I can’t wait to just go home and take the longest fucking bath imaginable..” You shifted the strands of hair collecting over your face and pulled them behind your ear, holding your rifle firmly. You had just recently reunited with Leon after splitting up in the tunnel system to clear more ground and eliminate possible threats. He was a little later than you expected, but you just brushed it off as he had more ground to look through. This place was a disaster, you both were in Germany. In the tunnels of the Umbrella Corporations underground system because of some reports about a heavy amount of missing people around the area, with wires poking side to side or firmly against the spheritic walls, the wet concrete smell and the small puddles of water from one of the leaking water pipes just made the entire trip have a somehow relaxing feel to it. 

Leon had found Ada on his way to meeting back with you in the tunnel system, he missed her. More than he missed you during all those solo missions you leave for. Sometimes you would be gone for weeks, even months. And he would sit there in sorrow, not for his woman but for another he could never truly have, he would cry nights on end about Ada when you were gone, keychain in hand. The same one Ada gave him for the jet ski in Spain. He was stunned when he saw her in the tunnels, lovestruck and felt like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. Leon tried to forget about Ada, but he just couldn't. He talked with Ada, interrogating what she was doing in Germany. Ada kissed him goodbye before they parted ways as he began to find you again, realizing his mistake immediately after parting ways with his first love.

Leon just looked ahead of him, his handgun shifting in both of his hands,”Mhm..” He hummed. You glanced at his hands moving the handgun to each palm, his hands clammy,”Hey, you okay?” You slowed your walking speed to match his, Leon was never this nervous during missions. He looks– no, glances at you before holding his handgun firmly in his right hand, his entire body tensing up,”Yeah.” His jaw clenches up as he kept his eyes forward with the seemingly never ending tunnel. Leon was never like this, from the dozen of missions and the thousands of times you two have hung out, this was odd. His chest pinged with guilt, pain, and regret..

I mean, he WAS your boyfriend. Was it the humidity that made him sweat? 

That made him avoid eye contact with you when possible? 

That causes his back to straighten when even a single syllable slipped from your lips?

The whole situation pulls you from reality,’I'm overthinking this, I don’t even have a reason to overthink!’ You try to calm yourself and reach some form of explanation in your head. You chalk it up as some form of his past trying to come back in his mind, trying to pay no attention. Leon exhales as he sees an elevator, a sigh of relief. You both walked inside, Leon reaching the lines of buttons and pressed the 9th floor, just above where the both of you were. Your brain still trying to find rational understanding behind whatever the reason was behind his nervous behavior, not knowing what was such a big deal.

You swallowed your own spit, worry towering over you. If you just asked again he wouldn't want to talk, but it's better than nothing. Right? You turned your head towards Leon, clearing your throat to make his attention pull towards you,”You know, you're really shitty at lying about your feelings.” You grinned, trying to lighten the mood. After not receiving a response you speak again,”I know I shouldn't pry but, I love you. And I want what's best for you.” That made Leon's heart burn with guilt. He felt awful, but his feelings could never change for Ada. No matter how much he loved you.

You just weren't her. You weren't as flirtatious or mysterious as her, nothing like the beauty he was blessed by when he first saw Ada.

Leon just stood there in the elevator, letting the doors open as he walked out and searched a singular room. Anxiety swallowing him whole, You walked into the room and shut the door behind you, becoming more irritated than worried,”Leon, please.” You pleaded with him, his heart just crushed itself into pieces. Blinking the tears from his eyes before turning to face you.

He sighed,”I saw Ada while we were split.” You became confused, is that all he was worried about telling you? No, it couldn't be,”Is that all?” You asked, folding your arms together. Leon wiped the sweat off of his palms, looking at you with concern. You stared at him, your brain unable to put two and two together. No matter how easy it was, because part of you didn't want to believe what the other part was trying to say. 

Leon shook his head, running his hands throughout his hair,”No, uhm. You know how much I love you, right?” Leon smiled, at least tried too. He knew what he was about to confess, if he didnt he would forever be stuck with these ties of pain and being unable to seek forgiveness in himself. You stared at him, your tone becoming worried,”Yeah?... So, what about you and Ada?” 

He fumbled with his gun,”There's no easy way to say this but uh,” He paused, putting his hands on top of his face before wiping the sweat off, pinching the bridge of his nose,”Say it, Leon. You're making me nervous!” You spoke, practically shaking at the suspense. Leon bit his bottom lip, looking at you,”Me and Ada, well. Kissed, and I've realized I've loved her more than I've ever, loved you." He paused,"Your just not her.”

Her.

You were never Ada, could never be anything like her, and you knew it. From the countless stories and the handful of interactions with Ada you now understood.

That look Leon gave her.

That smile Leon gave her.

The way Leon even talked about her.

He was in love with her.

It was never you, he just needed a replacement to forget.

Forget about her.

...

You were stunned, unable to speak as you wet your lips. Jaw to the floor as you slowly shook your head, Leon continued,”For your comfort, I tried to hide the truth.” Your eyebrows furrowed, staring at him with pure disbelief at what the words were coming out of his mouth,”You only ever cared about your own comfort, Kennedy.” You stumbled against the own weight of what you said, your entire world was crumbling down. And you couldn't stop it. You were furious. You wanted to scream, curse every entities name for putting you in this position. For even meeting Leon Scott Kennedy.

“I still love you, just not the same amount as Ada.” Leon tried to come up with some excuse as he put his hands up dismissively. “You never loved me to begin with, Leon. I'm doing this mission without you.” You adjusted the rifle in your hand and opened the door, walking off.

Leon really hasn't changed since he was in Racoon City, not like he thought he has.

#leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x reader #leons such a DICK #Spotify #gonna throw up #this is so bad #wtf is this

[runnning-outof-time]

I Meant No Harm | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: After being arranged to marry Tommy Shelby so that his dealings with Section D can get back on track, (Y/N) finds herself in a desolate place. A place that is only brightened by the two year old boy Tommy has.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking, arranged marriage

Word Count: 3975

A/N: I was initally apprehensive about this request when I first received it, but I really like how it turned out. I hope you do as well. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!

She kept her eyes fixed on the wooden table in front of her. Her hands were clenched together in her lap so tight that she was sure the crescent-shaped marks from her nails would be embedded into her skin for days to come. She didn't want to be here right now, but she had no other choice. She was about to be married off to Tommy Shelby.

Tommy Shelby sat on the opposite side of the table, and Father Hughes sat on (Y/N)'s left. She tried to drown out the conversation the two men were having, but it was hard for her to do. What wasn't hard, though, was her ability to realize the amount of anger that was coming off of Tommy. It seemed as if he wanted this union to happen no more than she did; but it was still happening, and neither of them could stop it.

Tommy sat with his jaw clenched as he listened to Father Hughes speak about this arrangement with a grin on his face. It wasn't until the priest mentioned the untimely death of his wife that Tommy stood up with enough force that the chair he was once occupying fell over. "This conversation is finished," he snapped, his eyes fixed on the man sitting across from him. He didn't even give the chance for a response before he turned on his heels and began walking out of the yard.

"I'm sorry that you have to live with this now," Hughes said as he looked to (Y/N), although there wasn't an ounce of sympathy laced into his voice as he spoke. Rather it was yet another dig directed at the man who was still walking away. "Hear this, Mr. Shelby!" he then called out, making the gangster stop on a dime, "as per the orders of Section D, you will marry this woman and take her into your home. If you do not, you will be straying away from orders and we will be forced to deal with you accordingly," he spoke in a menacing way, his threats making (Y/N) shiver even though she was not the receiver of them.

She finally looked up to see Tommy turn around and stare down the priest with his hands clasped in front of his waist. "I'll adhere to your fucking plan..." he paused before he took a few steps closer to the table the other two were sitting at, "but if you ever speak a word of my late wife again, I'll make sure that you're dead before the hour's up," he bit back with a threat of his own, his cold eyes boring into the priest's. Father Hughes only nodded his head, a tight-lipped smile adorning his face. He knew he was under Tommy's skin, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"I'm happy to hear of your agreement," Hughes shrugged off the threat and chose to focus on the first part of Tommy's statement. "Shall we shake on it like men?" he asked as he stood from his chair and held his hand out in the space between them.

Tommy glanced down at it before looking back up at the man standing opposite of him. "I have business to deal with," he dismissed the gesture before he turned away from the table yet again.

"Make sure your day's free tomorrow. You'll have yourself a new bride before the end of it!" the priest called to Tommy, who kept walking this time, leaving the yard for good. Father Hughes kept the smug smirk on his face as he turned to look at (Y/N). "And your family's wrong doings will be wiped away come day's end tomorrow as well," he told her, reminding her once more of the reason why she'd even been brought into this mess.

"Thank you, Father Hughes," (Y/N) said in a low voice before she got up from the chair and left the table.

Never did she think she'd be in this situation. Her father testified against one of the members of Section D several months ago, and now she was being arranged into a marriage with one of the organization's affiliates.

Her family had the money to pay off whatever it was they were coming at them over, but they insisted that (Y/N) would settle the deal instead. She didn't know at the time that this Mr. Shelby they were mentioning had recently lost his wife and, for whatever reason, they felt that he couldn't go on and complete whatever they had with him without a woman by his side.

The next day, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tommy Shelby were married. It happened under the watch of Father Hughes who, of course, officiated the ceremony and pronounced the two husband and wife. It didn't feel that way at all though. He barely glanced in her direction during the ceremony and only kissed her because he had to.

(Y/N) was moved into Arrow House following the ceremony because it was what husbands and wives do...live in the same house. She wasn't surprised to see that she had her own room, but she was surprised to see that her closets were already filled with clothing that matched her size and style.

"Mr. Shelby wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed," her personal maid, Kate, told her when she asked her about the clothing. She wanted to thank Tommy for the gesture, but upon finding out that he was already in his office, she decided to let it be.

It didn't take long for (Y/N) to notice the beauty of both the house and grounds that she was now living at. It offered many rooms and much land for her to explore. And when she found a comfortable lounge in the front room that had a gramophone ready to play one of the latest soft jazz albums, (Y/N) decided that maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Sure, her new husband hadn't so much as looked in her direction, but maybe living in a place like this would make up for it.

About a week passed before (Y/N) realized that she, Tommy, and the staff weren't the only ones inhabiting Arrow House. She was sitting in the front room, listening to music like she'd been doing since she first moved in when a young boy toddled into the room. (Y/N) was shocked at first by the sudden appearance of this boy, but she figured that he was supposed to be here.

"Who is this, Marie?" (Y/N) asked the maid that was standing ready at the doorway. She felt a little embarrassed asking this question because she was supposed to be the woman of the house, but at the same time she needed to know.

"That's Charlie, Mr. Shelby's son," Marie answered her like it was obvious, which made (Y/N) feel even more embarrassed that she had to ask.

"Oh," she responded with a slight nod, her attention then turning to the boy who had by now made his way to the lounge she was sitting on.

"I can take him back up to his room if you'd like, Mrs. Shelby," Marie offered as the boy made grabbing-hands towards the woman sitting on the couch.

"That's not needed, Marie. This is his home too, he should be allowed to wander around it," (Y/N) responded, a smile on her face as she lifted the toddler up into her arms and allowed him to sit on her lap so that he was facing her now. "Hello there, Charlie," she smiled as she tapped his nose gently with her index finger. The child seemed to like that, a wide smile on his face as he tried to grab hold of her hands then. "I'm sorry that this is our first meeting," (Y/N) continued on with talking to the boy, even though he most likely wouldn't say anything intelligent back. He looked to be just a little over two years old.

The boy then responded with some babbling of his own, making (Y/N) smile and laugh slightly at his response. The two sat there for some time, (Y/N) singing him songs and telling little stories, and Charlie trying so hard to grab and hold onto her hands as she waved them around in time with what she was doing. She didn't know it just then, but a little bit of hope had been restored into her from the meeting of this little boy.

(Y/N) was sitting in one of the reading rooms on the first floor of Arrow House when Tommy and his Aunt Polly walked into it. "Hi, Tommy," she greeted him, settling the book down on her lap as she turned to look at him.

"Hello, (Y/N)," he greeted her in a formal way instead of how a husband should greet his wife, "would you mind moving out of this room? We need it for business...a family meeting," he then asked her.

(Y/N) glanced between him and the woman by his side. She was able to feel the tense vibes coming off of the older woman. It wasn't a secret that the Shelby family had been weary around their newest addition. (Y/N) hated it. She saw no reason for them to be hostile towards her. But, with a sigh, she stood from the couch and nodded her head. This wasn't anything new. She'd been asked to leave the area because of family meetings before. And she'd stopped asking why she wasn't allowed to join then when Tommy gave her a very pointed look on her first attempt to get an answer.

By this time, John, Arthur and Michael had entered the reading room, so (Y/N) figured she should get out of it. She barely glanced at the people who were supposed to be her family before she stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her.

She could still hear Polly through the wall though: "have you figured out her intentions yet, Thomas?"

"I have not," he answered pretty quickly, "I still have reason to believe that Hughes has placed her here in order to gain more information on me...there's been no evidence confirming nor denying it." (Y/N) couldn't help but scoff at his statement. Did he really think that she would willingly work for that horrendous priest? That she accepted being placed in an arranged marriage and essentially being sent to live a life of loneliness so that she could spy on him?

"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened, eh, Tom?"

"Now's not the time, John," Polly's scolding voice came seconds after the other man finished talking.

"The intentions of my new wife is not the reason why I've called you here...let's get on with business, eh?" Tommy called them back to his attention, and that was when (Y/N) decided to leave the room.

She entered her bedroom with a sigh and sat on the plush bed. Things had been this way for over a month now; she didn't know why she let them affect her anymore. But they did. She genuinely felt alone here...in a place where she was supposed to be 'the woman of the house', she felt like a visitor.

The sounds of a child crying were quickly approaching (Y/N)'s room. They stopped outside her door, and she was able to hear an incessant knocking in between them.

"Come in!" (Y/N) called with furrowed eyebrows as she wondered what the problem was.

The door opened to show Mary, who had a crying Charlie balanced on her hip. "He's just not settling, Mrs. Shelby," the maid told the woman, who still seemed confused.

"What am I to do about it?" she asked, not realizing how rude her question was until it left her mouth, "isn't Tommy home?"

"He's away on business," Mary answered, paying no mind to the previous question, "I know that he likes spending time with you."

(Y/N) raised her eyebrow slightly as she stood from the bed. She then made her way over to the woman and toddler, reaching her hands out when she got a bit closer. "Come here, Charlie," she cooed, a slight frown gracing her lips now. It hurt her heart when children cried.

Mary transferred the child over to (Y/N), who hugged him close to her and carried him over to the bed. Being in her arms made the child's cries turn into hiccups, but he still had a rather deep frown etched into his features.

"Can you please bring some of his toys in here, Mary?" (Y/N) asked, thinking that maybe playing with something would help the boy get his mind off of his sadness.

"Yes, Mrs. Shelby," Mary nodded, leaving the room for a few moments before she returned with a handful of toys that Charlie enjoyed playing with.

"Thank you, Mary," (Y/N) smiled at the older woman, who nodded her head.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Shelby," she said, a smile forming on her face as well. "You really do make a difference here," she offered some kind words before she made her way to the door and exited the room.

(Y/N) thought about what the maid had said as she watched Charlie play with the wooden horses that he'd been brought. She couldn't help but smile as she accepted the horse that Charlie gave her, and she happily made exaggerated neighing noises until the child's sniffles turned into giggles.

"Good evening, Tommy," (Y/N) greeted her husband as he walked into the front room, where she'd been sitting and watching Charlie play with a few toy cars.

"Evening," he mumbled in response as he moved over to the tray that held the bottles of liquor. He poured himself a glass of whiskey before he brought it with him to the chair that was next to the couch (Y/N) was on.

"Someone came to the house today with some itineraries for the foundation. They said that they needed someone to sign them, but I told them that I didn't feel comfortable doing so," (Y/N) told him about the person who had come to the house earlier looking for a signature. Even though Mary had brought the man to (Y/N) and said that it'd be acceptable since she held the Shelby name, (Y/N) didn't feel comfortable in doing so. She didn't see herself as a true Shelby.

"That's fine," Tommy waved her off, setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him so that he could fish his tin of cigarettes out of his pocket and set one between his lips. "How was your day?" he asked her as he was in the process of lighting it. Once it was lit, he let the smoke leave his lungs as he glanced over in (Y/N)'s direction.

"Fine," was all (Y/N) said. She didn't know what else to say. They felt like housemates. Some days that was fine, but others, particularly the days where she felt lonely, she wanted their relationship to be something more.

"Good," Tommy nodded, taking a sip from his whiskey. They sat in silence then. Tommy had his head leaned back against the chair as he smoked his cigarette and (Y/N) kept her eyes focused on Charlie as he played in the corner. She wondered why Tommy was even still in the room. He usually came home, said hello, and retired to his office.

Things stayed quiet until Charlie stood up from where he was playing and toddled over to where the adults were sitting. "Mumma," he called out as he approached the chairs.

"Mumma's not here anymore, Charlie," Tommy responded, not even bothering to lift his head from the back of the chair as he corrected his son like he'd done countless times before.

"Mumma," Charlie repeated again, this time making grabbing-hands towards (Y/N) as he'd stopped in front of the couch she was on.

(Y/N) reached out with every intention of picking the child up, but she was stopped by Tommy's voice "Did he just..." he trailed off, disbelief laced into his words.

"He did," (Y/N) nodded, a smile starting to form on her lips. This was the first time Charlie had done this, and in a way, it made her feel like she finally belonged.

"That's not happening," Tommy said in a definite tone without an ounce of happiness in his voice.

"What?" (Y/N) asked, confused.

"I said that's not fucking happening!" he repeated himself, his voice much louder now, "you're not his mother! Sure you have to fucking be here and I was forced to marry you, but you will not impose yourself on him and make him believe that you are his mother!" he bellowed, standing from the chair as he began pointing his finger at her for emphasis.

"Tommy..." was all she was able to get out before he continued his rant.

"He should not be fucking thinking that you're his mother, (Y/N), because you're fucking not! You're using him for whatever fucking leverage you need to get for Hughes, and I won't let that happen. You are not going to use my boy!" he continued his tirade, his eyes wide and filled with an anger that made (Y/N) shiver. The boy surprisingly stayed by her side though, and his small hand clasped in hers was the only thing that was keeping her from completely losing herself. He ended his rant by staring at her, and if looks could kill, she'd be dead on the spot.

(Y/N) took a moment to compose herself before she took a breath and started to speak as calmly as she could, "I never tried to impose myself on your son, Tommy. That was never my intention. I just enjoy spending time with him," she told him, standing from her seat since the boy they were speaking about had let go of her hand, "and I have no business with Hughes, and I certainly would not ever think of giving your boy up as leverage in whatever dealings you're doing with him," she finished her statement by pursing her lips together in order to hold her tears back. She stared him in the eyes for a few moments before she turned and left the room.

It wasn't until she was through the door of her room that she let the tears fall down her cheeks. She didn't deserve the hurtful words that Tommy had just said to her. She didn't deserve for her husband to speak to her that way. And she most certainly didn't deserve for him to think that she was still siding with Father Hughes through all of this. She was so busy wrapped up in tears and her thoughts that she didn't hear the door being pushed open or see that Charlie was making his way over to her bed.

It wasn't until his hands met her thighs that she looked down and saw the child, who was once more making grabbing-hands towards her. This time she lifted the boy up and was able to hold him close to her chest without anyone ridiculing her for doing so. She let the tears continue to fall as she hugged Charlie to her chest, the boy wrapping his small arms around her torso the best he could.

Tommy knew he fucked up. He could see the hurt in (Y/N)'s eyes when he unleashed his tirade onto her for no other reason than his son making him think of his late wife. She didn't ask to be put into this, much like he hadn't either. Now he'd just made the situation worse.

He slowly climbed the stairs in hopes of seeing his son before he went into his office for the night. But upon going into his nursery, he found that the two and a half year old wasn't there. His heartbeat quickened immediately. The worst case scenario ran through his mind as he rushed down the hall, checking every room that was open for his son.

The last room that he made it to was (Y/N)'s. Her door was cracked enough to see the light shining through into the hallway. He stopped in front of it and took a deep breath. He wasn't intending to face her again this night, but now he had to for the sake of his son. So he knocked lightly on the door and pushed it aside gently. Every fiber in his body relaxed when he saw that Charlie was laying on (Y/N)'s chest, sleeping peacefully as she ran her hands through his hair.

"Tommy," (Y/N) greeted him once she noticed he was standing in the doorway.

"I was looking for Charlie, I..." he trailed off, stepping further in the room, "I thought he'd gone missing."

"No, he's safe here...with me," she answered him, initially wanting her words to come out in a spiteful manner, but instead they just sounded reassuring.

"Good," Tommy nodded, then stepping closer to her, "may I?" he asked, motioning to the bed. (Y/N) nodded and he sat at the foot of it, next to where her legs were. "I, um..." he trailed off, clearing his throat as he looked at the distant wall. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he looked over at (Y/N).

"I meant no harm in caring for the boy, Tommy," (Y/N) decided to start the conversation, knowing exactly what was on his mind. "He needed love, and I was ready to give that to him...since I had no one else to give it to," she said the last part of her statement in a much softer voice, but Tommy still heard it.

"I was out of line in yelling at you," he started off by admitting his fault, "I'm still...I'm still grieving, and although I know that it's not a valid excuse for me to yell at you because of it, that's why I reacted the way I did."

"Thank you for admitting that, Tommy," (Y/N) smiled over at him softly. "I recognize that you're still in that mourning process, and I know that you didn't ask for a marriage with me, but I'm here now," her words held no malice in them, "I'm here for you," she took them one step further, her eyes finding his as she spoke.

“We should try,” Tommy said after a few moments had passed.

“Try?” (Y/N) asked him to elaborate, her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Try to be more like husband and wife...although I realize that I’m the one who really needs to be doing the trying,” he explained his previous statement, hanging his head at the end as he felt a slight bit of shame fill him.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as she heard his confession. “I’d like to try as well,” she agreed with his idea, reaching forward to place her hand on his forearm. Her touch made him glance over at her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the surprised expression he was wearing. “Come here,” she said softly, beckoning him over to her.

He listened and moved closer to her, allowing her to wrap her arms around his shoulders while his son was still hugging onto her as he slept. Tommy settled his hands against the small of her back as he breathed her in. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as she held the embrace. Everything felt right in that moment with her two Shelby boys cuddled up against her chest.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 3 A/N: I've got other WIPs and requests but Emo Brooding Morpheus and Gentle Warm Reader is a brainrot I welcomed a little too warmly

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

"Have you found them?"

Your voice was hardly audible over the sound of crashing waves and screaming seagulls. The wind kept tugging at your clothes, gnawing at your skin and soon you found yourself feeling cold. The warm sunrays, sporadically emerging from behind the grey clouds, were a pleasant relief as they gently brushed against your face. Spring never comes soon enough...

"What exactly do you mean?" Morpheus asked.

The reason why he accompanied you on your walk back home was a lovely secret - one that might be ruined the moment someone tries to learn it. To your satisfaction, he never questioned why you were walking on the sand and not the bricked boulevard, which would have been a lot more comfortable. Despite the sheer pleasure that it brought you, your choice of route was motivated by something more profane: the loneliness that you shared. Morpheus would never admit that himself, you could already tell but he needed to talk to someone as much as you did. In that moment he was about as human as an entity can get and yet he was never going to realize that; when people recognize each other's loneliness as their own they form a connection a little too deep to be captured by a language and far too strange for the mundane world.

"Your belongings, naturally. The jewel, the pouch..." you counted as you recalled the wonderful and strange trinkets he had with him that day, "the creepy mask," you added as your face involuntarily turned into a grimace thinking about the unnerving bone contraption he wore. "Father seemed very content with his, well, theft."

Morpheus suddenly stopped. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and those cold, blue eyes stared into yours with astonishing intensity. The cold wind pulled at his hair as it brushed against his forehead. Looking at his face, you could see the small moves of his jaw as he clenched its muscles.

"Do you know anything of them?"

His voice didn't waver and considering his alarmed appearance, it was an impressive feat. The longer you admired his otherworldly composure the more you grew convinced that you had misinterpreted it the first time you had seen him: what painted his expression blank was not the lack of emotions behind it but rather a certain reluctance in feeling sensations that were already there. Such a disconnect was strangely human for a king of dreams, not to mention horribly forlorn. If one desires no relation to their feelings, how could one ever relate to another being?

"I'm afraid I don't," you answered in a mild tone. "I've only heard rumours among the manor staff as though your gem had been stolen by my father's mistress. But, unfortunately, I cannot speak for the reliability of that hearsay. Even if that were true, I haven't the foggiest where she's gone."

"What of the pouch and the helmet?" he coexed. It seemed as if the remnants of his hope long gone were being washed away with each wave that crashed against the white sand of Southend-on-sea.

"Hard to say," you said with a shrug. Digging your hands further into the pockets of your coat, you began walking again. "Perhaps they're locked away in the deepest dungeon underneath the mansion or maybe they were sold on the black market. In any case, I'm afraid I can't even try to inquire about that. My letters were never answered."

"You have written letters to your father?"

"No, not to Rodrick," you said quietly as you absentmindedly shook your head. There was another for whom your heart broke - someone who might never know the amount of love you once had for them. "I wrote to Alex. I know he hasn't been exactly kind to you but he's an exceptional boy. He will grow up to be a great man, I'm sure of that. Although, I'm afraid I shan't get to see that..."

Morpheus silently studied your somber expression as you looked at the faraway horizon. Somewhere there, where sky dipped his toes in the endless waters, you saw all the magnificent possibilities of Alex's future. A sad smile appeared on your face as if those fantasies made you both proud and completely heartbroken. For the second time, Morpheus began wondering why humans were capable of feeling such contradicting emotions at the same time.

A tear fell from your eye. It glistened in the afternoon sun with a myriad of colours as if misery could once be breathtaking. As the teardrop run down the curve of your cheek, Morpheus instinctively raised his hand but only slightly like some anxious thought at the back of his head prohibited him from moving his arm further. It was the very same hesitation that had decided about the fate of the world more than once.

He thought something you had told him all those years ago when you said you wished your brother never had died. Back then he didn't quite understand the difference - the small difference, a change of perspective - that made your choice different from your father's. But now, watching the glistening tear on your cheek, Morpheus felt a fraction of understanding due to nothing more but his selfishness: instead of wishing to brush away your tear, he wished you never had cried.

"I'm so sorry, I just miss him a lot," you whispered. A sniffle and a deep sigh left your lips. "Oh, only now do I realize my utter lack of manners," you resumed the conversation. With a frantic move of your hand, you brushed away the stray tear. You forced a gentle smile on your face and Morpheus grew angry, although he couldn't quite explain why. "You're a king, are you not? Should I not call you 'your majesty'?"

"There is no need for that." The cold tone of his voice never once revealed the silent affections he had pondered just before. "You are not one of my subjects."

"As you wish, Dream of the Endless. I may not know where to look for your belongings but I do have a burning suspicion that we will not find them among those cold sands and murky waters. As much as it pains me to say so, we should leave this lovely town as soon as we can."

"My affairs are not of your concern."

You stopped walking only to look at him. For a moment, your kind face stared into his eyes - they were such an exceptional shade of blue. Their cool hue was both haunting and dazzling, perhaps serving as an adequate showcase of their owner's nature. It was a wonderful thought that no other but Morpheus inspired the saying that 'eyes are the window to the soul'.

"I want them to be," you confessed before continuing to walk towards your house.

Morpheus couldn't follow your step. He wasn't sure what to make of your words or most of all - whether you actually meant them, at least in the same way he understood them. The longer he listened to the echo of your confession inside his head, the more the realized that only the reasonable part of him desired to dismiss your decision. Yes, deep inside Morpheus wanted you to be concerned with his affairs. Maybe one day, when he lets that intimate thought resound in his mind, he'll realize he wanted to be your concern.

Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that Dream hadn't moved from his spot. His dark attire was a startling contrast to the white sand under his feet and the greyish-blue water behind him. The cold wind kept nipping at his hair and clothes and yet his skin was just as pale, not a shade of red or purple revealed that he could be cold in that weather.

"The world is spinning, your majesty," you yelled over the crashing of waves and seagulls' calls. "We can't just stand on it."

___ Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose

#dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus imagine #morpheus sandman #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman #the sandman x you #the sandman x reader