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postmortemnivis · 3 months

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no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simons a loverboy at heart #simon is not ghost

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yanderenightmare · 4 months

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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so.

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say.

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door.

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue.

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream.

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two.

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you.

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it.

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…”

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it.

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…”

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…”

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-”

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope.

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest.

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

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neptuneblue · 9 days

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◞ ADORNED WITH ADORATION.

꒰ you give satoru a forehead kiss and your tenderness is something he's still trying his damnedest to get used to. ꒱

ᴍᴅɴɪ. 0.8k. f!reader. fluff. fluff. more fluff. reposted from my old account n satoru deserves better. sfw.

satoru is still learning to love shamelessly; he’s still learning how to be adorned with adoration. while he’s always grateful to have your arms tightly clasped around him, hugging him with all your might, he still struggles to accept all your loving gestures fully and readily. despite how much he wants to feel loved by you, despite how much he aches to feel safe in your softness, he can’t help but shy away from its frequency, from the pride you exude when you slip your hand into his. but you’ve made it your mission to break down his apprehension.

exposure therapy. whenever you can, you press a kiss to his temple. when he’s least expecting it, your small hands cup his unsuspecting cheeks, your fingertips tingling as his face flushes and warms beneath them. your thumbs stroke his soft skin, taking in a towering man turning timid for you. now is no different.

you notice he’s keeping his distance again, and that simply can’t be sustained. not while you’re around, not while your endeavor is ardency, not while you’re teeming with all the fondness you’re desperate to display for him. “come on, let’s take a nap together.” you suggest, pulling on his hand until you’re dragging him along. despite roseate cheeks giving away timidity, satoru’s rejection attempts to persist. “baby, listen. let go, yeah? i have things to do.” he protests softly, weakly, and with little effort to stand by it, but allows himself to be tugged by you because the truth is he doesn’t want to do anything else except be yours. he wants nothing more than to be all for you. he doesn’t want you to let him go; he just wants to hear you say you want to love him instead. a soft smile and a shake of the head from you. “nope, the only thing you have to do is treat me like a tree and become my koala. let me hug and rub on you.” “me, a koala?” he raises a brow, looking away from you as if it would reduce the pressure and heat in his face. “eh, no thanks. you’re not really an adequate tree.”

pouting, you huff at his comment and grip his shirt, pulling him down until his face hovers just over yours. his lips anticipate the softness and adoration of your kiss, and as his eyes flutter closed to brace for arduous impact, he hears your amused giggle instead. there’s a sinking feeling in his gut then that begs him not to ever let you slip from his devoted grasp. when he feels your lips plant firmly against the center of his forehead, he freezes in place, eyes shooting open wide. your warm-blooded murmur follows. “well, i’m the best tree you’ve got so you better cling to me well, okay?” so of course, his lips clamp shut and he nods without argument or protest, gulping with a mousy expression. you draw him in for a hug then, an all-consuming one, one that makes him melt into your arms and surrender to his willingness to reciprocate. you don’t see the amused and moony smile he gives you; you never do. you don’t feel the way his heart skips a beat in his chest at the thought of crawling on top of you, being caressed and embosomed by you. even if he does suck it up and say it aloud, there won’t be enough emotion in his voice to convey it befittingly: his heart is not with him anymore.

his heart has a new chasm to dwell and meander around in. on a plot of your tenderness with a foundation of your holiness, that’s where he builds his new life and his new will. right there with you. when you lay in his bed on your back, arms expectant and open, you just look at him blankly. he tries not to smile so triumphantly knowing you’re about to wrap him up and he’s going to be laying with his head on your chest, your soft fingers raking through his hair, an endearing palm rubbing along his spine. finally, he lays down with you, sinks right into your patient and waiting embrace, nuzzling his head into the indentation of your collarbone, claiming your signature scent of cashmere and peonies for himself. it clings to you as closely as he does. “all i needed,” he sighs against your skin, a little hidden smile you don’t need to see to know is there for you. “you always make it better. every time.” there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you. where he belongs is securely attached to you. there’s no future without you by his side, without you loving him so much it makes him move. there’s no such thing as ‘in love’ if it’s not you and him, in the end.

div: /chachachannah.

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burntoutdaydreamer · 7 months

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Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

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feyascorner · 6 months

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before my nails dig

summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.

warnings. angst, fluff, comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos

Had breathing always been this hard?

It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.

And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.

It's getting harder to breathe now.

A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.

"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."

Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

"--Astarion!"

The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.

All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.

But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.

With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.

All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.

You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"

"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."

"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"

He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.

Gods, you're beautiful.

Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.

"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."

The words sound like honey on your tongue.

"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."

His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."

"You didn't."

"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.

Refreshing, almost.

Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.

And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate astarion #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 x reader

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle).

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation.

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be.

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this.

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want."

"Then leave me alone," he says.

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus."

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions.

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks.

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve.

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep.

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek.

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while.

"I'm so sorry," Remus says.

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause.

You struggle to see him in the dark.

"I should never have spoken to you like that."

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it."

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear.

"I'm too tired," you mumble.

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front.

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows.

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just…

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word.

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch.

"I love you," you say.

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this.

"So don't be sorry."

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way."

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you."

"I know," he utters.

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first.

"I'm sorry."

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone."

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper.

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that."

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips.

"I love you," he says into it.

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night.

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?"

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head.

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut #anyway hope yall like it #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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andy-15-07 · 3 months

Note

Are your requests open??

I would love to see you where the reader/OFC is a concubine of Paul Atreides. She doesn’t get much attention from him but when she goes in to labor there is a complication and she becomes scared. Paul as the Emperor shows up to help her through the labor and starts developing a positive relationship with her and his child postpartum.

Thank you!! Please keep writing things you have passion for!! ❤️

Bonds Beyond Blood

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

Y/n lay on the ornate bed, her hand clutching the bedsheets tightly as pain wracked through her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing shallow and labored. The midwives moved around her with practiced efficiency, but their words seemed distant, muffled by the intensity of her fear.

Paul Atreides, the Emperor, stood by the doorway, his expression a mask of concern. He had never been one to show much interest in Y/n, his concubine, beyond the duties of his station. But now, as he watched her struggle, something stirred within him.

"Is she going to be alright?" Paul asked the head midwife, his voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

The midwife glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to Y/n. "We are doing everything we can, Your Majesty. But there are complications. The baby's position is not ideal, and Y/n is exhausted."

Paul nodded, his jaw clenched. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. This was one situation he couldn't control with his political power or military might.

Y/n's cries filled the room, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Paul felt a pang of guilt deep within him. He had neglected her, taken her presence for granted. But now, seeing her in such agony, he couldn't ignore the bond they shared, however distant it had been.

Without a word, Paul crossed the room and took Y/n's hand in his own. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and pain.

"Paul..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm here, Y/n," Paul said softly, his tone soothing. "I won't leave your side."

Y/n squeezed his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence. Despite their past indifference, she found solace in his touch, in the warmth of his hand against hers.

Minutes stretched into hours as Y/n endured the agonizing pain of labor. Paul remained by her side, offering words of encouragement and support. With each contraction, he whispered words of reassurance, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her fear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears of relief streamed down Y/n's cheeks as she held her newborn child in her arms.

Paul watched, his heart swelling with emotion, as Y/n cradled their child against her chest. In that moment, he felt a connection unlike any he had ever known before. It wasn't just the bond of blood that tied him to this child, but something deeper, something more profound.

"I never knew..." Paul began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "Neither did I," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft cries of their child.

In the days that followed, Paul remained by Y/n's side, helping her adjust to motherhood and caring for their newborn child. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity and nurtured by the love they shared for their child.

As they sat together in the quiet moments of the night, watching over their sleeping infant, Paul found himself opening up to Y/n in a way he never thought possible. He shared his fears, his hopes, his dreams for the future, laying bare his soul before her.

And in turn, Y/n shared her own hopes and dreams, her fears and insecurities, trusting Paul with her most intimate thoughts and feelings.

In the weeks and months that followed, Paul and Y/n's relationship blossomed into something beautiful and profound. They may have started as mere strangers, bound together by duty and circumstance, but now they were so much more than that.

They were partners, allies, confidants. And as they watched their child grow and thrive, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united in love and devotion.

For in the end, it wasn't power or prestige that defined them, but the simple yet profound bond of family. And in that bond, they found the true meaning of happiness and fulfillment.

#paul atreides imagines #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x female reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides #paul atreides imagine #dune x you #dune x reader #dune imagines #dune imagine #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader

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coolyiooo · 7 months

Text

BSD Men : Hooking Up As Enemies/ Rivals

Pairings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Sigma

❗WARNINGS❗: SMUT, MDNI, blindfold, scratching, degrading, praise, biting, pulling, breeding kink, whimpering, moaning, cock warming, overstimulation, choking, etc

🖤DAZAI 🖤

You never liked Dazai. If you were being honest the only thing you liked about him was his looks. Dazai was annoying, sneaky and treated you like shit which made the thought of him disgusting. He was never too fond of you either, yet he also found you pretty attractive. Thus you both somehow found yourselves having sex.

Dazai was on top of you with his cock thrusting deeply into you. He hit every sensitive part of you skillfully which made it hard for you to quiet your moans. Your wet, tight cunt made him grip onto the bed sheets. He didn't think you'd feel this fucking good and it was almost like you were made for his cock.

He was panting slightly "Squeezing me so tightly? And I thought you hated my guts ngh~ but now I'm literally in them~" he smirks

You felt embarrassed by his words and decided to flip yourself over to jump on his cock. You felt better seeing him beneath you and be in a more vulnerable position, but his smirk didn't go away

He put his hands on your hips and looked down to see his cock rub in and out of your tight pussy "Heh~ you look good jumping on my cock like a desperate whore"

"Shut up, It's because you weren't doing that good of a job so I had to take control" you struggled trying not to moan

"Is that so? Hah~ then let me make it up to you since I'm oh so sorry" He flipped you over again, this time pinning your arms above your head as he thrusted deeper into you making you slip out a loud moan

He smiles "You just didn't like me on top, huh? You didn't like how good my cock feels?" He teases you

You looked away from embarrassment and quietly said "Too.. deep- mmn~"

He smiles "Just be honest and say nobody has ever made you feel this good~"

You gave him a fiery look "Mmn~ Shut up and just fuck me"

He didn't like this attitude of yours and decided to just suddenly cock warm himself.

"Idiot, what are you doing?" You asked

"I just thought it'd be nice to hear you beg~ "

"Uh- there's no way" you gave him a disgusted look

He then does 4 deep, fast thrusts into you making you want more and whimper "Come on, tell me you want it~" he says in a low voice and a smirk

You grumbled and looked away. It took you a couple seconds to say something "please...don't stop"

"Hmm? Say it louder~" his smirk becomes wider

You looked at him with an angry look holding back from slapping him. You hate to admit it, but he really was the only man who's ever actually pleased you "please don't stop. I want more" you said trying not to sound too vulgar

He smiles and begins to fuck you relentlessly. His cock hitting deep inside you while throbbing. You both gasp a moan. His grip on your wrists tightened more as you arched your back. Your breasts becoming more perky and drawing his attention

"S-shit hah~ I guess your good with at least one thing" he groans

You started to smirk "Your throbbing so much mmn~ do I make you feel that good~?" You taunted

He then puts a hand around your throat as a way to shut you up, making you tightened more around him

He pants "Your about to cum aren't you?"

"Not even close" you managed to say

He tilts his head "Then this shouldn't be a problem for you"

His thrusts become animalistic and rough, hitting your g-spot which felt like every millisecond. You felt a huge wave of pleasure wash over you and felt your climax coming rapidly "AAH~! F-fuck- w-wait~!"You then came on his cock as you moaned loudly. Twitching and clenching around him.

He smiled while his cock throbbed "look at that~ cumming all over my cock? Ngh~ Didn't you just say I wasn't any good?"

You couldn't even form a sentence and just moaned loudly from over stimulation. Your pitiful moans drove him over the edge. He hated how amazing you felt and how he found his release so quickly "Fuck... Ngh~ fucking shit~!" He moans

With a couple more thrusts, he pulled out of you and came all over your body with a loud groan. His cum was on your stomach, chest, and face. You almost wanted to smirk at how much he came from having sex with you, but you were still calming down from your own climax, too out of breath to make a snarky comment

He smirks while panting "You look prettier with my cum all over you"

You looked at him "I liked you better when you were moaning loudly like a little bitch"

He laughs "That's rich coming from you~"

"Fuck you"

He chuckles "Feel free to come back anytime if you want more~"

"Why on earth would I ever want more from you? Oh I see.. it's you who wants more"

"Only temporarily obviously... Don't act like you don't like the idea of it, princess~"

💚RANPO💚

You and Ranpo almost had the same relationship as him and Poe. They're rivals yet enjoy each other's company. Like Poe you tried to find ways to surpass Ranpo but instead you try to become a better detective. You know it might be impossible, but it's your goal. It was like you and Ranpo were constantly in a competition without hating each other completely. You actually quite liked eachother, but you didn't want to admit that.

One night things escalated and one thing led to another.You were both on a bed as you rode Ranpo's cock. His hands were stuck to your waist and your hands were on his chest to keep you balanced. You were both in pure bliss, moaning and whimpering from the sweet sensation.

"Yea~ so good~ mmn~! More~" Ranpo moaned while throwing his head back

"Its good to know that I can at least put you in this state- mmn~! I'm the only one who can make you like this~" you teased

He just kept whimpering. His hands that were on your waist were trembling from ecstasy. You softly chuckle "Who knew that the world's greatest detective could be such a whimpering mess~"

He slowly starts to smirk "And no other man has ever felt this good huh~? Hah~ It pretty obvious"

You were taken aback from his blunt words. "Ah~! I can say the same when I'm also the only one who's made you like this~" he says while smiles

He sat up by using his elbows to get a better look at you. His tone was deep as he teased you "Don't act so high and mighty~ ngh~!"

You scoff and look down. You hated how right he always was, but then an idea came to your mind. You realized that if there's one thing that makes Ranpo weak it's praise, so you decided to use that against him

You spoke "Your one to talk.. your lucky you feel amazing~"

You saw Ranpo gulp and blush. He smiled softly from the comment. You decided to keep going. You made him sit up to wrap your arms around him and to moan in his ear. Your hand gently pulling on his hair "Your doing such a good job~ ngh~! Such a good boy~ ah~! I can't get enough of you~ mnn~! Your so big and deep~"

You felt his cock throb violently. His whimpers became more loud. It turned you on how you were becoming too much for him to handle. He laid his chin on your shoulder while moaning uncontrollably.

You chuckled gently "The simplest words are enough to drive you crazy~ it's so cute~ yet pathetic" you kissed his ear, making him twitch

He chuckle gently while looking at you "What's pathetic is that you did this expecting me to beg for more of you in the future, but the truth is it's you who will beg for me"

You looked at him offended until he spoke again "Don't be so upset it's not like I'm complaining- ngh~! Not one bit~!"He whispers in your ear "You do feel amazing~ this is the best I've ever felt"

His praise made you crazy. Your cunt twitched as you whimpered against his neck. He smiles "I see even the simplest words make you crazy too"

You began to jump faster on his cock. Both of you moaned louder as you both felt your orgasms coming quickly "Y-yeah~ I'm so close~ i-im going to- ah~! So close~!" Ranpo moaned

"Me too~! Mmn~! Keep going~!"

You both held onto eachother tightly. The sensation was undescribable and incomparable to anything you both have ever felt in your lives. With a few deep, fast thrusts. Ranpo whimpered extremely loudly as he came inside you. His whole body trembling an insane amount. His whimper instantly made you cum with him. Your cunt tightly squeezing the cum out of him and covering his cock with your cum.

While still holding onto eachother you both laid limp onto the bed. Your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beat rapidly. You were both panting heavily and slowly becoming sleepy

"We can do this again tomorrow" Ranpo said in a soft voice

You looked at him shocked but deep down you were happy. He smirks "I already knew you were going to ask so"

You pushed yourself off him "Fuck off"

He laughs while playfully poking your cheek over and over again "Just admit it! your obsessed with me~"

You slapped his hand away while blushing "Fuck you!"

💜FYODOR💜

Your from the ADA and somehow you've found your enemy to be attractive. You hated yourself for it, but the heart wants what it wants. You and Fyodor had an interesting relationship. He too also found you attractive and fascinating, but that didn't stop you from trying to put the guy in jail or him trying to eliminate you.

One night you were fed up and it lead you to finding him in the middle of the night for a hookup. He gave in easily which surprised you, but then again nobody really knows Fyodor, maybe he only agreed because it was part of some plan he has.

You were both on a bed. Fyodor was on top of you as he heavenly fucked you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your hips. If he really wanted to, he would kill you in one second, but you just felt too good he couldn't bring himself to do it. His cock hit all your sweet spots and your wet, tight cunt perfectly rubbed his dick.

Your soft moans were music to his ears"My, my, someone sure is enjoying themselves, hm~?" Fyodor smirks

You clenched his hair "Your one to talk- ah~ your twitching so much agh~ I don't think any woman has ever touched you"

"hmm~ I don't sleep around like you, dear~"

Your eyebrows furrowed "I'm not a slut- mmn~" you moaned while arching your back

He chuckles "It seems like you are for me~ coming to my door and begging like one ah~"

You grumbled "Shut up- mph~"

He then used his thumb to rub your clit. You moaned louder and instinctively wrapped your legs around his body to push him deeper inside you, making you tighter "Your really clamping down ngh~ do I make you feel that good~?" He teases

You looked away in embarrassment "Use your words" he whispers in your ear tauntingly

You didn't respond. He shrugs his shoulders "If that's how you want to play, then..." His thrusts became faster and rough. His cock hitting deep inside you and feeling amazing. You moan louder. He tried to hide his moans and all you felt was his cock throbbing more.

You felt your climax coming quickly"I- I'm gonna- ah~! slow d-down~!" You held onto his shoulder tightly Just as you were about to cum, Fyodor pulled himself out. You looked at him confused

He smiles sinisterly "Beg for it, dear~ just like how you did earlier today"

You scoffed "You really think I'd beg for you?"

"Judging by the way your body quivers, and how you wrap your arms and legs around me. I'd say you will"

Your eye twitched. He brought his face coser to yours. Your foreheads almost touching He tilted his head to the side slightly "No man has ever made you feel this grand~"

You chuckle "I bet you didn't even think sex would feel this good, mudak"

(Translation: asshole )

"Hm? I guess we're done here then" he was getting up to leave, but you grabbed his wrist. His eyes looking at your face that was in defeat

You grumbled as you looked down "Please..Fuck me. Please don't stop"

He held your chin to make you look at him "Why should I?"

"B-because... It feels good" you said trying not to sound disgusted

He smiled widely. All of a sudden he plunged his cock inside you again. You both moaned in satisfaction from the pleasure of being one again. He continues his fast, rough pace. Somehow the pleasure being more intense than before. You loudly moaned from the sensation. You felt your orgasm approaching again

"Ngh~! look at you screaming for me~ let's do it together shall we?" Fyodor grunts

You couldn't form sentences. The more Fyodor looked at the state he's put you in, the faster he felt his climax coming. You both couldn't hold on any longer from the pleasure

He gripped your hips harshly "Ngh~! T-trakhni menya~" he grunted before he came deep inside you

(Translation: Fuck me)

The instant you felt your cunt being filled by his hot cum, you came with him while moaning. Your bodies were only washed over by ecstacy. Twitching and breathing heavily was all you two could do. He looked down to your cum filled cunt "Kak chudesno.. taking it all in" he groans softly

(Translation: how wonderful )

A few seconds after he said that, he pulled out of you and plopped next to you trying to catch his breath. You looked at him while panting "Don't look so pleased.. you look pathetic when you cum"

He chuckles and smirks at you "If I recall, you were the one that was begging for me twice tonight. Seems hypocritical, don't you think?"

You looked at him irritated. You knew he was right. You protested "Well this is the first and last time we'll ever do this"

He got closer to your face and in a deep voice, he said "unfortunately, we both know that's not the case"

💙ATSUSHI💙

You were part of the Mafia and Atsushi was part of the ADA. You two have fought eachother every once in awhile, but something about him made you soft, maybe it's because he's actually very sweet, but there's no way you'd ever admit to that. He always got in the way of your plans and it frustrated the hell out of you

Not like he thought of you any different. He didn't like how much of a horrible person you can be, but sometimes he's seen a soft side of you that he believe can be turned into good. You both just found each other fascinating and irritating, yet here you are on a bed.

You were both naked. He was on top of you with his forehead on your shoulder. He thrusted into you at a normal speed, almost tender and soft but he still hit the deepest parts of you. Your wet cunt soaked his cock and made it easy for him to slip in and out of you. One of your arms were in his hair and the other on his back. You both moaned from the pleasure

"Mmn~! W-we shouldn't be doing this- ah~!" He moans against your skin.

He looked worried, but he was just overwhelmed by the pleasure

"Yea, but it's too late to back out now Mmn~! it feels good, doesn't it~?" You responded, tilting your head slightly to get a better look at him

His grip tightened on the sheets "Y-yeah it feels ah~! A-amazing~! But- ngh~!"

"We can stop if you want- ah~ it's just I'll be unsatisfied mmn~"

He moves his head away from your shoulder to get a better look at you "N-no, I can't stop now~ mph~! Even if I wanted to~"

His thrusts became faster making you both moan in ecstasy as you reach closer to your climaxes"Why? Ngh~! Why you out of all people? Ah~" he asks mostly to himself

You scoffed "Mmn~! I ask myself the same thing"

"You've killed and tortured mmn~ yet I can't bring myself to stop~!" He was clearly feeling some type of guilt, but the body wants what it wants

You responded "Not like your any better- ngh~ your such a pushover agh~ your so fucking sensitive" you paused for a second before finishing your sentence "B-but I just can't stay away~ ngh~"

He looks into your eyes slightly surprised. He knows you have a soft spot and he wishes you brought it out more. His thrusts became needy and more vulgar. His thighs slapping against your thighs, hitting your g-spot over and over. You arched your back as you clawed his skin

He felt his release "I c-can't hold it anymore~ ah~! too good~! I-im- ngh~ something's coming~!" He moaned loudly

You held tightly onto him "Just like that~ i-im going to cum~!"

A few more strokes into your wet, warm cunt. He didn't want to make a mess on your body he pulled out and came onto his hand with a loud whimper. His hand was covered in so much of his own cum and you wished it was all over you or maybe even filling up inside you. You came right after him while moaning.

You both stood still in place panting heavily. Atsushi looks at his hand and clean it up with a tissue that's by the bed. He gave some to you too.After you cleaned yourselves up, you looked at him while blushing "Do you mind if I come back tomorrow?"

He jolts slightly from the question and looks away "We shouldn't, but.." he gulps before looking at you "Yeah, I'd like that"

🧡CHUUYA🧡

You knew Chuuya by working long enough at the ADA to learn about him. You knew he was part of the Mafia and his ability, but you both had a difficult relationship. You both didn't hate eachother, but it was hard to get along. You don't know why or how y'all started to fight with each other so often, but it's a regular thing. Regardless of your relationship, you found eachother attractive and thus found yourselves hooking up on this night.

You were both on the bed. Chuuya was on top of you as he thrusted roughly into you. At this rate when you wake up tomorrow you won't even be able to close your legs. Your arms were clawing his back which he found such a turn on. You both moaned from the euphoric sensation

"D-damnit it~ why are you so tight for, huh?" He struggled to say without moaning

You chuckle "Heh~ you can't handle me or what, bitch-? AH!"

Chuuya suddenly sunk his teeth into your neck to shut your snarky comment. You tightened from the bite and he twitched "Agh~ It seems like your the one that can't handle me"

You pull his hair roughly making him moan loudly "Ngh~! F-fucking hell!"

His pace became faster which made you squirm a bit and moan. He held your hips still with his hands "D-dont squirm so much! you'll make me- ngh~!" He moans

You smirk "Your throbbing so much Chuuya~ what's the matter? Mmn~ Does it feel that good~?" You taunted

He grumbles "Shut up ngh~ your literally soaking the sheets"

You decided to flip over and get on top of him "Hey! Who said you could- NGH~!"

You cut off his sentence by jumping on his cock. He gripped harshly on your hips as he closed his eyes tightly from the sensual pleasure

"Mmn~ You look kinda cute like this, Chuuya~" you moaned looking down at his pathetic state

His eyebrows furrowed as he grumbled "Ah~ don't ever call me that"

"Fine mnn~ your adorable~" you poked his cheek

His cheeks blushed red as he suddenly flipped you over and got back on top of you. His thrusts were vulgar and deep. You both moaned loudly. The bed shook violently. Your arms were wrapped around eachother. Your arched your back when you felt his cock hit your g-spot and moaned loudly

He smirks "Screaming from my cock~? Fuck~ so fucking good~ seems like your actually good at something"

You digged your nails into his shoulders "I-im gonna- ah~!" You moaned

His eyes were drunk with pleasure "Yeah~? me too ngh~ where do you want it?"

You grunted "O-outside, you idiot- mmn~!"

After a couple deep thrusts he pulled out and stroked his cock, shooting hot, sticky cum all over your body with a loud grunt. You saw his cock throbbed aggressively as it squirted cum. The sight alone made you cum with him. Your body twitched as you moaned from your release

You were both breathing heavily. He plopped next to you and got some napkins from the table next to the bed and gave them to you to clean yourself. You both laid there and stared at the ceiling still trying to calm down from the climax

"We're never doing that, again" Chuuya pants

"Fuck no. Never again" you responded

What a god damn lie

💛SIGMA💛

You and Sigma know each other for being part of the Decay of Angels and didn't really get along. Sigma had a hard time trusting people especially since you were part of the Decay of Angels. Right from the beginning he never fully trusted you and because of that he was very distant and cold towards you

You weren't any different though. You were also being used for the decay of angels and didn't really trust Sigma. The relationship between you two was secretly hating the other with no real reason, but one day you were both really frustrated and needed a distraction

It kind of just happened yet you couldn't really understand how it happened when you were both on the couch naked. You were straddling him while jumping on his cock. His hands were caressing your thighs. Your hands were in his hair sometimes pulling it and making him groan. Your tight, wet, warm cunt rubbed his cock addictively as you kept jumping on it. The tip of his cock hitting the deepest parts of your pussy. It felt amazing

Sigma looks down to see his cock slide in and out of you "Ah~! f-fuck~ j-just like that~" he moans

"So good~ I didn't expect you to be this amazing~" you responded while arching your back

He furrows his eyebrows "S-shut up~ mmn~ I know your just fucking with me mph~ using me as a toy"

You looked into his eyes "So are you- ngh~ don't act all innocent agh~! your loving this aren't you?"

He looked slightly stunned for a second "W-well.. ngh~! I guess we're both even- ah~!"

Suddenly your pace became faster. His cock throbbing aggressively as his whole body twitched from every touch from you "Your so sensitive~ mnn~! have you never been touched before~?" You asked teasingly

He blushed more and looked down "W-why would it matter? Your talking too much- ngh~!"

You wrapped your arms around his neck "Don't be so embarrassed~ ah~ it's actually pretty cute~" you smirked

He became embarrassed "C-cute? I said to s-shut up didnt I?"

He was tired of hearing your talk, after all, he just wanted a distraction. You listened to his small request and stopped talking. You thought of a kinky idea and decided to cover his eyes with your hands. He couldn't see, but he focused more on the pleasure of your cunt. He let out a loud whimper and unintentionally used his hands to move your hips faster. His cock throbbed and ached as he felt his climax coming

"A-ah~! Mmn~ f-faster~!" He moaned while his head fell back exposing his throat more

You moaned more from the quick pace and smirked by how cute he was "So lewd~ ah~!"

"G-gonna c-cum~! Don't stop~!" He whimpered loudly

You kept doing with what you were doing also feeling your climax coming. After a few more thrusts, Sigma gasps before cumming deep inside you with a loud whimper and digging his nails into your skin. You tugged on his hair when you felt his cock shoot cum, making you cum with him and moaned. Both of you quivering from the insane amount of pleasure rushing throughout your body.

You laid limp against him and roved your hand from his eyes. Both of you were breathing heavily. You moved your head slightly to get a better look at his face

"If you ever need another release don't be afraid to come to me" you quietly said

He looks down at you with blushed cheeks. He stared into your eyes with a small amount of worry for awhile before gulping and responding. He nodded "Alright"

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

I've had a bit of brainrot today and have to share so I can get it out of my head (maybe) so feel free to ignore lol I've been thinking of 141 having a civilian spouse (separately, just in case there was confusion) that only ever refers to them by their call sign/rank during an emergency situation. Using it just immediately sets off sirens and they see red. - 🐍

Yesss. Got a bit carried away with this one, lol. Only did 141 specifically, lmk if you'd like to see anyone else! Also tried my best to make this GN!😊

141 With Reader Who Uses Their Callsign in Emergency Situation

Warnings: mentions of guns, violence, unwanted advances/touching, stalking, swearing, injury, crying--- I promise it has a good ending😅

Simon Ghost Riley-

"Golly, aren't you a fine looking thing." You heard a voice say behind you, as you were standing at the bar getting you and Simon another drink. Simon had just gone to the bathroom, so you knew you were on your own for this.

You turned around and were met with a man double your size, a sickening smile making its way on his face.

"Oh, thank you." You mustered a small smile before turning back to the bar, praying the man would take the hint and leave you alone.

"No, I mean it. I could take that little ass of yours home right now." The man came closer, and you could just start to feel his breath on your neck, making you cringe.

"I have a boyfriend, I'm sorry." You tried softly. You were desperate at this point, your eyes searching for Simon.

"I don't see him anywhere." The man smiled, his teeth were yellow, and his breath reeked of cheap booze.

"He just went to the restroom." You mumbled.

You felt a hand grope your ass slightly, squeezing at the flesh there. "Mmhmm, if I were your boyfriend, I'd never leave you unattended like this."

You cried out, moving to swat the guys hand away, to no avail. Nobody around you seemed to notice your predicament, and you were starting to grow scared.

The man pushed you up against the counter, his hand now gripping your waist. "Be a good little pet and come with me, okay?"

You struggled against his hold and screamed out, "Ghost!"

Simon, who had just exited the restroom, heard the wail and immediately started to run to you. What he saw had him seeing red.

He forced himself between you and the man and grabbed his hand roughly. "Who the fuck do you think you are touching them."

The man looked as if he was about to piss himself, as Simon was nearly a half foot taller and twice as bulky. "Sorry, man, they acted like they wanted it."

Simon seethed and twisted the man's wrist with such force that you swore you heard bones cracking. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here. Before I decide to do something that'll end with me in jail."

The man let out a small whimper, grabbed his now bruised hand and ran for the door.

Simon watched as he fled, then turned his attention to you, his eyes softening. "Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Your eyes filled with tears as you threw yourself into Simon's chest. "Thank you, Si."

"You don't have to thank me. That's what I'm here for, yeah? Why won't we go home, I'll draw you a bath." He pulled away and cupped your cheeks, carefully pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded your head slowly and let Simon lead you out of the bar, not expecting him to crouch down on the ground once you made it outside. "Si?"

"Cmon, get on my back. Long way to the car." He gestured to his back and helped you on it, holding your legs tightly as he walked you to his car. He'd be damned if he ever let anything like that happen again to his person.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You were walking around your local department store one afternoon with Kyle, looking to find him some new dress shirts. The two of you had a friends wedding to attend that weekend, and Kyle didn't have many outfits to pick from.

"What about this one?" You picked out a light blue stripped dress shirt, holding it up for Kyle to see.

"I'll look like a grandpa with that one, babe." He joked, waiving away the shirt.

"You'd be a hot grandpa." You countered, putting the shirt back.

"Oh hush. I gotta run to the restroom, I'll be right back." He chuckled as he gave your arm a squeeze. You watched him walk away with a small smile before returning to the racks in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a gentleman who'd been following you and Kyle around the store for some time now, and now that Kyle was gone, it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

You were just rounding the next row of racks when the man came up behind you and started to pull on your purse. You cried out, trying to pull back, but the man was too strong. He yanked with one mighty tug, ripping the purse from your arm, and shoved you backward, sending you toppling into the racks behind you.

"GAZ!" You screamed, as the man stared at you, frozen, before turning the other way and running.

Kyle was walking toward you when he heard you scream, and his blood ran cold. He immediately sprinted in your direction, running right into the man with your purse. The man fell backward, and Kyle looked down to see him clutching your purse.

He put his foot on the man's stomach and pushed down hard. "Give me the fucking purse, asshole."

The man refused and tightened his grip on your bag. Kyle saw red and promptly punched the man square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He grabbed your purse as a few workers finally came to check on the commotion.

Kyle looked to see you clutching your head in pain. He ran over to you, sliding to a crouch position once he got to you. "Baby! Are you okay?"

Your bottom lip trembled as a strangled cry escaped your throat, and Kyle grabbed you, pulling you to his chest. He had to talk himself down from going and giving the man another few punches.

He tucked his arm underneath your legs and lifted you up bridal style. "I'm so sorry, babe. I've got you. Let's go home. Yeah?"

Kyle spent the rest of the night watching over you and icing the bruise that formed on your head. He made a silent vow that day, that he'd beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who dared touch his baby again.

John Price-

BANG!

You looked up from your computer in your home office at the sound of the loud noise. It was late at night, and John was asleep, so you were concerned as to what caused the sound. You grabbed the pocket knife out of your drawer and made your way quietly to investigate.

Peeking your head around the doorway, you saw a large man making his way through your shared home with your husband. It appeared he'd somehow broken in through the front door.

You let out a small whimper, the confidence you had before now fading. John was fast asleep upstairs, and you had no way to get to him without revealing yourself.

You watched silently as the man started to rummage in your drawers, trying to find anything valuable he could take.

He started to draw closer to where you were, and as you slowly crept backward, the floorboards creaked underneath you.

The man was immediately notified of your presence and caught a glimpse of you as you tried to hide around the corner.

"Hey! You!" He shouted, immediately running toward you.

You sprinted in the other direction, narrowly missing his outstretched hand. You ran into the bathroom in the hallway and tried to close the door before a hand came out to stop it.

"Nowhere to run now." He said, a terrifying smile lining his face.

"PRICE!" You screeched, your heart beating rapidly.

John's eyes flew open at the sound of your terrified cry. With adrenaline coarsing through his veins, he flung himself out of bed and grabbed his handgun from his bedside table. He slowly crept down the stairs and took in his surroundings.

He saw you right away, crouched in terror before a man, who had you at gunpoint. John swiftly made his way behind the man before hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

The man fell limply to the floor, and you let out a strangled sob. "John."

"Hey love, it's alright. I'm here." He approached you slowly, his hands raised up to show you he meant no harm. You held your arms out to him, and he pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I've got you. Nobody's going to hurt you."

He pulled away for just a moment to call the cops but held a grip firm on your waist, letting you know he wasn't ever going to let anything happen to you.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Alright, babe, I'll run and grab the stuff at the bottom half of the list. You grab top?" Johnny asked, eyeing your fairly large grocery list.

"Sounds good, thanks, love." You smiled at him and tore the list in half, sending him on his way after a quick peck.

You watched as he strolled away, basket in hand, and made for the toiletry section of the store.

You were comparing toothpastes when you felt two men staring at you. You subtly turned your head in their direction, and they quickly looked anywhere but your direction.

You felt a slight sinking feeling in your belly and quickly threw one of the toothpastes in your cart. You made for the next aisle, looking around deoderant for you and Johnny, when the same two men appeared again, walking slowly down the aisle toward you.

Trying to brush off the occurrence as a coincidence, you threw what you needed in the cart and started to make your way to the shampoo aisle. Your resolve quickly crumbled when you now realized the men were following you.

The store was rather empty, so there was nobody close by for you to turn to. You sped your cart up and headed in the direction you thought Johnny might be. The men were hot on your tail, making it clear they were trying to get to you.

You felt one of their hands touch your back, and you let out a cry. "SOAP!"

Johnny was just finishing up his portion of the list when he heard your scream. His heart was beating rapidly as he dropped the basket and ran to you.

"Y/N?" He called out and was met with a horrifying sight. You were cornered in one of the aisles by two men and were crying, your hands up in a defensive motion as you crouched on the floor.

Johnny immediately approached. "Leave my partner the fuck alone."

The two men whipped their heads in his direction, rubbing their hands together. It was clear they were looking for a fight. Johnny lifted his shirt slightly, revealing his sidearm strapped to his waist. "Try it, I fucking dare you. You won't like the outcome."

The men clearly knew better than to create such a scene in a store and decided to flee.

Johnny watched as they ran and crouched down to your level. "Baby. Are you okay?"

You choked out a sob and wrapped your arms around your husband. "I was so scared, Johnny."

Johnny gritted his teeth in anger, he hated that anyone made you feel this way. It took everything in him not to go chasing after those bastards.

"I know, baby. I'm here now, though. Why don't we quickly finish up this trip and grab some takeout, yeah? I'm not really feeling up to cooking anymore." He pulled your face away gently and stroked your tears away. "I've got you, always, okay?"

You nod slowly and let him help you up. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, not letting go until you both reached the car.

#simon ghost riley x reader #soap imagine #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #john price #captain price #price x reader #price imagine #gaz imagine #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod

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redwing4life · 3 months

Text

Prettier Than a Van Gogh

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

WARNINGS: Bucky struggling with self image, a frankly illegal amount of fluff

SUMMARY: You suggest painting Bucky’s back to help him see the beauty he fails to see in the mirror

WORD COUNT: 1333

MASTERLIST

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your voice rings out from the entryway of the apartment, your tone light as you use the phrase you’ve come to love. Bucky said it once when you first moved in together, unaware of its old fashioned nature; you teased him for it in the following weeks, and yet you’ve come to find it endearing - now using it each time you walk through the front door.

“Bucky?” You call out, met with silence once more. While you’re used to coming home to a quiet apartment, the lack of a usual reception of hugs and kisses is worrying.

Concern tugs at your brows as you kick off your shoes. You consider for a moment that he’s been called away on a mission - something that happens every now and then - but his boots still sit on the shoe rack and there’s no sticky note on the wall from him.

“Bucky, darling? You home?”

Spinning round the corner that leads to the open plan kitchen and living room, your frown deepens upon seeing no sign of your boyfriend; the bathroom door is open and he’s not there either. Your eyes lock on the bedroom door that sits slightly ajar before your feet carry you forward.

You knock gently on the wood and peek inside, “Love?”

Oh how your heart drops at the sight before you. The reflection of the mirror Bucky is stood in front of shows you the shame etched across his features. He’s wearing the dark blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms you got him for Christmas with no shirt on.

You’ve found him like this before, him staring with disgust at the scars littered across his torso, but mainly his shoulder. It’s like a knife to the stomach every time you see him with that look in his eyes; if only he saw himself the way you do.

Feet pattering against the hardwood floor, you approach Bucky with eyes trained on his - though he’s yet to glance at you.

“I thought we agreed you didn’t have to do this to yourself anymore, sweetheart” You say, voice quiet and dripping with love. Coming to a halt behind him, you drag your fingers up and down his toned back a couple times before stretching them around his waist.

Bucky’s skin tingles at the warmth of your hands, now flat against his stomach. “I don’t know how to stop” His lips twist into a grimace.

“Then we’ll learn how to.” You reply, slowly stroking the skin beneath his belly button. “Cause you deserve to see yourself the way I do”

You almost gasp when Bucky finally meets your eyes through the mirror, wondering if you’ll ever get used to his beauty.

“Do I?” He asks with a frown.

“Oh, honey,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, “you deserve that and so much more.”

His lips turn up slightly and you revel in the way his body responds to you. Your right hand reaches out to grab his vibranium one, raising them up with your palms flat against each other. Still stood behind him, your fingers intertwine while your eyes never leave each others.

You continue, “You may not see that yet, but i’ll spend every minute of our lives teaching you to see it too”

He spins in your arms while still holding your hand and rests his flesh one on your hip. Naturally, you start swaying from side to side, dancing to the hustle and bustle of the street outside. You find yourself thinking of ways to help him while your head rests on his chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You mumble against his chest.

“Yes, doll?”

“I have an idea”

Bucky was skeptical of your plan at first, but your big smile and excited bouncing on the spot won him over. Not that it takes much persuasion when it comes to you.

So now he finds himself lying on his stomach on your bed while you straddle his back, slowly sketching out a drawing on his back.

“Can I at least get a vague idea as to what you’re gonna paint on my back, sweets?”

You giggle to yourself quietly, “Nope.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a grin. You’re being very secretive as to what you’re planning; you said you want him to just enjoy relaxing for now.

“Okay, you ready?” You ask, dipping a brush into the paint on your palette.

“Yes, ma’am”

When the brush makes contact with the small of Bucky’s back, his back tenses at the unusual sensation. “Fuck, doll, it’s cold” His voice is muffled with the pillow beneath his chin.

You mutter an apology, gently running your hand up and down his side comfortingly, trying to counter the cool brush with your warm hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” He replies quickly, “keep going”

So you do. You spend nearly an hour swirling paint over your boyfriend’s back, incorporating his scars into your design. Blues and yellows blend together to form a version of Van Gogh’s starry night, curving round his vibranium shoulder and down to the middle of his back.

Bucky stopped fighting the fatigue that was tugging at him, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He’s slept peacefully for the last twenty minutes to the bizarrely satisfying feeling of being painted; a content smile has graced your lips ever since he fell asleep, happy to see him so comfortable in your presence.

You never take for granted how Bucky lets his guard down around you. You may not be able to control his feelings toward himself, but you can certainly give him every reason to trust you.

The painting is nearly finished as the super soldier stirs beneath you, a sigh falling from his lips.

“How’s it going, doll?” He asks, trying to turn and look at your work only to have his eyes covered.

“No looking! I’m nearly done” You squeak, desperate to keep it as a surprise. “Just a couple minutes and you can see it”

Bucky hums in response, returning his attention to the movie playing on the tv.

Finally finishing up with some detailed strokes, you drop the brush in the water jar and tidy up. When everything is cleared, you help Bucky to stand up without smudging your work, leading him back to the mirror you found him in front of only a few hours ago. Your hands rest on his hips, drawing circles on his skin without even realising you’re doing it.

“Okay, if you don’t like it we can wash-“

“I already love it, y/n. You could’ve painted a rotten apple and i’d wear it for a week if I could” He interrupts you. You can’t help but admire him right now, a soft expression on his face.

“Okay, you can look”

Silence falls upon the room as Bucky turns to face you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead before looking over his shoulder.

“My god, sweets”

“Is that a good ‘My god’ or a bad ‘My god’?”

He can’t tear his eyes away from his body for the first time since the 40s. “It’s beautiful, y/n. I-“ Words fail him and you swear you see a tear in his eye.

“That’s how I see you, Buck.” You say. “You take my breath away every time I see you. Your scars are part of you, so I love them too”

He turns back to you and holds your face in his hands, “I love you so much, doll. You’re so damn talented, and to have you use it for me- it makes me wonder what I did to deserve you”

You raise your hands to cover his. “You deserve the world, my love. More than I could ever give you”

“Well,” Bucky grins and rests his forehead on yours, “lucky for you, you’re all I want”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: eeee my first fic, please like and reblog if you enjoyed - maybe give me a follow toooo ;)

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buckybarnesbirthday #buckysbirthday #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky barns x y/n #sebastian stan

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chlorinecake · 1 month

Text

PDA —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🐈‍⬛

⭑⭒ 🪞 when you initiate physical touch with your shy boyfriend in public for the first time …

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ shy boyfriend!riki x fem!reader

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ fluff, public affection, hugs & kisses

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬… 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝟕𝟓𝟔 -> “Make it quick, alright?”

“Why do you keep laughing like that?” Riki asked with a slight chuckle in his voice while walking beside you, your hand flying to cover you mouth as a way to conceal your persistent giggles.

Your laughter was a sound that always had a way of tickling the ever-present flutter in your boyfriend’s lovesick heart.

“Like what?” you asked back, a warm smile and blush staining your face at his words.

“Like that! ‘Ehehehe’…” he said, mimicking your high pitched giggles in a playful tone, “you sound so goofy... but in a good way, obviously...”

You nudged his shoulder while walking beside him, now watching as he shyly smirked to himself at your sulky reaction.

Currently, you were both on a mission at the local convenience store in search for tasty snacks for your late night movie marathon.

His pushing pace of the shopping cart stalled as you two approached the sweets aisle, a certain thought meddling in your head before you spoke, “Hey… I just thought of something…”

“Mhm? …. Go on, I’m listening,” Riki smiled, nudging your shoulder in a similar way before reaching at the top shelf for a pack of cookies to examine what flavors it came with.

“Well… remember how when we first started dating, you didn’t like it when I tried displaying affection in public?” You started bashfully while fumbling with your fingers, despite how his piercing gaze wasn’t even on you in this moment.

“Yup… I remember,” he nodded, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at the tiny words he read on the package, “what about it?”

“Well… you just look super cute today…”

“Thanks, babe,” He giggled proudly, putting the cookies in the shopping basket and finally making eye contact with you, “tell me more…”

Now you were really starting to feel nervous about this.

“It’s just… the messy look of your hair from us cuddling earlier… and that plain black tee making your pretty little moles stand out even more…”

He almost couldn’t believe how much you were complimenting him in this moment.

“Y’know, if we were home right now, I’d give you the biggest hug and kiss for saying that,” he nearly whispered, giving your cheek a squeeze as you continued.

“That’s what I was just getting to!” You continued with a drawn out voice.

“Uh huh, and what’s that???” He returned in the same mimicky tone, peering closer to your face as if it’d help you dress up sooner.

“Uhm… is it okay if I give you a hug right now?” You pouted, leaning at the end of the basket and batting your eyelashes at him in a cartoonish way.

He chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair as his eyes now struggled to meet yours.

Finally looking back up at you, he smiled to himself before waddling over like a penguin, holding his arms out in a snowman manner and tilting his head at you, “Make it quick, alright?”

“Eeekkk!” You squealed, not even hesitating to wrap your arms around his waist as you melted into the comforting feeling of his heart beating against your skin, his warmth being more than enough to make you sigh into the embrace.

“You good now?” He asked, arms still hanging out like a scarecrow as he peered down to see your face snuggled into his chest.

“Mhm, almost,” you replied, taking his extended arms and guiding them to wrap around you, too.

Usually, Riki would’ve felt a bit uncomfortable with you acting this way, despite how behind closed doors, he would always cling to you like a baby sloth.

But something was different today.

You felt those strong arms squeeze around you even tighter, his fingers drawing lazy shapes at your sides before his lips sealed with the crown of your head.

You couldn’t believe he just kissed you…

And in public, at that.

Feeling as though both of your hearts were about to melt at this point, he loosened his hold on you , leaning down to your ear before whispering, “I love you, my little touch-deprived snuggle-bug…”

“I love you, too, meanie.” You replied with a tiny giggle, his heart skipping a few beats at the sound again.

Even though this was only a small step for your relationship, you’re glad Riki found it in himself to reciprocate your affection towards him.

“Alright, alright, let’s go get checked out now,” he said with feigned impatience, letting you ride on the end of the cart as he pushed the basket down the aisle, adoring fits of laughter slipping past both your lips.

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

🪷 𓂃 𓈒 tags: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @ot7sevenlvr

#enhypen #enhypen ff #enha imagines #enhypen headcanons #enha scenarios #nishimura riki #niki soft thoughts #niki imagines #niki soft hours #niki fluff #niki x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen moodboard #niki ff

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eilidh-eternal · 5 months

Text

Today I’m thinking about reader who owns a café/restaurant/bakery, and when you fuck up the recipe for something you accidentally summon Demon!Simon who decides you’re coming back with him to share with the rest of the 141.

(Cw for dub con)

He is, of course, mildly annoyed that he’s been so rudely pulled away from his afternoon tea with Johnny, and just as baffled as you are that he’s standing there with you, covered in flour, looking like you’re about to pass out.

“Messed up the recipe, didn’t ya?” You nod, incapable of words at the moment, and he sighs, dragging a shadowy hand down his face. “The salt?”

“Uh-huh…” All you can do is stare at this thing that’s just appeared in your kitchen in a smoky cloud, slack jawed and frozen to the spot because, apparently, adding too much salt to pound cake results in summoning sinfully attractive demons. “W-what do you want?” You tell yourself the wobble of your voice is because of the whispering tendrils of shadow and smoke that slither around him, crawl and twine up his arms like serpents before dissipating into the velvety darkness that floats around him, not because of his chiseled fucking jaw or the cut of his Adonis belt disappearing below his waistband.

“Me?” He scoffs, tilting his head to peer more closely at you. “You summoned me, little witch-”

“I’m not a witch,” you interject, but he pays you no mind.

“The only thing I want is to get back to my tea.” Johnny would have pouted had he been here to hear that, offended by the notion the tea is the only thing he’s missing right now, but the image of pouty, puppy-eyed Johnny, whining about Simon not paying enough attention to him, has his lips curling and cock stirring.

“Tea?” Such an innocent thing, blissfully unaware of his wandering thoughts.

“That not a thing here anymore?”

“Um… yeah, it is. I just… demons drink tea?”

“Among other things.” He revels in the way your eyes widen, lips falling open in shock again, and you take an unconscious step back. He takes a step forward and watches your throat work to swallow, thinks you’re rather pretty when you’re scared and confused as he prowls ever closer. “Well, since I’m here,” he braces his hands on the work bench opposite of you, leans forward and you stumble back into the counter behind you, “how about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“That is how these things tend to work.” Your hands grip the counter behind you hard enough to dent the smooth metal surface, knuckles blanched and fingers trembling.

“But I… I didn’t mean to summon you! It was an accident, I-” You don’t get to finish your protests, stunned into silence by the sudden closeness when he’s suddenly chest to chest with you, slipping through some fold in the fabric of space and reality to crowd you further against the counter, bracketed between two impossibly muscular arms.

“Doesn’t matter. ‘M here now, and ‘m not leavin’ without one. I’ll even let ya choose which part of ya I take with me.” He can feel your poor little heart beating frantically against his own chest, can see the confusion and fear on your face as you struggle to parse out the meaning of his words.

“P-part?” He hums, tilting his head again and letting his gaze drag over you, leans further into the plush swell of your breasts and bends down to brush his nose against the column of your neck, breathing in your lush scent. His hips are pressed flush to yours and he can’t help but notice how soft you are against him, even rigid with fear as you are, how perfectly you fit there, and he grinds into you, pressing you further against the counter.

You whine against the metal digging into your back and it sends a shudder snaking down his spine, draws a low, throaty growl from him, and he draws back just enough to peer into your stricken face.

“P-please don’t… don’t hurt me.”

“Only if ya ask me to.”

“I’ll give you whatever y-you want.”

“I want you.”

Your eyes are so wide, irises a speck of color against glassy porcelain, an errant splatter of paint on an empty canvas, and you shiver beneath him, bite your lip so hard he can smell the tang of blood in the air when you break the skin, and his tongue darts out as he imagines tasting the sweet ichor staining your lips.

“You… you mean my soul?” There’s a cautious optimism to your voice, as if selling your soul to him and his ilk is preferable to the other possibilities, all of the wicked scenarios, floating around in that pretty little head of yours. He hums in thought, drags a finger from your elbow up to your shoulder, and his lips peek back in a sharp-toothed grin when you tremble at the sensation.

“I do. Or I could just take you, soul and all.”

“But I’m a good person, I can’t go to-”

“Hell? Oh lovie… all the good girls go to Hell.” He croons and chucks you under the chin, forces you to stare up into the dark depths of his gaze, and grins down at you.

“No, no that’s not true-“

“Lucifer was an angel, Gods favorite, before he fell.”

“He fell because he defied his orders.”

“He was damned because he fought for freedom.”

Your face twists into a frown, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing at him, and he chuckles at the spark of defiance growing in you. He finds it amusing how you suddenly find your wit caged between his arms and pinned against his chest, like his mere presence draws out the rebellion in you.

“If you take me back with you, what do I get out of this? It is a deal after all, that’s how these things tend to work,” you throw back at him, puffing up your chest and standing a bit taller.

Johnny is going to love watching you combust, and Gaz is going to absolutely adore you, lives to compete with Johnny for pretty moans and whimpers of their names. Price will revel in taking you apart, piece by piece, and Simon… He’ll be there to stamp out the flames, to put you back together and show you the real difference between Heaven and Hell.

“Come with me and your little restaurant will only ever know success from this day forward, will never see another month in the red.” Your brows pull tighter and you bite your lip again as you consider his offer, ask yourself if it’s worth it, and he can see it in your eyes the exact moment that you decide it is. “Wha’d’ya say, lovie? Do we have ourselves a deal?”

“Yes.” Your voice is small, hesitant despite the determined set of your jaw, and the moment your assent leaves your lips Simon’s swooping down to capture them with his own, swallowing your gasp as he tastes the iron on your skin—sealing your deal with him.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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luveline · 9 months

Note

jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home."

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention."

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint.

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth.

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere.

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention.

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today."

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night."

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better."

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet.

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it."

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders.

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?"

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it."

"That so?" you ask.

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you.

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers.

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–"

"It's not like–"

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his.

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his.

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry."

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–"

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach.

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm.

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth.

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint.

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses.

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?"

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?"

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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bratzforchris · 1 month

Text

Inked Daisies (Chapter 1)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: There will be individual warnings for each chapter. No warnings in this one!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Soooo...my first series on here ♡ In this universe, Matt has a nose ring and his usual tattoos, plus some other tats and piercings that'll be added later hehe<3 Let me know how you like it!! 💐💐

“Nope,” Matt shook his head as you stepped inside the shop, looking at you from behind the counter. “You can’t bring those in here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the small Mason jar of flowers down on the glass case that held a variety of glittering body jewelry. “They’re flowers, Matt. Not a bomb.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask. Plus, they ruin the look.” Matt kept his eyes trained on whatever he was looking at on his laptop, but you could see a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re so grumpy,” You tsked, maneuvering yourself behind the counter and peering over his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Matt sighed, running his hands through his hair and spinning himself around in his chair to look at you. “This dude keeps changing his fucking design even though he’s put his deposit down. And guess what? His appointment’s tomorrow,” he sighed again, brushing a hand across his nose. “Fuck, I forgot that’s a new piercing.”

Your face dropped into a pout at Matt’s stress. You had known him since freshman year when you had become friends with Chris and the other two triplets by extension. Although you didn’t see all the inner workings of Matt’s mind, you knew that he struggled with anxiety and stress. A particular instance at Six Flags during your sophomore year had told you that much.

“Let’s see the design,” You offered, filling up a paper cup from the water jug behind the counter. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to make him happy.”

“What? Give him the tattoo for free and then change once it’s already on his body?” Matt raised a brow at you as you poured the water into the jar of flowers.

“You’re such a pessimist, Matt,” You shook your head, placing the now-full jar of flowers next to his computer. “If it helps take away the awful, vile sight of big, scary flowers, these are the outcasts. Their stems were too short and a few of them are missing some petals. They’re the rejects.”

Owning a florist’s shop had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. You had been captivated by flowers since the day your granny had taken you into her expertly tended garden, leading you around and telling you all the meanings for the different plants. In a way, it almost felt like you were carrying on her legacy by owning such a dainty, girly shop that sold her favorite things. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked the fact that your shop was directly across the street from an all black tattoo and piercing parlor that just so happened to be owned by your best friend’s brother, but she definitely would’ve liked the aesthetic of your business.

You drew yourself out of your thoughts, pulling up the chair of another piercer who had left earlier in the day. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Matt moved a few things around on his laptop, opening up Procreate and clicking onto a design. In your opinion, it was absolutely gorgeous. The tall oak tree in the drawing had large branches that extended outwards, but instead of leaves, the tree held clocks that were all stuck at midnight. Underneath the actual drawing was the carefully lettered sentence ‘Until Time Stops’ in swirly letters that matched the chains of the clocks.

“That’s beautiful,” You said softly, your eyes entranced by the drawing. “It’s…wow, it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so too.” Matt mumbled, clearly more lost in his artistic mind than here with you.

This reminded you of the nights during high school sleepovers. Chris and Nick would pass out early, leaving just you and Matt. You both struggled with insomnia, so some nights you would both stay up, pouring over the brunette’s sketchbook together while Matt explained each and every drawing in great detail to you. You had noticed that, similar to you, Matt had an eye for the natural world. You’d never brought this notice up to him of course, but you often thought about it during the early morning hours when you were doing opening duties in the shop while waiting for your employees to arrive.

“But he doesn’t like it, so it’s a scrap,” Matt shrugged, closing out the application and leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. “God, I’m fucking tired.”

You sighed sympathetically, hopping out of the chair. “I understand. I guess I’d want something I really like if it’s going on my body permanently. Doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying, though.” You acknowledged, bustling around behind the counter as you stacked papers up, put pens back in their cups, and locked the jewelry case.

“I get that you like flowers and animals and shit, but you don’t have to do that. You’re not Cinderella. I’ll do it later.” he sighed.

“Later? Matt, it’s almost nine,” the only reason you had come into the shop in the first place was because you had finished cleaning and locking your own store rather early and had seen Matt sitting behind the counter. “You need to go home and eat and sleep. A) You gotta be hungry and B) No offense, but I wouldn’t want someone who’s sleep deprived to be giving me a tattoo or piercing.” You joked, bumping his shoulder lightly.

As if on cue, Matt’s stomach growled audibly, making him fidget with embarrassment, but not so much that he couldn’t open one blue eye to glare at you. “Says you. How many times have you gotten Astrids and Hydrangeas mixed up because you stayed up all night reading.” the brunette chuckled to himself, remembering the time that you had employed the triplets’ help to create a brand new bouquet less than an hour before a certain bridezilla’s wedding.

“Now that’s not fair and you know it.” You huffed.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.” Matt insisted, smirking triumphantly once he saw you sigh in defeat.

“You’re annoying,” You grumbled. “I like Chris much better.”

“Sure ya do, sweetheart.” Matt didn’t even look in your direction as he closed his laptop, shoving it into his black tote bag.

Something about the way Matt said such a simple sentence had you fighting your blush, grabbing your own bag that you had sat down earlier. You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach, fiddling with your phone while Matt finished the tasks you hadn’t completed. “You think Nick and Chris would kill me if I brought pizza over instead of their elaborate orders from five different restaurants?” You asked, eager to move your mind away from the implication of his words.

“You’re coming over?” Matt turned to look at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face.

“Nick invited me. You know we don’t see each other as much as we did when we were kids. I miss our sleepovers.” You smiled softly.

Matt’s eyes crinkled with nostalgia. “Yeah, I remember that. They were kind of nice, I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to treat us like chumps. You got a girlfriend you’d rather be hanging out with or something?”

“No.” it was a single word, yet the boy’s tone changed from one of fondness to something much deeper and almost angrier.

“I’m sorry, I…” You trailed off, studying him as he picked up his bag, trying not to focus on the tattoos that snaked down his muscular arms and connected to the chunky, silver rings on his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore subject.” Even though you two were close, you knew Matt didn’t tell you everything about his life.

“Let’s just go, okay? I’m sure the ruffians are hungry.” he grumbled, walking towards the door.

You scrambled after your friend, each of his broad steps equaling four of yours. “They’re not so bad.”

“That’s because you don’t live with them,” Once you were both outside, Matt turned and locked the door to the shop behind him. “Trust me, when Chris burps in your face for the fiftieth time that day, it gets less funny and more annoying. Do you have a ride?”

“...no…” You admitted.

“Can no one in my life get their license?” Matt sighed, not even waiting for you as he started the trek to his car.

“Actually,” You corrected him, practically jogging to keep up. “I have my license. I’m just saving for a car.”

You believed city transportation was a perfectly valid form for getting from point A to point B, but as you slid into the passenger seat of Matt’s car, you couldn’t help but to admit that having your own personal vehicle was a much nicer alternative. Matt pulled out of the parking space without speaking, but you could feel his warm presence beside you in the car. As he migrated the car through the narrow city streets, you found yourself wondering what your life would be like if this is how every single day went for you. You knew Matt would drive you home in the evenings if you asked, but a part of you wanted to keep the rare occasion of rides together just that. Rare, special, something seemingly so mundane that it was almost silly you were even thinking about this.

Time spent alone with Matt was rare, despite working across the street from each other. Between being a triplet and your friendship with Chris, the one-on-one actions were few and far between. But for some reason, on nights like tonight, when you thought about how he interacted with you, you wished that you could make them happen over and over and over again.

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