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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

you get into big trouble, and you must pay the price. but bunnies should be terrified, and you are not.

mercenary!ghost x fem!reader (part 3/?)

notes about reader: she's curvy !!!! and she knows it.

cw: this is not a healthy relationship (you're both fucking insane), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, possessive + protective!ghost, kissing through the mask, mentions/depictions of violence + gore, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than ghost, can be easily manhandled by him), ghost is bIG, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, mw3 spoilers, fem!receiving touching + a little oral (18+), unprotected piv

his phone pings. he turns it over, narrowing his eyes at the text on the screen.

🐰: made some cookies. come over?

he runs his tongue over his teeth, clicking it lowly before leaning back in his chair. his ass hurts; he's been sitting here for hours, watching a dark window do nothing for hours.

💀: Working.

🐰: i have a surprise for you !!!

💀: Later.

for a moment, he thinks he should be nicer. give his puppy a bone. tell her he misses the taste of her pretty pussy, that he can still smell her on the mask he hasn't washed. and this is true, he knows it; he aches to go back to where she lives. he wants to see her again. put his dirty, gloved fingers into her mouth and watch her cry, soak her soft panties again, steal them, watch her cry harder when he finally gives her what she wants.

the most horrifying part is that he wants it. he wants to feel the warmth of her body. he wants to see her wide hips stutter, her pretty thighs open. he thinks about bending her over and kneeling down behind her, spreading the meat of her ass so he can watch her come undone against the velvet cushions of her couch.

you're so fucking pretty. and you're everywhere. when he grips the metal of his rifle, he thinks about how hard he was when he ate your cunt--fucking solid, balls so heavy and tight that he thinks he came for a full minute when he finally touched himself that night. when the sight of that rifle finds its target, he thinks about the way your pupils dilated when you came, the way your eyes rolled back into your head and the little sounds you made when he drank up the essence of you. when he swings his knife and plunges it into a soft neck, he thinks about your smile, the teeth you bared, the ones he wants to slide his tongue over when he kisses you again.

he had kissed you. kissed someone. the thought alone would normally make him vomit. to think of another person seeing his face, it bothered him, would usually make him feel sick--disgusted. his face wasn't meant for anyone to see, not even just half of it, and yet--he let you touch him.

and it didn't burn.

he remembers when he had taken a hand once for it. feeling someone's touch on his face, feeling scarred all over again by it, and taking flesh as their penance.

it was only fair.

there is something wrong with him. he should've killed you for it. your hand on his jaw, your lips on his, he should've killed you for touching him--and yet here he is, in another lonely room, staring at his target, thinking about how he can get your hands on him again. how he might coax you into kissing him just one more time.

he doesn't want to make it a habit. but he does want it to happen again. and it is enough that he knows he shouldn't see you again, but he will, because he's selfish. because he's hungry. because there is place inside of him, one that he thought was hollow and untreatable, that is just that much satiated whenever he is with you.

when he closes his eyes, he sees what haunts him. it isn't the memories of torture. he doesn't feel the wood of a coffin he once laid in. he doesn't feel the sting of pain when they carved layers into his face, he doesn't feel the holes they left along his chest when they rooted out pieces of him. he doesn't feel what he felt when they popped his fingernails off one by one.

no, he feels the ghost of someone's touch. he feels the rough callouses of skilled hands. he thinks of the bruised knuckles that used to scrape over the ridges of his uneven skin, and he thinks of the eyes that used to look at him as if he wasn't this mangled, forgotten thing.

he thinks of those eyes, and how blue they used to be. he thinks of what they looked like with that brightness in them, how they used to move, so fluid and easy. and he thinks of what they looked like with nothing in them. he thinks of them when they reflected nothing but the dull light over his head, and he thinks of the scream he let out when he was alone, when he still had his blood on his gloves.

ghost never begs. he doesn't beg, he never has, but he thinks he did that night. he thinks he begged, to who, to no one maybe, but he begged anyway, but it doesn't matter.

no one answered, and he knows there is a place inside of him so fucking hollow, that nothing will fill it again. a hole that only seems to be dug deeper and deeper with each thing he loses.

he never looked back when he left. he didn't say a word. he didn't even take his belongings, he just left. and the only thing he still carries with him from his past life is how good he is at killing and the extra dog tags that hang around his neck.

ghost isn't real. there is nothing about him that is redeemable, nothing about him that is good enough to love, and that is why he just doesn't care. and when he stopped caring, the nightmares went away. when he stopped wondering where they were, what they were seeing, if they would be disappointed in him, he no longer saw their faces in his dreams, watching them fade to black as the soft images turned into violent ones.

when he stopped being human, they left him, and he is so grateful for it. and that is why you were going to be a problem.

because he wants. he desires. he tastes, and he hungers, and you are sweet, and he wants to have you, and it isn't right. he knows this. he knows what it is he needs to do, but he won't do it--and there is a voice in his head that begs, from a far away place, for him to let you go.

but while he might not be human any longer, he is still a man, and men are weak.

as a man, he cannot close his eyes and forget your pretty face. he cannot stop thinking about your warm thighs, the softness of you, the unscarred skin that you wear. you wear your body as it is yours, and not like it holds you back, not like his does. your belly is full, and your heart is good, and you are warm. you aren't made of something else, you are real, and his blood runs so cold, he can't help but itch to feel you again.

there is something about you that makes that place inside of him feel like it isn't there, even for just a moment. and those moments remind him of someone else, of something else, something he once had that made him sick to think about having again.

the last time he had this, it killed him. the last time he found himself here, he didn't realize it had happened until it was too late--he was buried, deep, and there was no escaping a shallow grave this time because he thinks he loved the one that put him there. the last time he thought this way, he felt not himself, not enough, but it had been everything his life had been without, so he stayed, and he let it happen, and he didn't push him away, and now look at me--look at what I've done, look at what I've become--

men are weak. and men are lonely. and it was only a matter of time before ghost found himself there again, on his knees for something else. something soft and sweet and real, something that loves unconditionally and begs for attention and is never satiated until he looks at them and gives them what they need.

he doesn't know what he will become after you. he doesn't know what it will make of him. he knows you will go before him--he knows you will die before he does, because he isn't capable of dying, and even though he knows this as a fact, he wants to die again. but he won't try, because it won't work, even if he takes the blade strapped to his side and shoves it right through his heart.

he doesn't have one. he doesn't know what such a wound would even do. and he doesn't wish to see what color his blood will run if he does it, anyways.

you don't like the distance he keeps you at. it isn't fair. you do everything he asks--you go where he goes, you let him come and go whenever he wants, you spread your legs for him and let him have his fill, and you don't complain when he leaves even though your mouth waters thinking about getting your mouth on him and hearing him bask in his own pleasure for even a moment.

he gives and he takes, but he lets you do neither, and you want more. you know he isn't capable of more, you know he doesn't want more, but you want it, and he needs it. he needs you, despite what he says, despite how he acts, and you will give him what he needs.

you see it in his eyes. the things that aren't there, the things you think he once had but doesn't have anymore. sometimes he talks like you aren't there, and he mentions someone else.

another person. someone he used to know. someone he used to love, you think, but he isn't capable of love anymore, so you often wonder what they did to him to make him this way.

aloof. detached. so entirely fucked, he cannot make connections or hold the ones he has or let himself have what he needs. they have done something to him, and he wears the aftermath of it so clearly.

"he woulda liked you," he says sometimes.

"woulda loved the taste of y'r cunt," he murmurs once.

but they are gone. and you are not. and you know that there is something here. otherwise, he would never come back. he would not want to see you again. maybe he would have even killed you, but he hasn't, and he eats pussy like he loves you, so you decide you won't leave him alone. you won't let him go. this isn't fair, and you will get what it is you want--and give him what it is he needs.

you see him in the pub that you met in. he sits at the far corner of the bar, tucked in the dark against the wall, and he swirls a glass of bourbon in front of him. he wears a rain jacket over his dark hoodie, and you light up when you catch sight of him.

you wear something nice for him. a short skirt, a cotton shirt tucked into it, a cropped jacket over top, and your boots make you feel tall, but you know it won't matter--you'll never be taller or bigger than that large, hulking man you have your eyes fixated on.

but when he sees you, he doesn't react the way you expect. he doesn't sit up, doesn't get off his seat to come get you, he doesn't move at all. his eyes run over you, and then they move back down to his drink.

like he doesn't know what you taste like between your legs. like he doesn't know you at all.

your smile fades. you clutch your purse now in clammy hands, and you walk shakily to the bar and sit, swallowing hard as you try and hold in the shaky breath in your throat. your chest hurts a little; your heart has fallen into your stomach, and you shift on the bar stool, fidgety and uncertain.

you had been so happy to see him. you had been so excited to come here. you hadn't seen him in weeks--but the sparse texts he had sent you were enough to keep you hanging onto your phone whenever it made a sound, as if one of those notifications might be him, throwing you just enough attention to keep you on your toes, desperate.

your lip trembles a little as the bartender comes to take your order. you ask for a shot and a chaser, and you tell him to make it a double. you want to be drunk, and you want to be drunk quickly.

you tip the drink back, swallowing it down. it burns, holds a fire in your chest, and you chase it with a seltzer, swallowing down the contents of both until you slam the can back on the counter, hiccuping.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and when you realize ghost is still not looking at you, you're drunk enough to test his limits.

there's a group of boys down on the other side of the counter. they're playing darts, and they're drinking, and you slip off the barstool with a little step before making your way over cautiously. you pull your shirt down, show off the swell of your tits, and you ask them if they'll teach you to throw darts.

they practically cheer with delight. you hear one of them drool over your ass in that skirt, you hear another whine about looking down your shirt and at the peek of the lace bra you wear, and you shiver when you realize all you ever wanted was attention.

someone to tell you that you're pretty. that you make them hungry. but it isn't all you want, and they can't give you what you want.

they won't die for you. they won't live for you. and certainly, you know, they won't kill for you. but there's a man on the other side of the room that you want doing those things for you, that has the fucking balls to do those things for you, that possesses no good bone in his body that would do those things easily for you.

you see him in your dreams, breaking necks and popping kneecaps and slicing soft skin just to please you, and it makes you ache inside. you know what he does. he's never lied to you, but he doesn't always tell you the whole truth, but you fill in the blanks of the spaces he leaves behind, and you know what it is he does.

there's blood on his boots and money in his pocket, and you should be so afraid, but you never could be. not with the way he touches you. not with the way he talks to you. not with the way he puts his tongue inside of you and holds your thighs apart, and not with the way he grunts when he disappears into your bathroom to fuck himself to the image of you on your couch, half-naked as you wait for a fucking that never comes.

why won't he touch me? why won't he fuck me? why doesn't he rip the rest of my clothes off and have his way with me? he doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask for permission, but he eats me, and then he leaves me, and i can't take it anymore, please, please, please--

you're dizzy. the room spins, and the boys laugh, and your darts are hitting the wall now, clattering to the floor as they all boo and snicker at the way you're stumbling in your heels.

they're too close. you can smell the vodka and beer too much, and it's too warm because they're too close to you. someone's hand is on your thigh, another holds you upright with a grabby grip on your back, and there's someone else playing with your hair. they hum and they talk, and when they say they want to take you home, all you can do is hiccup and smile.

but as soon as you turn and leave, there's a large shadow waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall. you giggle knowingly, because you knew he would be here, and when the boys notice him, they try to take you in the other direction.

"if y'blokes knew wot was good for ya, y'd let 'er go and be on y'r way." he isn't in a good mood. he clicks his teeth as he comes off the wall, stepping under the streetlight. it makes the shadows of his hoodie darker, but his eyes are clearer now, bright under the mask as he breathes hard. he's angry, and he doesn't seem like his patience will linger tonight.

"oi, mate, relax," one of them laughs, and you giggle again when you see ghost tilt his head to the side. fuck, he's deadly, and you're wet. you squeeze your legs together looking at him, and you want him to put one big hand on your waist and tilt your head back--you want him to push his mask up and kiss you, all sloppy and soft like he did all those weeks ago. you want him to put his hands up your skirt and fuck you with his fingers right in the street, the same hands he squeezed the life out of someone with, the same hands he was going to kill these boys with.

ghost steps closer, and he goes for the nearest. brings a hand up, smacking one big hand against their cheek until their head hit the side of the building, and he crumpled to the floor in a pool of his own blood.

they scatter like bugs. stumbling drunk over their feet, tripping, and they disappear into the dark as ghost tilts his head to the other side now, looking at you.

you smile. giddy, hitting your toes together, and when you step to the side, you don't notice you've stepped in that man's blood.

"y'think this is fuckin' funny, eh? hangin' about with lot like that, y'think it's fuckin' funny?" he spits, and you put your hands behind your back, biting your lip.

"you...you ignored me," you hiccup. "why did you ignore me?"

"that wot this is about?" ghost snarls. "me not givin' you a proper look?"

you bite your lip harder, nearly drawing blood.

"i missed you," you whisper, your lip trembling slightly. "m-missed you so much..."

"fuck off with that," he mutters, but you step closer anyways. when he doesn't step back, you step forward again, until you're flush against his chest, tilting your head back to look up at him. you go languid when his arm falls, slipping up the back of your skirt just like you imagined. he squeezes the flesh of your ass before he leans down, and you whine when he presses the front of his mask against your lips. you kiss, your soft mouth kissing him through the fabric.

"is he dead?" you ask when he pulls away. ghost says nothing at first, just smooths his hand over the lace of your panties. he grunts when he slides his fingers between the seam, satisfied when he hears the squelch of your wet pussy as he pets you there. you squirm a little.

"dunno," ghost murmurs, and you get wetter you think, at how nonchalant he behaves as he touches you shamelessly where anyone might see. "fuck, bunny, y'r soakin' my fuckin' gloves."

"why don't you like me?" you whimper. you reach up and put both hands on his chest, and you dig your nails there, but you meet resistance. the muscle and fat there barely give way, and he hums when you drag your nails down, anchoring yourself to him. when you meet his eyes, they are dull, and you know he doesn't care. "i-i like you...i-i like you so much..." he huffs in annoyance, but you keep going, "you like someone else," you whisper. "there's someone else..."

someone else. as if there is some kind of competition, and maybe there is, but it isn't what you think. there is someone in his head, someone that screams for him to leave, someone that begs him--simon, please, yer goin' to hurt 'er, please, she's so pretty, please--but it isn't because he loves someone else, it's because he did love someone else, and he doesn't think there's room for more.

but he also cannot explain what swelled in his chest when he watched you with those boys. the searing heat of emotion that bubbled in his throat, and how the only relief he feels is the satisfaction that the boy at your feet bleeds because he put his hands on you, that is good, make them suffer, touching what fuckin' belongs to me.

there's a breaking point. it's the law of physics. something as rigid as ghost could only bend so far back before it reaches the elastic limit, and then it is deformed, and then it snaps, and then it is two pieces instead of one that cannot be put back together--and he feels it. he knows this is it. the fine line between what was and what is, this is it, it's too late--shut the fuck up, johnny, it's too late, i have her, she's mine, get out of my head, get out of my fucking head, i'm going to have her, have her, have her sweet fucking cunt--

you are bliss. you are the air that allows him to breathe. you are the threads in the fabric, the water in the soil, the heat that warms the house and breaks the soul and drives the machine.

you are in his bed, on your back, and when he slides your skirt off, there it is. the soft place between your pretty thighs, glistening and so wet, puckering and pulsing as you spread your knees for him and slip your shirt off.

he doesn't remember taking his mask off. he doesn't know where it went, but it is gone, and your lips are on his, and your tits are bouncing as he grinds his cock into your soft, squishy folds. the tip catches sometimes, and it makes you cry, and you whine when he breaks the kiss to lick your tears and taste the salt of your pleasure. the tears are heady and desperate, and he knows this flavor, and he wants more of it.

he commits this to memory. when he sits up and feeds you his cock, he memorizes the way you moan. the twitch of your pussy, the leaking of your wetness, the way you clench and tighten and grip so he cannot do anything but force himself deeper inside of you.

what is it that he loves? what is it that he loves so much that he cannot look you right in the eyes? whose body did he have underneath him all that time ago that steals him away so much he cannot fuck you the way you deserve? the way you need, the way he wants?

you reach up and grip his dog tags. they jangle against his chest as he grips your hips and fucks you, and you use them to anchor yourself, tugging on the metal necklace as you focus on the way he thrusts. powerful, smooth, with ease--he's so big, but he fills you so well, and you can't help but wonder if he's losing himself because it's so familiar. to be inside. to be gripped and squeezed and milked for all that you are, the brute of a man so misunderstood that fucks like a goddamn pornstar.

he's so good at this. when he finds the gooey spot in your cunt, he knows how to get you there. hitting it just enough to bring you to the edge, and then slowing down to savor the wet mess your cunt has become, and then doing it again. he listens to the cries you make, the crescendo of moans that you sob out that come back down when he goes softer. he thinks about this, and he makes music out of you. the pretty bunny, so fucking dumb inside, but the thing he cannot be without.

when he fucks you, he sees in blue, and he knows this isn't a coincidence. the blue in your eyes, it doens't lie--he knows what this feeling is, and he prays to no one that he can fuck this feeling right out of himself.

you come so messy. you soak his thighs, creaming on his cock as you beg him to fill you, and he cages you between his arms as he fucks harder, faster, losing momentum as he nears the same glorious high. he's been so good, but this he cannot help--not the way this feels, so familiar, so easy, so freeing.

there are no thoughts when he is inside of you, and this is bliss.

he kisses you when he comes. cups both puffy cheeks of yours as he spurts hot cum inside of you, sliding his big hands down to grip your thighs as he nestles his hips against yours. you reach down with two hands and squeeze his lower back, keeping him inside. this feeling, the feeling of being so full and warm and enjoyed, it isn't natural to you, and it isn't one you feel often, and you chase after it. you lick into his mouth and whine, and he hushes you.

"easy, rabbit," he pants, licking over your jaw, and you close your eyes. if he is predator and you are prey, then so be it. you want him to have his fill--you want him to trap you, steal you away, tuck you into this den he keeps and never let you leave.

you don't mind the blood on his boots, stained on his clothes, under his fingernails. in fact, you think about it often. you think about taking a rag and cleaning the leather of his shoes. you think about teaching him the cold water and peroxide trick to getting the blood out of fabric. you think about taking the gloves off, letting his fingers wander into the warmth of your mouth so you can suck his skin clean, all while your eyes never left his.

you think about the thing that you are. the bunny you are, the prey you've manifested yourself into, and you think about the thing that he is. you think about the dark, dense places that must exist inside of his head, and you think about how you can't see them in his eyes.

you think about being the bunny in a cage and how he holds the key. and you wonder if you would even leave if he ever let you go.

ghost loves someone else. you don't know who they are or where they've gone, but he loves someone else. but that's okay. that's temporary. that's just for now. they didn't love him enough to stay.

they didn't love him enough not to die. you don't intend to die. you're going to carve him up, right along the scars that he wears, and you're going to slip inside of him and live there forever, nestled between the organs and the black of his blood and the heart you know he doesn't have.

ghost is a thing. but he's still a man.

and men are fucking weak.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!simon

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ashiemochi · 8 months

Note

hey bestie <3

I’d like to request a birthday smut with death island! Leon please and thank you 💕

wrote this on phone bc im on a trip and my phone is actually starting to drop dead so </3 time for a new phone ig. But!! here's something 💕 (don't point out mistakes or weird formatting, my phone is ASS)

Leon never liked being late in any way.

Traffic was his arch nemesis because it always resulted to him getting late to work – which also resulted in numerous lectures from his higher-ups.

Another thing he hated; alarms.

Those fuckers either don't do their jobs or are just for show – or maybe he should be getting a new phone or an actual rooster to cock-a-doodle-doo at the glimpse of the sunrise.

Late to events were even worse than mundane things. The amount of times the President would give him a look that simply said "you're late and I'm not impressed" were endless. It wasn't like he had much of a choice when he'd be fresh out of a mission or an assignment that he'd wear the wrong colour of suit, or mismatch his socks in a hurry.

Not to mention. Fucking. Traffic.

However, there was one thing Leon for sure hated the most, absolutely revolted at the idea.

Missing your birthday.

Much to his shitty worse line of luck, he was ordered to rush to the Alcatraz Island for an assignment. To his luck, some deranged guy with a bucket load of issues and untreated trauma decided on a random Sunday at church that he was going to be playing God and start an outbreak via mosquitoes.

Leon was never going to catch a break. All the time at the island, the agent couldn't stop thinking about how to make it up to you. Even when he was infected with the virus and minutes away from losing his last bits of humanity, you were on his mind all the time.

When he returned home, you had opened the door to a bruised and bandaged up Leon with a bouquet of roses in hand. A tired but apologetic tilted grin was on his face, his side leaning against the doorframe.

"Happy... Late birthday, sweetheart..."

While he didn't expect you to be mad at him, a tiny nagging something within him relaxed when you were nowhere near upset. Your worry and glee that he was back in one piece made you forget about your birthday, your arms residing around his neck into a tight embrace where his arms went for your waist – where they belonged.

But the flowers weren't his only way of apologizing – because what started as a simple reunion kiss turned into something more and hotter.

"Oh, fuck..."

His voice was breathy right next to your ear, nearly over clouding the creaking sounds of the bed. His skin was searingly hot against yours, your body painted with hickies and lovebites. Galaxies and nebulas in all the right spots, painless and painful.

Yet they were tomorrow's problem.

His hand was pinning your wrist to the mattress, the other gripping the back of your knee to push it back against your chest. His fingers were digging into your flesh, his hips moving in a perfectly powerful rhythm that had your mind reeling.

"Oh, god... Ah, Leon–nhh~" Your moans were his favourite sound. A sex playlist would usually be on, but on nights like these, it'd be just you and him.

His cock was diving into your pussy, emitting that moist gushing noise the harder he moved. Your clit was throbbing with how intense the pleasure was for you, bringing you a lot closer to yet another orgasm. You really tried to keep track of how many times Leon had made you cum, but after four, everything just became a mixed haze of lust and longingness.

Leon grunted lowly, his blueblue eyes observing your expressions sharply. His lips were parted for your own favourite sounds, his groans and growly moans sending shivers to your core; red and swollen from the countless hickies on your body and kissing you.

Those lips of yours were absolutely intoxicating.

The blunt tip of his bigbig cock was slamming into your walls, going almost rogue as your arousal and previous orgasms dripped and dropped to the drenched sheets.

You never knew you could squirt, but Leon was confident in his skills. It took time, and god was it worth it.

Your face was flushed, your free hand on his back with your nails digging into him. You could feel his toned muscles flexing and shifting right beneath his skin. Your gaze trailed up to him, your moans and soft whines escaping nonstop.

"L–Le– f–fuck, you're too," You keened, your other leg wrapping around his waist, whimpering as your walls squeezed hard on his thick dick, "deep!"

"Oh, yeah?" Leon muttered, the corner of his lips irking upwards into an amused smirk.

That was the last thing you heard before he released your wrist only to switch his grip to your other leg. He hooked both legs into either of his elbows, pushing them onto his shoulders and easily tugging you close to him his figure towering over you completely. His cock hit that spot in you, bringing stars to your eyes with a hitched squeak.

His whole length was inside, especially when he leaned over you, causing his pelvis to brush against your needy pearl. His hands returned to your waist to keep you pinned in place, his hips relentless as he pounded into you.

"Mmh, that's deeper, isn't it, honey?" Leon hummed, his thrusts growing ruthless as he fucked you with vigour, pushing a moan from him, "Oh, fuck... You're just so fucking wet and tight for me..."

"Nnh! Oh, g–god! Leon!" You cried out, your body starting to tremble and your arm joined the other around his back, your nails forming angry red crescent moons, "S–shit!"

The pleasure was looming once again, the knot within you tightening more and more. Leon's hips were out of his control, revealing he was just as close to his peak as you were.

Leon groaned, his eyes screwing shut for a second as he felt your walls starting to clasp around his cock as if trying to feel every ridge and bulging vein on it. His toes curled up on the bed sheets, his thighs tensing.

"Oh, fuck, fuck..." Leon let out a choked sound, his desperation to release causing his voice to break and hitch into a lower octave.

"Leon, I–" Your moans cut you off, whining as your legs trembled over his shoulders, "'m gonna, ah!"

Leon's lustful eyes found yours, for a second his love for you spilling through the thick dirty haze and he couldn't help but feel every so grateful for having someone to return home to.

Someone to fight for when the world's going to shit.

His lips met yours hard in a searing heated kiss, your breathless moans making it a bit difficult but it all felt just right. It ticked you off first when he dove his cock to the hilt, pistoning into your squelching cunt and pressing up against your clit.

A loud moan went muffled, swallowed by him as he groaned against your lips. The white-hot pleasure rattled your bones, coiling around your muscles at the intensity that your back arched off the bed. Your gushy walls clamped tight around his cock, consequently pushing him straight to the peak he craved.

His lips parted from yours to push his face into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering to a stop flush against yours as if trying to keep his twitching cock as deep he could. His groan was, if not, just as loud even when he obviously tried to stay quiet. His cum spurted out thickly, filling you up so good and so warm. You could almost feel it in your tummy at this point.

A shaky exhale escaped from him, his hips moving again but at a slower pace, gently riding you both down from your cloud nine. He panted heavily as he moved his face away from your neck, his eyes shut as his lips peppered kisses from your jaw, cheek, inching closer to the corner of your lips before sealing them with his.

You faint hum merged with his, your hands kneeding and massaging against the angry scratches on his back. His hips retreated slowly, slipping his cock out that was still visibly twitching and his cum seaping and dripping from the red tip. A string of his climax connected between him and your abused cunt.

Leon parted from the kiss, his sweaty fringes dangling with the tips brushing against your forehead. One of his hands reached up to the side of your face, his gaze doing their usual scan to make sure you were okay and that he didn't go too far.

"I'm okay..." You whispered softly, your voice just as breathy as you brushing away his bangs which only dangled wetly about so your hand rested on his neck, your thumb tracing the stubble across his jawline, and with a faint giggle, "And I forgive you."

Leon chuckled, his eyes growing gentle as he caressed your sides gingerly, "Good, maybe I should start missing your birthdays a bit more, yeah?"

You huffed, lightly smacking his shoulder, "Don't push it."

"Yeah, yeah," He smiled before carefully setting your legs back onto the bed which they only fell limply, still shaking and he squeezed your thighs, "Okay, I'll get us water and something to drink, then we'll continue."

That made you blink, confused as you tilted your head to the side, watching him as he sat at the edge of the bed with his eyes trying to locate his boxers at least. With a soft groan, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, giving him a puzzled look when he stood up and slipped on his undergarment.

"Continue?" You repeated, your heart starting to pound once again, "We're not done?"

Leon gave you a look as if you had grown another head and he approached you, his hand pressing into the pillow next to your head and the other tilting your chin up with just his index and thumb.

"Of course we're not done, birthday girl." Leon grinned, his nose brushing against yours, "Still gotta make up for our anniversary."

Way to go for Leon asking you to be his on your birthday.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #cupid answers #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil infinite darkness #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy thirst hours #leon #leon kennedy smut #resident evil death island #leon kennedy death island

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faerygrant · 2 months

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Ultraviolence - Carmy x Reader

Summary : An interaction between Claire and Carmen leaves you questioning his loyalty to your relationship.

Carmy was a complicated man, that went without saying. He was a man riddled with untreated trauma that stemmed from an absent father and an alcoholic and unstable mother. Not to mention the complicated and for a very long time, codependent relationship between he and his brother. The only constant and non-toxic person Carmen Berzatto had in his life was his sister Natalie, well that was before he met you at-least.

While he had become a changed man and confronted his demons from the past, there was no denying that Carmen still had lots of issues he still hadn’t addressed in therapy. The sleep walking had stopped almost a year ago, which you were thankful for, especially after a night in which he accidentally woke up and nearly lit the house aflame. The anger issues however still persisted, as well as the avoidant personality and constant feelings of angst.

You could tell Carmen was happier, he now kissed you goodbye in the mornings and goodnight before bed, he smiled more, he cooled off on the self deprecating remarks and most of all, he let you in. The old Carmen was hard as rock, made of brick wall, refusing to allowing anyone into those walls he’d spent all those years building up in self defence. Yet now he was willing to talk things through, slowly but surely.

Like most winter nights when the city got dark by 5, you’d walk over to the bear from work so Carmy could drive the two of you back to your place. It made the both of you feel safer and you weren’t opposed to any extra time you could spend with you partner. It also didn’t hurt to see his coworkers, who you’d come to see as friends of your own.

Tonight however when you’d come into the restaurant it seemed the only people here were Natalie and Sydney who were out back doing stock count. They both greeted you, however their odd attitudes weren’t lost on you. The two of them were usually so happy to see you, friendly. Yet upon your entry into the restaurant they had both gone frigid.

“Where’s Carm?” You’d asked, pulling the slipping straps of your tote back onto your shoulder.

“T-the office.” Sydney motions awkwardly to the office and your brows furrow. Why were they both acting so off?

“You probably should wait-“ Natalie tries to say but you’re already bursting into the office, curious as to why they were being strange.

“You know I just missed you Bear.”

You’re not prepared for the site of what you walk into, Carmy’s “ex” who’s not his “ex” but is his “ex” stood with her arms wrapped around his neck trying to kiss him. Your heart all but sinks into your ass as you watch her lips meet his.

“What the fuck” you scream, and immediately the brunette is clambering away from your man. She innocently tucks a piece of hair behind her ears and then looks at Carmen before she pushed past you. Not even an ounce of guilt on her face.

“It’s not what it looked like, I promise.” Carmen says walking over to you, trying to grab hold of your hand.

“Then what the fuck was that, she kissed you Carmen!” You yell at him and both Sydney and Natalie are now stood in the doorway watching everything go down.

“It was nothing, she just…” He holds his hands in his hair as he paces back and forth between the office. Refusing to complete his sentence.

“Are you going to finish the sentence Carmen, man up and tell me why the fuck your ex girlfriend was in here just now, kissing you” Your shouting has Carmen exasperated, he wants to tell you but can’t even figure out how to start the conversation.

“Carmy just talk to her.” Natalie tries intervening but is met with Carmen throwing a staple gun against the wall.

“Sugar get the fuck out of here and give us some privacy”

“Carm!” You yell at him all at once Sydney screams “Carmy what the fuck” Both of you appalled at his childish display of violence.

“Can I have five fuckin minutes alone with my girl now?” They both roll their eyes and walk out of the office. “Asshole” Natalie mumbles before slamming the office door shut.

“So she calls you Bear, is there something you’re hiding?” You question as you walk closer to him, tears falling from your eyes.

“No baby, she just came here trynna sweet talk me about all this fuckin shut but I didn’t wanna hear it.” He tries taking you into his arms but you push him away, not fully ready to give into him.

“Don’t fuckin pull away from me baby, you know it drives me insane” he sighs defeatedly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Carmen just tell me why that girl was here, why she was kissing you.” The head from his head against yours somewhat calms you down, so does his smell and gentle touch.

“I told you, she wanted to talk and because of all that shit Dr. Murphy said in therapy about confronting your past not running from it, I thought I’d give her a chance to say her piece but she just took it as a chance to make a move.” He looks into your eyes, searching, no- hoping you’d believe him, he hated the feeling of losing your trust especially when he’d never lie to you.

“I just hated seeing that, her hands all over you and her mouth on yours, it hurt me Carm.” You finally allow yourself to fully give into his touch and he pressed a kiss to your lips, your manicured hand cupping his face, relishing in it.

“I know and I’m sorry, I only want you okay, you’re the only girl for me.” He whispers, causing you to whimper.

“Promise?”

“Hand on the fucking bible, I promise”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #the bear fic #reader x carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic

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ravenromanova · 9 months

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Under the stars

Pairings: Tfws Bucky x Female reader (reader is steve’s sister)

Warnings: Mentions of death, Minor violence, Smut 18+!!!!, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, Dom Bucky, Sub reader, Spanking. Angst, Fluff

Summary: It’s been 3 years since you and Bucky broke up and now you’re attending a party for Sam aka The man taking up your brothers mantle. Bucky attends the same party since he’s his partner and when he sees you he decides to say something. What happens when you see and talk to the man who broke your heart again.

Word count: 3.4k

Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

You step out of the black S.U.V with the help of your driver and bodyguard Mason. He takes your hand as you step out in your black stilettos and strapless red dress. You look over at him as he shuts the door and he gives you a reassuring nod. Sucking in a deep breath and swallowing your nerves you take his hand and walk into the party.

The bright lights and loud crowd are enough to make you wanna throw up. In all reality the only reason you’re here is because Sam begged you to come. And you also felt obligated to come since he is taking up your late brothers mantle as Captain America. You look around the room in attempt to either find Sam or the bar. Luckily for you, you saw the bar first.

“I’m gonna head to the bar you stay here and I’ll find you if i need you okay?” You told Mason and let go of his hand ans he gives you a soft smile and nod.

You saunter over to the bar and as the very handsome bartender for a vodka cranberry. Only a few seconds later he’s handing it to you. Thanking the man and handing him $10 you take your drink and so stand at a high top table. You look around the room and take in the memorabilia of your brother.

You sigh as you see pictures of him and you in the war, smile at the pictures of him and the other avengers. Deciding that you wanna go look around you walk over to what looks like another exhibit. There’s pictures of Steve and you as children, There’s a statue of him that makes you tear up a little. About fifteen minutes go by and you see a collage of him and Bucky. The breath hitches in your throat you you decided that you needed some air.

You push past the sea of people before you finally get to the balcony. You go and hide in a corner where you know no one can see you. All the feelings you’ve pushed down for three years are starting to come up. Losing Your brother, Nat and Tony, You’re breakup with Bucky, Your trauma you’ve left untreated. It’s all too much for you and you sit against the wall.

Time feels like it goes by extremely slow as you look up at the stars. You mutter an ‘i miss you guys’ to the stars before standing up and making your way back inside.

~Inside from Buckys perspective~

Bucky sees you the moment you walk inside the party. Sam had told him that he had invited you tonight in the midst of conversation. Bucky had tried to not give away the face that he was excited to see you again. It had been a little over three years since he told you he needed a break and then left without another word.

He didn’t mean for it to happen like it did but the pain of losing three of his friends mixed with him still dealing with his demons from HYDRA, he no longer thought he was good enough for you. So he did what he does best and ran. Bucky quickly regretted that and was soon the most miserable man on the planet.

Him and Sam were fighting more since Bucky was being careless on mission and being a dick more too. He also developed a drinking habit even though he couldn’t get drunk. Sam had told him after a talk you two had that you didn’t wanna hear about or talk to Bucky. So he told Bucky not to contact you anymore after he had called you like ten times, his heart broke but he agreed.

He missed you like crazy and when Sam had told him you were coming he knew this was fate giving him one more chance. And he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it just slip by. So naturally when he saw you walk in with the red dress he loved so much he knew the stars her aligned for the night.

He watched as you walked in with some man and he immediately tensed up. When he saw you leave the man and go to the bar he was gonna make his move til he saw you walk over to the exhibit, He knew you should be alone so he waited. Bucky didn’t want to upset you further when he saw you walk out. He waited til you came back inside.

~Back inside your perspective~

You walked back inside and got another drink before trying to find either Sam or Mason. Unfortunately for you they were nowhere to be found. You huffed and tried to text Mason but got no response. You just decided to stand at a table and just people watch. Everyone around you was dressed to the nines and you felt a little out of place but you reminded yourself of why you were there.

The thoughts that plagued your mind were soon cut off when you smelt a very familiar cologne followed by an even more familiar voice. ”Hello Doll” He says from behind you. “It’s been a while” You hear as you turn to face him and your breath hitches.

It makes you a few moments to take him in before speaking. He’s wearing all all black suit, with his hair tied off into a low bun at the base of his neck. He has his metal hand out and showing it proudly and not covered with a glove and he looks damn good.

“Hi James” You finally say after an ungodly amount of time. He smiles and walks to the other side of the table across from you.

“You look good”He smiles softly “I didn’t expect to see you here” He lies as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Well i could say the same” Your reply is a little shorter sounding than you’d like but you cant help but feel a plethora of emotions as he’s in front of you.

“Well Sam and i are partners so i came to show my support as his partner and friend along with Steves old partner” Bucky replies and you wince at the mention of your brother but are happy that Bucky and Sam are getting along.

“Well im glad you’re doing something good for yourself and other people. I’m proud of you” Your response catches the both of you off guard and you try to play it off. “I came because Sam begged and i figured i should be here to honor steve a little” Out of instinct Bucky grabs your hand and rubs this thumb over your knuckles. You take comfort in the moment before your heart breaks all over again remembering your last conversation.

Bucky had just gotten home from a week long mission and he did not look okay. You tried to talk t him when he walked into your shared apartment but he ignored you. You huffed and followed him into your bedroom and sawn him packing.

“You have another mission so soon?” You asked as you titled your head and saw he was packing more than just stuff for a mission. Bucky ignored your question and continued packing.

“Bucky? i asked you a question” Concern was dripping off of your words as you reach for his arm. He rips his arm away from you and faces you.

“I need a break” Is all Bucky says before he takes the two duffel bags, Leaves his keys on the bed and walks out without another word. That night you waited for him to come home but he never did. Then a week later Sam tells you that Bucky is at his house.

And that was the last time either of you spoke to each other until now. You snap out of your thoughts and pull your hand away from his and go to walk away not being able to handle this.

Bucky follows you out when you walk to the balcony again. You press your back against a wall and run a hand through your hair as you try to holdback tears. He comes up to and places his left hand on your shoulder and you jump from the touch of the cool metal. You back away from him as tears start to fall.

“Go away James- i cant do this” The words come out softer than you expected.

He sighs and his heads hangs low. “i-im sorry y/n when i saw you walk in tonight and i just had to talk to you and tell you how sorry i am for how i left” Bucky doesn’t meet your gaze and just stares at his feet as he talks.

“Just don’t okay? because if you were actually sorry you would’ve have left me James” You say as you scoff in disbelief at him and just look up at the stars instead of at him. He comes closer to you and puts his hand on your back for comfort.

“I’m sorry y/n i fucked up big time. And i didn’t realize it til it was too late. But i wanna fix this. us” He point to the each of you with a pleading look in his eyes.

You sigh and grip the railing before looking at him. As you face him he lifts his head and meets your gaze. His eyes are filled with pain and regret and you can see that very clearly.

“James i- i dont know” Your voice faltered as you spoke. “You broke me. It took me months to be able to talk to anyone or just be a person again. Don’t get me wrong yes i miss you. But i cant trust you” Bucky just looks at you and takes your hand in his without saying anything.

“Please dol- y/n please let me make it up to you. Let me love you properly this time. I know i fucked up i was a coward, i convinced myself i wasnt good enough for you so i did what i thought was best and left- im so fucking sorry y/n please” Bucky pleads as he puts hi metal hand against your cheek. Almost immediately you lean into his cool touch and sigh.

“That wasnt your choice to make, If i didn’t think you were good enough or whatever i wouldn’t have been in love with you since the fucking 30’s i know you think that your past is to fucked up to deserve love, but what about mine? What about what the red room made me? You aren’t the only one who lost parts of yourself but when Steve went back you were the only thing i had left… and then you well left.” You lock eyes with him as you voice shakes when you speak.

He sighs and decides to take a leap of faith. Bucky walks closer to you and wraps his flesh hand around your waist and pull you close. You can feel his breath on your lips as you look at him. He doesn’t say anything as his metal hand moves to the back of your head, Bucky leaned down and connects your lips. And even though a part of you wants to you don’t pull away.

In fact you relish in the kiss and try to fight him for dominance but end letting him win. It’s a combination of teeth and tongues but neither of you care. You both has missed each other a lot more than anticipated. You don’t even know how much time has past when you two break the kiss and finally get some air.

“Take me home” Is all you whisper after a few seconds of looking at each other. Bucky wastes no time in grabbing your hand and leading you out the building. You shoot Mason a message telling you are going home with someone and you’ll see him tomorrow. Once you and Bucky get outside he throws you over his shoulder and walks over to his car.

“I can walk you know” You giggle as he smacks your ass and tells you to hush. He gets to the car and open the passenger door and puts you in along with buckling you in before getting in on his side.

Bucky starts the car and speeds off to his apartment which is luckily only a ten minute drive, but with how desperate he is to touch you he’s gonna cut it in half. You place your hand on his thigh and lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. Slowly you move your hand over his clothed cock and he groans.

“Behave” He turns and looks at you and you stick out your bottom lip and pout.

“But daddy i’ve missed you” Your hand moved up higher and gently palmed his cock through his pants. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t get very far in your teasing as he pulled in to the driveway.

“You’re fucked now Malyshka” His voice was rough and deep as he parked the car. And before you could even register what was happening your door was open. He threw you over his shoulder yet again. You squeal at him and playfully smack his back. He pays you no mind as he unlocks the front door and carries you up the stairs.

He opens his bedroom door and throws you on his king size bed. ‘strip’ He commands and you are quick to rid yourself of your heels first, Then you make a show of taking off the dress that clings to your body. Slowly and ever so painfully you unzip the dress and let it slowly fall down to your breasts.

“Oh fuck Kotenok” He groans as you are finally left in your dark red lingerie set that he actually bought for you years ago. “Come here” Before you know he’s at the end of the bed and your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam your soft skin and you moan as he teases your clit a little.

“Please daddy no teasing tonight been too long.” The desperation evident in your voice. Bucky was quick to turn you around and toss you on your back.

“Fuck i’ve missed you” He admits as he crawls up to you and hovers his body over yours. His lips are quick to connect to the sweet spot on your neck and his hands find your breasts. Quicker than you can fathom he’s removing your bra and takes a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck daddy” The words come out broken as you moan at the contact. He takes your nipple and brings it between his teeth and nips it slightly and your back arches.

“Please fuck me” He quickly obliged and removed your panties but not without kissing all over your plush thighs. He’s quick to open up your wet folds with his metal fingers. Bucky moans at the sight of your wet pussy in the moonlight that had shone through the window.

“So pretty Malysh” You dont have a chance to respond as he takes no time in devouring your pussy like he’s starved. Taking the sensitive bundle of nerves in between his lips he sucks until he pulls out a moan from you.

“S-So good” You incoherently mutter and he takes that has his sign to stick two of his metal fingers in you. Involuntarily you grind yourself onto his hand and his flesh hand holds your hips down and he speeds up.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight. Did you not let anyone touch this pretty pussy the whole time we were broken up? Did you save this pussy for daddy?” Not trusting your voice you just nod your head and he mutters a ‘good girl’ as he fucks you harder. He adds a third finger while sucking on your clit and in no time your hands are tangled in his hair and your cumming on his tongue.

“Ive missed how sweet you taste malysh. Now get on all fours and put that pretty ass in the air for me.” Bucky commands and you do what you’re told. You stick your ass in the air with a little wiggle and soon get a firm smack to the ass and you moan at the contact.

He comes up behind you and runs his hard cock over your pussy to collect your slick on it. You back your ass up on him as a sign for him to fuck you already. With a chuckle he takes the hint and one of his hands grasps your hips while the other lines his cock up with your hole. Both of you let out a pornographic moan when he bottoms out.

“Oh fuck daddy i’ve missed you so fucking much” You scream as he starts up a slow pace since he doesn’t wanna hurt you… yet. His pace stays slow for a few more minutes before he decides to ruin you. He grips your hips and pulls you back on his cock as he fucks you. You lose all upper body strength and fall face first into the pillows with a loud moan.

“You feel so fucking good malysh fuck im gonna fill you up so good and maybe even put a baby in you” He says and the idea of you having his kids drives you insane.

“Please please put a baby in me daddy. I want you to breed me” You plead with soft cry. His eyes blow out with lust as you speak and he thrusts into you harder and faster than you’ve ever had. You can feel the coil in your stomach about to snap again as he snaps his hips into yours.

“Yea? you’d like that wouldn’t you? being my little fucking breeding slut. Use you like the fucking slut you are” He asks but he already knows the answer. And honestly the idea of getting you pregnant makes him even hornier.

“FUCK DADDY PLEASE” You scream as you cum all over Buckys cock which in turn leads him to cum as well as he feels your walls clench down on him.

“Oh fuck” Bucky moans as his head falls back and he fucks his cum into you before slowly pulling out. When he pulls out you roll over to on your back panting. You move the hair that’s suck to your forehead in attempt to collect yourself. Bucky gets off the bed to go grab a towel from the bathroom so he can clean you. He makes his way over to your fucked out body and smiles softly at the sight of you back in his bed.

“Come here Malyshka let me clean you” You nod your head and open your legs. Wincing at the cold cloth you try to move away from it but he doesn’t let you. “its okay once i clean you we can go to sleep” He says quietly as he finishes and throws the towel on the floor.

Bucky lays next to you and lays you on his chest along with covering you both with the comforter. Neither of you say anything as you just revel in being with each other again. Even though a little part of you is still unsure about this, being with him again you decide your gonna give it a try anyway.

“I want to try again” You’re the first one to speak and break the silence. You can physically feel the deep breath Bucky let down and you look up to see him with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you Malysh. I promise i wont hurt you again.” As he speaks you can tell he means what he says and you send him a soft smile at his words.

“I love you Bucky” You say finally using his nickname again. He can’t help but smile like a fool and kiss you passionately.

“I love you too doll, Now get some sleep its been a day” You nod your head and cuddle into his chest before falling into a deep sleep.

Bucky smiles as he looks down at you asleep. He finally got his girl back. He turns his head and looks out the window at the stars and smiles.

“Thank you guys” He mutters before closing his eyes drifting off with you in his arms and a smile on his face.

~The end

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or posted on other sites

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky fluff #bucky smut

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bolshefem · 1 year

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if you think people are more empathetic to women than men you are straight up fucking delusional. men have proved themself almost INCAPABLE of empathy for women, and this is statistically and empirically supported. they are incapable of understanding that women have an internal life, do not see us as humans with emotions who exist external to them. look at the comments on a post of a man talking about self harm vs a woman. "men's mental health matters too🥺" "I'm proud of you" vs "attention whore" "sideways for attention downwards for results" "ugly bitch trying to get sympathy"

this is what happens for ANYTHING regarding sexual assault, mental health, suffering, trauma.

or an overweight man vs woman "keep your head up king👑" "you got this bro, I believe in you" "these women don't deserve you." (like totally unprompted not discussing relationships) Or often no comments on his weight at all if he's not talking about it. For a woman, no matter WHAT she is posting about "landwhale" "starve yourself" "put down the burger" "kys fat b*tch" and the most vile and insanely cruel comments The amount of threads and forums dedicated to eviscerating degrading and insulting overweight women on places like lolcow and kiwi farms and just social media in general and I genuinely have never seen one for a man. Same thing with things like facial deformities, the comments are unbelievably cruel to these women.

the level of vitriol is not even remotely comparable, and I don't even think it's mostly a double standard. I think they just lack the capacity to feel empathy towards women and perceive them as human and capable of feeling pain. Things are solely perceived in how they relate to them and thought to be performances for men. Women exist to serve them and if they don't give them a boner they don't deserve to be alive. If something, no matter how innocuous, pisses them off in the slightest they don't have a single qualm because they just don't view them as real people and full human beings with internal lives. women having emotions is inherently manipulative, anything they say or do is a performance for men. And like look at things such as the gender credibility gap https://www.tedxmilehigh.com/gender-credibility-gap/ Women are systematically less believed as witnesses in a courtroom, reporters, academic authorities, in claims of sexual assault, discrimination, or harassment.*

Women's reports of pain symptoms are less likely to be believed by doctors, and they are staggering more likely to not receive proper medication, go undiagnosed and untreated. Women are 32% more likely to die post-op if their surgeon is a man. "Womens' pain not taken as seriously as mens' pain. Researchers found that when male and female patients expressed the same amount of pain, observers viewed female patients' pain as less intense "(sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/04/210406164124.htm) "Nearly three-quarters of cases where a disease primarily affects one gender, the so-called “men's diseases” are overfunded, while the “women's diseases” are dramatically underfunded."

https://www.concernusa.org/story/gender-bias-in-healthcare/ https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/interactive/2022/women-pain-gender-bias-doctors/ https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/gender-bias-in-medical-diagnosis#how-does-it-affect-diagnosis https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/women-and-pain-disparities-in-experience-and-treatment-2017100912562 I could literally go on on this topic forever. The gender empathy gap is a form of epistemic violence against women.

* "Suicidal behaviour and self-harm in women can be viewed by family, health professionals and the community as attention-seeking, manipulative and non-serious, which can negatively influence how young women are treated." (Curtis, 2016) *Men with overweight tend to be perceived as wise or experienced, while women's credibility tends to decrease with excess weight... women seem to experience higher levels of weight stigmatization than men, even at lower levels of excess weight (Flint et al., 2016)

*Women are at greater risk for weight/height discrimination than men (Puhl et al, 2008)

*so many papers on this but "Across the board, women are perceived to be less credible than men. Especially women’s testimonies of rape and sexual harassment are widely trivialized and disregarded, even though reports of sexual abuse are not more likely to be false than reports of other crimes" (Schreurs, 2020) more like Mack, 1993

#RAMBLE #this was supposed to be like two paragraphs #sorry for the mess but worth a read

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lokilysolbitch · 24 days

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DO WHAT YOU CAN AND DONT BE A DICK ON THE INTERNET

i was writing a post about how it's unhelpful to shame average people for not meeting your standards of activism and calling them evil and things like that bc shame is not a reliable motivator and you don't know these people blah blah blah. and then i ended up writing this so here u go:

like. let's imagine you're an average guy. you work a job under a shitty manager and you still can't pay rent and afford groceries at the same time. you have untreated physical and mental illness and/or trauma. you don't have energy to cook a full meal. one of the microwave foods you like is being recalled. lead or e. coli or something. you can't remember when you last had water. you are too tired to clean the mold and algae off the corners of your brita. and who knows what is in the tap water.

a new episode of your favorite show just came out. you post about it. someone comments or makes a video about you and several others who are not posting about [serious issue]. saying you are heartless and inhuman. and you've heard about [serious issue] on a site or from someone who is supposed to be the most trustworthy on this topic. this random person on the internet is telling you things that don't match up to that. they're telling you that you should've had researched more. that not knowing enough is not an excuse. there is mold in your brita filter.

the video about you has thousands of comments. they're saying they think you should know what it's like to experience [serious issue]. then maybe you would take it seriously. you have the privilege to post about your favorite show. you are being lazy. these people are like piranhas. your dinner has e. coli or something. you have to clean your brita.

you want to research [serious issue]. you care about people. you started to but you are hearing different stories. one of your sources is from the same internet the random person came from. you thought you weren't supposed to trust the internet? another source can't even stand up against itself. that one is supposed to be trustworthy.

you see someone getting torn apart for posting misinformation. comments say they should have done their research. these people are like piranhas.

now you're seeing it. raw footage. you need a break and your notifications are flooded. why haven't you posted about this yet??? it's the least you could do. are you lazy??? don't you care??? these people are like piranhas. you still need to clean the brita.

no more internet. you need to clean the brita. sponge, soap. tap water. thin green and black streaks coming off the corners of the pitcher. all done. well now the sponge has mold on it. new sponge. your brita filter is getting old. new filter. do you even deserve a new filter? do you deserve fresh water? whatever, just refill it. tap water. waiting. tap water. waiting. tap water, fridge. check your phone.

brita filters are getting recalled.

lead or e. coli or something.

#ohio #i still think about you #this exact situation hasn't happened to me #it's partly based off my experience and partly off of others #and britas have not been recalled to my knowledge but i do know they're like #not a great or amazingly effective brand #i hear they are very bare bones #like they're alright #don't worry about lead in ur brita is what i'm saying #handmadeorganicpost #art #??#writing #prose #poetry #writer #this is not about one situation #i've seen this pattern since 2020 at the earliest

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dk-ghostmachines · 1 month

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I gotta talk about FourDogs (again)

It's barely about her, though. I think "he's so lucky his dad was brutally murdered" and "people with trauma need a second handicap because they're too motivated" are such absolute-the-fuck-ly bonkers takes, they're not even worth the time it took me to get mad about them, which was immediately. This time around, I have way more to say about audience reception. I'll try to keep it civil.

It feels like a lot of us are responding from increasingly personal places because these are characters with which a lot of us identify, or we see traits in them that remind us of people from our real lives. And hey! Another performance and storytelling slay on the part of one Brennan Lee Mulligan. Who else can invent 50+ characters every year and play them to the point where any one of them can evoke both an "omg that's literally me!" and an "omg that's literally Dani, the girl that bullied me all of freshmen year until I punched out her front tooth in the student parking lot and got in-school suspension for a month!". And whether Kipperlily reminds you of Dani, or reflects your own anxieties about potential, ability, and trauma, an important thing to remember is this: she is not real!

Brennan made her up! Brennan made her up to tell a story, and when he made her up, he made her annoying, petty, antagonistic, and he gave her not just opposing goals to the the protagonists we know and love, but the explicit goal of ruining The Bad Kids' lives, specifically.

Now, I'm not saying she's fictional to be a dick, or dismiss any deeper readings on her or any of the Rat Grinders. I'm bringing it up because the way I'm seeing people talk to each other about these characters is starting to get a little wild and it's in danger of waking up The Olde Gods™ (i.e. the special brand of Tumblr Self-Righteousness that lives inside us all).

It's important to remember Kipperlilly is a character in a fictive work so that different interpretations of her don't get treated as stone law. Each reading of her is personal and valid, but none are gospel. The "Kipperlilly is but a victim" take is not the only correct one, nor is radical empathy for her as a character the only correct reaction. Also, even if I consider her sympathetic that is not incompatible with an opinion like "Kipperlilly needs to get roundhouse'd in the head by a lesbian in a tracksuit and/or a wizard in a jean jacket, posthaste". Sure, you can say that anyone who doesn't feel a deep and eclipsing empathy for Kipperlilly above all other emotions is immature at best and sociopathic at worst, but then I can just say anyone who demands solely empathy for Kipperlilly and excuses her literal crimes and bass-ackwards world view because she's insecure and has anger issues, is probably also someone who has a history of weaponizing whatever minority status they may or may not occupy to talk over, silence, or harass people of color.

They're both just opinions. And also, like. Y'know. A bit much.

To engage in the long and rich tradition of measuring character trajectories against those in the Avatar: The Last Airbender cartoon, let's compare Kipperlilly to Azula. Azula had an incredibly sympathetic backstory and untreated mental health issues. Azula was also a danger to herself and others, as well as profoundly manipulative and abusive (although, it was a children's show so Azula never killed anybody for whatever that's worth). Do I wish that fourteen-year-old girl had an Iroh-type in her life? Literally one adult who loved her genuinely and advocated for her best interests? Of course I do. I saw the Ember Island episode, I watched that one video essay! Does that mean it was any less satisfying to watch Zuko and Katara kick her absolute ass? No! And it was non-lethal anyway, children's show, duh.

That brings me to my other thing; Kipperlilly is a character in a fictive work that is not finished. And I know that point will age poorly, but I'm thinking it won't be the only one (hey-o). Remember the people that were calling The Bad Kids bullies? And then we learned that Kipperlilly hated Riz because his fucking dad fucking died?? And that was a full academic year before getting reanimated by a rage god?? I'll do a tame one; remember when Gilear wasn't cursed?? He was "just a guy"?? The show is serialized, gang, the world is still building! Clerickiller is not done yet, y'all need to let her cook! I'm sure we'll tune in next week to see her graduate from "unhinged" to "unaffiliated with the door frame or any frame-like structure". Reprimanding people on Tumblr will not change the trajectory of this character who, by the way, has not expressed remorse or any desire for a path other than violence. You look me in my black face after your blorbo slits a kid's throat and say "help her"?? Kipperlilly doesn't want get better right now, she wants one thing and that's for Kristen Applebees to go fuck herself and die!! You were there, you heard it!! When the fictional behavior changes, as it often does in stories, so will my opinion. There is no fore-forgiveness. Without an actual redemption arc I will continue to see the villain as a villain.

Speaking of, I think what some people have an issue with is the level of hate Kipperlilly's getting and how aggressive it is. But like.... isn't that allowed?? Because of all the stuff I said but also because like, mama said that it was okay! And by "mama" I mean Siobhan Thompson who said Kipperlilly belongs under the jail. Sure, in the real world, adults don't tell kids they belong in the ground that's crazy fucked up, but all these kids are played by adults and Emily as Fig joked that she was gonna smite the sixteen-year-old girl played by the thirty-something man. You're telling me the antagonist antagonizes the protagonists, and the protagonists go "boo, hiss" and then I, the audience, go "boo, hiss as well" but I'm wrong? I'm wrong, somehow, cool checks out.

"They're XP Levelling*punches a locker*!!"

"That girl is worse than Kalvaxus."

"Littledoggy Girlcollar"

Am I not engaging with the narrative on it's own terms if I say "i'd tell Clerickiller to die mad, but she clearly already did, Jojo Siwa head-ass, in reference to that fuck-ass ponytail and your toxic yuri" Do I need to draw a little caitmay-style OC to say it for me, would that be better?

God-forbid, we have fun? Must we discourse, always? FourDogs is tragic, FourDogs is compelling, FourDogs is Dani from 9th grade. She is Azula from Avatar and Clare from Fleabag and Brennan Lee Mulligan from my dreams and that is something that can be so personal. But no one else has to participate in your parasocial relationship. What's crazy is, I actually like Kipperlilly! As a character. I mean, the "trauma is privilege" obviously hit a nerve with me because of real life stuff, but the image of her over the rogue teacher's grave?? With a backhoe and a "gotcha, bitch" expression??? Come on, that is fresh-off-the-vine Cunt™. Even more so than I imagined that moment to be when we first heard about it. Her ending up in a Ragh or Aelwyn place would be way more satisfying than a Goldenrod or Penelope Everpetal place, BUT IT WILL ALSO be satisfying to see whatever Kipperlilly's version of the locked-in-a-chokehold-and-being-gaslit-into-thinking-you-shit-the-coach's-pants-scene is. In addition to the non-lethal ass-kicking that proceeds it.

Y'all can chuck the insinuation that something so clearly subjective is actually objective and has moral implications that make me bad, directly in the garbage. What is this, religion, hey-o.

#lost some civility there at the end #but shit im not iroh #im a hater first #and an advocate for mental health third #and second i am an advocate for poc's getting their lick back against white people #especially if they were hurting your academic prospects #yes riz is a poc even though he's played by murph #me and demi adejuyigbe talked about it #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 #d20 #kipperlilly copperkettle #brennan lee mulligan #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids

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rottenpumpkin13 · 3 months

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I think the biggest factor re: Seph being the only one who broke down so spectacularly is that he actually had the power to back it up.

Everything about how he was raised, what was done to him, and the perfect storm of Nibelheim just lined up perfectly with the fact that he actually had the power to back up his breakdown.

Like no one else is as strong as Sephiroth. Other characters whos only major kneejerk problem solving skill (violence) simply do not have his firepower. He has the magic, he has the physical power, he has the skill.

The games have power creep and all so its hard to see this, but Sephiroth in the lore was just totally unmatched except for Cloud in terms of what a single person could do. Zack is crazy strong, and Sephiroth had to have been sleep deprived and not eating for a week and mentally compromised for Zack and Cloud to just barely win and nearly die in the process.

Sephiroth has the biggest rampage because he has the tools to do it in a way that any of the other people on a violent mental breakdown bender simply do not.

I dont think, strictly speaking, the reason why he broke down like that specifically was simply because he was always destined to do so - I dont think he was destined to always go evil- but it was 100% only a matter of time before he simply couldnt take the strain of everything and had a serious mental breakdown of some kind. Eventually the untreated trauma just piles up so much you cant function anymore.

He didnt have to have chosen violence as his method of mental breakdown, but with the situation as it was, that is what he landed on. He could have just as easily chosen to take his own life or made a beeline for the brass and killed them all instead given other circumstances.

Without Jenova whispering in his ear, he probably would have chosen one of those, I think. In even fairly well adjusted people irl, discovering what unnecessary violating medical atrocities were done to you as a child secondhand off your medical records is often incredibly harrowing.

Theres just so many layers to why Sephiroth snapped and why Sephiroth behaved like that beforehand.

When characterizing him, I feel like people really undersell and underestimate what chronic trauma starting from childhood does to your sense of self, decisionmaking skills, emotional regulation, and ability to cope with shock.

Like without the way he was raised, he would simply not be the same person. Chronic childhood trauma becomes your sense of self when you experience it because your sense of self was forming when you were put through all of that. Its baked into your bones and how your brain is wired.

A Sephiroth who was raised in a loving family that wasnt medically violated or stuck in a lab or trained as a child soldier and set loose in war and put up as a carefully cultivated symbol would simply be unrecognizable. He would not act the same, he would not have the same preferences, he would not have the same insecurities or instability. He wouldnt be recognizably Sephiroth- not just because no cat eyes and white hair.

Because to be Sephiroth, he has to be incredibly traumatized by default.

Im not saying that his trauma of all the characters was the Most Awful and therefore he blew up the worst or w/e, but more that this multilayered complex trauma left Sephiroth unable to healthily cope with all the events piled on him during the events of Crisis Core.

I think the factor of how childhood trauma and continued abuse completely shapes how you respond to things as an adult is often lost in the discourse when people try to detangle Sephiroth's actions, so thank you for pointing that out.

Another thing, when talking about how Sephiroth's power is unmatched, is the Jenova cells in him (and how he later became one with Jenova) The only thing that took down Jenova was the Cetra because it/she was that powerful. So while he wasn't destined to break down, you have to admit that something was waiting to happen given what Jenova was.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #discussion

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dtfpeta · 11 months

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Stubborn as a Mule | Price x Fem Reader

Tags: porn with plot, non canon compliant, slight gore, angst, angst/comfort, reserved price, medic!reader, switch!price, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Captain Price doesn't want to seek help for an afflicted wound caused while on a mission. When he does, he learns that doctor's visits aren't so bad if you are acting as his nurse.

Read here on ao3!

__________

It had been less than a day since the mission at the Embassy had to be aborted. Nearly all of the task force had been injured to some extent as evacuation efforts were initiated. With this came more stitches and sutures than you could handle as you tended to civilians in urgent need of care while simultaneously patching up your team.

It was an honest to god miracle that your team didn't suffer any fatalities by the looks of their injuries and their bone-deep exhaustion that had peaked once you made it back to home base. The base was quiet. Ghost and Roach sat on a couch in a dark corner off to the back where they polished their guns and took inventory, both suffering from a sprained leg or ankle that was accompanied by other bandaged appendages yet insisted on getting back to work. Gaz paced the floor, operating his neck from side to side in mechanical like motions to ease the crick in his neck as he impatiently glanced at the sling that contained his right arm. Though most of the men had endured some moderate to low level of blunt force trauma, Soap laid in the infirmary of the medical bay as he had suffered a skull fracture. Thankfully, the injury could have been far worse. No surgery was needed and he was prescribed a dosage of Tylenol for the pain as well as being advised to stay on a lengthened bed rest while the injury healed. Soap, of course, argued through a slurry of words that became incomprehensible after a professionally administered amount of hydrocodone. Thus, increasing his level of inebriated rage at the idea of taking leave which would be discussed at a further date. And most definitely argued against.

Price miraculously remained unharmed. Apart from some scratches and bruises to various parts of his body, of course.

"Captain, are you sure there's nothing you need my help with?" You were fatigued beyond reason but this was your job, and sometimes that included 36 hours of no rest. It was your responsibility to make sure the task force was in prime health and that meant putting their needs above your own when called for. Your efforts didn't go unnoticed by any means though. In fact, many offered their help in the infirmary even though their medical knowledge consisted of first-level basics and the handy usage of a tourniquet. They all however, thanked you for your assistance. And if not verbally some would provide a kind yet limp smile or a hand on the shoulder as an acknowledgment of your work.

Price, however, typically resorted to a firm but simple nod. The man now sat in his office revising a map of the area, glasses set low on his nose, and red sharpie hanging out his mouth in place of his usual cigar. You had just passed by to check in for the nth time if he really was okay when his eyes raised above the rim of his glasses to meet yours. It was a gruesome mission and although he was your experienced captain, he was notorious for writing off bloodied abrasions as a casual sore "Positive." He declared. You weren't going to force him into the medical bay but you did want to stress the consequences of an untreated injury. "Mm'kay Captain, but just so you're aware an untreated wound will only mean more doctor's visits." You commented with a fox-like smile. Unimpressed.

Price responded with a low hum of acknowledgment as he averted his attention from you. You guess that the idea of being in your presence was less egregious than you predicted. Or maybe he just didn't care to bother with your theatrics, which was the more plausible explanation. * 2 more days had passed when everyone had seemed to return to the swing of things. Though still restricted in their abilities, now was the time to talk strategy in a mundane routine of meetings. Some of which you weren't required to attend as they pertained to the personal performance of the other soldiers. And though the idea of peaking in while Price grilled his subordinates was appealing, there was work to be done in the infirmary.

The time seemed to pass slower the more you looked at the clock. Eventually, 1:39 became 1:50, which became 1:58, and then 2:03 until you decided your frequent glances only seemed to put some sort of curse on the damned thing. You were brought out of your self-induced frustration by a knock at your office door that connected to the infirmary. "Come in." You said before seeing an army green hat fill the windowed slot of the door. "Captain! I'm really hoping you aren't here to tell me I was right because I am not afraid to tell you 'I told you so-oh-'" Your eyes widened at the sight of your superior walking through the office door with an obvious limp that caused him to clutch the handle of the door, his gaze trained to the ground as he spoke.

"Yeah, yeah. We can get the whole squad in on a celebration after you fix this damn leg-!" He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth after mistakenly applying pressure to his right leg, which now showed a visible blood stain.

You moved quickly to place yourself under his shoulder. Moving your hand to grab at his side and the other to hold his arm as you supported the part of his weight that he couldn't bear. He then laid on a wheeled bed with a long sigh and taut eyebrows that drew together from the pain.

You looked at him with a regretful expression. A silent apology for the mocking mixed with a tinge of disappointment that he was in this situation to begin with. A situation which you had predicted, and given his avoidant attitude, told you that this injury didn't happen on base. You began to roll the stiff cargo of his pants up. Doing your best to be gentle as possible while fighting the adrenaline that told you this wasn't going to be good. The now rolled-up hem of his pant leg began to expose the bleeding wound, the touch of the material eliciting a searing hiss from the man below you.

"Shit, Cap'." You whispered. To call it a gash would be an understatement. What may have once been a gash was now a raised laceration that had become inflamed. You donned your surgical gloves before placing a tender hand to the reddened lump on his leg. Price bit his cheek at the pain as a yellow-like fluid began to leave the wound. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?" You questioned, the disappointed gaze returning to your eyes.

"S' just a flesh wound." He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"An infected one... you aren't as dumb and dense as all that so I figure you were just too stubborn." You turned to gather your supplies to dress and disinfect the area when you realized his wound looked too gnarly to have only developed in 3 days. "Captain, what happened on the field? Whatever caused this would have caught your attention sooner." You knew the most likely explanation for the worsened state of the wound was, but to hear it from the horse's mouth would give you confidence in your treatment as well as a chance for him to feel guilty about not approaching you sooner.

He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "To tell ya' the truth I didn't notice it at first. Just a sharp pain n' a scratch." He glanced at you before returning his line of sight to his leg. "It was right after the explosion. The one that sent the debris towards me n' Soap. He was bleedin' real bad and by the time I got him to you the heli was comin' in. Forgot about it is all...till now."

You returned to the marred limb, gauze placed in both palms of your gloved hands. "It's most likely shrapnel lodged below the skin. I'm going to drain the abscess and remove it, okay? You want something to hold onto?"

Price chuckled, "No love, I don't think a styrofoam 'stress ball' will help either of us, yeah?"

So stubborn... You leaned in to drain the wound of the puss and blood that now seeped down his calf. Apart from the initial jolt of pain and the strained muscles of his hands on the railing that caused his veins to take a defined shape, Price remained relatively still. You used forceps to remove what you discovered was a bomb fragment from his leg and applied saline solution followed by sterile gauze.

The fragment itself was maybe no longer than an inch, making it a bitch to have it pulled out of one's body. Regardless, having any foreign object pulled out of the body wouldn't be a blast.

You turned back to your superior, an animated smirk on your face in an attempt to revive the now solemn mood. "All right! You've been a good boy Captain. Let me get you a sucker and some gauze for you to dress it with later. Of course, I would offer to do it myself but you'd probably prefer to deal with it on your own." Your tone was light but Price still disregarded your observation. "And some antibiotics. Twice a day for a week." You placed the bandages and supplies beside him and turned to return your instruments to their cabinet.

A hushed "Thanks" was all you heard before turning to see that the injured soldier had left the infirmary. * Another long day of being planted in your office went by. Price's injury report was added to the list of paperwork that piled on your desk. Begging to be completed or nonetheless, acknowledged. As you were going to return to your office from checking on Soap you noticed the gauze that laid on the bedding Price occupied. Which also reminded you to add the changing of those sheets to your to-do list.

The time was past 11 o'clock pm already. He was sure to be in his room. You exhaled a breath of irritation. Not only will he not help himself, he won't ask you (the professional) for any either. You grabbed at the bandages and began to march to his room.

When you reached the door of his living quarters you lifted your hand to knock but hesitated. He ought to learn the consequences of not taking care of himself. Or listening to medical advice. You thought, but quickly dismissed the idea of abandonment. You were only six inches away from the door and saw the orange tinted light that shone from the bottom crack of the entrance. With a lid of ignorance placed on the bubbling nervousness in the pit of your stomach, you planted a quick but low knock to the door. That was an awful knock... There's no way he heard it. Or maybe he's asleep. You waited a few moments before raising your fist to knock again when the door opened. Behind the door stood Price in a black cotton shirt and long pajama pants. His face wore a quizzical expression before eyeing you up and down and groaning at the sight of the gauze.

"It's nearly midnight," He spoke in a low, sleep glazed tone. "You planning on haunting me in my dreams too? I can't do with more nightmares, love." A quick flush spread on your face before replying, "I think that would be called a dream, Cap'. Plus I saw the light on so don't act so exhausted."

"S' just my nightlight." He said with a blank face.

The crickets that chirped outside the base suddenly became deafening as a silence settled between the two of you. Before you could properly react he interjected, "M' joking... you gonna come in?"

A smile spread across your face as you entered his room. You would have never made fun of him for actually having a nightlight. You're sure it could provide comfort to anyone, especially the scarred soldiers of 141 who typically kept to themselves. It was good, however, to see that his funny bone remained undamaged. "Okay well, you know the drill. Get on the bed soldier." The phrase suddenly sounded more on the nose than intended. If Price had noticed your somewhat suggestive choice of wording, he didn't make it apparent and did as he was instructed. As he crossed the floor you took in the scene of his room. Relatively clean. Actually, really clean, and not much decorating the walls apart from some photos and a few select 80's band posters. On his desk sat a lamp that lit the room a soft but not overbearing orange that allowed for the shadows of the room to make their home for the night. Next to the lamp were his dog tags and a notebook with a pencil sticking out of the bottom acting as a bookmark. Hopefully I didn't interrupt him.

Price cleared his throat from across the room. "You planning on snooping some more or are you gonna get t' work?"

You scoffed before placing yourself on the floor next to his cot. Price sat on the edge, his leg propped up and pant leg already hiked to his knee.

"You know you're very presumptuous Captain. Not even a please." You placed his leg in your lap before removing the bandages from his leg. "I'm not your personal nurse, and if I didn't know any better I'd think you planned this from the start." You teased.

"Yer' delusional love." Love "You caught me, I got a piece of bomb caught in my leg so I could hear ya' talk nonsense for an hour." He finished with a light laugh.

You both fell into light conversation as you worked to dress his leg. You frequently cast your eyes up to look at the man above you. The light of the lamp mixing with your iris, creating a new hue that Price began to familiarize himself with.

Before you could finish, you noticed Price reach his hand behind his neck to massage at the muscle with a strained expression. "I'm gonna get you something." You began.

"I don't need anything."

You paused before looking at him, the playful impression on your face replaced with a more meaningful one. "I'm getting you something."

With that, you got up and hurried to the infirmary to retrieve a pain reliever. You returned with the pill and a bottle of water that he gratefully accepted from you. You took your place back on the ground beside his cot so you could finish your work on his bandage when you looked back up at him, "You think you’d be better on your feet considering how much you tiptoe around me." You tsk'd. "Could've avoided all this mess."

It was Price's turn to flush at the comment when he shook his head. "I don't 'tiptoe'."

"Oh. You tiptoe."

"I just try t' stay out of your way," He said, turning his head to the side to face away from you. "Maybe I'm just not a fan of doctors." He quipped, a smile plastering on his face. You didn't believe that for one bit.

"Besides. I'm glad I didn't avoid it."

You finished your work when you craned your head to look up at him, his eyes already peering at you. You had always had pleasant conversation with Price, a consistent banter that seemed to dwindle in recent weeks. Thus, making you question his enjoyment of your easy-going friendship. As you locked eyes a new emotion appeared in his gaze. It wasn't annoyance, or anger, or any form of irritation, and it undoubtedly wasn't playful. At least from your interpretation.

He haunched his elbows on his knees as he leaned into the now diminishing space between you two, eyes scattering to explore the features of your face.

"Never noticed that." He spoke in a near whisper. Price raised a hand to brush his fingers against a scar that ran above your eyebrow.

You reached to feel at the now faded lance, your hand brushing against his own. "I hardly remembered I had it."

The proximity between you two encouraged thoughts you hadn't had the luxury to divulge yourself into for some time. It wasn't professional to cross such a boundary, especially with Captain Price. But until now, they had only been short-lived fantasies just out of reach.

Price wrapped his fingers between yours, joining your hands as his other came to reach for your cheek. You were sure of that look on his face now. It was want. Which now verged on the crest of need.

"Price..." You spoke.

You didn't want to be arrogant in assuming Price enjoyed this intimacy as much as you did. He was the one to initiate it, however, you knew that. So if he didn't mind crossing a few boundaries you weren't going to stop him. Both of his hands now cradled the sides of your face as you roamed your own to the inner part of his thighs above his knee.

Price sucked in a breath, he wasn't even sure if you reciprocated his feelings until a few minutes ago and now he felt like he was at major risk of complicating things between you two. Before he could morally battle with himself you brought your lips to his for a soft and testing kiss. A grin extended to his face as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming to find home at the nape of your neck and into your hair. The stubble that covered the lower expanse of his face was sharp against your skin. His plush lips provided a nice contrast as the kiss became more fervent and you rushed to push off your lab coat. Your shoes having been discarded long ago as you made yourself comfortable in the private space of your Captain's room.

"Oi, let's get rid of this too hm?" You stood to remove your shirt with the help of Price's urgent hands who then worked the button of your pants undone till you were left in nothing but a bra and underwear. You were in a near bare state while Price remained in his pajamas. The only evidence of promiscuity being his red stained lips and the half-hard erection in his pants.

"This isn't very fair Captain." You laughed nervously while placing your arms over your body.

Price grabbed at your arms, pulling them from the skin they hid. "Nah none of that. Too beautiful not to let me see." You let your arms fall as he reached to remove his shirt which was then added to the pile of other "unnecessaries" behind you.

"You consider that even playing ground?" You ridiculed. But Price ignored the comment before pulling you to his lap. Thighs now straddling his hips as he began his assault of red love marks against your neck.

"Mmm what was that?" He questioned through muffled lips. The bra was next to be removed. Becoming too frantic to feel his touch, you wanted to provide whatever expanse of skin you had to him. Let him do what he wanted. And he gratefully accepted. His mouth latched to the bud of your hardening nipple while his palm moved to the swell of your breast. A soft moan left your lips at the sensation. His mouth lapped and circled the bud while his fingers twisted and pulled at its counterpart, sending a rush of heat between your thighs.

You ground against Price's lap to find that his erection had become rock solid. The man below you let out a groan as he toyed with your chest. Your hips moved back and forth to provide friction for both of you. The tip of his cock now rocked against your clothed clit, sending your head flying backward and your mouth agape. Price watched your face, his eyelids hanging low from the drunken euphoria you were granting him.

"S-so good" You stuttered. The pleasure was near drowning when the hand that laid on your chest disconnected. Leaving it cold until Price moved to focus the attention of his mouth where his hand once was. He rutted his hips up into your fabric covered core, allowing for his growled noises of pleasure to settle in your ears. His licks against your breast soon became bites that left an imprint of his canines against your skin. He then sucked at the reddened mark to ease the pain, alternating between sinking his teeth into you and pulling your nipple into his mouth. The pleasure was soon heightened by his hand moving to trace at your cunt. The fabric of which was now wet from what once was "dry" humping.

His fingers traced at your clit providing a sensation that left you shuttering above him but in need of more. Which he soon provided as the fabric of your panties was moved to the side to allow him access to your flesh. "I shoulda' taken you sooner" He breathed as his hand delved into your wanting heat. Gathering your slick with two fingers to then massage back into your bundle of nerves. A string of whimpers began to leave your mouth as his pace oscillated from quickened strokes to torturously slow. "Tell me what you need, love."

Your head was hot. You didn't think you could form words if you wanted to. His touch being the only thing your mind could wrap around as your desperate whines began to amplify. "I know sweetheart, but try your best."

You swallowed the pool of saliva that settled on your tongue. "More. Please Captain, I-I need it."

Price grunted at the use of his rank, knowing that he wouldn't be able to think of anything but this moment the next time someone addressed him. He complied to your wishes by taking one of his slick covered fingers and pushing it into your walls. Roaming the hot smooth flesh of your insides while he searched for the sensitive patch of nerves inside.

"You're swallowing me, love" Price watched as your body took in his finger, your pussy keeping him in a vice-like grip that made him groan at the feeling, only being able to imagine his cock disappearing between your legs in place of his hand. He needed to work you open though. Make you ready for him. He soon added in a second finger, glancing up at you to watch your face pinch together from the stretch.

With the help of his second finger, he was able to find the exact spot he was looking for as he thrusted the digits into you, eliciting a blatant moan from you. His fingers scissored into you, now working to stretch you open as he curled in and out of your cunt.

"You think you're ready for me, or do you want to keep feeling my fingers in you?" Your eyes met his as you fervidly nodded your head. "Need you."

It was your turn to take control. Pushing him back to lie on the bed you reminded him of the importance of recovery.

"You should do your best to avoid any strain, Captain." You saddled yourself above his aching cock, his length fighting against the fabric of his pajama pants and boxers that restrained him. "I wouldn't mind taking the reigns for you."

You leaned in for another passionate kiss, your tongues exploring one another's mouth as you both maneuvered to remove his bottoms. "Me neither, love."

He watched you admire his length with a smirk. The size almost made you wish he worked his fingers in you a bit longer if it weren't for the insatiable hunger you had for all of him to be in you. You assumed your position above him, letting him place his hands on your thighs which soon reached to grab at the flesh of your ass. You took his cock in your hands to spread between your folds. Gathering your slick to act as a lubricant before lowering yourself down him. You heard his breath shudder as his head breached your sex. The stretch was more than you could imagine and caused your cunt to burn as you slowed your descent on him.

"Take your time, sweetheart-!" Price grit his teeth at the torment your tight pussy was putting him through. He wanted to be patient and allow you to take your time but his desire was reaching its pique. He needed you just as badly if not more then he was leading on. The hands on your hips helped guide you down his shaft.

"Fuck, Price!" You softly cried, only being halfway down his length. Just as the stretch began to subside, Price dug his heels into the bed to thrust into you, causing you both to moan at the sudden pleasure. Your breathing picked up as you began to bounce on him, his hips pushing up into your cunt as you timed your rhythm to meet with him. Your hands came to wrest on Price's wrist as he watched your sex devour his soaked cock. Taking it in its entirety as he rutted into your g-spot.

You continued to ride his length. The pain was far from gone and only replaced with a feeling of your nerves being kickstarted. The fiery feeling spread through your arms and legs as you quickened your pace.

Price felt you clench around him and let out a whimper of pleasure. His hand moved from your hip to place his thumb on your neglected clit. He circled the slick bud, causing stars to blur your vision. He strengthened the thrust of his hips as your orgasm made its approach. Your legs shaking while the grip you had on one of his wrists was sure to leave a bruise.

"Let it out, love" Price encouraged in a thick glazed tone. "Cum for me darling, please." He struggled to keep himself composed as your cunt spasmed around him. A desperate moan left your lips as you ground against his pelvis to ride out your high. The nerves in your limbs fired off like sparks as Price let out a final grunt, filling you with his hot seed.

You rose off of him as your pussy elicited a wet vulgar sound before you collapsed next to him, his arm resting underneath your head as he placed his hand to your face. He let out a sigh as he placed his lips to yours once again. A tender kiss that told you a sincere thank you for caring for him as well as a message of his endearment to you. You smiled into the kiss before he separated to grab a rag to clean you both up with.

He returned and placed himself between your spread legs, using gentle strokes to clean up the mess he made. He apologized for finishing in you but was met with a dismissive hand from you. Clarifying to him that you were on birth control provided by the modern advancements in technology.

He smiled before cleaning himself off and coming to lay beside you. "You know," he began "I think next time you should wear those gloves of yours."

You laughed at his out of left-field suggestion. "I try to keep work and play separate, actually" "Pshht hardly!" He replied before falling into a fit of laughter. You rolled your eyes before slapping him against the arm. "Well at least not anymore..." He finished with a glance to the wall.

"Guess I'll just have to make more visits to the doctor then." He suggested before you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing you'd have to plan a clean escape in the morning.

#call of duty #cod smut #price x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #price smut

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cryptwrites · 8 months

Text

writing injuries: 101

hi goblins and ghouls let me teach you how to write that silly little stab would you decided to give your silly little guy so that you could rip out the hearts of your reader, even more.

Hopefully you have gathered from the title that this will be discussing WOUNDS! BLOOD! GORE! OTHER NASTYS! If you disagree with my advice, MORE THAN OKAY! I'd love to hear yours and we can exchange tips! Lets get into it.

Types of Injuries

To write a realistic injury you NEED to know three things: A) What type of boo-boo B) What caused said boo-boo C) Where is the boo-boo D) Who will kiss boo-boo better (optional) edit: according to my friend D is not optional, so. find someone to kiss it better

Common types of injuries

I am by NO MEANS a professional so... take with a grain of salt. There are so many resources out there if you need to get specific but here's some simple shit xoxo:

Abrasion: Remember when you fell on the street as a skin and scrapped the shit out of your knee? Yeah. That. Its broken skin caused by friction against rough surfaces: requires IMMEDIATE cleaning.

Animal Chomps (bites): These can and will cause an infection if you don't treat it. Your 5'3 teenage girl CANNOT brush off that wolf bite apocalypse writers. Get her to the closest med tent.

Avulsion: A injury's caused when a body part is ripped away either partially or fully (HELLO SAW MOVIES). Results in some severe trauma (physically and mentally if they live) Typically caused by gunshot wounds, explosion's, car crashes etc.)

Bruise: Muscle fibers, blood vessels, and connective tissues are damaged with these bad boys. They cause that bluish purply look. Bruises do change colour to a yellow-green the older they are so do your research!

Burn: There are three degrees and a whole lot of different types for this mf and I can do a separate post on burns if you all want, but in general it is damage to the skin caused by heat, chemicals, radiation or sunlight (we all are too familiar with that last one). As some of know it can result in Swelling, Blistering, and scaring. Now if you gave your creature a really bad burn then it can cause shock, death and the destruction of the skin! And it leaves your victim of choice vulnerable to infection! Yay!!!

Fracture: a break in the bone, it literally looks fractured. It causes pain swelling, numbness and possibly deformity. You will likely need to send your character to the doctor.

Laceration: A cut, slice, tear in the skin, these are not stab wounds this is like if you accidentally cut yourself on glass or if someone swung at you with a knife and it sliced you, but it didn't go into your body and stay there. You get the idea.

Puncture wounds: THIS. THESE ARE YOUR STABS. Penetration to the skin caused by any sort of (usually sharp) object. These are the wounds your serial killer might use in the final moments of the kill with his knife, or the final blow to your hero's enemy with his sword.

Sprain: Ligaments (the things you see in x-rays that hold the bones together) that have been stretched or torn which happens when the joins move into unnatural positions. Usually, this results in stiffness, discoloration and swelling.

Strain: NOTE, Sprain and Strain ARE different. This is what happens when a muscle or tendon (not a ligament) is pulled, twisted or torn. Typically caused by over-stretching/contracting. Usually results in pain, muscle spams, and weakness.

Please note, that like I mentioned with burns there are degrees of severity for ALL OF THESE so please do your research this is just a starting point.

Care & Aftermath

LOTS of writers forget this part and its so sad. You want cute scenes between to characters who aren't yet dating but your rooting for? ONE OF THEM JUST GOT HURT AND THE OTHER IS TENDING TO IT. BAM INSTANT CUTE SCENE. Do not forget about your aftermath and medical care. Most injuries if left untreated WILL WORSEN if you leave them alone so FIX UP YOUR GUYS.

Do your research!! Look up the kind of injury your character sustained, the severity of it and you'll find recovery time and the kind of treatment they'll need.

In my experience, the more you focus on the aftermath of wounds, the more realistic it seems even if your dashing hero just got his arm ripped off by a dragon.

Writing the injury

You do not, now listen closely. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WRITE A MEDICALLY ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE WOUND. You're probably writing fiction and not a med student essay. If you are... email your professor I cannot help you here.

Just focus on getting the basics down. What's the bleeding? How bad is the swelling? What's the pain level at? and just leave the rest to the imagination. Unless your character is a doctor or whatever, your little dudes will also not know exactly what an Avulsion is. You can just say that there's a gaping hole or something. They'll be far to focused on the pain or whatever is causing it to diagnose themselves then and there.

Realism

I pinky promise you that as long as you have the basics, your readers will pick up what your laying down. The characters reaction is the most important part. How are they feeling emotionally? Are they having a physical reaction to the pain (Limping, shaking)? Do they have any physical response to the sight of their own/others blood? Do they experience shock? What's their attitude after it all?

These are the questions you should ask yourself. A war-hardened soilder will react differently to a gunshot wound than someone fresh out of high school.

Thanks :] go make the masses suffer :]]

#writing #horror writing #creative writing #writer #writers on tumblr #they/them #writers #writerscorner #horror #writers tips

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