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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

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

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

TAGS:

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cioneo · 1 year

Text

staying in

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader fandom: modern warfare 2 (call of duty) word count: 0.7k warnings: none, just something short and sweet summary: ghost finally gets a peaceful sleep notes: this man has consumed my thots, so i gotta write fanfiction for him. this is also my first fic. any feedback is greatly appreciated. enjoy!

It was an unusual sight to wake up to. You felt like you were still stuck in a dream.

But no, it was real, and you welcomed it.

—

Simon Riley and sleep had never gotten along since forever.

Some nights he would stay wide awake, either staring mindlessly at the ceiling or looking over your sleeping form with warmth seeping through him. This was not the case during the first few weeks of sharing a bed, where he would occasionally go out for a walk. Now he never leaves your side.

On other nights, he would startle during his sleep from the nightmares that just never seem to go away, and you would get up to wake him if he did not already jolt up first. Whether he talks about the horrors he's seen or keeps them to himself, he will always pull your body closer, seeking comfort in it. Then you both would doze off again while holding onto each other more firmly.

There may be nights when he experiences both of them at the same time. But the one thing that remains unchanged is how Simon somehow always wakes up earlier than you, even after a restless slumber. Until now.

—

You were surprised to see that his eyes were still shut. His arms were still locked around your figure in the same way they had been the night before.

Traces of light shone through the blinds you swore you closed the day before. It didn’t matter that much anyway. In fact, you were thankful for the light which highlighted his already stunning features littered with tiny scars. The temptation to brush away the hair from his face is powerful, but you quickly shut the thought down, afraid of waking Simon up from a well-deserved rest.

Instead, you stare at his peaceful state with admiration for who knows how long.

—

Sometime later, he moves against the sheets beneath him and slowly opens his eyes. He blinks his eyes repeatedly to adjust to the lighting and the sight of you looking back at him.

"Were you watching me this whole time?" Simon mumbles, his morning voice apparent.

You let out a hum, too tired to nod your head.

"Would be creepy if it were someone else."

"Then it’s a good thing I’m not. Besides, is it so wrong for me to appreciate this?" you reply while gently caressing the side of his face.

Simon closes his eyes for a brief moment at the feeling of your hand’s movement. "I guess not."

You continue to trace his features while he looks at you with the softest gaze no other has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He lets out a soft groan at the brushing of your fingers against his hair.

"We should get ready soon," he says, planting his hand over yours and stroking your knuckles with his coarse fingers. "But I got a feeling you don't like the sound of that."

"Your observational skills are getting better," you tease, knowing full well he is an elite operator.

"Alright, just a few more minutes and then we'll get up."

"Don't think I'm gonna leave this bed for a while. Better hope the boys don't mind us being late."

"I don't give a damn what they think."

Chuckling at his remark, you bring yourself impossibly closer to him and lay your cheeks against his chest. He tightens his grip on you and moves his chin to rest atop your head. You both listen to each other’s steady and slow breaths. A silence so comforting envelops the room, a contrast to the gunfire and explosions you were accustomed to hearing on the battlefield.

You look up and shoot him a quick smile. "We really needed this, y'know? Just a day where we don't have to constantly worry about preventing an all-out war or if we would even survive."

Your comments fall on deaf ears, as Simon didn’t reply, simply offering a quiet hum while he drifts away into your embrace. Content with his acceptance to go back into his rest, you peck the back of his hand and rub it softly so as to not wake him up.

The meeting you both were supposed to attend vanishes from your thoughts as you soon close your eyes and follow him to sleep.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #my writing

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kitkathatesu · 7 days

Text

Got My Baby Cryin’

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Bo Sinclair x Fem!reader + mentions of Vincent

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓?: ✔️ @whatitshouldvebeen hope you like it pookie, sorry it took so long😗

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: NSFW❗️SMUT❗️dub/non-con, (DON’T READ THIS IF THAT IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU) ❕MDNI❕Use of degradation & praise, (mostly degradation sorry) mentions of blood & violence, pet names, canon!Bo, Stockholm Syndrome type situation, sub!reader, possesive!Bo, Dacryphilia, fingering (f receiving), p in v, spit play, hatefucking

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Vincent decides to use you as his “muse” for a new wax figure in the Museum, and though it may be a sweet gesture to you Bo doesn’t think so. Not at all, and it’s obviously your fault. So who better to punish than you?

☽♢☾

You’re in the kitchen cleaning up after a night of blood pools and broken glass. One of the tourists who’d decided Ambrose was a cozy spot to fill his tank found out rather fast that it comes at a cost. His life being the payment.

Vincent’s sitting across the room from you at the table, his one blue eye seemingly studying your movements with a slight tilt of his head. His fingers toying one of his many sculpting tools between them, gaze burning into you. The silence deafening while you sit there on your knees, crimson spattered rag in hand scrubbing the creaky floorboards.

“You wanna take a picture Vince?” You snicker. Glancing up to catch his reaction but he’s stood upright now just inches away from your kneeling figure. “Goddamn!” You gasp, your hand pressed tightly to your chest.

“Didn’t even give me a chance to breathe! You’re seriously the fastest fucker I believe I’ve ever met.” You squeak playfully, Vincent’s grunt of approval making you giggle.

You’ve grown quite close to all three Brother’s, Lester a little less than Vincent but Bo more than either of them. And he makes sure the others know just how 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 you are. Your desperate cries for benevolence etched into the walls from the night he caught you lingering around longer than you should’ve. The scars he left then now littering your body and mind for as long as you can remember.

Your eyes fixated back to the task at hand. Fingers beginning to ache at how hard you’ve peeled the desaturated blood off the floor, you can’t help but wonder how many more will seep away to nothing more than a stain in the rotting wood beneath you. You shake your head, the thought rattling around for a moment but dissipating shortly after.

“Hey Vince, care to grab me another rag? This one’s about to start ripping at the seams-“

You practically choke on your words at the sight of Vince now knelt down in front of you, his smooth hand caressing the flush that’s crept onto your cheek. His thumb gently tracing the lines that are naturally imprinted into your skin as you sit there frozen.

Dumbfounded, you reach up and place your hand atop his. Searching for an answer internally and externally, 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜? Hopefully nowhere close to what you suspect considering his hobbies.

“Uh, Vince?” You ask softly, a lump formed so tight in your throat that you feel like you’re suffocating. He just stares back at you like every word you’ve spoke has fell upon deaf ears.

He signs “You’re lovely. Would take forever to sculpt such a pretty thing.” His demeanor flashing something more than just curiosity causing your jaw to tighten.

“Could use some practice if you’d care to pose for me. Be the perfect muse.”

He continued on, only increasing the gnawing anxiety in your gut. Among the flustered butterflies smacking against your rib cage. You knew Bo would be pissed if he ever caught wind of this, hearing or let alone walking in and seeing it for himself.

“Vince..” You pause. Your eyes flickering to the right, then the left. 𝙊𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩.

Bo’s face is contorted with anger as his slanted figure stands positioned against the doorframe pulling you back to reality. You hurriedly push yourself off the floor, Vince scurrying backwards as Bo chuckles to himself. His presence unabated as it fills the room.

“Well, what’do we have here?” He mocks. Glaring at Vince first, then turning his half lidded eyes to meet yours, shooting daggers right through your chest.

Your heart pounds. His pupils are swallowing his irises whole. Used to he could disguise that look pretty well, but you’ve grown all to accustomed to the predator that’s always preying on you. The man who’s marked you in more ways than one that’ll last a lifetime.

“Bo, I can explain-“ You stammer. Voice barely amounting to a whisper but it’s silenced completely as Bo cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bo barks, his voice gruff and threatening as he points a finger to you, daring a word to fall from your lips as he lunges at Vincent. Making him stumble back against the wall, his head hitting first as Bo’s hands clutch his shoulders to stand him still.

“You wanna explain yer’self?” Bo grumbled. “Or do I gotta beat it outta you first?” His fingers grip the fabric of his Brothers sweater, pulling him forward then ramming him back into the wall with a loud thud.

A muffled wince of pain strains behind Vincent’s mask, he raises his hands in reticence. Trying to deescalate the situation.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it. Only using her as means to create better, more realistic figures.” He signs. His one eye searching Bo’s for some sort of understanding, but all he gets is a sneer. Bo’s lip curling up into a cocky smirk as he drops Vincent’s shoulders.

“That so?” He snorts. “We both know that’s a lie. You’d be on’er like flies on shit if I’d let cha’ ya fuckin’ pest. Now git. I said git!”

Vincent storms out of the room and Bo runs a grease covered hand through his hair, a sadistic cackle bouncing off the walls as he turns around to find you cowered in the corner. Your eyes wide with fear as he saunters over.

“Awh, sweetheart. What’sa matter?” He taunts. Bending down in front of you, his cologne and the smell of whiskey flooding your senses. You try to find the words to say but they’re stuck. You’re stuck, you can barely think straight.

“I asked ya a fuckin’ question.” He snarls. His calloused hand claws at your jaw, his fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks roughly pinching your lips into a pout.

“I’m sorry- I just, I can’t..” You trail off, voice shaky as Bo’s hot breath fans over your face. His hand pulling you closer to him by the grip on your cheeks, a choked back whimper crackling in your throat.

“Can’t what?” He asked softly. His tone condescending but dripping with that honeysuckle Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

Bo’s sharp tongue darts out to wet his lips and your eyes follow its movement. Nothing ever goes unnoticed when it comes to you like a cat with a mouse, he’ll let you think it’s safe to stray away and as soon as you think you’re safe he’ll pounce and sink his teeth in without warning.

He taps your lower jaw with his fingertips. Your eyes squeezing shut as he leans in, his nose gently brushing against yours.

“Cat got your tongue? Or you jus’ too busy thinkin’ bout Vince ta’ spit out an answer.” He tsks. Tongue clicking against his teeth as he jerks you upwards. His hand now snaked around your neck. Your feet slightly coming up off of floor. “Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you girl. Don’t get all shy now.”

You cough against the rigidity of his fingers delving into the sides of your throat, your eyes popping open and heartbeat thrumming in your ears, his lips now hovering above yours. You clasp your hand around his wrist as he peers down at your unnerved expression. A smug grin plastered on his pretty face.

“Bo- Fuck, please just stop.” You pant, each breath you take shorter and shallower than the next. A low sigh pulling from your lungs as he closes his hand tighter around windpipe. You swear you could hear it crunching.

“Don’t think I will darlin.’ As a matter’a fact, think I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, staring up at him through heavy lashes as your peripherals cloud with hazy darkness. A subtle pulsing between your legs causing you to shift, embarrassment bubbling up and spilling over as your body reacts to him, knowing it’ll only betray you further if you fight.

“You’ve been misbehavin’ a lot these past couple days sugar.” He purrs against the side of your face. His free hand coming up to grapple the dip in your waist causing your thighs to squeeze together a little too fast. Bo chuckles through gritted teeth.

“Think it’s time ta’ remind ya’ what happens when I let ya’ off yer leash. Since you’ve bitten off a bit more than you can chew.”

“I’ve not done anything, was just trying to clean. Honest.” You bleat. Tears trickling down your face. The thought of what he’s planning on doing to you raiding your already tattered mind. “Please- Don’t hurt me.”

Your lower lip quivers as his eyes glaze over you, your cheeks flushed a deep red and chest heaving. Awaiting your punishment as he stands there menacingly.

You can’t help but gawk at him. He’s got such pretty eyes, and his hands are so experienced yet 𝙨𝙤 deadly. Who could 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙮 resist? You’re acclimated to this place, this man. You have nothing left to lose and nothing more to gain.

“S’a shame ya’ gotta be so desperate when I’m not around. Can’t leave ya’ alone for a second without you missin’ having one in ya.” He slurs, his jaw tightening as he pushes his lips against the shell of your ear. Tongue tracing it lightly causing your body to shudder.

“My Brother can’t fuck you as good as I can”, He husked. “And I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch him try. ‘Specially when yer’ eager to please.” That snarky smile forming against your skin. “Nothing but a fuckin’ whore.”

Your heart is hammering. Legs wobbly, you’re lightheaded and on the brink of passing out as his fingers dance against your pulse points. But a piercing shot of air fills your lungs suddenly causing you to sputter and choke as he releases you. Your feet plant flat on the ground, hand frantically lacing itself around the handprint that now sits like a necklace on your throat. His hands falling at his sides, tucking into his pockets with a huff.

“I don’t think of Vince that way!” You yell at him, your voice broken and dry in your throat. Bo’s brooding facial features making your skin crawl as he rakes over your unsteady figure. “Yeah?” He belts out. His head dropping down and back up with a sadistic cackle. “Bet yer’ soakin’ wet right now.”

Your stomach drops and your legs nearly give out. You 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 if he was to reach his hand between your legs and touch you right now his fingers would be drenched.

Bo inhales deeply through his nose. Letting out a long, breathless, sigh. “I can smell you. Ye’ ain’t hidin’ nothin’ from me.” He uttered. A growl rumbling in his chest as one of his hands fists your hair gripping it hard between his fingers. The weight of his body now flush against yours.

“Every. Fuckin’. INCH of your body is mine.” Bo snarled. His breathing loud and rugged, fuming with whiskey and desire. His grip on your hair stiff as a board, your scalp stinging from the force of him holding your head back.

“Bo- Bo, I’m sorry please? I’m yours, only yours.” You plead. Tears sliding off of your cheeks. The salty streams glistening down your neck and chest, staining your sternum. What a mess you are already. 𝙋𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

Bo’s jaw cocks open like a boa constrictor and his tongue drags a long hot stripe up your jugular, catching your fear on his tongue. A groan seeping out of his mouth like blood from an open wound. Your teary eyes and battered body only making his already hardened cock strain against his zipper.

“That tight lil cunt between yer legs belongs ta’ me too. Ain’t that right honey?” He cooed. “So pretty when you cry’fer me like that.”

𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠. He’s got you. He has you right where he wants you, where he always has you. Right on the edge of insanity and serendipity. You break pathetically at the slip of his knee between your legs, his muscular thigh pushing up into your core. The friction of his jeans alone makes you whine but it’s effortlessly snuffed out as Bo’s lips crash against your own.

Your head is fuzzy and your limbs are numb like venoms slithered beneath your skin through his saliva. Disintegrating you from the inside out as your lips move on their own accord.

“Yes Daddy.”

“You’re disgusting ain’tcha?” His eyes blown wide with lust and his hands full of rage he yanks you by your hair that’s tucked into his fist with one swift motion turning you around.

Your back arches and your face slams against the wall, the taste of copper filling your mouth. Bittersweet as Bo’s free hand slides up the back of your thigh, your ass pushing back against it as his fingers hook into the fabric of your shorts pulling them to the side. Your body shifting at the chills that rip their way up your spine. 𝙍𝙪𝙣 𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙧𝙪𝙣, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙧.

“Look at that.” Bo panted, watching the arousal that’s bubbled and seeped out from your core spread and string to the outside of your lips with each buck of your hips.

“Fuckin’ pathetic ain’t it? Getting all hot’n bothered by someone who kills for a livin’?” He chided, his middle finger swiping through your folds in a downwards motion grazing your clit. “Y’should be ashamed of yourself girl.”

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚. You should be fighting this, fighting him. Running as far as your tired body could carry you, but no. Instead a moan rolls off of your blood slathed tongue earning the tip of Bo’s ring finger circling the edges of your entrance. “Please?”

“Please what?” Bo asked well aware of the answer. His one digit quickly turning into two as he pushed them inside you down to the second knuckle. Angling them upwards, rubbing against that spongy spot that has you speaking his name like a prayer worthy of an altar.

You squeaked in response. Hips plummeting backwards to plunge them as deep as they’ll go, your walls fluttering around them. 𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙛, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙛, 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙛.

“Ah ah!” He scolds. “Who the fuck told you ta’move huh?” You pout as your desperate attempt to give yourself what you didn’t ask for comes to a halt. Bo’s left hand vigorously rips itself from your scalp, scraping his jagged nails down your spine as he traces the vertebrae, a bruising grip now glueing you in place.

“Dirty fuckin’ slut”, he groans. “Fucking yer’self with my fingers like a bitch in heat.” You revel in the disgusting sounds of your juices splashing onto his wrist as his fingers twist inside you. His voice cracking you open and leaving you helpless. The pleasure that’s jolting through you lights you on fire, your legs trembling and your stomach tightening. Unable to fight the biting urge to be filled to the brim with him.

“Oh my God- I want your cock. Need it.” You babble, almost incoherently as your moans turn into sobs. Bo hums low in his throat adding a third finger and you clench hard. The agonizingly slow stretch of your walls making you mewl. “That’s right sweet girl. Let me hear ya’ beg proper.” He licked his lips and spit a wad of saliva onto your cunt. Pulling his fingers out to smack through your folds harshly, eliciting a string of curses to fall from your swollen lips.

Your legs buckle as your knees go to give out but Bo catches you by your hips. Your head starts to spin as the sound of his zipper sparks every nerve, every fiber of your being. You tilt your head back to catch a glimpse of him, his eyes lock onto yours and his eyebrows knit together. “Fuck you lookin’ at me for?”

Your jaw quivers with adrenaline as your head is slammed into the wall once more. Fingers digging into the supple flesh of your love handle, his cock now pressed firmly against your pussy from underneath. The tip grinding against your clit with ease as he collects your juices by rocking his hips back and forth slowly.

“I know why”, he rasped. “Cause yer a cock hungry whore. Ain’t that right sugar?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Whad’ya want?”

“Want- I want..” You stutter and before you can even think a loud, pornographic, moan echoes out of your lungs as he pushes himself inside you with one deep thrust. Your walls clenching as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, the pain and pleasure sending you into a frenzy. “Oh- Oh my fucking GOD! Bo, Bo, please!”

You could cum right here but you know better. You know the fullness you feel right now will cease and the emptiness that gnaws at the back of your skull will replace it instead.

“Ah fuck, that’s right honey. I’ll be your God.” 𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙡, 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙢𝙮. “Pussies s’fuckin’ good baby.” Bo groans and your head starts to pound. His fingernails biting at the skin on your hipbone as he picks up a relentless pace, your ass bouncing off of his hips deliciously with each thrust. Face repeatedly scraping against the withering wood pricking the rosy parts of your cheeks leaving them hot and raw.

He reaches his hand to your mouth and you open. Tongue darting out to wrap around his fingers but he jolts his hips upwards and you cry out. His middle finger hooking into the side of your jaw, stretching your mouth out as he fucks you stupid. “Fuck, fuck-“ Your eyes flutter shut as fresh tears fall and he wipes one off with his thumb. The taste of his skin setting your twisted desire for him into overdrive and your stomach churns as the familiar coil starts to tighten and thrash through you.

“No use in cryin’ bitch”, he growled. His balls slapping against your clit and his head now resting in the crook of your neck from behind, his canines scraping your pulse that vibrates against his lips. “Wasn’t sad when Vince was on his knees drooling all over ya’, or when he touched you. You fuckin’ liked it.”

Your pussy throbs and your hands grab at the wall in front of you helplessly. Nails chipping and teeth baring as he pounds into you. You’re not going to last much longer. How could you?

“No. No, no-“ You sob and he rips his fingers from your lips roughly, slathering your own saliva all over your face. Clasping his big hand over your mouth and nose, your eyes roll back and your cunt coats his cock in spurts as he slams his hips into you. 𝙄𝙣, 𝙤𝙪𝙩. 𝙄𝙣, 𝙤𝙪𝙩. Hard and deep strokes till your body goes limp and your moans turn to mush in your brain.

“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth cunt. Open up wide for me. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙝 just like that.”

Bo almost whines as his thrusts become sloppy and your juices drip down his thighs. His own orgasm picking him to pieces as you suck him in so eagerly. Regardless if you want it, he knows you can’t deny him. You 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 deny him. You’re his and 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 his and he’ll make sure you never forget it. If he has to shatter every sliver of hope that you cling too by God he will. And you’ll beg him for more each time.

“S’good for me when ya’ wanna be baby,” he cooed. Making your heart sink and your body ache to be anywhere but here in this moment though you yearn for it when he’s not looking. Fucking stupid fuck.

He kicks your legs open farther with the toes of his boot thudding against your ankle. Almost knocking you off balance as he jerks you back into him, you can feel his cock pulsating as he finally paints your walls white with his cum. Your body basically lifeless as he ruts inside you, mumbling curses and sweet nothings into your ear. And no matter how much you plead with yourself to remember who he is, the invisible noose he has tied around your neck reminds you who you belong too. Who you’ll 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 belong to. You’re swallowed whole.

Bo pulls out and immediately tucks himself back into his boxers as you stand there with his spend dripping out of you and onto the floor, inner thighs slick with a disgusting mixture of your cum and his. “Get cleaned up”, he grumbled. Throwing a random dirt tinged rag onto the floor in front of you.

“Want yer ass back in the kitchen in 5 or I might have ta’ get Vince back in here. Show him how a real man takes care of what’s his.”

With a wink and a satisfied grin Bo disappears into another part of the house. Leaving you in the same way he found you. Weak at the knees and starving for something to heal the wounds you mindlessly reopen every time he’s around.

#slasher fandom #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #bo sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher x you #house of wax 2005 #slasher fucker #vincent sinclair #going feral #brain rot #slasher smut

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sexysapphicshopowner · 5 months

Text

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Modern AU- You and Sevika are coworkers turned best friends at her mechanic shop. She's having a little trouble telling you...something. She uses her Secret Santa gift to you to tell you.

🤎 soft!mechanic!Sevika x bubbly!mechanic!reader

🤎 CW/TW: lesbians being lesbians, Sevika is Sevika but you make her feel things...she's not sure what to make of that, blossoming relationship, pining, christmas, santa, fluff, pet names, first kiss, mistletoe, suggestive talk (you gotta close your eyes though), no use of y/n, not proofread

🤎 A/N: I know I should be writing part 2 to 'Our Love' but this idea (and Sevika period) is giving me serious brain rot. Enjoy my probably ooc ass version of Sev. This sucks ass, butttt I'll make up for it with a better post later, I promise!!

🤎 Notes: most times, I will be explicitly writing a black reader. this is not one of those times. this is a fully ambiguous reader save for the gender- female. I'm a firm believer in the beauty of Sevika's scars so to keep them in this we'll say she's a surviving burn victim.

🤎 Word count: 2.7k

🤎 You were one of the first people to apply for work when Sev first opened her shop

🤎 It was basically run by the two of you the way you became quick friends

🤎 You had come in, already dressed in a worker's jumper, the top half off and wrapped around your waist with a black cami on

🤎 If it weren't for how you were dressed, she wouldn't have even realized you were here about the job posting because she was too busy focusing on how pretty she thought you were

🤎 You started the same day

🤎 It wasn't like you two didn't notice each other, but you both put into your heads that it would be unwise for you to let your attraction go anywhere due to you guys basically running a business together

🤎 So every time you caught yourself drooling over Sev as she worked under the hood of a car, muscles rippling, grease covering her in smudges here and there....whew boy, let's just say you take a lot of....water breaks

🤎 She's no better either

🤎 The way her eyes follow your curves every time you bend over to pick something up

🤎 She stares at your lips whenever the two of you are talking, be it inside or outside of work

🤎 Speaking of which, you guys hang out- a lot

🤎 Within the first month of you working for her, she had already invited you over for dinner- as a friend

🤎 Once you guys become besties, you're over her place more than your own

🤎 You two will talk about any and everything together

🤎 At some point you call yourself trying to ignore your raging crush on your best friend and get a girlfriend

🤎 It ends in you being cheated on serially

🤎 You go to cry at Sev's the night of the breakup

🤎 This is the first time....something happens between you two

🤎 You're both drunk of your asses, you moreso than her

🤎 She's watching you intently as you curse out your ex and ramble on about all the things she wasn't meeting the bare minimum with

🤎 It's not until you've been silent for a while, lips no longer moving, that Sevika looks back up to your eyes, the two of you now dangerously close to one another

🤎 "What's wrong? I was listening I swear," she starts to defend herself

🤎 Your pupils are blown, your eyes glassy and your face flushed- whether from the alcohol, your proximity to Sevika, or a combination of both, you were too inebriated to tell

🤎 You reached up, fingers just barely grazing her jaw as you spoke

🤎 "Your face is so....you're beautiful..." you slurred, fingers ghosting over the scars that were etched into the lower left side of her face, trailing down her neck and disappearing underneath the collar of her t-shirt.

🤎 Her ears burned red hot as she just let you talk

🤎 You continued to slur on, but she chalked it all up to you being drunk until you said some words that made her heart beat faster in her chest

🤎 "'M not....s'posed to....I think....I like you...." you whispered as you leaned against her chest

🤎 Had you been a little more sober, you would've noticed the way her heart started to beat out of her chest at your words.

🤎 Actually, had you been a little more sober...you wouldn't have said that, but shhhh....

🤎 You were out like a light afterward

🤎 It wasn't until that night that Sevika started to get worse with hiding her feelings for you

🤎 She was taking you on more...friend dates

🤎 Buying you flowers because she knew you liked them and "I know you don't have anyone to get them for you right now, so..."

🤎 If you have a hobby like reading or maybe art, she's buying you new sketchbooks and supplies or she's getting you the newest editions of your favorites- all signed because hello??? she's that type of bitch fr

🤎 She gets you guys matching bracelets for your birthday after 2 years of friendship- yes, it's been that long now

🤎 Then comes Christmastime

🤎 You talked her a long time ago into doing Secret Santa with the peeps at the shop

🤎 She doesn't really see the hype, not having much experience with Christmas and it's traditions given her rocky relationship with her father, but she does it (only for you though)

🤎 This is the second annual Secret Santa for the shop

🤎 Just your luck, you don't end up getting Sevika like you wanted

🤎 That's okay though because Sevika got you

🤎 And you know she got you because of how much she's suddenly stressing the secret part of Secret Santa

🤎 Last year, she told you who she had gotten immediately, the two of you picking out your gifts for your respective people together and everything

🤎 Not this year

🤎 This year she doesn't tell anyone, not you, not anybody in the shop- and you know it, you asked around about it

🤎 She racking her brain trying to decide what to get you

🤎 Doesn't help that you're starting to render her useless

🤎 You're catching her spacing out while staring at you more often

🤎 She gets this fuzzy feeling and this misty look in her eyes whenever you're around

🤎 You kinda have an idea that she likes you back, you play into it

🤎 6 months ago, you had started returning her actions- buying her little gifts, making her lunch everyday because she'd forgotten one so many times that now she 'doesn't even have to worry about it', you plan a few friend dates yourself, you cuddle up to her more often whenever you two have your annual movie nights every week

🤎 It's all making her think maybe you know, but...last she checked you kinda liked someone

🤎 You hadn't told her who, even though you knew it was her, but in her mind she was competing with whoever this mystery crush was

🤎 She just wants you to look at her the way she looks at you

🤎 Back to Secret Santa though

🤎 The Christmas party is fast approaching and you still have no clue what the hell you're gonna do to figure out what Sevika's gotten you since you know she's your Santa this year

🤎 You've tried begging, bribing, snooping, everything at this point

🤎 She's keeping her lips locked tighter than a chastity belt at this point

🤎 The party is being hosted at Sevika's penthouse this year

🤎 You aren't allowed to help set up

🤎 You are not happy about that fact

🤎 "Relax, sweets...can't have you snooping in the gifts while we put them under the tree. You might accidentally see whatever your Santa got for you," she teased, running her finger playfully down your cheek

🤎 It was a trick. Your gift is in fact not under the tree

🤎 You decide to play her at her own game

🤎 If she wants to flirt and do all of this stuff for you, you'll do a little something for her as well

🤎 Everybody knows Sevika's got a thing for your body

🤎 You two are best friends

🤎 Best friends.

🤎 You know...those best friends that share a bed like they're a married couple

🤎 The touchy ones that make people question if they're actually secretly in a relationship

🤎 She's never shy about grabbing or smacking your ass- I mean you aren't shy about doing the same to her so it's fair

🤎 The two of you will regularly poke each other’s breasts in passing

🤎 Whenever she’s driving you to you guys’ “friend dates”, she has to hold your thigh- will 100% make up some lie that it’s for your safety (“How does you caressing my thigh make me safer, Sev?” “You’re asking too many questions here, sweets. Do you want me to move it?” “.....no.” “Then let’s ride.”)

🤎 So, with all of that known, you decided to show off said body for the party tonight

🤎 You wore a form fitting dress that was advertised as a sexy Mrs. Claus dress

🤎 The soft fabric clung to your body like it was practically painted on, the cute little fur trimmings not helping cover the fact that the hem stopped right at your mid-thigh

🤎 The spaghetti straps and plunging neckline were hidden underneath your dramatic (faux) fur coat

🤎 You topped it all off with a Santa hat and your matching bracelet Sev had gotten you

🤎 Needless to say she wanted nothing more than to see what you had on under that coat when you were the last to arrive to party- a detail you made sure you kept since she refused to let you come over to help with set up for the party

🤎 Her jaw actually dropped when you finally did take your coat off

🤎 You teasingly closed her mouth, smirking almost knowingly at her, “You’ll catch flies, hotshot.”

🤎 She’s flustered all night

🤎 Not only because you seem to be genuinely flirting with her, but because she knows what she has in store for you

Sevika was a bundle of nerves every time you looked up to catch her staring at you. You were drinking a glass of champagne, talking to...someone...she didn’t know, she was too busy looking at you to figure out which of her employees you were fraternizing with at the moment.

The time to exchange gifts couldn’t come any sooner for her.

She had been trying to work up the courage to just tell you that she’s in love with you for weeks now, and you with your games weren’t making it any easier.

You’d take all her gifts with such a grateful smile, throwing your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek, but then the very next day you were talking about your mystery crush again.

You hadn’t said anything to the effect that you didn’t like all the advances she had been making, so she knew you at least felt...something for her...but she needed you to know exactly what she felt for you.

You looked up to catch her looking at you again, throwing her a bright smile before you excused yourself from conversation with Danny and his girlfriend who’s name you forgot the second he’d introduced her, moving across the living room to go talk to her, “Hey you.”

Boy if you could feel the way her heart was pumping and how sweaty her hands were the second you walked up.

It took her a few moments- which you noticed- to find her voice, but she managed to smile back at you, “Hey yourself, Ms. Social butterfly. You’ve talked to everyone already.”

You gave a soft shrug, “I mean, it’s not that hard to talk to them, I do work with them all, save for the people who brought their partners. Besides, I haven’t talked to you yet, hence why I’m over here.”

“Hm, true, true....How come you didn’t bring your little secret crush? Not serious enough for that yet?”

If only you know, huh?

You gave a half-hearted shrug, “It’s...complicated.”

“I see. W-” before she could continue, the alarm on her watch went off, signaling that it was time to exchange gifts.

Seeing as she was hosting this year (you had hosted last year), she was in charge of pulling every gift from under the tree and giving them to whoever’s name was on them, that person then trying to guess who bought their gift.

You didn’t get anything.

There’s no way you couldn’t have been chosen. And no one else had gotten their gift from Sevika.

With everyone else focused on their gifts, she pulled you aside into the kitchen, once again fdgety and nervous, “So...”

“So?”

“About your gift....before I....before I give it to you...I have to say a couple of things....”

“Yeah?”

She looked at you for a few moments, you could see her contemplating in her mind what she wanted to say.

She had spent hours in her mirror rehearsing this moment, yet now that it was here, she couldn’t remember a single word she had wanted to say to you.

She blinked as your hand came up to cup her cheek, “Huh?”

You gave a soft chuckle, stroking your thumb over her skin, “I said what’s wrong? You’ve been acting all weird with me all night. You’re nervous. Just tell me, babes, you know I’ll love whatever it is, especially if it’s from you.”

That did not help her calm down.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking back to you again, “Okay, so...I know that we’ve been really good friends for....a while now....but lately I’ve been thinking and....I....I like you...you’re nice...and you’ve managed to make 2 years feel more like 20...so...what I’m trying to say is that I....I’m-”

Your lips pressing to her cheek in a fleeting kiss cut her off as she stared at you baffled, sputtering.

You giggled again when she couldn’t come up with something to say, pointing above her head, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

She looked up to find herself standing underneath a sprig of mistletoe. Her cheeks flamed red as she looked away, pulling a small box out of the pocket of her slacks, “Here.”

You eyed her for a few seconds before opening the box, gasping softly at the necklace inside.

You knew that necklace anywhere.

She told you about it the first time you slept over at her place.

She had drawn up the design years ago, saying she was going to get it made when she fell in love with a girl.

You were not emotionally prepared for more than a n ‘i like you’ tonight.

Neither was your makeup when you started crying.

She looked up worriedly, “You don’t like it....” she mumbled under her breath, sounding so unbelievably hurt.

“No, Sev....I love it.....I love you.....”

“You do?”

You chuckled through your tears, “Yes, you idiot. Who’d you think my secret crush was? I thought you would’ve gotten it when I said ‘she brought me flowers yesterday’, but instead you brought me an even bigger bouquet the next day as if you weren’t the only person that had gotten me flowers.”

She rolled her eyes, “Look, I just knew that I really, really liked you, and if I had to compete with someone else to show you how I felt, so be it.”

“You’re cute.”

“And you look like a drowned rat, stop crying sweets and let me put the damned thing on for you.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around anyway as she took the dainty necklace to clasp it around your neck. You punched her in the shoulder, “That’s for saying I look like a drowned rat.”

She took the jab in stride, pulling you closer to her as she lifted your chin with her other hand, “You’re the prettiest little drowned rat I’ve ever seen...”

You bit your lip, looking away, “You’re gay.”

“As are you, your point?”

“My poi-”

“Look at me when you talk, sweets.”

She knew what the fuck she was doing.

Even still, you brought your eyes back to hers, your voice soft as you whispered breathily, “I love you...”

“I love you too....”

“So....”

“So?”

“What now?”

She looked back up to the mistletoe above her head, pulling you forward so that it was over you now, “I show you how to actually kiss under the mistletoe.”

Kissing Sevika was instantly your new favorite thing.

She tastes like bourbon and cigar smoke with a hint of cinnamon.

Her hands went straight to your hips, pulling you flush against her, her lips were surprisingly really soft- you had yourself to thank for that for helping her “discover” lip balm- sucking you in and drawing all the air from your lungs.

You had a giddy almost drunken smile as she smirked down at you, “I think that may be my new favorite tradition.”

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr

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athenamikaelson · 2 months

Text

War of Scars - A Luke Castellan Story

PART 1

Thunder Daddy is Real?

Word Count- 3.7k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, gore, fighting, some mature content

“What the actual fuck is a half-blood?”

I scream to Keiko as she grips the steering wheel of the stolen Passat we were now flooring down the vacant back road of New York. Keiko’s short, white-bleached hair stuck up as if she’d just been electrocuted, and a look of concern in her dark eyes as she glanced between both front-view mirrors. I tried to figure out what she was so worried about as I glanced through my passenger seat mirror but was only met with the darkening road. The red cast from the taillights shone a light on the passing forest and trees. The branches from the trees cast shadows over the backroad, a small shiver goes through my back as I imagine that they look like limbs and arms reaching for our car as we drive away. As if begging us not to drive any further. I want to yell to them that I don’t want to go any further either, that I want to go back home. Home to my mother and father, a mother and father that no longer want me I remind myself, and home to my brothers who probably don’t even know I’ve left.

“A half-blood is what you are Y/N.”

Keiko’s words snap my attention back into the car as I turn to her with an annoyed look. I can feel the tips of my nails scratching against the skin of my palms, reading to break the already calloused skin. A nasty habit I picked up a few years ago.

“Ya, that’s what everyone keeps telling me! But that doesn’t answer what the fuck it is!” I can feel the breaking of skin as I dig my nails deeper, trying to ground my feelings and stop another outburst from happening.

“Do you remember all those stories I used to tell you about the Greek Gods and myths?”

Keiko’s eyes briefly meet mine for the first time since I watched her steal this car over 3 hours ago. I think over what she said. The stories about the woman who the goddess Athena turned into a snake lady, and the man who stole fire from the Gods just to give to humans come to mind. I slowly nod my head at her, hoping that this isn’t some psychotic break she’s having because I’m on the verge of having my own right now and this car is already tiny as fuck. Two people freaking the fuck out would not be a good idea.

I watch as Keiko’s chest rises and falls deeply, her ACDC shirt that she had stolen from a lost and found at school stretches at the movement.

“All those stories I told you, about the Gods, Zeus, Posideon, Hades, and all the others,” She turns back to look at me, “they’re all true. And one of them is your biological parent,” Her face scrunches up as she goes back to look at the road, “well technically not biological per se since gods don’t have DNA.”

She goes to continue speaking but stops once I let out a laugh that comes deep from the back of my throat. I watch with scrunched eyes as she stares at me in slight worry I hunch over gripping my stomach as more laughter rises out of my mouth.

“Are you ok?”

Keiko’s worried voice comes from beside me and I sit up and wipe stray tears from my eyes.

“Am I alright? I should be the one asking you that question, you’re the one saying that the almighty thunder daddy Zeus is real, and then saying that one of his buddies is my parent.”

Keiko’s face scrunches up in disgust and she casts a glance to the star-covered sky for some reason.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that, the Gods don’t like to be disrespected.”

Her worried expression halts my jokes as I stare at the now serious face in front of mine. Keiko has never been the one in this friendship to care about following the rules or being scared of anything, she’s the fearless one. So why the hell does she look terrified at the talk of a bunch of fictional deities?

“Ok, Kio the joke was funny for the first five minutes but I want the truth now. Why did my parents kick me out after saying I’m not theirs and that you’d know what to do?”

I try to cover up the slight break in my voice at the mention of my parents, or adopted parents I guess, telling me that after 18 years I wasn’t theirs. Flashes of my caring mother holding me when I was a child telling me that I was a gift to her, that she would never let anything happen to me. Was all of that some sick lie?

“Y/N listen to me,” Keiko catches my attention, “I’m not lying to you. Your mother or father is a god. A Greek god. Which makes you a half-blood, half mortal half god. And because of this, it means being out here in the mortal world is going to get you killed. I was sent here, as your satyr to protect you until the time came where I’d take you to camp. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long for the monsters to catch up to you, most of the time half-bloods are brought to camp around 12. But you being 18 brings up some questions. I think your parent is a smaller god that’s why there hasn't been much focus on you.”

I can feel my mouth start to dry up from the air entering my now-opened mouth. I’ve been staring at Keiko with wide eyes the entire time she's been going on about gods and death and shit. She must have noticed my lack of response because she stopped talking and looked at me. Her serious expression brings a wave of anger through my system which is the final breaking point for the palms as my nails break skin and a warm liquid coats my nails.

“Stop the car.”

Three words are all I say to her as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“What?”

I turn to Keiko, my teeth grinding against one another.

“Stop the goddamn car. I’m done being lied to. My parents have lied to me my entire life and now my so-called best friend is making fun of my shitty life with made-up fairytales. So stop the fucking car or I’ll jump out myself.”

“I’m not stopping, we can’t if we want to make it to camp as soon as possible. And we’re going,” Keiko glances at the speedometer, “64 miles per hour. If you jump out of the car now you’ll die.”

I look out of the forest and think of all that has happened in the past 12 hours.

“It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’d rather be mangled and dead than sit in this car with you, driving to god knows where, while you tell me a bunch of lies.”

I hear a deep sigh come from Keiko and wait a moment to hear whatever bullshit she’s about to start spewing at me but it never comes. Instead, I feel the car start to accelerate, and a few words in an unknown language spill from her mouth.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

Keiko’s voice comes out harsh and deadly as I watch her grip the worn steering wheel. Her frantic gaze moves from the back of us to the dark road ahead.

“I’m not putting my seatbelt on, just stop the car already.”

I try to argue back at her but she just lets out a huff of air and reaches over the center console of the car, grabs my seatbelt, and snaps it back into place. I watch her with wide eyes at the fucking audacity of the bitch. I go to yell at her but she raises a single finger at me, just like a mother who’s had enough of her child talking would.

“We’re being followed.”

Her dark eyes move frantically all over the place as if she sees something I don’t. Ok, maybe she is losing her mind. Fuck now I feel like an asshole.

“Listen Keiko maybe we should just take some deep breaths and talk this through. Cause it seems like right now some of us are going a bit crazy. And by some of us, I don’t mean me.”

I lightly raise a finger and point at her. I go to laugh at my joke but the car jolts forward as if we’d just got rear-ended.

“What the-”

“It’s right there shit!”

Keiko slams her leg onto the gas pedal but it doesn’t seem to do much help as another hit comes from behind us. My long legs bang against the dash of the car as I look behind us trying to figure out what asshat doesn’t know how to drive, but I freeze when I see nothing there. No headlights, no cars, nothing. We’re the only ones on the road.

“There you see it! You see I’m not lying! I can’t tell what creature it is but it’s big and has wings so that crosses out giants, thankfully.”

Kieko glances between the front and me and her face falls once she reads my features.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? There is nothing there.”

I turn to the back of the car and point to the vacant road behind us. Keiko turns around and her eyebrows raise.

“No, it was right there.”

But as she turns back around to face the front, I jump from the loud yelp that escapes her lips as she appears to see something before us on the road. Something I can’t seem to see. What I don’t see coming either is the tight right turn Keiko makes to miss the invisible “creature.” I grasped onto the passenger side door and turned wide-eyed to her. About to yell at her when the driver’s side of the car is lifted and I feel my heart fall to my ass as I watch the trees that were once reaching and calling for me, get their wish as the car is thrown into the woods.

“Y/N, come wake up, Y/N!”

I hear muffled voices come from above me as cold winds envelop me. I must be in heaven, God must be calling for me. I try to open my eyes but the overwhelming pressure in my head urges me to keep them closed for just five more minutes. I’m about to give in to the thought when a sharp pressure hits the side of my cheek, shocking me awake.

I abruptly sit up but quickly regret it when a pounding pain comes from every part of my body. My eyes can’t seem to register my dark surroundings either as more pain enters my frontal lobe.

“I’m sorry I did that but I need you to get up, I don’t know where the chimera is, but I can feel it’s close.”

Kieko, that’s Kieko. My brain tries to get me to register her words but the throbbing in my head is halting any thought process from going on. Another wave of red pain goes through my body as I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist and lift me.

“Do you think you can walk?”

A voice asks me. No, not a voice, Kieko’s voice. Kieko is talking to me. I try to shake my head as if to fight away the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and lay down and sleep for the foreseen future.

“Get up and walk”.

A voice comes into my head. Why does my subconscious sound so manly and bossy? But I listen to it as I feel my feet try to move one after the other. The overwhelming pressure coming from my entire body though makes it feel as if I’m dragging two cinderblocks on each leg.

“OK, good. We’re about a mile from camp I think if I got my constellations correct.”

I finally can get my eyes open as I stare at Kieko beside me. If I wasn’t feeling like absolute dogshit right now I’d laugh at the image of her short body leaning awkwardly to the side trying to carry my taller one. I try to lean off of her slightly to give her help but her grip tightens on me.

“Don’t, you got banged up pretty hard in the accident. I thought I had lost you for a moment there, but it was my mistake for thinking you’d ever let death take you this young or without your approval.”

Kieko lets out a small laugh which quickly turns into a cough as she winces in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out strained and rough, like an old woman who’s been smoking since she was 13 years old. Kieko just shakes her head and picks up the pace of her walking.

“Just a few scratches, nothing as bad as you. We need to move faster though I can sense the chimera getting closer. The smell of your blood is making it easier for it to track us.”

My face scrunches up at the words. I want to argue to her that there’s no creature out there hunting us and that she is just having a psychotic break but once I feel the cold metallic-smelling liquid move down my face as if it was caressing it, I stay quiet.

We continue to walk for what seems like hours, or well Kieko walks and I latch on to her and get dragged. I don’t know where the hell she’s going but I have no other choice but to go with her. I lurch forward as Kieko abruptly stops. Her heading whipped around us like a mad woman.

“Did you hear that?”

She whispers into my ear. I shake my head in response. And we stand there for a moment before she tightens her hold on me and starts to walk again. Her hand around my waist quickly detaches and I can only watch in what seems like slow motion as she is thrown against a neighboring tree. A sickening crack comes from her body as I watch it fall to the ground. I go to run to her a roar turns my attention to behind me. I can feel my heart beat erratically as I slowly turn to the monstrous being behind me. With a body that must stand above 10 feet tall, a lion stands before me. Wait. No. Not a lion. Defiantly not a lion.

Acidic bile starts to make its way up my throat as my eyes meet the red beady eyes of a goat, a goat that is protruding from the lion's back. A hissing sound catches my attention as I slowly turn my gaze to the python that has replaced the lion goat’s tail.

As I stare at the creature I want to pass out. Or maybe I’m already asleep and this is some bad nightmare. But as the lion-goat-snake thing takes a step toward me, with its paws that rival the size of my big head I use whatever strength I have left and run. If I can lead it away from Kieko that's all that matters.

I don’t have to worry about it not following me as I hear the thundering footsteps catch up behind me. I try to dodge tree after tree, jumping over fallen logs, and feel my sneakers imprint into the mud that has started to form from the light downfall of rain that has started to coat myself and the forest.

I go to turn right, the downpour of the rain falling harder and blocking much of my already shitty vision. But a burst of heat and flames come from behind me hitting the trees to my right. I whip my head around to see smoke coming from the lion-goat-snake thing and curse to myself. Of course, it can breathe fire too. I try to go to my left but a searing pain catches on my back as I drop to the ground.

I lift myself on my elbows as I watch the monster lift its large paw and lick the red liquid off of its nails as if it were mocking me. Its eyes glint with malice as the goat lets out a strangled noise.

“We’re a gift from Athena.”

A strangled hiss comes from the snake's mouth.

I go to close my eyes and just accept my fate but stop when my manly subconscious chimes in again.

“Get up and fight, you’re a warrior. Grab the stick next to you and fight back. Make it bleed. If it can bleed it can be killed.”

God, when did I become so melodramatic? But I realize manly me is right, if I die this thing will go back for Keiko. The monster continues its prowl toward me as I keep eye contact with it. Hoping it doesn’t see my right hand that has grasped onto the stick by my side. I wait until the lion opens its mouth, probably to light me on fucking fire and that’s when I strike.

I lift myself onto my knees and lurch forward with the stick in my hand and as the lion opens its ginormous mouth and I see the start of embers begin to light in its throat I stab the stick right down into it. I loud howl of pain comes from the creature as it tries to dislodge the stick that is now protruding from its mouth. I watch for another moment as the goat and the snake move around frantically trying to help their injured creature. But I know if they do succeed in getting that out I’m fucked so I push myself up with a hiss. The overwhelming smell of blood coming from my back, the more I move the harsher the pull and pain. But I'm not letting the ugly motherfucker be my demise.

I come up from behind the creature, which is now facing away from me with its entire focus on dislodging the stick, and I leap onto its back. The goat and the snake are the only ones to notice my arrival as they start hissing and making whatever strange noise the goat is making. I grab onto the fur of the creature to keep myself upright and I grasp the snake into my hands. It thrashes in my hands, its cool slimy body almost making me drop it as I try to wrap the snake around the goat's throat. I pull in the opposite direction with all my weight as the hissing constricts until I hear the crack of the goat's neck. The strangled snake and the now dead goat have caught the attention of the lion who has finally dislodged the stick and has now noticed me.

The lion roars so deeply that it makes my body shake. I would almost feel bad for killing its friends/body sharers if it wasn’t trying to y’know fucking kill me. The lion stands to its full height and starts to thrash its body as a means to get me off. I quickly grasp the curled horns of the goat as a means of stabilization. But as the thrashing gets harsher I hear a sharp snap as I’m thrown against yet another tree.

Bark scratches up my already bloody back as I let out a loud wail. The rain from before crashing down all around me thunder shakes the earth and forest and lightning strikes a nearby tree. But my attention is fully on the lion who has now started its attack on me. I can sit there as I lift my hands to protect my face as the lion comes rushing at me.

I sit there drenched, cold, and bloody waiting for my demise, but nothing comes. I slowly open one eye and flinch as I see the lion staring at me. But it’s not moving. It’s not breathing either. Its once hatred-filled eyes are now glossed over with death. My gaze goes from its haunting eyes to its chest where the goat horn I had cracked off is now lodged into the lion's heart. Red liquid coated my hands as I loosened my grip on the horn and backed away from the dead creature.

“How did you do that?”

I thrash my head to the side grabbing the horn a second time in defense. I halt though when I see Keiko holding herself up against a tree. Blood trickles down her whitening skin as she looks at the monster in awe and slight disgust. She pushes off the tree and starts to walk to me but her knees lock up and she falls to the ground. I push myself back up quickly and crawl to her.

“Are you ok?”

I quickly ask her, wiping away the blood that has now made its way onto her eyebrows. Keiko sends me an unreadable look.

“How did you kill the Chimera?”

I go to answer, but a shock of lightning comes down between us. The only thing I can focus on is the scorching pain that has taken over my body and left arm. My vision goes black as I feel my heart start to give out.

“We need a medic.” A strained voice yells from beside me. Or is it coming from behind me? I can’t tell. All I can focus on is the searing pain that has taken over my being, I can’t seem to focus on the campers running over to me and Kieko, I can’t hear any more of Keiko's cries for help, and I don’t feel the muscular arms wrap around my body as I feel my heart start to slow down again, everything going back to dark.

“I think she’s waking up!”

A loud girlish voice comes from beside me.

“That’s what you said two days ago.”

Another more annoyed voice talks back. I strain to open my eyes as light crashes against my burning pupils. But I do I open them enough to look up to see dark brown eyes staring down at my Y/E/C ones.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Sleeping Beauty.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #pjo #percy jackson #camp half blood #percy series #author #athenamikaelson #percy jackson tv show

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inklore · 8 months

Text

garage rooftop

premise: the lines of friendship or something more grow more blurry the longer your eyes move from each mole, his cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. and you really don't understand why the two of you hadn't become something more ages ago.

pairing: ben solo x (f)reader

word count: 1k

contents: college au, fluff like this is nothing but fluff with one sexual innuendo and that's it, friends to lovers, quick mention of han being a lackluster dad sorry it's for the plot.

note: let's ignore that i actually wrote this back in april and just never got around to editing it but now that i'm in my driver era i had to come back to it. the title is from this song that i highly rec listening to while reading <3

The way his face morphs into something that was once joyful and silly—the blissed high that paints your cheeks red from laughing too hard over being overheated from how weightless it feels to be laying on the roof of your apartment building. The space decked out with rugs, blankets, and cushions from past and current tenants, mostly college kids like yourselves.

Making it the perfect place to get high and look up at the sky at night. The city lights outshine the stars, but the clouds—and the strain of ganja Poe recently snagged from his dealer—give the same ethereal effect.

“Why haven’t we ever...”

“Ever what, Solo? Dated?” There’s a pause between your words, and a slow, sly smirk moves across your lips as you look over at him. “Fucked?”

The blush painting his cheeks quickly moves down to his neck as he shakes his head in laughter, biting his lower lip to hide whatever feelings are currently making him look like a shy schoolboy—something he was far from.

It’s the “both. Why haven’t we done any of it?” That makes you both fall silent. That makes the joyfulness fade and something else fill the air the longer the silence spreads between the two of you.

And it’s not the weirdest question or the wildest thing that’s come out of either of your mouths.

It’s a question that makes you wonder, why? Seriously why? With the longer you stare at him, the more you take in the nervous tick of his chiseled jaw. The way his dark hair falls into his face each time he laughs and he has to continuously push it out of his eyes. How the crook of his nose looks oddly kissable and more attractive than you’ve noticed it before when it’s this close to your face.

When the haze from the weed is making your body feel limitless and swoony.

It’s a feeling that has you turning on your side. Putting a hand under your head shifts your body closer to Ben’s. Smiling when he doesn’t act phased in mirroring you, his body moving in the same motions and position as yours. Now putting the two of you so close that you can feel his breath hit your face, and the space between your legs barely exists without some part of him touching it.

The two of you had been friends for forever, it seemed. Stuck in the woes of academia, making your parents proud does that to you. Makes you lose track of time and forget how the two of you became friends after getting into an argument over a Hamlet book in the library.

A fight Finn quickly broke up, but Poe enthusiastically cheered on.

The lot of you—Rose and Rey included—became inseparable after that day. Something that didn’t have a timestamp or expiration in your mind. It just happened.

And now you have four best friends, and you’re coming to the conclusion that you’ve possibly liked one more than that. The lines of friendship or something more growing more and more blurry the longer your eyes moved from each mole, each scar, and each strand of hair. His cheek bones, his dark eyes, his lips. And you really don't understand why the two of you hadn’t become something more ages ago.

“Have you wanted to?”

“The fact that you’re asking me tells me that you’ve never noticed. I’m not that subtle.”

“Nose stuck in a book at all times, Ben, not subtle?” You make a sarcastic face, “yeah, who would ever think you’re subtle?”

His knee nudges your thigh as his cheeks rise in that smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. “You think I’d let Poe or Rey borrow my stuff? Steal my takeout from the fridge—which I know you do—without consequence?”

“In their defense, Poe and Rey have three late library books from two years ago and only you and I like the takeout you get from the bodega on the corner, so…it’s not really a fair asses-”

The squeal that comes from his fingers digging into your sides, pinching the skin at your hip and rib bones, fills the air and knocks the wind out of you all at the same time as you realize the position the two of you have wrestled yourselves in.

Strands of dark hair moving against your forehead, your fingers instinctively reach up to brush the strands from both of your faces. Ben’s lips so close to yours that all it would take is a heavy breath and you’d be kissing. The relaxing rhythm of your heart now feeling like a hammer in your chest.

Ben’s fingers run along your jawline, resting at your chin.

“What if we did?” He asks. Searches your face for any reaction or indication that the subject should be changed. That he should stop asking, and the two of you should move away and pretend like this never happened. Go back to how things were—which was clearly not subtle and most definitely screaming ‘I’m in love with my best friend’.

“Why have you never asked until now?” You answer with a question.

“Losing my best friend is not the traumatic life experience I’d like to put on my resume beside divorced parents and an absent father.” He jokes, his smile playful, as the pad of his thumb draws small circles against the skin of your jaw.

“No wonder you’re unemployed.” The two of you laugh, breaths mingling in the joys of this moment. Of the jokes that come easy and the touches that seem to come even easier. But then there's silence, and you’re leaning closer to him, a feathering touch of your lips against his as you murmur, “maybe you should stop being so afraid, Ben Solo. And have me.”

And if you’ve ever felt like there was something missing—some cataclysmic event in your life that could rewire your nervous system and make you feel like you’ve been barely making it, your heart barely beating and keeping you alive: Ben’s mouth is the puzzle piece as he brings your mouths together in a bruising kiss.

#ben solo x reader #ben solo fluff #ben solo x y/n #ben solo imagine #adam driver fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo x you #adam driver x reader #star wars fanfiction #ben solo #ben solo one shot #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fluff #ben solo fic #kylo ren x reader

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suckondescoconuts · 11 months

Text

Sᴀɴᴇᴍɪ Sʜɪɴᴀᴢᴜɢᴀᴡᴀ༄

𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝

𐦐ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕖𐦐

When I first saw this man, I was in love, UNTIL I saw him in the anime being a total dick head to Tanjiro and Nezuko. That doesn't mean I hate him it just means he's not my top favorite.

I think Genya is above him (damn).

Ok going through, he's not gentle nor is he going to hurt you either, he definitely has a soft side. It might take a while to get to that soft side from him because he doesn't know how to express it.

He likes doing it from behind, but he also likes seeing your face, so beware there might be a mirror in front of y'all when you guys do it and or he's going to pull your hair to look directly at him. Likes showing off his scars too, even likes it more when you trace yours fingers on top of them.

Yes, he's a loving partner, but that doesn't mean he's not going to degrade you in bed.

Doesn't like physical affection out in the open only in the private of your home, but if he must, he will wrap his arms around you and kiss you on the lips to show that you are his.

Gets jealous easily so watch out or he'll literally, I mean LITERALLY kill that person that's flirting with you.

I think I found our tsundere over here lol.

Spanking, biting, pulling.

I think he's worst than his brother.

Laughs and makes fun of you if you squirt. He also then smirks at you with those damn eyes of his and demands for you to do that again.

And like his brother, he praises himself for making you do that with only his body.

I thought Genya was bad on the dirty talking, but look at his brother.

Now that I think of it, I don't think Genya is the type to make you cry (sorry I was wrong that part) Sanemi took that title, but the bruising your ass and pussy making it hurt in the morning is both of them.

When y'all are done, I'm warning you, your cervix is throbbing in pain from his rough thrusting.

And like I keep sayin HES WORST THAN HIS BROTHER.

But he'll still praises you for you taking him so well.

Peppers your face with kisses and rub your stomach from the aching feeling that he conflicted on it doing to your intercourse. Loving man at the end.

𐦐𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖𐦐

Things weren't going so well for you today.

When you and Sanemi went out to get somethings from the market, a man showed up and started to compliment you, well that's what you thought was going on. Sanemi on the other hand thought this man was flirting with you and tried to kill the man. You had to restrain him away from the poor guy and restore him that he was over reacting, he didn't like that and said to you that you were in trouble when y'all got home.

He turned around and started to walk the path towards the house. You followed behind trying to convince him you did nothing wrong.

"Sanemi calm down your causing a ruckus for no absolutely reason and I did nothing wrong!"

Sanemi stopped in his track and thrashed his head around to look at you over his shoulder, he had given you a death stare before looking back forward and started to continue his walking.

When the house came in view he opened the door, he stopped again and turn towards you to give you a direction.

"Go to the bedroom and strip all your clothes off. Now."

"Nemi"

"You heard me, go do as I say."

You did.

Sanemi came into the room with his shoes off and stared at your naked body. He walked towards you and spanked your ass, you squeak at the contact of his hand to your ass.

"Your a slut you know that." He whispered into your ear.

"I want you to strip my clothes off one by one while you stare at me with those beady eyes of yours."

You turned around looking at him into his eyes and started to take his shirt off, you went down on your knee to unbuckle his belt before pulling his pants down to his ankle. His lifted foot off the floor and kicked his pants to somewhere in the room. His underwear was the only thing left to be seen. Lifting up your hand you gripped his underwear and pulled them down again to his ankle and again he kicked them off to the side.

You brought your hand up to his dick and grabbed it, massaging it up and down while you started to kitty lick the tip, but before you can do anything else Sanemi tangled his hand into your hair and pulled your hair roughly to look at him into his eyes.

"We won't be doing that today, I need to punish you and doing that would be a reward for you."

And with that he stepped back and laid down onto the ground, folding his arms to lay his head onto.

"What are you waiting for, get up and ride my dick you fuckin whore."

You did what told and sat on top of him, but on his stomach not his dick yet. You took your hand out and grabbed the penis that was behind you and brought it up to your pussy lips.

You slammed your hips down until all of him was inside you and moaned at the delight feeling of him.

"Sanemi~"

You laid your arms on his chest and started to move your hips up and down.

"Go faster."

"I'm try-ing my best here."

"Well your not doing enough."

Then he wrapped his hands around your hips and lifted his own hips up, thrusting into you in a fast pace hitting your cervix with so much force your surprise you haven't fallen off of him yet probably from his gripping your hips.

𐦐𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𐦐 < —— press here for Twitter link

"Ahh fuck Sanemi!"

"Yeah you like that slut."

Then his hand was brought down onto your ass again, spanking you multiple times in a row.

"Omg, omg, omg, I think imma about to cum!"

"Yes, yes, cum all over my dick baby."

Then you did, it was the hardest cum you ever had in your life and Sanemi came right after you, he pulled out and came all over your ass and some on the lower end of your back.

You guys had a little breather before Sanemi laid his hand on you back rubbing it and kiss the top of your crown lovingly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, god that was the hardest cum that ever left my body."

He started to laugh really hard and loud and then looked at you into you eyes.

"Really, damn, that means I'm really good at it then." He said smirking right atcha.

𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂'𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓾𝔂𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓰 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓑𝓨𝓔

P.S. follow me on Wattpad, my name is @Ava873703, I post there more new stories then here

#kyn #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #sanemi shinaguzawa #kimetsu sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #sanemi smut #sanemi x y/n #suckondescoconuts #twt links #twitter links

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mxlktxa · 1 year

Text

do what you know is right

🍓☽。･:*:･ pairing; abby anderson x f!reader c/w; language, arguments, suggestive content a/n; this isnt anything too serious just some fluff 🍓☽。･:*:･

My mind raced as I thought about those two children Abby made us leave behind. Were they okay? Why did we have to leave them? They may have been our enemy, but they were just kids!

My bag had been packed since early morning, knowing that I would most likely set out on my own to get them back. I just knew Abby wouldn't even think twice about going back for them and there was most likely no convincing her either. I glanced back at her as she slept behind me, chest rising and falling.

"I'm sorry, Abs," I whispered in her direction, walking over to kiss her forehead. Her lips softly morphed into a little smile, barely noticeable though.

I walked back to the couch that I had my things on, picking up my backpack and setting it on my shoulders comfortably, glancing at Abby one last time.

Maybe I should tell Owen before I leave, so she doesn't worry about me.

"Why're you up so early?"

Speak of the devil. I turned to the doorway, meeting Owen's eyes as he scanned my posture and pointed at my backpack, "you got somewhere to be?"

"Uh- I-. Sort of?" I muttered, shrugging my shoulders, "I need to go check a small area really quick. I think I dropped something important somewhere. I need it back immediately."

Owen furrowed his brows, shuffling into the room and tilting his head, "I know when you're lying, Y/N. You do that thing with your eyes and pout a little too. We may not be close but you're easy to read," Owen huffed, sitting at the table in front of me and clasping his hands together.

We stared at each other in silence, my eyes wandering around the room, chest ready to burst at the slightest inhale I could take. I threw my head back, groaning, "listen, man. Abby and I came across these two kids and I need to go back for them or else I'm going to explode and die from the guilt that's building up." I sputtered, leaning forward like a pleading child who was too scared to explain themselves.

"Jesus, fu-, no, Y/N, no."

"Owen, please! I need to get them! They're going to die out there by themselves!"

"You just want to play the mother role for those kids. You're not risking your life for something like this."

"Owen, they're kids!" I whined, balling my hands up and trying my best to keep my voice down. I was on the verge of tears, ready to get on my hands and knees to beg Owen to let me out and tell Abby that I would be safe, "Owen, they need someone to protect-"

"Why are you bending backwards for those fucking kids, Y/N? They're probably dead already anyways. Get over it, get over them. You can't be the mother they need," Owen towered over me, one hand balled up into a fist and the other resting on my shoulder.

"Get away from her, Owen," Abby demanded. We both glanced to Abby, Owen seemingly ready to shit himself even with the brave façade he acted with and I trudged over to her, dropping to my knees instantly.

"Abby, we have to go after them. They couldn't have gone far. I need to know they're okay. I'll do anything, Abby, anything," I pleaded, lowering my head into her lap to hide the tears that were falling down.

"Owen... Give us a minute," Abby sighed, her hand resting on the back of my head and stroking my hair a bit. The door shut roughly, causing me to immediately pick up my head and continue my begging with just my eyes, "Y/N. They're Scars."

"Yes, Abby, I know, but you know where I stand when it comes to children. I can't just leave them out there. The girl, she has a broken arm. The bone is shattered, it won't heal whatsoever, and that little boy might not be capable of protecting himself and his sister."

"Baby-"

"Abby, I'm begging you!" I yelled, grabbing a fistful of her shirt in either hand, absolutely a wreck now, "they're just kids, I can't do this. I know you feel guilty too. Do what you know is right, Abby."

"Then we'll go get them," she gave in. She really gave in. A smile replaced my frown, eyes almost instantly dry, "we can go and get them but if they betray us, you have to discipline them."

"I know. I know, thank you, I know," I smiled, lifting myself up to straddle the woman in front of me and plant kisses on her lips and throw my arms around her shoulders to hug her.

Her hands gripped my waist, hips moving as if to want to fuck into me, and a smile forming into our kiss. Abby drew out some grunts, now roughly kneading my body like dough.

"I'd give you the world if I could. And if it were in better condition."

"I wouldn't want the world. I would want you and those kids. A nice home, a dog. I just want us to be happy in a perfect world," I giggled, slightly sighing at how Abby kept grinding her hips against my own, "now quit that and let's go get those kids. We can have our fun, later on. I promise."

"Of course," she nodded, giving me one last smooch before letting me leap off, "help me get my things together and we can leave, okay?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," I grinned, going around the room to pack her bag.

"Thank you, Abby. Thank you."

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georgiapeach30513 · 7 months

Text

Down On Your Knees, Part 2

Summary: Time to be cleansed

Pairings: Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, sacrilegious, sin, mentions of dub con, mentions of self harm, depictions of mental break, unprotected sex, PIV sex, voyeurism, implied corruption in the church, sinister elements, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Masterlist

You stare out the window of your room, watching as everyone disburses from the service. You’re far enough back from the window, so most won’t notice you. You’re hiding. Even your mother only gives the tiniest glance behind her back. You swear you could see her smirking. Bitch. May she rot in hell.

You hoped that all the saints and angels cast their fiery gaze at her. They never do. It had been weeks of this misery. Five months since that night. Jax was an odd one. He was either getting too close to you, or running away from you. You’d never felt more alone. Running your hand down your bump, you look at your stomach. Not entirely alone anymore.

“Princess,” he is the only one that continues to call you that. He was odd, but that name was such a comfort. You turn to the side, looking at him as your hand runs over the swell of your stomach. “The baby is getting bigger.”

“Isn’t that what happens,” you answer, spinning fully around to walk to him. “What is my personal lesson today?”

“How to clean,” your face falls flat as you look at him. He had to be joking, but he wasn’t. “I need to set something up for,” Jax hated saying his name. Hated the way that his stomach bubbled and rolled just thinking about him coming here to see you. Had even told Jax that the bastard had to go.

“Oh. Him,” you could tell his presence sickened Jax, and you weren’t entirely sure. You were told he was interested. And didn’t care that you or your name was sullied.. “What are we setting up?”

“He wants to have a prayer with you. He’s asked that you set up a special altar,” Jax leads the way down the winding staircase, and you just listen. You aren’t even sure you wanted to leave the church. Well, once you could actually be seen out in public it might not be so bad. This place has become your home. Your own sanctuary. There was a safety in these walls.

“What kind of an altar?” You turn to look towards Jax, and when his icy cold eyes look at you, you have to look away quickly. Missing his grin as he watches you become uncomfortable.

“One to cleanse you. You are no longer pure. I — I’m sorry for being so blunt. He wants you to reclaim your innocence,” he stops in the sanctuary, turning to look at him. That is impossible. What is done, is done.

“I’m not sure I follow, Jax. I was used. I fought, and I failed. I carry my shame in my stomach, but he walks around freely,” Jax shrugs, tilting his head. “What is your worst sin?”

“I’d rather not say,” they never wanted to say. They acted like what happened to you was your fault. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had no one there to save you. Men could hide their sins, while women carried the sins of man around in their stomach. “I can show you how I paid for them. Would you want to see,” you give him a single nod, and he starts removing his shirt.

Twisting your body around, you hate the pull of needing to see what Jax was hiding underneath his clothes. It was improper for a lady to see a man is such undress, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Peeking over your shoulder, you gasp as you view the striped scarring on his back. Healed red welts all across his skin. His pain is something you can feel in your own body. “Jax, these weren’t properly tended to.”

He grits his teeth as your dainty fingers rub over the scars. Whispering a silent prayer as you run your fingers over the marred skin. He was even more beautiful like this. Vulnerable. And sexy. “How long ago?”

“Five months,” he grabs his top, leaving the robes laying on the pew, but covers himself with his shirt. His muscles ripples as he pulls the shirt over himself, and you hate it. You would have liked to continue to gaze upon his body like the mystery he was. Only barely, leaving the buttons undone.

“I lost control,” he answers softly. Jax refuses to look at you, remaining his eyesight on the floor.

“How?” It wasn’t so very different than things are now. You were the epitome of lust to him. He was failing his personal test having you there. Everything about you. The way your lips puckered out when you were confused. Or if you had a question you were afraid to ask, your tongue would dart out of your mouth to lick your lips. Your dresses hang on your curves so very differently now. It left nothing to imagination. As they formed to your growing body.

The dresses cling to your skin, and even with your baby growing, he had never seen anything more beautiful. You carried yourself so well despite all that was going on. You kept your anger and hatred under control. Said your prayers. He saw you. He had to peek in on your to see how your were fairing here at the church.

“How did you lose control?” You interrupt his train of thought, and he finally looks up at you.

“I let someone…I — remember our conversations about someone else controlling us?” You nod your head. His eyes drift down your front, watching your chest heave with the deep breaths you are taking. Pretty soon your chest wouldn’t fit in your dresses. You’d have to have new ones, or your tits would be spilling out.

“I have let people control me.”

“Through your thoughts, or is this a political thing? Often people in power can corrupt the good ones. You allow them in, and you can’t say no. The crown has lots of power Jax,” his light up and he nods his head erratically.

“Exactly!” His voice echoes in the sanctuary. He reaches for your hand, and grazes over your bump. He would make any excuse to touch you. “Exactly. These people…”

“My family,” you pull your hand from his, but drag it to your bump. Letting his hand lay flat on it, and Jax’s fingers splay out wide. Moving around your stomach, until he feels a kick. “Look how they controlled me because of this.”

“He’s a miracle,” you look up at Jax, but his eyes are only on your stomach. His other hand presses against the area. Smoothing around, and even dips too low. He wanted to feel every bit of your baby’s home.

“What did you say?” You question, and his eyes go out of focus as he thinks about the future of your baby. He was bred to perfection. Of purity and also the depths of sin. A divine plan was in emotion, and your miracle had set it off.

“Imagine the power. One time, and it took,” his hand gives the baby a little squeeze, reveling in the way the babe reacts to his movements.

“Jax, you’re scaring me.”

“He’s a miracle. This baby could save us all,” you aren’t even sure what that means. How could a baby born into sin save anyone? It had changed and destroyed your life in ways that you couldn’t fully fathom.

“From what?” You didn’t understand. He was talking oddly. “What can the baby save us from?”

“Them,” he looks up at you with wild eyes. “All of them. He’s not a bastard, he’s a miracle. And,” his hand moves too low on your body, cupping your mound, and you step back a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m…” why did you look so beautiful when swollen? Why was it taking everything in him to keep you pushed away?

“How do I cleanse myself?”

“Princess…”

“How do I take a man?” Jax gulps as he stares up at you. “A man took me, but how do I take my own?” You hoped he understood what you were talking about. You didn’t want to fiddle around with some stupid special altar. If you were to be used up, you should at least get to decide who had a part of you. You wanted to cleanse yourself. Not have some man believe that he could take away what was done. It happened, and you wanted that control back.

You bite at your lip before you turn to walk away. “Princess, you haven’t…the altar.”

“I won’t get a choice anyways. It won’t change. You prepare the altar. I’m going back upstairs. If he wants me used, what is another man? What better way than to use a holy man to cleanse me. If it’s not you, maybe there’s another?”

Jax walks over to a box of items before setting them up, just as strategically as he was told to. Laying each item down, and then steps back away from the altar. It would be there, in front of all the saints, and the eyes of God. They would be the witnesses as you are claimed for something even more. Greater than anyone could imagine.

Looking around the church, he takes stock of every statue, even symbolic figure, and has to clench his eyes closed as pain rushes into his head. The slithery voice he’d been pushing out of his mind blares inside of him. It was wrong. He couldn’t take any more.

Cleanse.

That wasn’t how you cleansed someone. You couldn’t change the past.

Cleanse.

He was just as filthy on the inside as you were. The only one innocent was the baby in your belly.

Cleanse!

Like a zombie Jax begins his ascension up the stairs. Mechanical and stiff movements. But instead of heading towards your room, he turns towards his. He wasn’t going to be told what to do. He had to prove himself worthy. He wasn’t some ordinary man. He was…

“Father Jackson,” you smile at him, dabbing a bit of the minty oil behind your ear. Your dress was gone, and you only had your undergarments on. Your belly is even more prominent when it is bare. “Peppermint has made me sick since that night five months ago. But oddly enough, I was told it would help with sickness. It does. The smell is oddly comforting now. I think the baby likes it.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Did you know you have a perfect view of where it happened?” Your hand rubs over your bump as you look out the window. Giving your baby’s home a few gentle squeezes with your fingers as you turn to look at him. “Cleanse me.”

“How?” Jax knew what you were implying, but you had to ask. He wasn’t going to assume anything.

“I know you want me,” he shakes his head no, but you pick up his hand, placing it on your breast. “I see you looking. Hear you behind me, smelling my hair. The larger my bump becomes, the harder it is for you to look away.”

“In your tragedy there is beauty.”

“Make love to me,” even though Jax shakes his head, his hand cups your breast. Kneading the sensitive area until your pebbled peaks push through the thing cotton. His thumb rubs over your nipple, and he stares intently as it hardens under him. “I’m making this choice on my own. Fuck me.”

His soft touch turns hard as he pinches your nipple. His other hand slaps across your face, and he looks up at you snarling. “That’s what he did. He fucked me. He made sure that I could feel him long after the deed was done. Did it so well, I still feel him five months later. My punishment is the baby growing in my belly. What is yours?”

“You wretched little witch,” he drags you over to his bed. Sitting you on your knees, and he lifts up your skirt. You weren’t going to accuse him of something he wasn’t sure he even did. “You’re…wetter,” he says as his hand runs over your puffy folds. His eyes roll in the back of his head with how wet you are. Receptive. Reactive. Different.

“I want this Father. Cleanse me.”

“This isn’t…this isn’t cleansing.”

“I am telling you that I want you inside of me. This is what I want. I’m giving you what you want. The best way to fight temptation is to just give into it. You shouldn’t fight anything,” your logic was skewed, but your cunt was practically dripping in wait. You give your ass a little wiggle as you stare behind you.

“Please, Father. I’m on my knees, praying and begging that you take what was stolen,” he closes his eyes as he pushes two fingers into your drenched core, and you whimper. Keeping your eyes on him.

“You’re…this is a sin.”

“There are worse sins. This is what we want. I’m telling you, I want this. You have my permission,” you gasp. Jax slowly undoes his pants. Keeping your eyes looking at his member. He was aching. Denying, while you were begging. “No one has to know,” you assure him again. No one would know. You couldn’t become pregnant again.

“Stay on your knees, and beg for our forgiveness,” he chokes out, lining himself up. His voice mewls when he runs his tip through your folds. Squeaking as he pushes himself through, and you seethe. Tightening your muscles up while he continues to push through. Not stopping until he bottoms out.

Jax’s hands hold on tight to your waist before he draws himself completely out. Slamming back in, and your body lurches forward. There was no way this was his first time. He wasn’t holding out. His movements are too smooth. We’re all sinners, but Jax maybe sins more than most. It had to be why he punished himself. Why he made sure that the punishment was deep into his skin and would scar. He’d always carry those sins with him.

His thrusts are quick and hard, stabbing himself deep inside you. His eyes only look at where the two of you connect. Like there was salvation in your pussy. His eyes drift out into the alley way, staring at the spot. That brick is still there, and a mark remains as if your body had seared itself onto the road.

He couldn’t get that night out of his mind. It was like he had multiple views of the events. Watching it. Doing it. Praying over it. Nothing ever aligned. He had lost sleep trying to put the puzzle together. Nothing ever made sense.

“Jax,” your fingers cling to his bedsheets as you look back at him. He is beautiful. A fallen angel. Definitely far from being holy, but the way he touched you. How he made you feel. He wasn’t afraid of you. Didn’t fear being seen with you in your condition, and he loved it.

His hands slide over your tummy, and up your chest, lifting you up, so that your back is flush with his front. His pelvis still slams into you as his lips kiss up your neck. Ending on your mouth, and you slot your lips against his. Tasting the rich tobacco from his cigarettes.

A smell that once repulsed you, but you're claiming it back. His hips may be hard, but his hands over your baby are soft. Sweet even. No matter what happens, this was your choice. You decided this. No one could take it away.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Jax grunts onto your skin as he races for the finish line. His teeth imprint on your shoulder, and he bites down hard causing you to scream out in pain, and also in pleasure. A flash of light from the heavens illuminates your eyes, and his room. An entanglement of sin, and you aren’t sure if you could be cleansed. But this…this was better than any cleansing.

You let him overtake you. Give into the dark side for a moment as you grow weak. Both of you are ignoring anything happening around the cathedral. Living in your own world of sin, but that doesn’t mean that others couldn’t witness it. Could see the two of you giving into lust like your lives depended on it. You didn’t want this to be the last time. You’d gladly follow Jax into the darkness if it meant that you had this taste of the forbidden fruit.

A man looks up from his carriage. The brim of his hat creates a shadow that covers his face. “One. Two,” he counts, smirking as he steps back into the carriage. “Looks like a different ceremony is taking place tonight. Opie, we’ll come back another night.”

“Sir?”

“Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.”

“I understand,” Opie nods to the man before getting back on his seat. “Forgive them father for they have sinned.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @theinheriteddutchess @thedreadandthefugitivemind @rainydayandmondays @welp-heregoessomething

#down on your knees #priest au #priest kink #priest!jax teller #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller x fem!reader #jax teller x y/n #jax teller x you #jax teller smut #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller fanfic #jax teller fic #jax teller fics #dark!fic #dark

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lees-chaotic-brain · 6 months

Note

#6 crimson red for your event game plzzz

i didn't even think about this as a possibility and i'm kicking myself. when i saw this in my asks, i had to physically restrain myself from dropping all my drafts to work on it.

Nice to Meet You (Todoroki x Reader)

CW: Child abuse, physical abuse, injuries, bruising, slight spoilers for the anime, swearing, angst to fluff

Event Masterlist | Event Guide | BHNA Masterlist | Blog Navigation

"Get up."

Endeavor sneered down at his son, kicking him in the stomach again.

"You must surpass All Might."

Across the city, flowers inked themselves across your stomach, revealing your soulmate trait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Shut the fuck up!"

Your mother hissed at you, dragging you by your arm down the stairs.

"Your siblings are trying to sleep."

Hysterical, you sobbed and thrashed trying to escape.

"Mommy I'm sorry please I'll be quiet please just let me go back to bed-"

"I don't believe you."

She threw you into the small basement closet and locked the door.

"I'll be back when you're ready to be quiet."

Blossoms curled across Todoroki's shoulder and arm.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"If I raise him now, it'll be bad-"

"Mommy?"

Todoroki asked, poking his head around the corner.

The kettle whistled.

Slowly turning, Rei Todoroki spotted her son, but all she could see was a bright turquoise eye.

Picking up the kettle, she slowly approached him.

"Mommy?"

He asked again, backing up, but not leaving.

He knew something was wrong, but despite the alarm bells ringing in his head he wanted to stay and help, because he loved her.

And he continued to love her even after the searing pain of the boiling water.

Even after she scarred him, he continued to love her, because if he didn't, he wouldn't have anyone to consider a parent.

For months a red flower remained inked over your left eye.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Stay in your room until I come get you. How did I give birth to such an awful human being? How could you make your little brother cry. Stay here until I can stomach seeing you again."

Turning to leave, your mother was stopped when you flung your small body at her and clutched her leg.

"Mommy I'm so so sorry, I swear I'll be better! I didn't mean to make him cry! Please just give me another cha-"

You were cut off as your mother kicked you off her leg and stomped down on your chest before wordlessly turning and locking the door behind her.

You curled in on yourself, trying to remember how to breathe, your chest on fire.

A cluster of flowers in the shape of a slippered foot unfurled across Todoroki's sternum.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For years and years, the only communication you had with your soulmate was flowers in the shape of bruises, the two of you sending them back and forth, back and forth.

Your soulmate trait made it so if either of you were injured, the other would have flowers inked across their body until the person who was injured healed.

The fates must have been in an ironic mood when they gave the two of you, two abused children living sad and loveless lives, that trait.

But at least it allowed you to recognize your soulmate immediately.

The first time you met Todoroki Shouto, you knew he was your soulmate. After all, the injury that caused his scar had been inked on your face for months, so of course you would recognize it.

After your first day at UA, you quietly asked if you could talk to him somewhere private.

Suspiciously he agreed, so the two of you walked to a park.

"I'm pretty sure you're my soulmate."

You blurted, wincing at how blunt you sounded.

He stared coldly at you.

"What makes you think that?"

You nervously explained your soulmate trait, and told him about the flower that had adorned your left eyes for several months when you were around six.

"Do you have a bruise on your right elbow?"

He asked impatiently.

"Right now-yes. Yeah I do."

He gave you a curt nod.

"Then we're probably soulmates. I have a flower on my right elbow right now."

You smiled at him shyly.

"Nice to meet you-"

He cut you off.

"I don't have time, or a need for a soulmate."

You stopped, not sure you heard him right.

"I don't need or want a soulmate. I have to work hard and surpass All Might. A relationship with you would just hold me back."

Tears crawled up your throat and burned the backs of your eyes.

"R-right! Of course! No I-I completely understand! I'll let you go on your way now. Sorry for wasting your time."

Turning you walked briskly away, not brave enough to look back or wait for a response.

Wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your blazer you took a deep breath.

It was okay. It made sense after all. He had seen all of the bruises and cuts and scrapes you worked so hard to hide from the public. Of course he wouldn't want you. It was obvious that your mother didn't, so why would he.

You were okay with this. You would have to be.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"I would like to apologize and try to be friends."

You stared blankly at the dual-toned boy standing in front of you.

"...What?"

You asked, confused.

"Why."

After Todoroki had returned from his internship in Hosu, he had asked to meet you in the park where you talked the first time.

At first you had hesitated, but he seemed sincere, so you eventually agreed.

"After the Sports Festival, and my encounter with Stain, I realized that I've been a little..."

"Cold? Harsh? Unfeeling?"

You offered, a little peeved.

He winced.

"Yes...All of the above."

Then he squared his shoulders and bowed.

"I sincerely apologize for being so insensitive. I need to work some things out in myself before I'm ready to even consider a romantic relationship, however I would like to become friends with you and get to know you better."

You take a moment to process what he just said.

Hope bubbles in you, beautiful and bright. Maybe there was a future in which you could learn what it felt like to be loved.

"Stand up."

You said softly, fidgeting with your hair.

He straightened, looking into your eyes.

Was that...nervousness you detected?

"I forgive you. And...I would like to get to know you as well. So why don't we start over?"

He exhales in relief.

"That sounds perfect."

You smiled at him and introduced yourself.

He smiled back.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Todoroki Shoto."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay I really really really want to make a part two of this where they finally become a couple. Should I? Thanks for requesting this anon! I had a lot of fun writing it!

<3 Lee

#bhna #bhna x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #soulmate au #lee's brain writes #tw child abuse #tw injury

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 11 months

Text

You didn't actually think I would miss this, did you? (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Just a short little fic for Tobin's birthday. Not really edited so mind any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Between work getting busy and studying, life has been busy lately so writing has unfortunately been put on the back burner so fics might take longer than usual. My final essay is due in less than 2 weeks so hopefully I'll have more time to write after that!

Words: 1.4k

Y/n: Nobody on earth can make me feel the way you do. Everyday I wake up you continue to amaze me in every way possible. Your kindness, empathy and compassion are what make you the most amazing woman I've ever known. Please never stop being the beautiful, confident and sexiest person that I am madly in love with. Everyday I am blessed to have you by my side. I hope today is filled with love, friendship, surprises and fun. Thank you for going through life with me. Happy birthday my love. I love you today and always.

Toby: Thank you baby. There's no one I'd rather go through life with than you. I love you so much.

Toby: I wish you were here with me today... I miss you

Y/n: I miss you too Toby. We'll see each other soon. I'm sure you'll have an amazing day regardless. I wanted to have this text ready for you to wake up to, but I got busy :(

Toby: It's okay, facetime later?

Y/n: Wouldn't miss it. I have to go, but I'll message you a bit later. I love you

It was Tobin's birthday today. We had been together for 7 years and this was the first birthday that we would be apart for. Since we started dating, we had always made sure to be with each other on our birthdays. This year though, I was playing in Europe meaning I couldn't be there this year. Well that's what she thought anyway. I was out for a couple of weeks with an injury and coach had agreed that I could return to the states as long as I kept up with physio.

Tobin's birthday happened to fall in the middle of a national team camp. One that I couldn't attend due to being injured. I knew they would be planning something so I had reached out to Ali to let her know I was surprising Tobin. I trusted her to not let it slip and she was able to keep me updated on their plans so I could surprise her. I didn't want to miss her whole birthday, instead I had found a flight that would get me there in time to surprise her at lunch.

I got through security as quickly as possible. Knowing I was so close to seeing Tobin again was making me impatient. This was probably the longest we had gone without seeing each other. I hated it, but playing internationally had always been a dream of mine. They had organized lunch in the meal room at the hotel seeing as there were so many of them. I quickly dropped my stuff in Tobin's hotel room and cleaned myself up a bit before heading down to the meal room.

Ali had organized a game of guess the person. Tobin was blindfolded and had to guess who was in front of her based on the feel of their hands and face. The girls smiled widely when they saw me, somehow managing to not completely freak out. I watched Tobin go through a few more of them. There was a wide smile on her face, the corners of her eyes no doubt crinkling. I knew pretty much all of Tobin's expressions at this point, even without properly seeing them. It made me happy knowing that even though she was missing me, she was still able to have fun and be genuinely happy.

After a few minutes, I stepped up to Tobin, placing her hand on my arm first then my face. I knew there was a high chance that once she felt either of my hands she would know it was me. Besides the years of almost constant hand holding, I had a scar on one of my hands that was very noticeable.

I lent into her touch, enjoying the feeling after almost six months away from her. That must have been a give away, because her hand froze briefly before moving to my eyebrow that also had a scar then my left hand. She ripped the blindfold off, eyes wide as she stared at me in shock.

"Y/n!" Tobin pretty much squealed, jumping up, arms wrapping around me as she jumped up, legs around my waist, "You're here, you're actually here."

"You didn't seriously think I would miss your birthday did you?"

Tobin kissed me hard, filled with passion and love. I knew the team were watching, fake gags coming from them, but I did care as I cupped the back of her head, not letting her move until we were both out of breath. Tobin watched me for a few seconds before speaking, "I love you so much. How long do I have you for?"

Reluctantly, I put her down, feeling my knee starting ache, "A couple of weeks. Pretty much until I'm ready to join practice again as long as I keep up with physio here."

Since there weren't any real plans for after lunch, Tobin and I snuck off to the room. We didn't do anything other than cuddle and make out a little bit. I was exhausted from my flight, all I wanted to do was hold her after months apart. When Tobin eventually had to go to the bathroom, I got the piece of paper and ring box from my bag. I quickly hid the ring box as Tobin came back into the room. I still wasn't sure if I was going to propose right now with just the two of us or do something with the team later. I wanted to have it with me for when I decided the time was right.

"I got you something."

"You didn't have to, just being here is enough."

"Shush and take it. I think you're going to like this."

I handed her a piece of paper. She read over it slowly before jumping on me, peppering kisses across my face, "You're coming back?!? We get to play together again?"

"I'm coming back. I still have to be there for a couple more months though. I love playing for arsenal, it's been a great experience, but it's not worth how much I miss you."

A few tears fell down her cheeks as she kissed me slowly before a smile stretched across her face, interrupting the kiss. Her smile was one of my favourite sights so I wasn't mad about it, "You are amazing, I love you Y/n."

"I love you Toby."

Once again I found myself watching her. Taking in her smile, the way her eyes crinkled, the dimples I was obsessed with, her beautiful eyes that I could look at forever and the short hair that drove me crazy. It was my first time seeing it in person, I had ran my fingers through it countless times already and was currently resisting the urge to do it again. I loved her more than I thought it was possible to love another person. She was the person I craved, the first person I thought of when I woke up or before I went to sleep, the first person I wanted to tell when anything happened. She was the person I wanted by my side for the rest of my life.

"I meant what I said in my text."

"Which part?"

"All of it. Even after 7 years, you still make my heart race, butterflies and sparks to explode at even the slightest touch. No one has even made me feel the way you do and no one else ever will. I thank everything in this world that you chose me, that I get to be with you and love you every day. You are the only person I want by myside through everything life throws our way. The good, bad, funny, messy, whatever it is, it will be okay because I have you. I am so madly in love with you Tobin Powell Heath, I want to do life with you for as long as you'll have me. Will you marry me?"

Tobin launched forward before I could even get the ring box. She hugged me tightly, tears landing against my neck, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I love you so fucking much Y/n."

My own tears fell, the happiness bubbling over as I chuckled, "Can I get the ring now?"

"You got me a ring?"

I reached under the pillow for the ring box, opening it for Tobin to see. It was just a simple rose gold band, it fit who she was and the type of style she liked. She grinned widely as I easily slipped it onto her finger, "Of course I did. I've been planning to do this for months now. Only the best for my girl or should I say fiancé?"

"God I can't wait to marry you Y/n."

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine

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mochiwrites · 7 months

Note

Sooo

How about some mumbscarian where grian gets taken care of by the other two? :> (I'm in the mood for fluff)

perfect >:3

reblogs do more than likes!

——————

“Achoo!”

Mumbo and Scar wince as they hear the avian groan in annoyance, their twin footsteps leading them to him. They’re in Scar’s supposed starter base, the big tree standing tall and strong.

Grian is in Scar’s bedroom, swaddled in blankets with a wet cloth over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed with sickness. He pouts at his boyfriends as they appear.

Scar looks at him, shaking his head and tutting as he crosses his arms. “Have we learned our lesson, songbird?” he asks, voice teasing but soft as he leans against the wall.

Grian glares at him, but it’s weak and barely well put together. “…not to work on my base when it’s raining,” he grumbles, his pout remains on his face.

“I thought we were saving the lectures for later?” Mumbo asks, looking over at the elf with a confused stare. He then lifts a brow, “And no offense mate, but I think you’re hardly one to talk.”

Scar lets out a gasp, dramatic and playfully offended as Mumbo moves over to sit on the bed near Grian. “Mumbo, how could you! Betrayed by my lovely rose, the moonlight to my sunlight!” He sets a hand on his chest, as if it were pained. “This is the greatest betrayal, I’ll never trust again!”

His dramatics makes Mumbo laugh, fondness sparkling in his eyes. “My sincerest apologies, love,” he hums.

“Can you two stop flirting and come cuddle already,” Grian demands them, looking at them with an expression Mumbo can only describe as cutely pathetic.

Scar hums in thought, “I suppose I can forgive you dear. For the sake of our lovely bird’s health.” He grins cheekily before pushing off the wall and walking over to his loves and joining them on the bed. He presses a kiss to Mumbo’s lips with a smile, chuckling quietly. He then seats himself on the soft mattress, looking at Grian. “Now, I believe someone ordered some cuddles?”

If anyone asks, Grian did not grab at them with his hands. And his partners definitely did not chuckle at the action.

It doesn’t take long for Mumbo and Scar to curl around Grian, caging him in on either side. They wrap him up in their arms, snuggling in close enough but still giving him space. Grian cooes in contentment as his partners hold him, looking at them both.

“How’re you feeling, love?” Mumbo asks softly, lifting a hand to drag through Grian’s damp hair.

Grian hums quietly as he feels Mumbo’s fingers in his hair, eyes shutting as he leans into it. “Like absolute rubbish,” he answers.

Scar frowns lightly at that, the hand around Grian’s waist rubbing circles against his hip. “Well not to worry, dove! Your two amayzin’ boyfriends are here for your every need until you’re better!”

Grian gets comfortable between them, reaching out with his hands to grab whichever hands of theirs are closest to him. “Good,” he murmurs, sounding sleepy the more Mumbo combs through his hair, “you can stay then.” He lightly squeezes their hands.

Mumbo and Scar look at him with matching soft expressions, and Scar can’t resist leaning in and kissing the corner of Grian’s mouth. “For as long as you need, songbird.”

“We’ll be here,” Mumbo promises him, kissing his cheek. Unlike Scar, he happens to care about getting sick. “You should get some rest now, Gri.” He continues to brush his fingers along the strands.

“Since you asked so nicely, Mumbo.”

#mochi speaks #mumscarian #grumbo #scarian #redscape #hermitshipping #mochi writes #bro I am RUSTY on writing the three of them together #DAMN #anyways! rare mochi fluff :D

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celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

Whumptober 2023

No. 18 Drugging Alt Prompt

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth Era

Warnings: Nonconsensual drugging, withdrawal symptoms

You slid to your knees beside his slumped figure in the back corner of the cell. Jerry and Aaron guarded the door, still wary of how many people had actually been inside the building. It remained unclear what they wanted with Daryl but given his current state, you could be almost certain he didn’t offer it to them. Bruises in various stages of healing covered the right side of his face and neck, disappearing below the collar of his ripped shirt and tattered vest. Dried blood covered him in patches, some from the busted lip and the cut on his cheekbone— another scar — but the rest was either not his or from wounds you could not yet see.

“Daryl. Hey, Daryl.” You tapped his less injured cheek solidly. “Open your eyes.” And he did— dull, hazy, unfocused blue pools. “Hi. Just had to go and get yourself kidnapped, didn’t you?” You smiled at him, hoping to see recognition flow into his gaze. The archer squinted at you and arched a lazy brow.

“Yer pretty. Whatcha doin’ in a place like this?” He threw up an arm in a languid gesture toward the grimy cell.

“It’s me, Daryl. It’s Y/N.”

“Pretty name fer a pretty girl.” He slurred, walking his fingers up the side of your neck and to your jaw before you took hold of his hand. You turned to the two men behind you, seeking any input.

“Seems like they used something on him. Drugged him.” Aaron offered, giving you his full attention while he answered but then he turned back to the door. It was still quiet out there but sometimes, those moments were the most dangerous.

“What do we do if we don’t know what they gave him?” You reached to pull the archer’s hand away from where his fingers were twirling your hair.

“Wait it out, I guess. Get him checked out as soon as we get back to the Commonwealth.”

“Fuck.” You murmured, startled by Daryl’s lips against your neck.

“Tha’s not a bad idea.”

You pulled his hand off your breast, face burning furiously when you caught Jerry grinning. “Not a word.” You warned him.

“Not a word.” Jerry agreed with a chuckle. “Think he can walk?”

“I don’t know. Let me—” This time, you laughed when Daryl shook his hands free of your own and gathered you up against him in the most awkwardly positioned embrace. “Daryl, can you walk?”

“Since ‘fore I’s a year old. Wha’ a silly question.”

You snorted, continuing to try to work yourself free. “I mean right now. This very minute. Can you stand up and walk out of here?”

The archer scoffed and even that sounded drugged. “No ‘cause yer sittin’ on muh legs.”

You heard Jerry almost lose it behind you and rolled your eyes with a smile. It didn’t appear that Daryl was in any immediate danger from whatever they had used on him to keep him calm and pliable, but you would still feel better with him away from this horrible place.

“If I move, would you stand up and follow me?”

“I’d follow ya anywhere.”

That sounded so sincere that you felt a sting in the back of your eyes. You two had been together for years and the man still managed to give you butterflies. He just never tended to do so in front of two of your friends. He was going to be mortified when they teased him later.

“Okay, let me go and then you can hold my hand while we get out of here, okay?” He released you almost instantly, blue eyes flickering down to your hands and back to your face. “Okay, let’s go.” You offered a hand and he took it, but when he tried to stand, his knees buckled and he sank back to the floor with a pout.

“Legs ain’t workin’.” He noted needlessly, staring at the offending limbs with a curious tilt of his head.

With a sigh, you turned to Jerry. “Will you?” The man offered you the sweetest smile.

“You don’t even have to ask, Y/N.” He lowered his gun and positioned it over his shoulder, bending to help haul Daryl to his feet. The archer swayed and almost went down twice, wide eyes studying the figure beside him. “I gotcha, man. It’s all good.” He tried to move forward, but Daryl remained stock still.

“Yer a big sumbitch, ain’tcha?”

It was Jerry’s turn to helplessly look at you while you smothered a chuckle. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Right behind you.” Jerry swept his arm beneath Daryl’s knees and lifted him. Your partner was going to be beyond embarrassed when he came back to his senses.

Daryl was actually quiet throughout the journey toward the Commonwealth. You checked on him frequently, ensuring the four of you stopped so you could give him water and hold his hand as promised.

You knew the drugs were starting to wear off when he stopped reaching for you and started trying to walk on his own. Jerry placed him on his feet but kept a hand close, grabbing his upper arm when his legs gave way. He refused to be carried any longer though. He stumbled on unsure limbs with Jerry practically holding him up.

You encountered a few groups of walkers, forcing the archer to stand against a tree and let you and the others handle them. When one got too close to your back, you heard the whoosh before the corpse hit the ground with Daryl’s knife in its skull.

“Hey! You can see straight again!” You teased, handing the blade back to him. He mocked a laugh and then pulled you to his side with his arm over your shoulders, only slightly leaning on you as you walked. He must’ve been tired of Jerry.

It was after you had made camp for the night that things got bad.

It started as a headache.

You awoke alone, which had you nearly hyperventilating and calling out his name frantically while you grabbed your weapons and crawled from the tent.

“Quiet, woman. Ev’ry walker fer ten miles gonna hear ya.” Daryl hissed from beside the fire. You didn’t explain your reaction. You didn’t have to. Once you settled, he reached out for you with a quiet “c’mere” and pulled you against his side, his lips pressing against your temple. You had been without him for nearly two months. Others had given up hope but not you. You could feel he was out there. So could Carol. She had wanted to come with you but the kids needed someone there. You promised to bring him home and she believed you.

“Can’t sleep?” It was a silly thing to ask. But you avoided asking what they had done to him. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Head’s hurtin’.” He sniffed and threw a couple of sticks into the fire. You hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. His shirt was damp and he had unbuttoned it halfway. You placed a gentle handle against his forehead.

“Don’t seem to have a fever. You feel okay besides the headache?”

“Mostly.”

You accepted that with a nod, pulling away from him to get off the ground and onto the fallen log a little further back from the fire. “Come over here, handsome.” When he was close enough, you guided him to sit on the ground between your knees and lean back against your stomach. Petite fingers rubbed gentle circles on his temples, earning a quiet sigh as he began to relax into you.

“S’gonna get bad.”

“What is?”

You were glad you asked. Daryl had a lot of experience in withdrawal thanks to Merle. He knew what was happening and prepared you as best he could. But sitting at the mouth of the tent the next night while he writhed and moaned, hands clutching his stomach as if he could claw out the ache. Nothing could prepare you for this.

“Nothin’ ya can do fer me ‘cept try ta keep water in me, maybe somethin’ mild fer the hurtin’.”

He was stripped down to his boxer briefs, unable to stand the clothes touching his skin. You had tried to give him Tylenol but he had screamed— literally screamed —and swatted the pills from your hand. He did drink some water before the next round of stomach cramps started, then he had vomited it all up.

You sat with one hand on your face and the other lightly on his ankle. He had warned you to stay back as often as you could. That he would lash out. He wouldn’t mean to hurt you but he might. So you stayed close but not as close as you wanted. Your heart yearned to soothe him, to find the bastards that did this to him and kill them all over again. They got a quick death and left your partner here to scream in agony for something he didn’t want.

“Y/N…” he panted, sitting up only to wrap both arms around his middle.

Fuck. You moved quickly, grabbed the coffee can you had found on the way. Daryl had told you to grab it and hang onto it when he saw you kick it. He said it’d have some use.

And while you held the small can in one hand and Daryl’s sweat-slick hair in the other, you knew he was right. The dry heaving was worse than when he was actively emptying his stomach. Watching the already cramping muscles tense and twitch with every failing purge.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” When the retching dissipated, he was left on the bedroll, exhausted and panting but looking at you with clear eyes for the first time in hours.

“Y/N.” It was a quiet moment, a gentle reprieve. Within heartbeats, he arched with a sharp breath through clenched teeth and curled in on himself once again. You reached to wipe his hair away from his face but he snatched your wrist and shoved you back hard. “Don’ touch me!”

Your exit from the tent was quick and uncoordinated, tears you had been trying so hard to hold back were cascading down your cheeks. You stumbled to your feet and right into Jerry’s arms.

“How’s he doing?” The weight of the situation was showing on all of you, even the always optimistic former King’s guard. Right on cue, Daryl let out a guttural scream and something crashed inside the tent. You flinched, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt large hands take hold of your shoulders, firm but gentle. “It’s not him, Y/N. This isn’t his fault. Or yours.”

“I know.” You whispered as Jerry bent to place a kiss against the crown of your head.

“Only a few walkers coming around from the noise. Aaron and I got the perimeter, okay? You just focus on taking care of him.” You nodded and started to turn away when he caught your hand. You looked back at him, zeroing in on that gentle smile. “And you. Make sure to take care of you too.”

“I will.” You patted his hand and watched him disappear back into the darkness. You gave yourself a few more minutes before you ducked back into the tent.

On the fourth day after rescuing Daryl, you awoke at the mouth of the tent. Your hand was still wrapped around his ankle but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t making a sound. You felt fear grip and twist your heart as you crawled into the tent, brushing his hair from his face. He was…sleeping.

He was still sweating, still curled in on himself, but he was actually sleeping. His face twitched every few seconds and his fingers would flex over his abdomen but he was actually fucking sleeping. You covered your mouth to subdue the sobs, careful to keep as quiet as possible. Leaning forward, you remained silent and simply watched him sleep. After days of screaming, actually begging you to kill him, he was resting.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there when you heard the crunching twigs and leaves of footsteps approaching at a fast pace. In two seconds, you had your knife and you were crouched at the mouth of the tent, ready to keep anyone or anything from disturbing the archer. Luckily, you were met with the concerned faces of Aaron and Jerry.

“We didn’t hear him anymore. Is he—” Aaron’s expression of naked fear and barely contained grief nearly brought tears to your eyes. But it fell away the moment you smiled.

“He’s okay. He made it.”

Jerry had carried Daryl again but he was too out of it to care or even notice. Once back inside the walls of the Commonwealth, you opted for the hospital. You hadn’t been able to keep him properly hydrated during withdrawal and he hadn’t eaten in god knows when. You couldn’t picture taking him home this way.

He slept through arriving, triage, IV placement, and well into the night. Carol was with you now, holding you tightly while you took a moment to let out all you had been holding in for his sake.

“It was awful. I couldn’t help him. I just had to sit and…and…and watch. What if he’d died like that?”

The silver-haired woman held you tighter, rocking gently. “He didn’t. He’s right here and he’ll make a full recovery. Tomi said so. You did that. When everyone else quit on him, you went and got him. Stayed with him. And now he’s here because of you.” When she pulled away, she hooked a finger under your chin and gently guided you to look at her, smiling one of those gentle smiles of hers that seemed to make almost anything better. “Thank you. I knew you’d keep your promise.”

You nodded and she let you lay against her and rest, slipping out at some point during the night when you were sound asleep, too exhausted to feel her move away or hear her leave.

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was up. You felt more rested but still run down. You truly couldn’t wait to be home, in your warm bed, and wrapped around Daryl while he recovered. You wiped at your sleep filled eyes while you stood. There were two trays on the bedside table. When had they brought them in?

You grabbed one and sat down on the chair next to Daryl’s bed, slowly eating the scrambled eggs and sipping the coffee. You had already finished both when he began to stir. You were up in a flash, leaning over him and willing his eyes to open. You needed to see those pretty blue eyes, clear and pain-free. Then, just maybe, you could breathe again.

It took him a few minutes to actually awaken but his breathing changed, picking up a little before his eyes finally peeled open. They were bloodshot but focused, darting around the room until they settled on you.

“Y/N.” He breathed. You watched the tension melt out of him. Your heart fluttered and you smiled, tracing his jaw with your fingertips. He knew he was safe just by seeing you.

“Hey, you. How’re you feeling?” Your hand moved to his hair, smoothing it back away from his face. He hummed in thought, letting his eyes close but only for a brief moment.

“Like shit.”

“I’m not surprised after what you went through.” You had to stand on your tip-toes to reach but you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hearing the soft sigh he released warmed you from the inside out. “Tomi says if you eat and keep it down, you can go home.”

He hummed. “Home sounds good. Real good.”

You grabbed the eggs from the tray and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’re we waiting for then?”

“Can feed myself, y’know.” He winced as he adjusted himself to sit up, pulling off the nasal cannula to toss it aside with a huff.

“Dixon, I will make airplane noises if that's what it takes to get you to eat these eggs.”

“Ain’t gon’ need all tha’.”

He let you feed him without much of a fight.

That night, in your little house, you were lying on your back with Daryl’s head on your chest. After helping him with a shower— he swore he could do it himself but was suddenly tired and frail once your t-shirt was tossed into the laundry basket— and a small dinner, he had all but collapsed, exhausted from the ordeal and more than ready to be in his own bed. Dog was curled up at your feet. Daryl didn’t have the heart to kick him off once he saw how much the animal had missed him.

Everything was right again.

“I missed you so much.” You ran your fingers through his still damp mane, and he pushed his head into your hand when you began to lightly scratch his scalp. Your partner was truly a cat in human form. “I was terrified when we couldn’t find a trail.”

“Butcha did. Wonder who taught ya that?”

You tugged lightly at his hair with a snort. You let yourself smile for a moment, sighing when he nuzzled against your chest. “I thought I was gonna lose you out there.”

“Y’ain’t gonna lose me.” He said with a yawn.

“Better not. I can track now. I’ll find you.”

Now he snorted. “Yer something else, woman.”

“Damn skippy. Better hold onto me, Dixon.”

“Bet yer ass I will.”

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