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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months

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The Scare

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: Angst (ooooo, my first time writing angst), comfort, break in, attempted kidnapping, simon in ghost mode, graves being a pussy, simon being a good bf

Summary: You thought it was Simon, he had come home early from his mission, but there were 2 pairs of footsteps walking around your home.

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more.

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person.

You.

Barely anyone knew that the Lieutenant had picked himself up a hot little thing and managed to keep her. The two of you had been together for 3 years now and he was so close to proposing. He was ready to spend his life with you. He was ready to make you his and give you his last name.

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered.

And then he realised.

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were curled up in bed, music playing in the background as you read one of your favourite romance books Simon had bought you. The lights were off, a single three-wick Bath and Body Works candle on your bedside table. It was peaceful. Cosy.

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening.

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone.

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this.

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people.

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment.

With trembling hands, you reach for Simon’s hidden knife, concealed under his side of the bed. You clutch in it a sweaty palm, silent praying that the person walking around your apartment is a friend, not a foe. The footsteps get closer. You take a deep breath.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door.

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath.

“That her?” The first man asks.

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak.

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

He pushes you, reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling out the knife. The other one walks over while you’re distracted, talking a hold of your arms and tying them behind your back. You yell before you hear the sound of duct tape ripping. Within seconds, there’s a piece over your mouth. You try to yell. No use.

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words.

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso.

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. They almost make it to the front door.

But the door is wide open. And in the door frame stands a tree of a man, face covered by a mask of a skull.

Simon…

Your eyes fill with tears of joy.

Simon’s eyes are as dark as the night as he stares at the scene.

The men immediately drop you, making you hit your head on the floor, a cry of pain dropping from your lips. Your vision goes blurry as you hear Simon step closer, fists clenched.

You roll over onto your side, trying to get your hands out of their bonds, trying to grab your head to ease the pain. You suck in a sharp breath. Your vision stays blurry, barely making out the black blobs fighting in front of you.

From the blobs you see, the one with the mask is bigger. And he’s winning.

You think…

One of the men drop down next to you, a new red blob on the ground making it’s way into your vision. You count to fifteen before the other man drops down too.

You count to eight before you feel a hand pull the duct tape off your mouth. You let out a loud sob of relief. Simon…

He unties your wrists, gently massaging them as you roll over again, grabbing your head. You close your eyes as you let out cries of pain.

It hurts. Your wrists hurt. Your mouth hurts.

But the pain in your head is indescribable. It shoots from the back to the front, meeting at the centre of your forehead. It shoots back. And then back to the front again. And back again. And front again. And over and over.

You can barely hear your cries anymore over the feeling of pain.

A pair of arms pick you up bridal style, as if you weigh nothing. The black blob holding you takes you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. The blob walks away again.

You count to thirty before it-he-returns, holding an ice pack, a glass of water, and a few advil pills. He sits on the edge of the bed, setting down the items.

He takes off his mask, vest, gear, and everything else until nothing remains but a shirt and his tactical pants. Simon tips up your chin, placing one of the pills on your tongue, pushing it back with some water. “Swallow.”

You do as he says.

A deep exhale leaves your body.

He presses the ice pack to your head. “How bad is i’? Do I need to call a’ ambulance?”

“N-no…” you blink back tears.

“You sure, lovie? ‘t was a bad fall,” he sighs, smiling sadly at you. “‘m so sorry ‘is happened to ya. Ya are the most important thin’ to me and Graves, bitch that ‘e is, took advantage of tha’. Soap and Gaz ‘re in the kitchen, gettin’ rid of the garbage. Tol’ them not to come in ‘ere. Ya need rest, okay? Bu’ don’ fall ‘sleep, ya migh’ have a concussion.”

You nod to the best of your ability. He takes a hold of your hand, kissing your wrist. “‘M so so so sorry. Ya didn’ deserve ‘hat, okay? Ya so perfec’ and special to me…”

He looks down at the bloody knife on the ground.

“Ya try to protec’ yourself?” You nod in response to his words. “Good girl. Ya atleas’ did some damage…slowed them down enough jus’ in time for me to get ‘ere.”

“Ho-how did you know I w-was in…” you don’t bother to finish your sentence.

“Graves sai’ ya name to me. I took a guess ‘e was gone go for ya. Rushed here with the other three. They gone go on the mission without me. Need to stay ‘ere, make sure ya okay.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile, softly.

“Thank you…Si…” you nod. “For everything.”

“Always gone be there to save ya,” He nods. “When ya get bette’, I gone teach ya how to properly use that knife…and a few more things, just in case.”

“Sounds good, Si,” you hold back a giggle.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

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I am salivating at the idea of jock!reiner, who everybody is intimidated by. Not so much because he’s a bully or has a mean streak but his stature. His physique alone is enough to ward off anyone..broad shoulders, six foot four, three hundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle and incredible strength.. but for those who know him, he’s nothing more than a gentle giant. As docile as they come and the sweetest guy you’d ever meet. Some would even describe him as a bit naive or gullible at times. His kindhearted nature, some believed, would be his downfall. Even so, that doesn’t stop the guys he plays football with from watching themselves when they see you come into the room…arm latched onto his as you two navigate through the party his team was hosting that night. A get together for newly recruited first draft picks for the NFL. He was proud to be attending and with the most beautiful woman nonetheless. It was far more laid back, and a pool party nonetheless..so naturally, when you came strutting through the courtyard; white bikini and fishnets covering your decadent skin and curvy frame, a belly button ring glistening from your tummy with your stretch marks on display, curls coiled atop your head, heels strapped around your smooth legs and white toes to match, everyone’s eyes was adverted onto you. As is his. He’s always gushing over his lady and it’s easy to see why. You’re always wearing revealing outfits and dressing provocatively. Titties out, ass always showing and never covering up regardless of the conditions. He never really pays it any mind but it’s not until one day that his friends pose the question: “you don’t have a problem with your girl dressing like that?” And with the widest smirk on his face, your man simply shrugs, and replies just as calmly:

“..not at all.”

mainly because he knows that no matter how many wandering eyes watch you or how many whispers he gets about your appearance…he’s the only one with the honor of getting to strip you out of said ensembles. The only one who gets to grope you from behind with those large hands and circulate his fingers on your clit as he marks your neck with kisses. He’s the one person who can make you come twice in a matter of mere minutes. And he’s certainly the only one with the privilege of getting to glide in between your thighs, bending you over with a hand laced around your throat as your colliding bodies stand before a mirror and his cock thrashing around inside of you..your juices dripping all down his pelvis and shaft as he forces you into an orgasm because the tip of his dick is perfectly stabbing at your sensitive core. “I’m the only one that can make this pussy squirt like this, isn’t that right, baby? The only person who can make you feel this good..” fish hooking those large digits into your mouth as he tugs you back with those plump ass cheeks clapping against him. “Yes daddy, this is your pussy..”

no need to be insecure over what’s rightfully yours <3

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buryustogether · 4 months

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yandere alastor x fem!reader hcs

sfw + nsfw below

i have this idea that, when you were both still human, alastor married you for a marriage of convenience (probably tax purposes). he's not one for love, but he does quite like to make things easier for himself, as well as a bit of reliable companionship from someone he can trust. he found it rather cute that you were head over heels in love with him.

he insists upon keeping you at his side almost 24/7. you accompany him everywhere; to his station while he's broadcasting, about town as he runs his errands, even to his overlord meetings, though you are forced to wait outside. he knows you won't up and disappear; even if you weren't such a good little pet, there isn't anywhere you could run that he couldn't find you.

the other overlords tease alastor about his little 'pet' he keeps on such a tight leash. he doesn't ever object to this title.

gives you dancing lessons and doesn't allow you to rest until you can copy his movements exactly. if you collapse from exhaustion before that, he'll coo and brush your hair out of the way, then haul you to your feet and start again from the beginning.

he won't have you doing much other than keeping your shared home clean and occasionally cooking a meal or two. you're his darling, he can't have you wearing yourself out taking care of him. he'll do most everything - he just wants you to sit there and look pretty for him.

won't allow you to leave the table until you finish the meals he makes for you.

loves to have you hanging on his arm. you're like a precious little trophy for him to show off - only his, and no one else's.

being alastor's beloved companion makes you a prime target for blackmail and kidnappers, but he doesn't want you to fret, dear - he has it covered. his shadows are on your trail in the extremely rare occasion he's not with you, and he's killed demons for less than even looking your way.

doesn't allow any kind of modern technology inside his home or upon your person, even if you died long after him. he considers cellphones to be the property of his enemies, and you wouldn't want him to catch you wearing the symbol of the v's, now, would you?

he picks out your outfits for each day, even has them custom made at the tailor's just for you. he knows best, darling, so don't fight him on this. he doesn't want you going out looking like some common harlot, not when you belong to the radio demon.

often takes out his frustrations of the day on you at night when you're alone in his bedroom. he bites and scratches and thrashes like a beast trapped in a snare, and he relishes in having you wear the marks when he's done.

his favorite position to have you in is plain old missionary; not only is it traditional, but he enjoys having complete control over you while he bucks up into your heat.

like most animal-based demons in hell, he enters a rut once a month and rarely emerges from his quarters; which means you don't, either. at least three times a day, and he only stops to give you rest and to whisper the filthiest things you've ever heard in your ear.

enjoys bondage to an extent, but only on you. he's not opposed to pretty little collars wrapped around your neck, either.

now, when you're in the mood and he's not, he's not totally cruel. while he won't fuck you when and wherever, he'll allow you to straddle his thigh and hump his leg like an animal while he continues whatever work he was doing before.

he may often be brutal, he knows aftercare is extremely important. he can't leave his darling bruised and broken for next time, can he? licks up any blood he may have drawn and ensures you drink when you're done, even if he has to hold your back against his chest and tip your chin up to force the water down your throat. he'll usually run you a bath and, surprisingly, will gently bathe you before dressing you in the finest bedroom silks in hell and putting you to bed.

he doesn't sleep much, but since meeting you, he's replaced many of his nighttime activities with sitting at the side of your bed and watching you sleep.

alastor doesn't love; but he knows he would tear hell apart at the seams if you were ever taken from him.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #radio demon #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x you

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

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file #3: the foot fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!nanami kento x reader (jjk)

length: 2.1k.

warning: non/con, fem!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), foot jobs, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of kidnapping, unbalanced power dynamics, and cannot mention it enough: feet.

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up here.

Which was to say, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up in this position, not this physical location – the small kitchen of Nanami’s up-until-recently neglected apartment, back pressed against the rounded edge of a pristine marble countertop and hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles were beginning to turn white. That, you could explain in fifteen words or less: Psychotic Ex-Boyfriend Kidnaps Overly Trusting Partner To Roleplay Repressed Domestic Fantasies, with further elaboration possible if you ever got the chance to talk to anyone who wasn’t currently holding you hostage. That, as much as you hated it, was normal. You knew why you were here.

It was much less normal to have Nanami on one knee in front of you, head bowed and one of your feet sitting in the palm of his hand. You hadn’t decided whether it was good abnormal or bad abnormal, yet, but still – not normal.

It must’ve been a rough day. He always looked tired when he got home, but tonight, he seemed exhausted – blond hair in a state of styled disarray, tie gone and shirt already partially unbuttoned, the circles under his eyes just a shade darker than they had been that morning. There was a cut on his cheek, too, and a tear along the wrist of his sleeve. Usually, he would’ve tried to get you to fuss over the damage, to trade privileges like a few minutes of T.V. and the latest news about your friends and family and not being handcuffed to his bed whenever he couldn’t watch you himself for sex and domestic labor and the faux-reciprocation of his obsession, but you hadn’t been able to say anything, let alone do anything before he’d fallen into his current position at your feet, his cheek resting gingerly against the inside of your thigh and his pale face slightly pink. He hadn’t said anything, either. You were starting to think he never would.

Unable to find an explanation written on the back of his head, you turned your attention to yourself. You’d been thinking about what you were going to make for dinner when he got home, because cooking meant he had to trust you with something more dangerous than a plastic spoon and you couldn’t go back to not being able to hold your own toothbrush, even if that meant having to trip over yourself to play housewife with your captor. You were dressed for housework, but that didn’t mean much. Nanami picked out all of your clothes, and he liked you in soft, pastel silk gowns and cutesy, garish vintage dresses. Your current dress was far from overly provocative – the neckline above your collarbones, the skirt falling to your knees. He’d seen you in it before, too, and never had this reaction.

The only new factor was your socks, but that would’ve been ridiculous. It was a new pair – a far cry from the thigh-highs and nylon stockings he usually bought for you. The material was thick and white and cottony, only ankle-high with ribbed hems and a lace trip. He was cupping the arch of your foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole, and the plush fabric rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as he shifted his hold ever so slightly downward. More out of reflex than anything, you jerked back, your toes curling downward as you tried to weakly pull yourself out of his hold, and as if pulled out a trance, Nanami snapped up at you, tired eyes weary and lips slightly parted. Your eyes met his, and for a second, it was all you could do to stay still, to stay quiet, to not yell or scream or thrash until finally, Nanami’s weary expression broke into a slight grin, an airy laugh trickling past his lips as his stare fell back to your foot. “They’re… cute,” he started, slowly, nuzzling his cheek gingerly against your thigh. “I knew they would be, but—” A pause, a kiss to the tender patch just above your knee. “—you always manage to surprise me.”

You managed to smile shakily. “Sorry, Kento, I didn’t mean to distract you. Why don’t you sit somewhere a little more comfortable? I can start on—”

“In a minute.” Another hand was brought up and wrapped around your ankle, just above the lace trim of your sock. His forehead settled against your thigh as he lifted your foot gently and with an almost painful sort of delicacy, pressed the sole of your foot into the bulging tent in his pants that you’d been trying so hard to ignore. You felt his lazy grin press into your skin, and something cracked open in your chest.

This time, you couldn’t stifle your immediate reaction; lurching back, your hands finding the edge of the counter as you tried to pull away from him. It took nothing for him to keep you in place, though, and even worse – the ball of your heel pressed into his shaft as you tried to get away, rolling against his cock with a little too much force and drawing a low grunt from the base of Nanami’s throat. Instantly, you regretted moving at all. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Again.”

You fell silent. His head lulled forward, pressing into your thigh, and somehow, you managed to spit something out. “…I’m sorry, Kento?”

“Again, angel, please,” he muttered, his eyes falling shut. You didn’t move, but he didn’t need you to – his hips jutting forward, grinding stiltedly against the sole of your foot. Any vague illusion of wholesomeness was forgotten entirely as he fell onto his knees, unabashedly rutting against your leg with all the shame and all the pride of a stray animal, desperate for its twisted idea of affection. You made a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself, to focus on the white tiles of his kitchen (not quite dirty, but not as clean as they could be, either – you’d have to do the floors tomorrow), then the far wall (there was a layer of dust along the edge of the light switch fame – you could take care of that later on tonight), but it would’ve been impossible not to think about the wet, hot breath fanning over your thigh, the stiff cock throbbing against your foot. You thought would’ve gotten used to his—uh, his unwanted attention by now, gone numb to the feeling of his mouth on your neck and his fingers on your clit, but this was a type of fresh humiliation you weren’t familiar with, the kind of unthinkable debasement that made your face heat-up and your thought spiral down, down, down. When your paralysis persisted, Nanami grit his teeth, rocked your foot against the length of his cock without ever letting his hips stop moving – like he was trying to fuck a hole through your heel. It was a rough, jagged motion; almost clumsy, despite the fact that you’d never seen him so much as trip. It might’ve left you off-balance, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter so tightly. You might’ve fallen, if you thought that you would be enough to make him stop.

You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to suck in a shuddering breath, but that was a mistake – showing any kind of weakness was a mistake. You felt one of his groping hands on your upper thigh, then your ass, finally finding the thin, flimsy material of your panties and pulling. There was no elegant way to strip you down, so he didn’t try to be elegant. There was a harsh tearing sound, the feeling of blunt nails scraping against unprotected skin, and then, scraps of ruined material were scattered on the floor at your feet, the skirt of your dress pushed up to your waist as he forced his face between your legs, mouth already open and tongue already lapping over your cunt.

It was a bad position; the distance too far, the angle too sharp, everything about strained and awkward and unnecessary, but Nanami didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care. His tongue ran over the length of your slit before he latched onto your clit and sucked. Instantly, it was too much – a strangled cry tearing past your lips as you buckled into yourself, your knees nearly giving out as another reverberating moan sent pangs of something sharp and electric stabbing into your core. Against your better judgement, your hands shot from the counter to his hair, your fingers soon knotted in a mess of blonde in a futile attempt to pry him away from you. He only melted into your hostile touch, one of his hands remaining on your ankle while the other found your hip, keeping you still and pliable as his attention dipped lower, the flat of his tongue pushing broad patterns into your entrance as the bridge of his nose ground lazily against your clit. “Love you,” he mumbled, his voice little more than a throaty, ragged murmur – almost too deep to be audible and constantly interrupted by the sound of your slick on his lips, on his tongue. You wished he wouldn’t talk. You wished he wouldn’t pretend to love you. You wished he wouldn’t force you to do the same. “You’re so—so pretty, and so perfect, and—”

A guttural moan cut him off, and his attention shifted, his head lulling back just far enough to stare up at you with eyes so soft and so tender, you could almost forget he was humping your leg like a bitch in heat. You were suddenly aware of your own distraught expression – all grit teeth and misty eyes, misery and pleasure flooding through your veins in tandem. You wanted to ask him not to look at you. You needed to ask him to stop, but—

You felt a frigid ache in your left wrist – the wrist he’d kept shackled to the bedpost for the first three weeks of your kidnapping. You tried to open your mouth, but your tongue was deathly dry, your throat stuffed with cotton, the feeling not entirely unsimilar to the residue left behind by the velvet gags he used to shove in your mouth when you didn’t want to lay there and let him break you. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything as he let out a final, primal groan – as you felt something thick and hot soak through the fabric of his dress pants and into your ridiculous, childish socks. He whined into your cunt, fingers burrowing into your waist as he dragged you that much closer to his mouth. His tongue fucked shallowly into your cunt, and a whine caught in your throat as your vision burnt white, as you came unwillingly on his tongue.

You couldn’t do it, anymore. With his hand still on your hip, his cum still searing into the sole of your foot, you collapsed. Nanami caught you before you hit the ground, and you hated him for it. You wished he’d let you crumble to the tile floor, wished he’d just watch and laugh as you curled into a ball and stayed there for the rest of the night, the rest of the week. You wished he’d—

Oh, god, you’d made yourself cry. Nanami let out a breathy chuckle as you sniffled and tried not to wail, kissing your tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness you couldn’t seem to link to the man who’d just cum to a pair of socks. “It’s alright, angel. You can let it out.” Another kiss, this one to your forehead. “Too much?”

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. You felt his arms wrap around you, keeping your body pressed into his chest as he pushed himself to his feet. There were a few seconds of quiet, unthinking solace before he lowered you onto your shared bed – a pair of shackles still hanging, unlocked and waiting, from the headboard. Immediately, you scrambled for the nearest pillow, burying your face in the plush material and sobbing openly. Nanami’s comfort came in the form of a wry grin, a pair of hands on your hips, turning you onto your stomach and starting on the buttons of your dress.

As he settled between your legs, his calloused fingertips skirting over your bare skin, you couldn’t help but wonder if the shackles had really been so bad.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jjk #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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muwapsturniolo · 3 months

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✯Want to play Psycho Killer?✯

BLACK READER!!!!!!!

Summary: Chris realizes his girlfriend has a thing for a certain masked killer, and feeds into her fantasy.

warning: NSFW content, thirsting after Ghostface, CNC (kind of lmao) unprotected sex, whatever kink it is where you get fucked while the other person wears a mask, overstimulation, choking, vibrators, titty slapping, squirting,

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Chris was a very attentive boyfriend.

He noticed everything about his girlfriend. He noticed how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her nose would scrunch when she laughed. He noticed how she would stick her tongue out when she was focused on something.

He was attentive.

So attentive to the point that he noticed she would clench her thighs and take deep breaths when watching a certain movie.

That movie being Scream.

He decided to turn on Scream one day since he and his brothers were going to the premier of the fifth movie in a few weeks. It was his girl's favorite movie, and he'd never seen it, so he figured it would be a great date night. As they watched the first movie, he noticed she kept moving around, adjusting the way she was sitting.

"You ok?" He asked her. All she did was nod and keep watching the movie. The next date night they watched the second movie, it was the same thing but a bit toned down.

Same with the third, and the fourth.

he had a theory that she loved the first movie more than the others.

He decided to test his theory one last time by turning on the first movie once again.

His theory was proven when she basically jumped him midway through the movie, and they had sex on the couch.

His theory was proven once again when he saw her bookmarks on TikTok. Multiple videos of guys in Ghostface masks, choking their girlfriends.

He knew what she wanted, and he planned on giving it to her.

For his plan to work, he had to get her alone. He had texted her around 30 minutes ago and asked if she was home. He proceeded to tell her he was coming over and to relax when she sees him.

He didn’t know if she would freak out or not, but he had a feeling she would play along.

He unlocks her front door and walks inside, closing it softly. He pulls the mask over his head and slowly ascends up the stairs, being quiet so she won't hear him. He peeks into her room and sees her lying down on her stomach, distracted by her phone. She had on a thong and one of her babydoll dresses. He inches into the room, coming up behind her.

She feels a presence looming behind her. Before she can look over her shoulder, her head is roughly pushed into the comforter. She screams in shock and drops her phone, thrashing around in fright.

He yanks her head up by her hair and whispers from behind the mask,

“Want to play psycho killer?”

She tenses hearing Chris’s voice. She looks into the reflection of her lamp on her nightstand and sees he’s on top of her, a mask covering his face.

But not just any mask

A Ghostface mask.

“W-what?” She stutters out, too caught off guard to understand anything.

“I said, do you want to play psycho killer?” He flips them around and kicks her legs apart, his right hand moving up her thigh, getting dangerously close to her embarrassingly wet cunt. He allows his hand to move her thong to the side and swipe through her folds, gathering her glistening juices on his finger. She whimpers and tries to close her legs, failing due to him being in the way. He smirks under the mask and tilts his head to the side.

"You can be the helpless victim."

He slips two fingers into her, watching as her eyes gently flutter shut. He glides his finger in and out, teasing her by moving slowly. Soft moans and whimpers tumbling out of her plump lips. He picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster. His left-hand travels up to her neck and tightly wraps around it, "come on baby, say the next line." He urges.

It's nearly impossible for her to speak. The way his long and nimble fingers nudge against the right spot constantly, his left hand squeezing her throat like she loves.

"Please?" She weakly pleads. Chris chuckles and yanks her upright and forward, a noise leaving her throat. "that's not what I want to hear baby, you know your line."

His fingers move even faster, "how are you going to be in the sequel if you can't even remember your lines?" he taunts.

She throws her head back and moans out, feeling her orgasm close.

"Say it or I stop right now!" he threatens.

"Fuck! Please d-dont kill me Mr. Ghostface! I want to be in the sequel!" she pleads helplessly.

"Since you asked so nicely." He begins to ram his fingers into her, curling them repeatedly. Not caring if she could feel his lips or not, she begins to make out with him. Her red lipstick smudges all over the mouth of the mask.

Making out with your boyfriend who is dressed up as a masked serial killer? it's not the most erotic thing they have done, but it is the most taboo.

He feels her walls clenching around his fingers and he presses his thumb against her clit, rubbing it in circles. She yelps and throws her head back as her orgasm washes over her.

Instead of removing his fingers, he keeps going, stroking her velvety walls. "Shi-Chris wait!'' She tries to push his hand away, but he forces her down and keeps going. She withers and whines at the overstimulation, her thighs shaking as he continues the assault on her clit.

It hits her fast, her eyes clenching shut and her back arching.

He removes his fingers and yanks her closer by her legs. She watches with hazy eyes as he begins to pull his pants down, just enough for him to release his aching dick.

Usually, he would give her a few moments to regain her strength, but he doesn't want her to.

He wants to fuck her to the brink of exhaustion.

"Chris ple- nghhh" he cuts her off by slipping into her, her walls sucking him up just right. He snaps his hips, pulling a high-pitched squeal from the girl beneath him. A devious smirk crosses his face as he drills his hips against hers.

He's relentless in his action, going hard and deep. "Don't act like you don't want it. if you didn't want it you wouldn't have been getting turned on by a fucking movie." He taunts in a raspy voice.

All she can do in return is moan and open her legs wider, proving him correct. He grabs her calves, pushing her legs closer to her chest, going even deeper than before.

This position only lasts a few minutes until she's creaming all over him, her body spazzing at the overwhelming sensation. Her eyes are clenched shut, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tries to regain her breath.

Her body lurches feeling a strong vibration on her clit. Her eyes fly open and she sees Chris holding her rose toy against her clit. She can't get any words out, only pathetic moans and small screams as it all becomes too much for her. He begins to thrust once again, adding even more pleasure.

"Fuck- look at you taking me so well. I knew you would. I saw the way you would squeeze your legs together, and now you're squeezing me the same way, such a fucking whore." He groans, his hips stuttering in the process. He's close to cumming but he wants to wait for her last orgasm.

He looks at her, taking in her fucked out face. The makeup she had on now ruined, from the tears of pleasure running down her face.

He turns the vibration up, drawing a loud scream from the girl, her thighs clenching as her fourth orgasm rushes through her core. He chuckles and pulls out, leaning forward so he can whisper in her ear, "You're doing so well for me, maybe you will be in the sequel." He runs his finger through her sensitive folds, making her whine out.

he smirks at the noise and slaps her clit, a choked moan leaving her throat. He chuckles and sits up, pulling her with him. "you gonna give me one more?" she shakes her head, too sensitive to have another orgasm. He shakes his head with her, mocking her as he laughs softly.

"Yes you can, and you will."

He slaps her cunt once again, before forcing her into his favorite position.

Face down, ass up.

He looks at her ass, rubbing his hands over it as her Grool runs down her leg. He lands a smack to her ass, enjoying the yelp that tumbles from her raw lips. She tries to pull away from him but he gently yanks her back, "Stop running baby, I'll go slow. Is that what you want?" he coos. She responds with a weak hum of agreement.

He lines himself up, slipping back inside her warm velvety walls.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head, her fingers weakly gripping her bedding tightly.

He moves slowly at first, dragging out his thrust, before pushing deep inside her, nudging against her cervix. She whimpers at the feeling, trying to pull away as this whole session becomes too much for her. He plants his hands on her waist, gripping her harshly as he pulls her back on his dick. he speeds up, all thoughts of going slow out the window. She reaches back behind her and tries to stop the assault against her aching walls.

"Why are you running baby, this is what you wanted right? You wanted me to fuck you, dressed up like a killer."

She whines and weakly tries to push him away.

He grunts and smacks her arm away, " You can take it, be a good girl, and take it." She tries to push him away once again.

Out of frustration, he grabs her torn-up thong and yanks both her arms behind her, tying her wrists together.

He uses her bound wrists as an anchor and starts plowing into her harder than he ever has before. Her body lurches forward with each thrust, shaking and arching deeper into the mattress.

Her sobs fill the room, matching each and every single one of his harsh movements. He grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her up and pressing their bodies together. He harshly grabs her breasts, twisting her nipples before landing a hard smack to the bouncing flesh. She lets out a mix of a sob and a moan. He pants and moans in her ear as he sneaks the vibrator towards her clit.

A burning sensation swelled at the pit of her stomach, snapping just as quick as it came.

She lets out a horror movie-like scream, and propels herself forward, landing face-first in the sheets. Her vision goes black as her juices splash beneath them.

Chris groans at the sight of squirting and quickly fills her up, his seed spilling out of her as he pulls out.

He grabs his phone and opens up the camera, hitting record. He grabs her hair and lifts her head up, shoving the camera in front of her.

Her eyes are halfway closed, her makeup smeared as if she has caught in the rain, and there's drool running out the corner of her mouth.

she was fucked out just like he wanted her to be.

"Smile gorgeous, you're going to be in the sequel."

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

I have such a thing for Ghostface it's honestly concerning😭 like i fr made my old sneaky link wear the mask one day 🤪

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007

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sarawritestories · 4 months

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.” Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided. As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

#cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #archeron sister #unwaveringpresence #cassian acosf #cassian imagine

538 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 5 months

Text

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: chastity belt, dom!jeongin, innie is mean, degradation, oral (m rec), like one face slap, spit, maybe edging?, one use of ‘sir’, praise, squirting, unprotected sex

“Too tight, or is it okay?” Jeongin muses, ever the careful boyfriend. You shift from foot to foot in front of the mirror, rubbing your thighs together as much as you can despite your newly locked restraint. His fingers dip into the belt around your hips, pleasantly surprised to see that he can fit two fingers past the band. “Mm, it feels okay.”

“It’s- it’s fine, Jeongin,” You huff, a flush spreading from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. Can’t he just try and push his fingers a little lower? He pulls your dress down then, rubbing a hand over where the red material of your Mrs. Claus themed dress stretches across your ass. The chastity belt is hidden underneath, the key sitting pretty on a chain around Jeongin’s neck.

It’s inconspicuous - it’s like you could pretend it’s not even there, if not for the dildo attached to the damn thing. Jeongin had spent days - no, weeks, picking out the perfect chastity belt for you. Tight enough that you couldn’t forget it was there, but loose enough for comfort, and with a ribbed dildo attached to rest inside of you and plug your pussy up all day. You were able to pee with it on, but not quite rub your clit on anything and reach orgasm - and Jeongin knew you couldn’t cum without that.

He comes up behind you as you fiddle with your hair in the mirror. All you see is a mop of unruly blonde and brown hair, and then you feel the press of lips at your neck. It would be reassuring if not for your current situation. “Twelve hours, jagi. You’ve got this.”

Right. Twelve hours. You had to wear this and feel the incessant pressing of the dildo inside you for twelve hours, and then he’ll let you cum when the clock strikes midnight and it’s officially Christmas Day.

You’re not sure you’re surviving it, in all honesty.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You managed to make it two hours before saying anything, which felt like an achievement. You and Jeongin went to a Christmas dinner with the boys, and it’s in the car that you feel your resolve withering. The dildo sits inside of you, wet and promising against your walls, but everytime you try to grind down on the sensation you’re met with metal preventing you from moving anywhere. You whine, knuckles going white where you’re gripping onto the passenger seat on your way home, and Jeongin only raises an eyebrow.

“It’s been two hours,” He hums, side eyeing your panting, heaving figure. Your cheeks are burning crimson, a bead of sweat pearling on your hairline. You wish he’d lick it off. “You have to keep it together. You still have ten hours to go.”

“Don’t remind me!” You wail, head lolling back against the headrest. The car ride is bumpy, and all you can imagine is Jeongin pulling over and taking you into the backseat, unlocking the stupid fucking belt and finally, finally pushing his cock into your slick hole. The thought has you whimpering, feet thrashing against the floor of the car in your tantrum. Jeongin huffs out a laugh.

“Be good,” He warns, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. You let yourself look at him, only a brief, fleeting glance, but it has your clit throbbing painfully. His Christmas jumper makes him look domestic, festive and sweet, and his jeans are tight on his long legs and thighs. You feel like you’re going to cry. You need him so bad. At a red light, he turns to you, tone soft, eyes anything but. “Jagiya. Be good, I believe in you.”

You blink back tears, shifting a little in your seat as if it’s going to provide you any form of relief. Jeongin swipes a thumb over your cheekbone with a soft grin, eyes forming crescent moons. It’s comforting. You nod hesitantly. “I can be good.”

“You can, and you will.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Six hours. Six hours and you’re sitting on the living room floor, now in your joggers and loose t-shirt wrapping some last minute presents. Jeongin’s mother’s gift from you both had only arrived today, so you sit fiddling with the wrapping paper and expensive perfume box, trying desperately not to think about how unbearably full you are. It’s not enough. It could never be enough. Your boyfriend’s so damn sadistic, so dirty, but you’re even worse for enjoying it so much.

You hear the sound of socked feet padding into the living room, and then a huff as Jeongin drops to the floor. He scoots forward, arms wrapped around your middle and head in the nape of your neck.

“Thanks for wrapping them,” He murmurs, fingernails dragging over your exposed arms. It makes you shiver, not going unnoticed by him. “I’m useless with wrapping gifts, jagi, you’re much better than me.”

“Yeah,” You muse, sticking another strip of tape over the golden paper. “You are useless with wrapping gifts. Remember our first year we were together, you wrapped my gift and forgot tape, and-”

“Shut up,” He whines, hiding his blushing face in your neck. It makes you giggle, and it’s so easy to be domestic and comfortable like this with your boyfriend, so easy to forget the fact that your pussy is still plugged up. A beat passes, and Jeongin inches forward, large hands moving up to underneath your breasts. Oh, no.

“Jeongin,” You warn, shifting on the floor. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help.

“Ssh,” Jeongin mutters, and then his hands encompass your breasts. He grips so tightly that the flesh spills out between his fingers, pebbled nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You’re too sensitive. “You’re not even wearing a bra. You make it so easy for me. So willing for me to touch you even though you know you can’t cum.”

“Please-”

“Carry on wrapping, you’ve got more to do,” He cuts you off. You sigh, fiddling with the present to make it look like you’re actually doing something. His hands move to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “I bet you’re feeling extra slutty for me right now. I bet that dildo is filling you up, but it’s not enough, is it? It’s not as big as me.”

Oh, fuck. Did he have to remind you? No, it’s not as big as him, it’s not as thick as him and it sure as hell can’t make you cum like he does, not when it’s just resting there.

“You’re doing so well,” He kisses your neck, flicks his tongue over your earlobe. You let yourself whine, head lolling back on his shoulder. “My pretty little slut. I can’t wait to have you squirting on my cock later, making a mess all over me.”

“Jeongin, please, I can’t-”

“Six hours, jagi. You’re halfway there,” Jeongin pecks the nape of your neck, and then he hops up, padding out of the room. You’re left with a heaving chest and extremely hard nipples, and a pussy so wet that you think the dildo would’ve slipped out if not for the chastity belt holding it in place. You hear him humming a song in the kitchen, and then he’s shouting for your attention. “Do you want a snack? I’m making one for myself.”

You’re gonna die.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s hard to lose yourself in the film Jeongin’s requested to watch with you. The throw blanket from the sofa is soft on your legs, now only clad in your underwear and your t-shirt. Jeongin’s broad chest is pressed against your back, chin hooked over the top of your head as you attempt to focus on the television. Jeongin’s ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing at the appropriate times, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t pay attention either.

Ten hours. Two to go. It’s late now, the only lights in the room being from the Christmas tree and the television. It’s cozy. You hum in approval. If you really try to relax your walls around the dildo, it’s like it’s not there at all.

“He bought her a necklace!” Jeongin squeaks, distraught at the scene playing in front of you. What film is it again? Ah, Love Actually? He did indeed buy her that necklace, and it normally breaks your heart every time, but your vision is hazy. Two hours.

Jeongin shifts, pulling the blanket further over his back until his hips are pressed against your ass. You blink in surprise. He’s hard, but he seems to be ignoring it in favour of watching the film.

You can’t have that. You wiggle your hips under the guise of getting comfortable, and Jeongin’s breath halts.

“Watch the film, jagi,” His voice is stern, but you don’t miss how it’s slightly shaky. “I don’t want to leave that belt on you any longer than necessary.”

That stops you moving. You bite your lip, a shiver wracking through your whole body.

“Mm, actually… It sounds quite good, doesn’t it?” He sighs, his hand moving to your waist. One arm slinks under your head as a makeshift pillow, keeping you in place, and the other grips the flesh on your middle. With a soft noise, he’s grinding against your ass, thick and hard and making you wish he’d just fuck that hole instead. “Keeping you in this longer. You’re already so desperate. Maybe I could play around with you a bit more, try and push that wand vibrator you love so much against the belt to see if you can still cum. Would you?”

You huff in response, eyes watering, and Jeongin’s hand moves from your waist to your chin. He turns you to face him in a quick, tight movement, squishing your cheeks, and his foxlike eyes have never looked more intimidating.

“Would you? Would you cum for me, soak that metal with your cum and still beg for me to take it off after?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow in question, and you nod, trying not to buck your hips backwards into his. It’s a slow, sinuous grind, and you pray internally that he isn’t going to make himself cum like this. He taps your face teasingly, a light smack, and it makes you keen. He snickers, dropping your chin. “I knew you would. Slut.”

“I’m- I’m not a-“

“Oh, but you fucking are,” You let him manhandle you, pushing you down so you’re laying on your front. He humps into you quicker, cock slotting into your asscheeks even through the fabric. The movement has the dildo moving inside of you just a tad, and your hands grip the sofa, eyes rolling back with a desperate sound. “Two hours. It took you two hours to whine and throw a tantrum, and now you’ve got two hours left and you’re still whining. God, do you know how fucking hard that makes me?”

The dildo’s moving. It’s moving inside of you, just an inch, but you think you might cry. “Hnnnmfg, oh, oh, Jeongin-“

“No,” He flips off of you, ushers you onto your side once more and back into your spooning position. He’s kept his hips back, cock no longer pressing into you. It must be throbbing, aching with release, and the thought has you gushing even more around the dildo. “Watch the film. It gets even better.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Please! Please, please, Jeongin, Innie, baby, please-“

Jeongin’s got you fully naked on the bed, bare skin apart from the belt still locked around your hips. It hurts at this point with how much he’s been teasing you just from his mere existence, but you’ve got fifteen minutes left. It’s 11:45. Just another fifteen minutes.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, long fingers tracing over your thighs. He’s naked too, cock hanging heavy between his own lithe thighs and abs bared to the light from your bedside lamp. He looks downright erotic, blonde and black waves of hair obscuring his face but not able to hide the wet noises of his mouth on your tits. The key still sits securely on a chain around his neck, teasing, staring you dead in the eyes.

“Ssh,” He coos, blowing cold air over the pebbled bud. “Fifteen minutes, jagi. Let me play, yeah?”

You want to scream, thrash your legs and cry that you’ve been letting him play all damn day and it hurts now, but you know Jeongin. He’ll make good on his promise to leave you locked up for longer without even blinking an eye. He’s mean.

“Okay. Okay, okay, please, suck me harder. Innie, please,” You pant, chest heaving. Jeongin hums with a grin, satisfied, and he leans down to suckle on you once again. His mouth is so wet, so warm, and you think fleetingly that you could probably cum from this if he told you to. Your nipples are red and abused by now, but you still clutch the pillows beneath your head for dear life and hope that he’ll give your clit the same treatment.

He pops off the bud once again, and then he’s crawling up your body, firm biceps caging your head. His cock rests on the cursed chastity belt, and the coolness of the metal on his cockhead has him hissing.

“Baby,” Jeongin blinks down at the belt, a crooked smile on his lips. Oh, no. “You know, I could probably cum from humping against this. Spill my cum all over the belt and leave you there, crying, so all you can do is dip your fingers in and swallow my cum in the hopes that I’ll come back and give you more.”

“Please don’t,” You whine, shaking your head. Your eyes water with unshed tears, glassy, and you let out an incoherent noise when he humps against you once, twice, three times. Jeongin shushes you, thumb dipping over your wet bottom lip. You still continue, desperate. “Innie, Innie, no! I’ve been good, don’t do that, please, I couldn’t-“

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. His digit pushes past your lips, and you suck on it diligently, blinking up at him with pure unadulterated need. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve got ten minutes now. I think I want you to suck my cock.”

You want that. Nothing’s ever sounded so good to your ears, and you nod eagerly, making him smile again. He flips you over, splaying back against the sheets and guiding you on top of him. It’s only after a chaste kiss to the lips does he push your head down, your mouth kissing down his milky skin obediently.

He’s wet, you realise, leaking precum on the trimmed hair at his base. You can’t even stare at his cock and just appreciate it, partially due to knowing that your pussy will just ache more and partially due to the fact that you have to have it in your mouth before you die from need.

“Deepthroat it for me,” Jeongin breathes, one arm behind his head. He’s the epitome of relaxation as you try to force your mouth down on him, tasting the leaking pearlescent cum on his cockhead and spreading it around. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as his spare hand goes to your hair. “That’s it. Wetter, get it wetter.”

You try. You truly do try, but the only wetness right now is coming from your eyes as you cry. You want to spit on his cock, to get it wet and to make him approve of your actions, but your mouth is dry from pure want. You can’t wait to see how he’s going to fuck you after he unlocks your belt. It’s all you can think about.

His long fingers envelop in your hair, yanking your head off, and he sits up. You watch in awe as he spits on his own cock, pulling your head back and using his thumb to open your lips again. His cock is already slick with his spit, but he spits in your mouth anyway, before he’s pulling your mouth back to his cock.

“Ah, that’s better,” Jeongin hums, relaxing back against the sheets again. “Nice and wet. Will your pussy be wetter than this? I bet it will be, gushing on that tiny dildo all day. God, you’re such a whore for letting me do this.”

You whine around his shaft, bobbing your head as much as you can with the tight grip on your locks. He doesn’t let you breathe, hips starting to fuck sinuously into the tight heat you’ve provided him, and you feel jealous. How come he gets this, and you get nothing? You blink. It has to be five more minutes by now. Five minutes, and you can-

“Not long, baby,” He murmurs, licking his lips over and over. “Keep taking it for me. I’ll keep my cum for your little cunt, don’t worry.”

You’re squirming against the sheets, trying to create a semblance of what Jeongin did to you earlier for some friction on your core. He seems to let it slide despite looking down at you, balls slapping against your chin with every thrust into your throat. You’re gagging, drooling even more down his thick cock, and you let your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of being used like your boyfriend’s own personal fucktoy. It’s all you’d ever want for Christmas.

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, pulling your head off of him. You let him throw you back to the bed by your hair, and then he’s ripping the chain directly off of his neck and shoving the key in the padlock of your belt.

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Off, off, I need you,” Your voice is hoarse, gravelly from the rough treatment, and Jeongin nods with agreement. He knows. He’s not going to punish you for being desperate, and you don’t even know if it’s midnight, but he yanks the offending pleasure cage down your legs and throws it to the floor with a clatter. You can’t even mourn the loss of the dildo when you know you’re getting so much better.

You wail as he pumps his cock a few times, spreading the remaining slick up his length. His chest is heaving, eyes dark. “Legs up. Get those fucking legs up, show me your pussy, I need to be inside of you.”

You obey, hands sinking into the pits of your knees to bend yourself in half, and Jeongin surges forward. He positions his cockhead inbetween your folds, finding your drippy, needy hole. With a sigh, his cock slides inside of you, your walls wet and gummy and so easy to accept the intrusion. You moan so loud that you’re convinced that the world shakes.

“Ah, there we go,” Jeongin groans, and his hips are snapping into yours immediately. It feels so good that you begin to cry again, hands gripping onto your knees for dear life. “There’s that slutty little cunt. F-fuck, was it worth the wait? Does my cock feel good? Tell me, jagiya, tell me.”

“So good, ‘s good, so big, so thick, I’ll- hnnnfg, Jeongin, I need to cum, please!”

“You’re so good, baby,” He coos, cock punching against your g-spot. Touching your clit just once would have you cumming around him but something tells you Jeongin hasn’t got a lot left in him either. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, dripping down his temple. “Touch yourself. C’mon, s-show me how you touch that clit, fuck.”

You let one hand slide from your knee and Jeongin’s quick to press his chest against you firmer, keeping you bent in half. You take two fingers and press them between his lips, and he sucks on them, maintaining eye contact during it. It’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you have to reach down and blindly find your clit, swollen and aching and peeking through your pliant folds.

The first pressing of your fingers makes you near-scream, toes curling, and Jeongin grips your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused and glassy, and you rub and rub and rub until you think you’re going to ascend.

“There she is, look at you,” Jeongin grunts, voice shaking. He fucks into your pussy over and over, wet slapping noises overtaking your senses. “Cum for me. Good fucking girl, my perfect slut, cum for me.”

You whine, legs shaking, and then you’re cumming. Your pussy gushes so hard Jeongin has to pull out, and he instantly hooks two long fingers inside of your hole with a loud groan of his own to crook them up against your g-spot. Your pussy only gushes more, your ears ringing with the force of your orgasm, drool dribbling out of your lips. You continue to rub your clit, spraying cum over your lover, and as soon as the last dribble leaves your messy cunt Jeongin’s sinking right back into home.

“Gonna make me cum,” He warns, shaking his head in disbelief. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp from sweat. “Squirted so fucking much, baby, dirty little slut, so horny from me locking that clit up, I’ll- god, I’m gonna cum inside of you.”

“Please,” You slur, hand resting on your clit with no movement. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

Jeongin groans, loud and steady into the expanse of your room, and then his hips stall. They shake with the intensity of his orgasm, his cock pulsing hot white into your pussy until it’s gushing out around his cock. You feel drunk with it, eyes rolling back into your head as he continues to make noise, riding out the pleasure.

You do really feel like you’ve ascended. You barely notice when Jeongin gets up and wipes you with a warm towel, humming the tune to another Christmas song, and you barely notice when he slides back onto the dirty sheets and pulls you into his chest. It’s only when you realise he’s talking do you blink back into reality.

“The necklace, jagi,” He huffs, and you furrow your eyebrows. He’s still thinking about that film. “Not even for his own wife. Like-“

“Jeongin, you just fucked my brains out and you’re still on about Love Actually.”

Jeongin goes quiet, and then he laughs, kissing your forehead. “Sorry. I doubt you paid attention though, so we’ll watch it again tomorrow. Merry Christmas. I love you more than anything.”

“Merry Christmas, I love you more than anything,” You slur back, eyes already heavy with sleep. Jeongin’s laughing again, you note, but you’re already curling up and falling asleep.

He’ll have to deal with the two of you not changing the sheets later, but you’ll have presents to open first.

#hyunsvngbinimas!#yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin fanfiction #yang jeongin fanfic #yang jeongin fic #yang jeongin x reader #i.n fic #i.n fanfiction #i.n x reader #i.n fanfic #i.n smut #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz fic #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

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lethalchiralium · 4 months

Text

Happiness Headcanons

(NSFW at the end, as a treat 😌)

- There’s nothing more addictive to Simon than the love of his wife. (Maybe your smell, but probably not.) Simon’s never been consumed by love before (other than Winnie and Mellie) so he is just desperately wanting to protect that.

- He will hold Winnie up by an ankle and pretend he’s selling a prize fish at the market. (She giggles loudly and thrashes, he says, “Oh! ‘ve caught a live one!”)

- The 141 is over pretty much every weekend when they’re on base for long stretches of time. Most of the time they fuss over you cooking, so they bring takeout.

- Winnie likes to dress you some days. Usually it’s just a fun t-shirt and colorful sweatpants or jeans, but sometimes she tugs on a dress you haven’t worn in a while. “Please?” She’ll say, and you have literally no will to say no to her.

- The 141 calls you ‘Missus’ religiously. You’re convinced Price doesn’t know your real name. (He knows your name, he just finds it funny to call you ‘Missus’.)

- Simon secretly LOVES to wash your hair on wash days. He’ll learn your routine from back to front without your knowledge and ask one day to wash your hair. You don’t recall a time since that you’ve had to wash your own hair when he’s home.

- Simon started to learn to love snow when you two started dating. You brought him home to Maine, you were then snowed into your family cabin with just Winnie. Watching her play in the snow was one of his favorite moments.

- He sits at princess tea parties without complaint. Will chat with the cat on duty, who is trying to steal Winnie’s plastic cups. (Missy has had to be held before she starts tearing up stuffies.)

- You always make Simon’s tea first before your own drink. You take time to make it perfect, all because you love seeing him smile as you hand him his “Best Dad Ever” mug.

- Mellie vocalizes to herself to sleep. When she started saying “Dada”, she’d say that to get herself to sleep. Freaked Simon out the first time he heard it on the baby monitor.

- Winnie has an obsession with ice cubes, only because she feeds them to Missy. (“Mama! Ice coobe?” “No, baby. You gave her enough.” “But-“ “No.”)

- Simon can’t figure out how to braid hair for the life of him. It’s somehow too much finger movement, you laughed at that statement.

- There’s a dress you lost in between moving from America to England to be Winnie’s nanny (then subsequently her mom), it was your favorite dress ever. And Simon’s been looking for an exact copy since you two started dating. (He has it in a box in the attic with your due date on it, a surprise for birthing his next baby.)

- Winnie loves seeing you in dresses, she always squeals and compliments you on how pretty you are. She makes you comfortable in your own skin.

- Mellie likes to be wrapped to your chest, little fingers holding onto your shirt as you pick up around the house. She usually falls asleep after fifteen minutes, she just loves to be close to you. It’s the safest place she could ever be.

- Simon likes to lay on the couch with his leg hiked up on the back, so when you come to lay on his chest, he can trap you in. Surprise trap style. (You don’t have the heart to tell him you see it coming every time.)

- Simon plans dates every week.

- You buy tickets to sports events or concerts once every few months and beg him to go. He always says yes.

- He doesn’t sing at all. He’ll hum, but that’s about it. (Which is a lie, he sings little lullabies to his daughters to get them to sleep most nights.)

- Gaz is the go-to babysitter, but if they need to go somewhere overnight, they go to Price. You’ll give Soap a chance every once in a blue moon, but he usually gets drawn on. Head to toe. And is the only uncle who gets terrorized by your five year old. (Simon calls it karma.)

- Missy obviously adores Simon, but when Simon’s busy with the girls, she’ll rub up on your legs and purr like a motorboat.

- Mellie crawls a lot, but she usually likes to pull herself to stand next to the couch - little face staring you down as you sit down. “What, baby? Wanna snuggle?” A little hand reaches up for you, you’re quick to scoop her up and lay down with her. (You always kiss her cheeks, she squeals and makes kissy noises back.)

- You kiss him before you fall asleep every night. The one night you didn’t, he thought you were mad at him. Turns out you were sick and didn’t want to get him sick, but he was incredibly butt hurt about not getting a kiss from his wife.

- Winnie’s favorite color is green. It offends Soap to high heaven since he believes she must secretly be Irish. (Simon nor Winnie’s birth mom are Irish.) You’ve taken the liberty to decide that Mellie’s color is purple.

- Simon takes over laundry and dishes most days so you can recuperate. Raising an almost six year old and almost one year old while having somewhat on and off morning sickness is difficult. (He takes over all duties when you’re essentially locked in the bathroom all day.)

- Gaz and Soap will show up unannounced and essentially push your children to the living room. They’re making blanket forts and drawing with crayons on big sheets of paper. They’ll sit and watch movies, excited that the girls love to spend time with them.

- Winnie’s lunch box and backpack are green and decorated with flowers, she loves them both.

- Simon likes to be held. He’ll shift in the night so his head is on your chest, hands on his back. Hearing you breathe calms him. Hearing your heartbeat helps him breathe easier. (It’s hard not to think about how much his family would’ve loved you.)

- Simon writes down what kind of makeup you like to wear so he can order them if you’re getting low. (No makeup? That’s great too! Man’s purchasing you skincare and nice little lotions, bath bombs, and perfumes. He likes to pamper his beautiful wife.)

- Mellie refuses all vegetables except carrots and broccoli. She’s repeatedly thrown the ones she doesn’t like at her father, so you’ve temporarily stopped making them for her. She’s as happy as a clam.

- You have been looking into getting Simon the dog he wants. Either a Rottweiler, Doberman, or King Shepherd. It’s just hard to buy a £1500 puppy without the fraud alert going off on your joint bank account.

- You ask Simon to paint your nails sometimes. He doesn’t think he could do it right so he refuses and hands you enough quid to go to a nail salon.

- Winnie loves Barbies. She maybe has five of them that she take a great care of. She always requests her father to play with her. Simon always says yes, but is only allowed to play with her favorite Barbie - the one that looks like you.

- Your engagement and wedding rings are a matching set, both expensive and high quality. Simon worked for years without anyone to spend it on, so he saved and invested. It’s not enough to retire on, but it’s enough to buy your matching rings, the matching bracelet, necklace, and earrings. (Yes, he’s still paying that credit card off. No, he doesn’t regret it. He loves watching your face light up with every piece he gives you.)

- He also buys you another bracelet, one with birthstones on them - yours, his, Winnie’s, and Mellie’s. With space for the next one, and maybe another after that. (What can the man say? He can’t wait to see your pregnant belly, it’ll be the first time he’s ever seen a partner of his actually grow his child. He’s excited to wake up every day and see you. (If fifteen year old Simon Riley could see him now, wanting to wake up every day.))

NSFW

- Munch this, munch that, Simon doesn’t go down on you unless asked. He doesn’t think he does it that well, but he’ll do as you ask.

- He unknowingly made you into a pillow princess. His body aches after sex a lot of the time (His injuries that healed wrong) and he’s so conscious to make sure you are comfortable at all times. So if that means he keeps you laying on array of pillows, so be it.

- You do love to ride him though. It’s not often as it requires a lot of energy from you, and you’re almost always exhausted. You just like to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head, the way his Adam’s apple bops as he sucks in air, licking his lips. He’s quite literally your personal art gallery, you could stare at him for days on end.

- He’s not confident in his head giving abilities, but he is very confident with his fingers. Your first orgasm is always from him rubbing your clit, doesn’t matter if it takes a little longer and more effort the more frequently he does it, he wants you soft and pliable so he can gently fuck you.

- Eye contact is huge for you. You trust Simon, you truly do, but there’s just something about how he refuses to look away from you sometimes.

- He’s quiet during sex, which means you’re mostly quiet too. You don’t want the girls to hear, even if they’re down the hall. So he’s extremely quiet, except for the soft grunts and breathy whispers. (“So good, meetin’ my hips like that. Keep rockin’ ‘em, love. Feels so good.”)

- He likes to bend your back sometimes, not often. Having you on your front, pressing his hips down so your back curls and he can go deeper? He’s a mess.

- He gets pussy drunk a lot. He drooled on your chest once, he tried to apologize but you swiped it with your finger and put it in your mouth. “Taste sweet, baby.” (That man immediately asked if he could spit in your mouth, you said another time. That or he could spit on your pussy, which he did ten seconds later.)

- A quickie in the shower is a must before work for him some days. If you’re not up for it, he’ll jerk off thinking of you.

- You like to wash him in the shower, which means you usually get to see him sudsy and clean, always from a below his waist angle though.

- You two don’t have sex every day, but it’s always every few days. More than most of your friends have sex with their partners. (Definitely more than Gaz and Soap can pick up when they’re home.)

- Sometimes he whispers how he wants you to have as many babies as he can give you, that he just wants to see you with a baby belly, how sexy you are being a wonderful mother. (He’s in adoration of you, even when he’s balls deep.)

- Simon is the type to ask Gaz to babysit, then reserve a nice hotel room so he can fuck you without restraint.

- He’ll whimper if you ask nicely and promise something in return. (For example, brushing his hair. Or holding his hair when he goes down on you and controlling where his tongue goes. Fun stuff like that.)

- You do appreciate a quick fingering since pregnancy hormones got you fucked up, you can’t keep asking to get bent over the bathroom counter or your bed because you’re gonna have a baby belly soon.

- As much as he loves having sex with you, he’s nervous to initiate. He knows you don’t mind, he knows you usually say yes, it’s just that he doesn’t want to take advantage of you. He knows what it’s like and he would simply put a bullet in his head if he EVER touched you when you didn’t want him to. He loves you too much.

#happiness series #happiness #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x wife!reader

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chxrryhansen · 4 months

Text

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Concepts 6/50

Character; Rafe Cameron

Kink; Non con (DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT)

Dialogue; “Look at the mess you made.”

Requested by; Anon <333

As always, this blog contains 18+ content only, your media consumption is your own responsibility, THIS IS A DARK FIC!!! Please be warned, this fic is NON CONSENSUAL. Read at your own risk

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

You stirred in the silky bed sheets, yawning as you woke from your nap, attempting to raising your hands to wipe away the crust.

Except they wouldn’t move.

You shot up, slowly becoming more aware of your surroundings as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Each of your wrists were cuffed to opposing ends of a king size bed. The cuffs restraining you jingled as you attempted to pull your hands free.

How could this have possibly happened?

Your memory jogged as you recalled being at a party, hosted by a random boy you hadn’t even met. A party you didn’t want to attend in the first place but of course caved at your best friend’s pleads and bribery to pay for your drinks for the night- and the next few.

You remembered being blackout drunk, no longer caring about manners you had crawled into the first bed you found. Falling into a deep sleep.

As your eyes adjusted you noticed a tall male frame standing at your left. Due to the darkness of the room you couldn’t quite make out the face of the mysterious figure.

“Wh-Who are you?” you trembled, your body shaking in fear.

“Spread your legs.” the male commands, ignoring your question, his voice stern but oddly familiar. Your breathing picks up as you begin to panic, your hands flailing as you begin to scream “Help! H-“ He rushes forwards, his large hand smacking over your mouth essentially silencing your cries.

“Scream like that again and i- i swear to god i’ll fuckin’ kill you.” he growled.

“You got that?” he pressured once again, you nodded your head at a rapid pace, believing his threat to be true.

His hand fell from your mouth as he straddled you from above, his thick hands pulling up your dress and pushing your panties to the side. He groaned at the sight of your pretty pussy, soaked for him already and you didn’t realise it.

Before you knew it, the mystery man had removed his boxers and began to palm his cock in his hand. His thick shaft leading up to a swollen pink tip. His balls big and full of cum, ready to empty inside you.

Without warning he pressed his bulbous tip against your hole and thrust forcefully into you. Bottoming out in a single thrust as you began to scream at the top of your lungs.

His hand once again covered your mouth, only this time his other hand pinched your nose alongside it. Oxygen left your lungs faster than you imagined, your body thrashed, legs kicking, arms flailing. Still impailed on his fat cock, your pussy clenched in desperation of breath making him let out a long moan as he smothered you.

Just as you felt your body still and you begin to roll back he removed his grasp. You gasped desperate to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as you could get.

You were cut off as he began to thrust his length into you, your walls sucking him in. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, always knew you were a whore.” he sneered as you cried out. You begged him to stop, telling him he didn’t need to do this and that you promised not to tell anybody which only seemed to entice him further.

Suddenly you felt a knot in your stomach begin to tighten “No no no.” you choked, desperate to not cum all over your rapists cock.

You couldn’t hold in your moans of pleasure as you squirted, your juices coating his cock and his abs. “F-fuck look at the mess you made, dirty fuckin’ girl” he grunted.

His hips stuttered as his warm seed began to fill you up, hot ropes of cum spurted into your cunt, leaking out due to the amount of sperm he emptied inside of you. You quivered and shook around his length, coming down from your forced high.

He leaned over you, flicking on the light switch beside his bed.

You closed your eyes as the bright light made them sting, slowly blinking as your pupils shrunk down and your vision became less blurry.

Your face fell further as you recognised the figure infront of you. Your squirt still dripping down his body and his cum still leaking out of your own.

“Cmon’ don’t look so shocked you slut, it was only a matter of time before i found you.” Rafe chuckled as he watched your eyes begin to fill up with tears once again. How did he find you?

How does he always fucking find you.

#chxrrys concepts #rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey fic #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #dark! rafe cameron #rafe x reader #dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey

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sunnebeam · 11 months

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in the darkest little paradise.

A 'DARKEST LITTLE PARADISE' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (bc it's fun to fantasize about in fictional situations but please use protection irl), small mentions of mafia shit (again), sex work

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: yet another smut drabble that's actually just a buildup for a whole ass wip! enjoy

— prev: (none) | next: and all the pieces fall

You're not much of a crybaby, not when life has a way of toughening you up.

But right now, with your legs high up in the sky as you lay on your back, your skin reveling in the soft velvet of the sheets, you blubber incoherently with uncontrollable tears streaming down your face.

The reason for your tears is wearing a smug look as he looks down at your pitiful, crying form.

"Why are you crying, princess?"

His thumb never leaves your clit just as his cock never leaves your warm, wet heat. But he doesn't move.

"Yoongi—"

"Yeah? What do you want?"

He's ruthless, rubbing circles on your sensitive nub but remaining otherwise motionless while he's balls deep inside you.

You hate crying. You hate pleading, as well. But Yoongi singlehandedly makes you do both.

After all, Min Yoongi owns the streets of Daegu. It should be a no-brainer that he owns your body, too.

He loves you like this, loves when your tough facade breaks just for him, loves when you whine and beg and plead to him, loves when you fall apart because of him.

"Yoongi," you whimper when he twitches inside you, "move."

If someone else tries ordering him around, they'd lose a limb.

But here you are, your pleas commanding him to fold to your every whim, your moans and lewd sounds spurring him to give you what you want.

And he does.

Yoongi starts off slow, knowing just how much you love the buildup despite your whining. He gathers a generous amount of spit in his mouth and lets it drop on your waiting cunt, groaning when he observes the mix of juices pooling between your spread legs where the two of you are joined.

"I've spoiled you too much," he teases, his hips starting to pick up a faster pace. "Bossing me around. Never saying please."

You're too fucked out to respond and it's not like he expects you to, anyway. Not when he starts jackhammering into you just the way you like it, and he begins to feel the fluttering of your walls.

"Yoongi," you sob, and as if to appease him, you chant, "please, please, please—"

And then you fall.

Yoongi loves it when you climax. You thrash around, hands gripping anything you can reach – the sheets, the bed posts, your hair, your tits. There's a beautiful vulnerability to the sight, a stark contrast to the tough, closed-off act you normally put on.

In truth, the both of you are closed-off people. But right here, with your cunt squeezing the life out of his dick, with your naked bodies connected in the most intimate of ways, he allows himself the same moment of vulnerability.

He falls. He reaches his peak and spills inside you, leaning down and groaning into your neck as you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Anyone looking at the two of you right now would think you're two lovers basking in the afterglow.

In another world, maybe. But in this dark little paradise, you can only wish.

Because he's Min Yoongi, the ruthless mob boss, the topdog of Daegu. And you're just a no-named prostitute, a whore, a nobody.

You know better than to dwell on it. So you suck it up, put on a face for him, and try to make the rest of his visit worth his while and worth his money.

After all, he's paying for you.

"Hey," he calls out just as the two of you are getting dressed. "Are you available tomorrow?"

"Oh, it's my day off tomor—"

"Not to work," he clarifies. "I mean, to go out."

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Out?" you repeat. "Out where?"

"To dinner."

You blink. "You want to take me out to dinner? Why?"

"Don't people usually go out for dinner to celebrate their birthdays?"

"My... birthday...? Wait, what?"

Yoongi just smirks. He then kisses your cheek before walking out the room with a quick, "I'll pick you up at seven," thrown over his shoulder.

You're dumbfounded. You're flustered. And truthfully, you're a bit excited. But most of all, you're confused.

Because how did Yoongi know tomorrow's your birthday?

#bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts x you #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #suga x you #bts fic #yoongi fic #suga fic #min yoongi fic #cat.writes

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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months

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The Scare (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, torture, descriptions of blood n torture, comfort, simon in ghost mode, idk what else

Summary: No summary ;) have fun

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more.

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person.

You.

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered.

And then he realised.

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening.

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone.

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this.

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people.

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door.

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath.

“That her?” The first man asks.

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak.

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words.

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso.

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. The front door comes into view. They have no care whatsoever, with you hitting your head on the wall. Black dots appear in your vision, slowly taking you out of consciousness.

***

Simon stepped into the apartment the two of you shared, praying he wasn’t too late.

The apartment was silent.

The first bad sign.

He walks towards your bedroom, the door wide open.

The second bad sign.

The bed was empty, your candle was still lit, and your book was closed on your bed.

With no bookmark.

The third bad sign.

He was too late. He knew he was too late.

***

2 weeks.

16 days.

16 nights you slept.

24 hours you counted every day.

16 days you slept uneasy.

Counting down the minutes until Simon would finally find you.

At least, you hoped he would.

The men brought you to what seemed like an old warehouse, locking you up in a dark grey rooms. 4 grey walls stared back at you. One little cot in the corner of the room, on the opposite wall, a door. A door you were dragged through every day to be taken to the room you were tortured in every day. They always asked the same questions.

And they were all about Simon.

You said nothing, of course. How could you betray him like that? He protects you, you protect him.

Even if it meant the bruises on your arms would keep coming, the cuts on your back wouldn’t stop bleeding, the grumbling in your stomach wouldn’t stop getting louder, and the pain would just grow.

You were willing to take it all for him. He was worth it.

You stare up at the grey ceiling above you, sighing as you lay on the cot, silently praying that wherever Simon is, he’s safe, he’s eaten, and he’s healthy. And he’s looking for you.

You know he probably is. He loves you. He tells you all the time that you’re his whole world.

But a part of you can’t help but think that he isn’t coming. You know it’s a lie, Simon would never leave you. Especially when you know he loves you.

You silently pray. And pray.

Until the grey fades away and the black of sleep takes over.

***

On the morning of the 17th day, you woke up to gunshots. You shivered. Gunshots always meant bad things. At least, that’s what Simon says.

You stand on shaky legs before getting down, sitting with your knees to your chest. Footsteps make their way closer to your room. Your anxiety skyrockets. The door flies open.

On instinct, you crawl backwards, in fear. A hand reaches out to you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you cry.

“’s me, lovie! ’s me! ’s okay! You’re okay…’s jus’ me. ’s me, lovie…”

You know that voice. You know that accent. You know that way of not pronouncing ‘t’s.

Simon.

You peer your eyes open, to be met with a skull mask looking back at you. Acting on instinct, you throw your arms around him, letting out a loud sob of relief. His arms tighten, holding your body against him. He strokes your hair softly.

“Prove it,” you whisper.

“Prove what, lovie?”

“Prove that you’re Simon…I can’t trust anyone right now…” you reply shakily. He nods, taking off his mask. “Si…” You shake your head. “Not enough…”

“You hate the smell of ketchup. You can’t stand vinegar in any of your food. You always light candles when you read. You forgive, but you never forget. You like chocolate and strawberry ice cream, but you can’t stand chocolate-covered strawberries. You love ‘The Rookie’, even though it’s inaccurate and it sucks. You need more?” he rambles.

You giggle softly through the tears in your eyes, curling into him once more.

“‘m here, ‘m here, I promise. ‘M not leavin’ you. Gonna take you home,” he smiles at you, still holding you against him. His eyes drift down to the bruises and the cuts and the dried blood on your arms. You notice his eyes, the soft glint in them gone, replaced by an angry look. He presses a finger into his ears. “Johnny, don’ spare any o’ them.”

You blink a few times to process his words but snuggle closer to him as he speaks to Johnny. He takes off his jacket, wrapping you in it. He holds you there for what seems like hours, though it’s merely 10 minutes. A sigh escapes his lips as he stands up, heading out of the room you’re both in. He keeps your head cradled against him, shielding you from the battle going on outside.

He takes you onto a jet, a military one, you recognize. He sets you down on a seat, sitting next to you, holding onto you. “Simon…” his name escapes your lips as a whisper, your eyes starting to close again.

“Keep ‘em open, please. Lovie, I need t’ know you're still conscious. Please, keep ‘em open,” his free hand caresses your face. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

“Trying,” you respond. He smiles, continuing to play with my hair. “Hey Si?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, lovie.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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rafedaddy01 · 5 months

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Summary: Rafes hosting a party but he needs his girl

A/n: wishing I was cuddled up in Drew’s arms right now 🥺

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, semi-public sex, 18+ content, language, sorta fluff (if you squint really really hard)

“Fuck, I need you so bad” Rafe growls as he attacks your neck, sucking the skin behind your ear. “I don’t have a condom baby” he continues his sloppy kisses all over your neck, biting it teasingly. “I- I don’t care, just fuck me” you were a panting mess as he continues working you up by kissing your neck. You reach your hands between the two of you and start unzipping his pants and pulling his hard cock out. You started slowly stroking him, using the precum as a lubricant. His hand trails up your dress until it reaches your bare pussy.

Rafe stops all movement, “no underwear” he gave you a look that made your cheeks flush. “Naughty girl, walking around this party with no panties, tsk tsk tsk” his fingers begin rubbing slow circles on your clit and your wetness leaks out. “So wet for me” His thumb presses hard on your clit as his fingers tease your entrance and slowly push in.

“Rafe” you gasp. “Relax sweetheart” he gradually picks up the pace of his thrusting, his lips connecting to your neck to try and relax you. “F-fuck” you moan out. “You’re so sexy” Rafes warm breath hits your skin as he whispers the words in your ear. His thumb begins moving faster on your clit and he applies pressure as the fingers work inside you speeding up and curving, hitting your g-spot. Your orgasm washes over you as you thrash against his hold. Your back arching off the wall and you moan out.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean before bunching your dress further up. You watch as he gives his cock a few strokes and lines it up with your entrance.

He doesn’t give you any time to come down from your high as he plunges into you, picking up your legs and wrapping them around his body as he fucks you against the bathroom wall. The overstimulation is too much, “Rafe, s’too much”

“Just one more baby” he says as his eyes glazed over in pleasure.

“Rafe I feel like I’m gonna pee!” You whine out as he bucks his hips into you. “It’s okay baby, just ride that wave of pleasure. S’gonna feel so good, I promise. I’m so close, just a few more-“ he thrusts harder.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he curses as his thrusts get sloppier. You feel him release his cum deep inside of you and it’s a new feeling. Feeling his hot cum coat every part inside your pussy, claiming you as his triggers your second orgasm.

As you moan out your release Rafes fingers pull the top of your dress down and he sucks on your nipples, adding to the pleasure.

“Your so fucking hot when your squirting on my cock baby” he continues sucking on your nipple and pinching the other, prolonging your orgasm.

“Fuck” you moan as you grind your hips and it sends you into a third orgasm that’s more intense than the other. You feel more cum seep out of Rafes cock as your walls trap him inside you. “Fuck, y/n” Rafe groans as he nuzzles your neck.

“Fuck, look at me baby” Rafe grips your chin and kisses you hard on the lips, his tongue slipping past your teeth and claiming your mouth as his.

“Your trouble y/n” Rafe smirks as he presses a quick kiss to your lips and slowly drops your legs, making sure your stable enough to stand.

“So are you Cameron” you smirk back at him as you adjust your dress and fix your disheveled hair.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @hoesindifferentshows @rafemotherfuckingcameron

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #smut #dark rafe cameron #drewstarkey smut #outerbanks #drewstarkey #rafecameron #fanfic #i want this #rafe outer banks #sad rafe #obx fanfiction #daddy's good girl

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 7 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 30

Danny became aware suddenly, the memory of his mothers parting shot as he fled fresh in his mind. He panicked, thrashing around in what felt like a thick liquid when his hand hit what felt like a wall of glass.

A tube? Was Danny floating in a freaking vat somewhere? He didn't remember anything after being shot down by his mom but he knew if he was in a lab somewhere he needed to escape!

In moments he was on the ground surrounded by wierd fluid and shattered glass. He ripped the oxygen mask off his face and threw it away from him as a violent shiver wracked his body.

Looking up he was surprised. He was expecting the bright shiney metal of his parents lab, or the white of the GIW lab, heck, even the wierd purple thing Vlad sometimes had going on would have made sense. As much as he would have hated to have been saved by the fruitloop, it would have been a familiar fight.

The devil you know and all that.

But no, this lab was all dull blacks, dark grays and inky shadows. The tubes around him bathing the atmosphere in a soft green glow that barely illuminated anything.

Great. Wonderful. Just what he needed. More people making more problems for him.

Danny picked himself up off the ground, shuttering again and was surprised to realize he didn't have any clothes on.

Danny decided that whoever had kidnapped him was going to get acquainted the Anti-creep stick. Luckly there was a closet nearby with what looked like a superhero costume in it. Okay. Hes dealt with weirder situations.

He put most of the suit on, leaving behind the cape, mask and chest straps. Danny had to admit he liked the red and black look. The gold was a nice touch...too...

Oh no. Where these supervillian clothes?! Red and black are totally Saturday morning cartoon villian colors! His mind started whirling, somthing that it doesn't usually do as he made his way over to the darkened computer almost by instinct.

Then he looked up.

There wasn't a lot of light in this place, but there was enough to see his reflection in the blackness of the computer monitor. One problem.

That wasn't his face.

He was as this strangers face twisted into confusion and horror. Was he overshadowing somebody? No. No...he was...Tim Drake? He watched as his reflection furrowed his brows.

No. He was Danny Fenton, son of Jack and Maddie Fenton. Local mad scientists.

But...he was Tim Drake, son of Jack and Janet Drake. Archeologists.

A distressed sound left his throat as he slid to the floor, two entire lifetimes flashing before his eyes as he tried to figure out what was real. He tried using his powers but nothing happened. That should have answered everything, right?

But that wouldn't explain how he had shattered the entirety of the thick glass of his tube prison. The glass had been completely shattered and landed in a circle around the tubes base in a way no punch could have done, no matter how powerful. Does he have powers that are simply unavailable right now or is there another explanation?

Either way he should probably wear a mask so people don't ask why Tim Drake is dressed as Red Robin, huh?

Oh god. Red Robin.

He woke up in a cloning pod in one of Red Robins secret labs! He remembered Jack, Maddie, other Jack, and Janet's treatment of him. He recalled each and every dismissive comment, every empty promise. Every time the bleachers were empty at his vollyball games. Every time he was left home alone for an "important" dig. Every time his parents ran off because a ghost might be nearby. Every time Tim would throw everything to the wayside to focus on a case. Every time Tim would throw away his own health and well being for a goal. Every time...

Danny straightened up and pulled himself off the floor before he started typing away at the computer and planning his next moves.

Regardless of what was happening, if he was Danny overshadowing a clone or if his life as Fenton was just a dream from a pod, he knew one thing for sure.

He did not need another neglectful parent.

Aka Danny runs around Gotham avoiding the bats, the press, the rogues, the petty criminals, the mob, and the police. He fails of course and manages to somehow make enemies out of everyone all while having a massive identity crisis and searching for a new home far far away from here before Tim Drake figures out who he really is...

#halloween prompts #dpxdc #prompts #tim drake #danny fenton #identity crisis #you choose whats real ;)#fanfiction prompts #danny phantom #red robin #yum #red robin dc #tim just got done dirty like that huh #are there other clones in the pods or are they empty? maybe...something else is inside them? or someone?#danny might be deaged if you want #danny is so stressed he wants to cry #he thinks about getting adopted by someone. he wants ma and pa kent but that would lead to tim1 knowing where he is #and he never wants to see Tim 1. Ever. hes been let down by to many adults in his life and is convinced Tim 1 wouldnt be any different

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leviathanleva · 24 days

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Daisy

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.1k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 4 "The Plea"

You stretch and groan.

The sound comes out jumbled and is drowned out by the violent vibrating of the washing machine you’re perched upon. You strain your legs, flexing your thighs and working out the sleep from your numb muscles. Your toes squish against the inside of your boots before you relax and rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears your incessant yawns were causing.

You’d seen plenty of pictures of children hollering in front of a fan on a hot summer day, some sort of weird way to entertain themselves because the beat of the fins distorted their voices. It was a good commercial for any fan whenever summer rolled around. Sadly, now when you were free to wander and do as you pleased, much of the mundane experiences you wanted to dip your toes in were impossible to achieve. You were two hundred years too late. You took what you could get though, hence why you’d let curiosity guide you on top of the washing machine once it had started centrifuging.

The steaming coffee mug sat on the L-shaped kitchen counter just next to you and after a moment of being thoroughly jostled around, you picked it up with as much care as you could. Lips latched onto the edge of the mug with haste before you took a big sip, slurping audibly before the coffee could spill out from the violent thrashing causing your arm to quake.

Wet hair clung to your bare shoulders and the aromatic droplets of water dripped and soaked into your dress. It had taken you a good hour to get the ghoul inside the shower after you’d gotten out, all squeaky clean and smelling of lavender soap. How he managed to bear being a grimy crusty prune was beyond you, but as soon as the generator had kicked back to life and restored some power in the vault, you’d jumped at the idea of a nice hot shower.

His clothes were strewn on a dangling cable, as clean as they could get after being worn for who knows how long without a proper wash. Some stains persisted and the washing machine couldn’t do anything about the faded colors, but at least they didn’t smell of death anymore.

He’d dismissed your proposal to launder his rags at first, bumped the butt of his shotgun against your stomach hard enough to make you wheeze and still you hadn’t relented. It was the least you could do, you’d said, begged even. After everything he’d done for you, you wanted to repay him outside of the hefty tato sack stuffed to the brim with bloody Pip-boys and medical supplies and provisions. You’d chewed at his ear until he’d given up with a sigh and hidden behind the shower curtain before tossing his clothes at you layer by layer.

In truth, you just wanted to prolong his departure. Thinking of anything and everything because you didn’t want to be left alone in this haunted vault, you’d come up with ploy after ploy and the power coming back had only aided you in your private battle. So traumatized by the last day that you clung to him even if he was a demented, deadly wastelander probably no better than the raiders he’d slaughtered.

Your sleep had been plagued with nightmares that night; grotesque sceneries of violence and gore were painted in detail over your closed eyelids, making you stir and whimper in your bed. The ghoul was a light sleeper, trained to spring into action at the slightest noise and you tossing and turning and making the bedframe creak gave him all the rights to chuck a cushion at you. He’d scared you half to death with that, but the reminder that he was still there, grumbling on the couch and trying to catch a wink of rest, had given you enough comfort to sleep peacefully for a few hours.

When the washing machine stilled, your reminiscing ended.

You tipped the mug, suckling at the last few drops of sweetened coffee, before setting it aside and hopping on your feet. After pulling the foggy lid open, you drape your socks and your old dress over your forearm and a scowl pinches at the corner of your lips.

Apparently, Abraxo wasn’t strong enough to wash away radroach intestines. You mourned the ruined dress, bitter with wasting the cleaning product for nothing, but decided to hang it up regardless and let it dry.

Who cared for stains anyway? You had bigger problems on your plate.

The screech of the shower tap and a curt whistle have you automatically groping at the ghoul’s clothes.

“Be right there, Mister!” you call out and bunch them up in your hands, placing his hat over your head to save space, his coat is still damp but you doubt he’d mind. You skitter to the edge of the shower and leave the pile next to his weaponry before your manners lead you away to give him some privacy.

The half-empty coffee pot caught your attention once you were back in the bright yellow kitchen area. Despite your low tolerance and the apparent twitches in your fingers, you refilled your mug, deciding that adding sugar wasn’t needed this time.

You were free now, you could drink all the coffee you wanted.

Once the rustling of clothes and buckling of belts and straps ceased, the ghoul appeared from behind the wall, finding you sitting on the counter with ankles crossed and kicking your feet rhythmically. You beam at his slightly less disheveled state, eyes darting from him to the full mug waiting for him. He scoffs and accepts your silent offer.

“Feeling better?”

“Like a new man.” he declares with a sense of peace to his tone and leans back against the fridge before taking a long sip from his lukewarm drink.

Cooper was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d caught on to your innocent scheme quickly. From the coffee to your constant close proximity, to washing his clothes. The biggest giveaway was you trying to hide your nervousness and biting back victorious smiles whenever he accepted any of your domestic offers. You were kneading him like sourdough, nice and good and gentle, hoping for something in his brain to click and his simple plan of taking his things and leaving to take a different course.

That’s why he fought against melting in the shower and suppressed a genuine smile when he saw the coffee. He kept his guard up, concrete walls so high one couldn’t see the top, locking away whatever humanity was left to rot, untouched and undisturbed. Joy was an illusion, peace was the quiet before the storm.

Nothing lasted, neither would you.

“Take me with you, I won’t be useless, I promise.”

He could almost hear those words twirling on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill but never being voiced. Like hell, he’d ever entertain that idea.

“So what now, Mister?” you ask casually, hiding pouty lips behind your mug and looking up at him in question. “Where you headed off to?”

“Well, – ” he rasps and clears his throat. “ – considering my bounty’s prob’ly dead. Gonna head off to Tillburry.” he nudges his chin at the sack resting by the exit of the suite. “Gonna sell some o’ that, make me some profit.”

Your vigorous slurping stops and you swallow the mouthful of bitterness before cocking your head.

“Tillberry?” you test the unfamiliar word with hesitation. “And that’s…what?”

“Tillburry.” he corrects and rests one foot against the fridge door, the spur on his boot clanking against the metal. “It’s a settlement, Darlin’. Quite the big one too.” he mulled over a particular memory, looking down at his drink. “ ’Bout three hundred people last time I checked.”

“There are settlements?” you choke and cough out the spit tickling your throat with a fist to your mouth.

The thought that a good number of people had survived and were thriving enough to start rebuilding was unfathomable. Even if said settlements were based on the ruins and scraps of the cities from the old days it was still such a groundbreaking piece of knowledge.

Considering the raiders and the ghoul, you’d assumed everyone on the surface was deranged and out for blood. A man-eat-man nightmarish hell in which not even the strongest survived for long.

But no, there were people, honest hardworking people, that were coming together to build safe havens and restore some order to the chaos they had been born into. Sure, they had probably seen their fair share of hardships and were rugged and hard-skinned, but if they’d managed to keep the peace and grow towns and develop businesses, they couldn’t be that bad.

You had to see this. You needed to.

“Plen’y of em.” he pipes in, then tips his head and his voice acquires an almost mocking twinge. “Wasteland’s not as dead as you think, Sweetheart.”

“Take me there.” you blurt out before even realizing it.

“Pardon?” he’s surprised for only a moment before his demeanor shifts to dangerously sharp and his eyes harden. He moves in an instant, large palms planted on either side of your thighs and you have to jerk back to avoid him smashing his forehead into yours. “Mind your fuckin’ tone with me, Missy.”

When you squint and recoil, he eases, satisfied with your reaction.

“Just cuz I been toleratin’ you don’t mean I can’t stuff a bullet in your belly.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry, Sir.” you rush to undo your mistake, having spent too much time with him while he was docile to remember that you weren’t dealing with a friendly neighbor. “I meant no disrespect.” with a lowered gaze and a lump in your throat you continue. “I’d just really like to see such a place…”

“And I’d like a fifty-acre ranch to breed horses.” he sneers at you, yellow teeth peeking under his chapped lips. He shifts his weight around, resting from one hip to the other as he pulls away just barely. His fingers still grip the counter, still around you and ready to subdue another fuss. “But we don’ always get what we want.”

“Maybe I could…live there?” you didn’t believe your own words, but you still persisted. Flickering lashes swatted over pity eyes as you stared at him like an expectant street cat waiting to be adopted.

A preposterous idea. You didn’t know the first thing about surviving on the surface, couldn’t tell a radroach burrow from an anthill, and yet however difficult it would be anything would be better than living by yourself in a hole in the ground. Maybe you would have managed if the raiders had just left and the ghoul never crossed your path. But now, after knowing the bliss of company, of a friend who didn’t talk about medicine and made-up cures, now you couldn’t.

You needed him and not just for his skills or his wisdom of living off a toxic land. You needed him for him, just the ghoul, just the man who’d shown you kindness.

“Sweetheart, you needed t’ read the manual before turnin’ on the washin’ machine.” he states in a very mocking matter-of-fact way and snorts with a half-smile. “Twice.”

“But I did it.” you say back, struggling against a lost battle but how could you not when there was a blueish limp hand peeking from beyond the complex exit.

He gives you a once over, considering for a second before shaking the thought away with a bitter glower.

What the hell was he even thinking?

“You don’t really fit in with the common folk.” he counters again and he’s confident that soon you’ll wane. “Don’ think they’ll take too kindly to you.”

“What’d you mean, Mister?” you tilt to the side, leaning on one hand with a faint pout.

“Yer too clean.” he mumbles while skimming over you with a judgmental expression, his mouth pursing as he took you in. “Too pretty. Too kept.” he leans back to cross his arms, a half-frown of disapproval glooming over his face. It wasn’t a compliment; it was dry facts that he offered you to get through your thick skull that you’d be in more danger than you realize if you ever managed to reach a local town. “Surface dwellers don’ like your kind.”

“Then I’ll work on it until they like me.”

The back of your boots hit the counter each time you kicked your feet, egged on by the caffeine overdose. You kept your eyes glued to his because you didn’t know of a better way of pleading without sounding pathetic and getting on his nerves.

“You can’t even fire a gun, Darlin’.” the ghoul sighs in defeat, not because you’re getting under his skin, but because you fight this ferociously for your demise.

Both of you are aware that you wouldn’t last long outside. You were defenseless and had no usefulness, you weren’t accustomed to radiation, and everything on the surface was soaked in it. Most available jobs either needed you to get your hands dirty or break your back with overtime and you’d nearly passed out after walking half a day in a desert and thrown up at the sight of a dead body.

He’d be damned if he let you abandon a life of comfort and security because you didn’t know what you were asking for. Letting go of constant food and fresh water and hot showers just because you were too scared to learn by trial and error on your own was too much for him. It was stupid and you rebelling against him tooth and nail made it worse.

You weren’t winning anything; you were just giving him a headache.

“Someone would be willing to teach me.” the naivety in your comeback makes him laugh and your brows rise and furrow at his reaction.

“Ain’t nobody gonna do shit for free.” that was his last pushback before he made up his mind on ending your charade. His hat dipped and his tone lowered to an even rasp. “You’ll be just fine here, Darlin’.” he takes a few steps back and chugs the remainder of his discarded coffee before grunting in satisfaction. “Good cup o’ coffee…Now be a dear ‘n show me the way out.”

“I could make you more if you stayed a bit longer, Mister.”

A drowning man’s attempt to keep from sinking.

You give him a tiny smile and roll your ankles to release some tension. You knew you were pushing it, from his stiff shoulders to his thinned upper lip, but you didn’t want to stay here anymore. Disregarding the steady supply of provisions and the regulated temperatures, the medical supplies and the safety. You wanted to go with him. Wherever he went, no matter the danger, you want to be in his shadow. The radroaches and raiders forgotten, ignorant of just how hostile his world was and selfish by continuing to thrust your life in his hands when he didn’t want it.

“Das enough, Darlin’.” he mutters while picking up the supply sack and flinging his bandolier over his shoulder.

“What if – ”

“– Enough!” your mouth shuts at his command. His glare is piercing while he stands by the door with his back turned to you, giving you only a stern side-eye. “Move.”

You slide off the counter without another word and pat down your dress, not that anything could be seen underneath the thick tights but common decency forced you to. He waits for you, motioning with his hand once you're by his side and you walk forward, through the dingy corridor and past the raider he’d gutted the day before.

You try not to look, but it’s difficult when the deep red hues contrast with the metallic white of the wall and floor. It’s an abominable sight. There’s a cut spanning over the entirety of the man’s neck, horizontal and precise, so deep that amidst the flesh and blood, you see bone.

You could almost simulate the pain and you struggled to swallow.

He was a raider… he was a criminal. He was a bad man, he’d tried to murder you and failed by just an inch, the ghoul did what he had to do. There would be plenty more with much the same mindset if he agreed to take you with him. Scenes like this would probably be a daily occurrence, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the killing and still seeing the raider nearly decapitated scarred something deep within you.

Were you really willing to go through this again just to stay with the ghoul?

Maybe, for him, maybe.

“Fuckin’ piss stain…”

You look to him at that remark, then down at the center of his attention. He had one foot set in a puddle of blood and pieces of flesh, both attached to an unmoving vault dweller. He wiped his boot in the corpse’s suit and spat with malice.

“You really don’t like this place, Mister?” it’s more of a statement than a question, but your quizzical expression gives him enough room to reply.

You had noticed his visible disdain once he’d first entered the vault with you, but you’d blamed it on him being an experienced bounty hunter who knew better than to let his guard down. Then you’d seen his complete lack of empathy for the dead bodies littering the hallways and even a drop of anger edging his default scowl. He had a personal vendetta against the inhabitants, a distaste that went so deep he’d preferred to sever the wrists of the corpses over just unclasping their Pip-boys and claiming them for himself.

You’d never brought it up because it wasn’t your place, but now you had a reason to, and your curiosity was peaked.

“Vaults ain’t my thing, Darlin’, nor vaulties.” he speaks with spite, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips when he raises his gaze to you. Then he kicks the mess out of his way without a hint of shame, splashing the gore over the floor, and continues after you.

“Why?” you peep and it’s so innocent and light because you don’t understand the gravitas of the answer you’re reaching for.

There’s a small pause as you glance at the ghoul with a blank visage. There’s a certain lethargy to your step and a bounce to your slack shoulders because you’re relaxed and clear-minded and you have no idea just what you’re asking him. He could be angry, you’re poking around topics that are beyond your capacity, ones of resentment and shrewd grudges that span over such a long time that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he wasn’t upset, there was no point. You were just a stupid little thing trying to sow a light chat before your paths diverged.

The memories are knocking on the front door of his consciousness, but he refuses to indulge them. Not now, maybe later when he was alone and could recollect everything in peace.

“That ain't none o’ your business.” his words are snippy but his tone is placid, he doesn’t even reciprocate your prying eyes, just stares straight ahead with a tense jaw.

His reluctance to delve deeper and the shift in the air give you a good enough hint to not press the matter further. You would have reached to pat his arm, a benevolence he undoubtedly deserved along with so much more, but refrained from doing so. Despite you having placed him on a golden pedestal for all he’d done for you, which wasn’t much, but enough to leave you with an unforgettable impression, he didn’t see you in the same manner. His life had hardened him both physically and emotionally, he hadn’t even trusted you to sleep together in the same suite, having tucked one of his pistols under his pillow with a finger on the trigger.

You’d seen it, you just didn’t mention it.

He didn’t need your pity nor your good-heartedness, he didn’t care and that’s why you kept from overstepping even if you wanted to comfort the restless beasts pacing somewhere within his being.

“You’ve been nice to me though.” you put forth a honeyed smile and steered the conversation to a lighter note. A small sugary quip to oppose his hardened exterior and alleviate him of his hissy mood.

He chuckles, a raspy chortle that tickles your ear and curls your lips into a grin.

“Ain’t nice, Missy, just tolerant.”

Your chirpy chat continues as you pass through the whey field and into another brightly lit tunnel. He doesn’t have to know that you could have led him to the elevator three times already through a shortcut. You like him, harbor such fondness for him in all his gruffness, you might have agreed to lead him out but you never said you wouldn’t take the scenic route. An extended detour while you continuously banter with each other and you always relent because you want him to be happy with having the upper hand in the conversation.

But no matter how long you tried to prolong the inevitable, eventually, you found the way to the elevator. Before it had been your savior, taking you away from those vile people before they could sink their grimy claws in your flesh. Now it was an unwelcome vestige, the last step before the ghoul left and you were abandoned to waste away in an underground prison.

He entered first and leaned against the steel wall, a thumb tucked in his belt and hat tipped over his eyes. You turn your back to him and press the button and it’s suddenly awkward and silent.

You wished the damn thing moved slower, but it propelled up, passing by vault levels within a blink. Such a cruel construct…

Misery didn’t thrive for long, you didn’t let it.

Maybe one day you’d meet him again. You’d learn to shoot a gun, there had to be at least one stashed somewhere for emergencies, then you’d learn to sustain yourself and grow crops, fiddle with the mechanisms of the vault and read every book and article and document regarding medicine. You’d prepare well and one day leave again to explore the world outside and maybe if fate was kind, you’d run into him on your journey.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember, maybe he would, but you’d be happy all the same.

And you’d be different then, stronger and more independent and not useless. Maybe he’d take you with him when you proved that you wouldn’t be a burden anymore. He’d take you on his adventures and teach you how to be a bounty hunter like him and you’d make the best duo the surface has ever seen.

Your self-assurance dwindled when the elevator reached the top level and the door slid open. He walked out unbothered and you struggled to keep the calm façade going.

It wasn’t healthy to form such attachments so quickly, but it happened and you were torn between begging him one last time and giving him the solace he craved. But could you really be blamed when you’d known only solitude?

He stood at the vault entrance and tossed you a slow, expectant look and you fiddled with the Pip-boy. Stiff fingers scrolled through the menus, determined to take as much time as possible while you prayed for a miracle. Your pleas remained unanswered, the time for stalling ended as the gate screeched and rolled to the side. A hot gust of wind crept through, drying your eyes and making your throat scratchy after a few silent breaths.

“Best of luck, Vaulty.”

He raised his arm and flicked his wrist in a goodbye after readjusting his hat, boots clinking as he set forth with an even pace. You watched him leave, heart asunder, mouth cracked open but no words came out. Gripping onto the control panel, frustration flaring, desperation so intense it made the hairs on your arms lift up.

Was this really it? Was this the end of it? Was this the last time you saw him? The only friend you had, the only person you knew, the only warmth ever given to you.

He could let go without a second thought, but you couldn’t.

“Go…GO!”

A shaky step, then another.

With each step, the quake in your legs eased, determination overpowering hesitation, and before you knew it you were jogging and then running. The sand wasn’t kind to your shoes, you nearly tripped, wide strides bringing you closer to him because, unlike his tempo, yours held intention.

He knew you’d do this, he knew and he had the common sense to pull out his pistol and threaten you back inside.

You might have tumbled him over if you had the strength, but instead, you splat yourself against his back and drape your arms around his abdomen. His hand faltered, resting on the holster of his gun as you squeezed him and slid your fingers past his coat, grabbing at his vest.

“Please.” you force through a clenched throat, choosing to beg him instead of breathing. Saliva pools in your mouth and tears form in the back of your eyes as you press your cheek against his spine. Your eyes squeeze shut as if cutting off your vision would make you deaf to his answer. “Please…I’ll – ”

He’d taken what he needed, completing your transaction and wanting nothing more, but maybe you could find something else he had use for. He sighs and you’re so regretful, but you can’t let it go without a final push. And he’s fed up enough to maybe just shoot you, but if he was you’d have a chance at bargaining again and keep him around for a few more minutes.

“ – I’ll pay you.” you sniffle back the runny mucus seeping through your nostrils and swallow a mouthful of thick spit, it distorts your voice just a bit. “Please take me to Tillberry. I’ll find a job – I’ll – You can have everything I earn, I just need enough to buy some food.”

“Tillb – ” he grunts and pinches the space between his eyes as they shut.

He wanted to rip you off of him and leave, with no mercy and no care, but you just had to play nice. You had to play house with him and make him coffee and wash his clothes and be soft with him. The sweet gestures and light words did things to him, he was no fool, they reminded him that humans still existed and they were still kind. A peek into the past.

“I won’t be useless. I’ll learn quick and stay out of your way and do anything you ask…Just until the settlement.”

Whines and sobs and sniveling sniffs and chokes, they crawl up his skin like maggots and try to burrow and find an ounce of empathy, but he has none.

“Right.” he whirls around with such force that if it hadn’t been for the iron grip he clasped over your jaw, you would have fallen. He’s an eyelash away from your face, with a fowl snarl carving into his gaunt features and he spats poison at you. He speaks the truth. “Do you fucking know what the hell you’re asking for?” he’s so pissed that his accent dissipates. “You’re gonna fuckin’ die out here. With or without help.”

“Plea – ”

“ – I ain’t no God damned babysitter!” he snaps and forces you back. You stumble and curl your hands over your chest instinctively as he points his pistol at you, forefinger on the trigger. “Now get the hell outta my sight.”

His lips pinch in annoyance when you don’t move.

He didn’t give a damn if you lived or not, but you’d shown him respect and generosity and he repaid you by not shooting you down on the spot. He gave you a chance at survival, exterminated the pests in your home and made sure to leave enough provisions to live off of while you worked out how to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t receive half of what he’d done for you in the wasteland, it was a cutthroat fever dream that no one could wake up from.

Precious things lived in castles, not in the wilds.

But then you finally move. You move and it’s the wrong fucking way.

The tip of the gun glosses over your cheek as you enclose trembling fingers around his wrist and his sleeve is pulled back enough for you to find his skin, marred and leathery and disgusting and safe and wonderful. Your eyes close and press into his glove as the barrel rests against your bare shoulder and all it would take was a click and you’d be dead.

“Please, Mister.”

You sink to your knees, bringing his arm down with you.

A lost little dove, fluttering in his palm, trusting and willing and kneeling at the gates of hell because it already knew what heaven was. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe you knew a different hell he was unfamiliar with so you begged for his instead of going back to your own.

“I’ll do anything…”

He’d seen plenty of people beg for their lives, for food or water or help. He’d heard it all, from bargaining to taunting, reverse psychology, and manipulation tactics all in the name of living to see another sunrise. This was the first time anyone had ever pleaded for him.

He should have left yesterday, the moment you’d found the storage unit he should have taken his things and been on his way. He should have tried to find the exit while you were sleeping and never looked back. He should have done more, everything in his power to not be in this damnable situation. You fed something within him, a slumbering behemoth forgotten over time, you sated a need he’d developed so long ago, a need so constant he didn’t realize was there anymore until you.

“Get the hell up.” he grips your arm like the brutish man he is, pulls you to your feet, and spins you around like a puppet.

You don’t fight, drained by both the searing sun and your turbulent emotions, letting him latch his hand to the back of your neck and drag you forward, back to the vault.

Back to solitude. Back to hell.

“Three hundred caps.”

You muster an inquisitive hum and dare to steal a glimpse of his expression. It’s haggard, annoyed, defeated.

“For your safe transportation t’ Tillburry.” he offers you nothing, not even a peak, but his hold on your neck tightens and you wince. “Now use your fuckin’ legs. We’re loosin’ daylight.”

Chapter 5 >>>

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