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kasagia · 8 months ago

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Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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nastybuckybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

Stowaway

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: You find something fun and want to share it with the skull-face man.

Warnings: Language, allusions to violence, fluff, slow burn

Word Count: 2.4K

A/n: another part of my ghost x mouse thing. if any of you have seen Freeform's Siren, i imagine reader to sound a bit like Ryn when she speaks. if y'all have no idea what im talking about, thats okay too, i still love ya!

~*~

You watch the black vehicle as it rolls to a stop, all but the driver emerging.

This is it. This is your one chance and you cannot fuck it up.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you slowly keep forward, keeping your back to the wall and successfully keeping yourself hidden in the shadows.

The men outside the armoured vehicle move away, toward whatever their target of the day is, and you use that to your advantage.

You crouch down, the darkness of the night your best friend as you slink closer and closer to the vehicle, glass bottle held tightly in your grasp.

Finally, with your back to the bed of the vehicle, you throw the bottle as far as you can, wincing at the sharp shatter.

Instead of dwelling on making a sound, something that you’ve been carefully trained never to do, you climb into the back of the vehicle and quietly bury yourself under duffle bags of supplies as the driver emerges.

You hear the driver get out, listen as his heavy boots lead over to where the bottle broke, and you let out a soft breath.

Safe for now.

You snuggle up beneath the bags, steeling yourself for a long night.

Somehow, even with the velcro, clips, and pins digging into your flesh, you manage to doze off, waking up only when you feel the vehicle jerk to a halt, the brakes squeaking lightly.

“Good work, boys! First round’s on me tonight,” a muffled voice says.

You tense up as the tailgate gets dropped, bags being lifted from you one by one.

Finally, there’s a pause.

“Uh, Captain?”

You’ve been spotted, you know that, and you knew it would happen. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

You’ve seen firsthand what these men can do. You only hope the one you’re familiar with will be around.

“What’s going on, MacTavish?”

Another duffle gets lifted from you and you squint against the harsh light, blinking furiously but making no other move to get up lest you startle one of them.

“What’s this?” The older man asks, his face slowly coming into view.

“Looks like we’ve got a stowaway,” the Scottish one says.

You still make no movements, staying perfectly still as they toss the other bags off of you.

One of them then grabs you by the arm and hauls you to your feet, making you stumble the slightest bit.

“Gimme your hands.”

You don’t fight them as they snap cool metal cuffs around your wrists. Nor do you fight them when they force you to your knees on the hard concrete floor.

Two of them stand farther back with their hands on their guns, the driver and the Scot, and the older man, the Captain, stands tall in front of you.

"Now, why were you hidin' out in the back of our truck, hmm? What're you doin' here? What are you hoping to find?"

You look at each man carefully, frowning when none of their eyes match the ones in your memory.

"Ghost," you finally say.

Soap and Price exchange glances before the older man leans forward, crouching down to be at eye level with you.

"Come again?"

You huff out a frustrated breath then point toward his breast pocket where a pen and a pad of paper lie.

He glances down at it and then, after a moment of careful consideration, slides the items across the floor to you.

You’re quick to scribble something down as neatly as you can with your hands bound, sliding the objects back over to him once you've finished.

There, on the paper, lies the exact same skull that has been strewn on walls and windows, leading them to hostages and intel.

"Ghost. Or no talk."

The men get tense, the two in the back looking at their Captain, waiting for his next move.

Price cocks his head to the side and gives it a shake.

“Listen, sweetheart. You seem nice enough, yeah? Let me tell you somethin’,” he leans closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“You’re on my base. You don’t get to call the shots around here. If you wanna sweat it out, fine. I’ll go grab a drink and a nice hot shower, and then when I get back we’ll see if you feel like talking. And don’t worry about being alone - Gaz over there will be keepin’ a close eye on you. Got it?”

His threat hangs in the air for a long while, but all you do is press your lips together and shift back off your knees to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Swallowing his irritation, Price straightens up and leaves the room, Soap hot on his heels.

“Where’re you goin’?” Soap asks when they’re out of the parkade.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re gonna go get the Lieutenant.”

With a nod of his head, Soap is jogging toward Ghost’s quarters.

It takes him no more than five minutes to return, and with him is the big burly man you asked for.

“Better have a damn good reason for gettin’ me up at this hour,” he grumbles, black balaclava covering his face.

He’s dressed in his tac pants and a black t-shirt, thick arms on full display.

Price only nods toward the window he’s staring through, watching you as you look around the garage.

“What’s she doin’ here?” Ghost asks, brows drawing together.

Price chuckles dryly, “was hoping you could tell me. She snuck into the back of the truck unnoticed and stowed away all the way back to base. She’s been… agreeable for the most part. But she won’t talk.”

He’s hardly surprised.

“Drew this and said ‘Ghost or no talk’. Accent’s not from here.” Price turns and looks up at the lieutenant, handing him the picture you drew. “Where’d you find this one?”

Giving his head a shake, Ghost huffs a sigh and pushes into the garage, feet silent as he makes his way over to you.

“Whatt’re you doing here, mouse?” He asks, his voice echoing through the space.

You snap your gaze to his, eyes lighting up the tiniest bit.

Soap walks in after him, hand on his gun.

You shift onto your hip when he’s in front of you, reaching to grab something from your pants but freezing when the other men in the room act.

Gaz and Soap each draw their guns, aiming them at your chest.

"Hands where we can see 'em," Soap warns harshly.

"Easy boys. She's not stupid," Ghost says with a chuckle.

He gives you a nod of encouragement, watching as you move purposefully slowly.

You grab a few items from the waistband of your jeans, sliding the first across the floor to Ghost.

He picks up the small folder, brows drawing together as he briefly wonders how you fit it in there, but those thoughts vanish when he flips it open.

It's full of highly classified documents. Documents that they've been trying to get their hands on for months.

"Where did you get this?" He asks quietly.

You glance at the other two men in the room then back over to him, pressing your lips together once more.

He sighs and glances over his shoulder, holding the folder out to the two men.

"Take this and go get us a tea, yeah?"

They obey without another word, taking the folder and exiting the parkade.

"Where'd you get that folder?" He asks again, crouching down to be at your level and uncuffing your wrists carefully.

"City centre... big..." You frown, searching for the right word, but Ghost knows exactly what you're talking about.

"Warehouse?" He asks.

You nod while rubbing your wrists, happy that he understands.

"If I bring you to a map, can you show me where you were?"

You nod again, pushing onto your knees as he rises to his feet. He helps you up then leads you to the door.

Price, Gaz, and Soap are right outside the door, scanning over the documents within the folder.

"Where are you bringing her?" Price asks, even more intrigued than he was before.

"A map," is all Ghost says.

The three other men fall into a step behind you two, and you try to stay as close to Ghost as you possibly can.

He makes it hard, with his large strides, but you stay all but glued to his side.

He stops suddenly, and you nearly crash into his back, being careful to keep your balance as he turns to a door.

You try to look around him as he unlocks it, but his frame is too broad.

The lock beeps twice then clicks, and then he’s holding the door open for you and motioning for you to head inside.

You do so carefully, eyeing the dark room and shuddering as memories creep into your mind. Memories of a dark cold room with nothing but a leaky pipe.

This isn’t that room. And you’re not alone.

The men enter behind you and then a dim light is flicked on, illuminating what looks to be a board room.

“Here, show me exactly where you found this,” Ghost says, walking over to a map on the wall.

You follow him and inspect it carefully, tracing your finger over a few familiar streets before stopping near the heart of the city.

You tap the spot twice for good measure and look up at him, waiting for his response.

He says nothing, but his eyes are filled with questions.

“How’s a little thing like you get in without setting off alarms?” Soap asks curiously.

You don’t respond, instead you dig in your pants pocket until you find the other souvenir you took.

“For Ghost,” you whisper, holding the USB stick out to him.

He takes it carefully, then tosses it over to Soap.

“Check this. On a secure laptop this time. Don’t need a repeat of-“

“Secure laptop, got it Lt,” the Scot interrupts, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

“Do you know who you stole from?” Ghost asks, capturing your attention once more.

You frown at his word choice.

“I don’t steal. They leave it. It’s mine.”

Price chuckles, “street rats and their squatters rights, hmm?”

You glare at the man with the moustache.

“Not rat,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest.

Ghost chuckles and gives you a gentle pat on the head.

“No, rats are vermin. Pests. You’re a harmless little mouse, arentcha?”

You cock your head to the side, looking between him and the other man carefully, trying to understand what he’s saying.

“Once Johnny’s done with that stick we’ll reconvene. In the meantime, bring this one back to her den. Can’t have her roaming around,” Price says, rubbing his forehead.

Ghost gives him a sharp nod.

“Say bye, mouse. Time to go home.” He steps toward the door, holding it open for you.

You follow him, pausing in the doorway and turning to Price and Gaz.

“Bye-bye.” You wave your farewell and the two men exchange glances before each giving you a wave of their own.

Ghost leads you silently through the halls and out of the base, opting to walk rather than drive. S’not far anyway. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend as much time with you as possible.

Even though you walk in silence, it feels good to be in his presence. You feel safe.

Finally, as you approach the city, he speaks.

“So you do speak English, cheeky fuck.”

You glance up at him and give your head a small shake.

“Not… not good… not lots.”

He hums, eyes darting around checking for threats.

“S’good.”

You say nothing, only continue walking silently by his side.

He breaks the silence once again, surprising the both of you.

“Why do you help us? Why put yourself at risk for us and our cause?”

You furrow your brows, not understanding the question.

“What does this mean?” You ask.

He chuckles and glances over at you.

“Why help me?”

“Help Ghost.”

“Yes, but why?”

“To help.” You stop walking and grab his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, then put your other hand against his chest.

You stare at your hand, how small it is on the broad expanse of his gear-covered chest, then flutter your gaze up toward his eyes.

“Good man,” you whisper, pressing your fingers harder into his chest.

He swears, through all the layers, he can feel the warmth of your skin.

His upper and lower lashes kiss for a moment before he inhales deeply and chuckles. His gaze softens and he shakes his head, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You must be confused, little one. I’m a lotta things but a good man ain’t one of ‘em.”

You glare up at him and yank on his hand. Though you’re not nearly strong enough to force him to move, he takes a step closer, so close that your bodies are nearly pressed against each other.

“Not confused. Not wrong. Ghost… good man… in here.” You slide your hand up to rest over where you imagine his heart is, your own skipping a beat when he covers your hand with his.

“You’re not wrong? No, never,” he muses, a grin pulling at his lips beneath his mask.

You nod, happy that the two of you are in agreement.

Slowly, you look up at him through your lashes.

The intensity of your gaze has sweat tickling his palms and for a very brief moment he wishes his mask wasn’t in the way.

A soft sigh like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings leaves your parted lips, and then you’re taking a step away from him and toward the dark shadows of the city.

“I go now. Bye-bye, Ghost.”

“This is where I leave you?”

You nod your agreement, taking another step away from him.

“You’ll be safe, mouse, yeah?”

You grin at him and pull out the skull picture you snagged from his pocket, showing it to him proudly.

“With Ghost… always safe.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips and he nods, “always safe with me.”

You give him a small wave then turn around and all but disappear into the darkness, much like you always do.

He stands there for a long while, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind but the one that sticks out like a sore thumb is

Stay.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader fluff #simon riley x reader slow burn #ghost x reader fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod fanfic #cod mw fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish

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existentialgaybirdnerd · 5 months ago

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Stealth in All Forms

Ghost is a stealthy man.

He can blend into the shadows quickly, and use them to his advantage to be anywhere he wants to be. He's quick and silent.

This is the most known fact about him.

What isn't known is that he can use his stealth in more ways than just blending in with others or the shadows.

What no one sees, is that on leave, Ghost will wear weird outfits and stand out as much as possible, simply because when someone looks and acts like they don't belong there, like they're from another planet, like they're a tourist, they get ignored. Looked over. They blend in by standing out.

Soap finds this out the hard way.

The first time Johnny goes home with Simon, he sees a side of his partner he never would have put near his vision of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

They get ready to go shopping for groceries, having arrived at the Manchester flat late last night and finding it devoid of anything due to his long absence from the place.

While getting ready, and waiting for Simon to get ready in his usual black-on-black with a balaclava, Johnny wanders around the home. Finding comfy afghan throws on the couch and armchair, red blackout curtains on every large window and sliding glass door, and even a funky tie-dye shower curtain in the bathroom with a matching bathmat. Ok, so his partner likes some color outside of his job, noted.

What he does not expect is for his boyfriend to come out of the room with a black baseball cap with a cartoon ghost on it, a tight red Henley t-shirt, faded blue bootcut jeans, the ugliest pair of pink Crocs he thinks he's ever seen, and no facemask in sight.

While he takes the time to catch his breath after laughing so hard in surprise that his knees nearly give out, Simon grabs his wallet, keys, and a backpack filled with produce bags.

With the glare he receives right as he's about to comment, Johnny wisely shuts up and simply kisses Simon on the nose as they exit the flat.

They walk hand-in-hand for a few blocks, no words coming to mind as they take in the cool weather and quiet within their own little bubble of space.

This bubble pops when they hear a woman yelling at someone to let her go, she didn't do anything wrong.

Simon's steps become rushed as they head towards the noise, Johnny following in his wake as they round the corner to see two police leering at a woman in front of a small cafe, one holding her right arm with one hand and a half-full cup of coffee in the other, puddle near his feet and splashes on the woman's shoes.

Without warning, Simon hands Johnny the backpack, grunts "Watch this," and goes over to the confrontation in quick strides, leaving his very confused partner behind.

On the way, he grabs a cup of coffee from another patron, who doesn't notice due to watching the confrontation behind their table.

Walking up to the trio, Simon gets out his phone and pretends to speak into it in a heavy American accent, one that would blend in with a fraternity party, voice higher pitched than he would normally speak in.

When he gets there, he bumps into the cop not holding the woman, spilling the hot coffee all over his neck and back, splashing a little onto the other cop during the "accident."

As he profusely apologizes and stutters his way through an attempt at an explanation, he puts his phone in his back pocket, spills more coffee on the other cop who had let go of the woman, pretends to try to wipe it off both of them only to spill more and hand the now empty cup to the woman.

As he tries to "wipe off" the first cop he spilled coffee on, he sticks his foot out to trip the other one as he takes a step forward to stop the havoc, ending in him going to "help" him up, only to accidentally "bump" both of their heads into a nearby stair railing leading to the raised coffee shop.

By this point he's put himself between the cops and the woman, hiding her with his height as he apologizes profusely and looks to be on the verge of tears, pouting as the cops call him a blundering fool and tell him to leave them alone "[they] don't need help."

As the cops leave, complaining about how the cafe didn't get their order right and then suddenly they're drenched in coffee, Johnny walks up to Simon in awe and the woman starts asking if he's ok after the bump on his head.

As she asks this, Johnny starts laughing incredulously. At the weird look he gets from her, he just gestures to Simon.

"He didn't get a drop of coffee on him, is all, I doubt he actually hit his head." This is supported by Simon grinning slightly and looking away with a nod.

At the dumbstruck look on the woman's face, Simon decides to get out of there as soon as possible, handing her money to replace the coffee he took from the other person, apologizes to that patron, and grabs Johnny's arm to drag him to the grocery store.

One quick shopping trip later, Johnny demands an explanation for what that was and gets told that stealth comes in all sorts of forms.

Gaz doesn't believe him when he recounts the story back on base 3 weeks later. Price just looks resigned.

Here you go @spottlessspectre

Hope you like it lmao.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty ghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #call of duty #john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty price #snippet #yes i did base this scene off of tasm where peter bumbles security for gwen #birdnerd ideas

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binniesbooks · 4 months ago

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hi my fayebae, i just read ‘you don’t want him to know, do you’ and i’m🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️absolutely in love with it ahhh, feeding my brain and oh god i sudd had a thought…

his fingers… please

soobin x reader??? let’s just say that in this reality, soobin is able to play the piano beautifully. With his long fingers giving him the advantage of reaching the many keys he needs to, sometimes your mind wonders of how those long fingers would feel inside you…

the way he would play with your cunt… the way he would make sure youre stretched out and then finger fucks you…purposely bringing out his fingers from you. Sucking of your cum from his fingers, making you imagine how his tongue would feel against your clit.which of course then leads to freaky freaky heheh

ahhh i fr had this thought i hope u like it🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

• MELODIES OF TEMPTATION

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.4k

pairings musictutor!Soobin x fem!reader

warnings oral sex, fingering, making out, nipple pinching (dream)

faye's note TMI: I was summoned to hell for the goddamn thesis, that's why I uploaded this late. Wth. Fuck school.

Hope you still enjoy this tho hehe, especially to my Beomgyu's kitten, I'm sorry for uploading so late, omg I hate myself 😭 anyway, I love your asks, really. Kith kith 💋

The soft clinks of the keys of the piano resonated inside the confinement of an empty room, long slender fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Soft hums come from a comforting voice. The cold windy breeze blows at the open windows flowing through the guy's long fringe as his eyes flutter close feeling the notes hit his ears quietly. His movements came to a halt, head snapping towards the door --soft knocks waking him from his wandering thoughts.

'Hi, are you, perhaps, Choi Soobin?" You quietly asked, clutching on the straps of your crossbody bag.

"Uh, yeah?" he hesitated out of confusion, "May I help you?" -- "Oh, where are my manners, come in." he stood up from the piano as he walked toward the small table on the corner.

You walked slowly, observing the naked room, almost doubting if you really did come to the right place. "Please take a seat," Soobin said as he offered you a glass of water.

"So uh, my mother, found out about these some piano class thing? And, forced me to take it?"

"Is that so? Well, I have no students this session. it's been a while actually, so I'm afraid I can't make classes as of now." He answered.

You wiped your palms on your jeans, "Uhm, is there, like, nothing we can do about it then?"

"The whole lesson fee is actually divided over students. It's just that I can't let you pay the whole price. It's too expensive, given that... you still look like a student." He explained observing your overall figure that totally gives off a student vibe.

"I can pay for the whole price. Just... just let me take the lesson," you pleaded, hands clasped in front of you, "I just can't do anything about it. My mother is expecting me to play the piano in 3 months. I'm supposed to play at my brother's wedding." You rolled your eyes at the request your mother asked you. It just didn't make sense. Why ask you to learn the piano when they could just hire a whole band if they wanted to?

"I see." he meekly answered, nodding slowly. "Then I think we can do something about it." He stood up and walked towards the small cabinet just near the table.

"You can fill up this form, for legal purposes. And we can proceed on talking about your schedule." He handed you a folder. "Do you want to pay it whole or do you want to pay it every session?" He asked as he watched you fill up the form. "I'll pay during every session." You smiled at him and continued answering the necessary form.

You slide back the form towards him, "Y/n Y/s/n, 22." he muttered under his breath before closing the folder. "When are you free?" He asked as he pulled out his phone. "I am free on weekdays afternoon, and weekends the whole day."

"Should we do it on weekends?" he asked, checking his calendar. "We will have 24 sessions in total," he added.

"I'll take it. Weekends, I mean." You agreed.

"Is 5-8 in the evening okay with you?" His head tilted to the side, and you simply nodded.

Soobin stood up, "Okay then, come back this Saturday. we'll start at five." You stoop up after him taking his hand to shake it. As you were about to leave, you turned around once again, "I don't have to pay any deposit?" He chuckled as he answered with a dimpled smile, "No deposits."

...

You gasped as you looked at your wristwatch, what were you doing all this time? It was already four in the afternoon. You fumbled to fix your things as you quickly got up.

"Something wrong?" One of your friends asked, "We still have a movie to watch." "Go ahead, I have an appointment this afternoon, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you guys on Monday!" You scurried out of the cafe only to go back again to order drinks.

"Two iced americanos, to go."

You knocked at the door twice before pushing it open. He was playing the piano again. he has a huge frame, you thought to yourself. His broad shoulders complement his tall figure, despite the fact that he has a big body build, Soobin has a small waist, emphasized with how his white shirt was tucked in his pants.

You walk towards the small couch and place the drinks on the table. You close your eyes as you listen to his soothing voice. He quietly sings with the melody he is playing. When he was done, you cleared your throat to let him know you were already there.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I did not notice you." he shyly walks over to the couch to talk to you. You offered him the drink as he expressed a small "thank you."

"You have a great voice." You complimented him. A flush crept up on his face, to be honest, he's not used to being complimented.

"Shall we get started? I'm glad to walk you through your music journey." His dimples showed up nicely. They're cute, it makes you want to poke them but it doesn't make you seem professional.

The session ended up well. Besides, Soobin did not have to start from the very beginning, since you already know some of the basics.

The following sessions wrapped up well too. According to Soobin, you are a fast learner. You pick up everything he says quickly. Well, aside from Soobin having longer fingers, it was difficult for you to press keys that were far apart. Other than that you didn't have any problem.

"Can I just cut my fingers and have yours instead?" You were growing frustrated, you were not able to press the right key, making a disturbing sound instead of a good melody. You always end up twisting and wrenching your hand when trying to hit the notes.

"I quit!" You exclaimed only for Soobin to chuckle at your complaints. "You can do it, you are a fast learner," Soobin commented, his arms crossed on his chest. "I am, but the keys make me want to kill myself." You blurted. "It's easy, look." Soobin gently placed his finger on the keys, easily pressing down each note. "You have long fingers, I don't." You pouted. "Not my fault I have longer fingers than you." He answered while laughing only to make you pout again.

"Let's end here, come back tomorrow, you should rest for now, it's getting late." Soobin closed the windows of the room.

"Where do you live? Shall we go out together?" You asked.

"Call," he replied with a dimply smile.

You two ended up dropping by at a convenience store to grab a snack. You found out that you go back by the same way, so you thought might as well take the same bus later.

"I thought you were much older than me." You chimed when you found out he's just one year older than you. "Shall we talk casually, then?" He asks as he sips on the hot chocolate he bought. "If you don't mind." You nodded giddily.

Soobin saw how you shivered at the chilly breeze. "Wear my jacket, you've been shivering since earlier." He offered, taking off his jacket to hand it to you. "I forgot mine." You sheepishly answered as you wrapped his jacket around your body.

"Let's go. You might freeze to death if we stay here any longer." Soobin laughed quietly, picking up the trash on the table as he chucked it into the nearest trash can.

You took the same bus that night. He even bid you goodbye and breathed a soft "Take care, see you next week" before you got off.

Soobin is a shy guy. But he's gentle and caring. He's also talented, not to mention his face card did not decline.

That same night when you got home, you did not know what had gotten into you. You did not know the reason why you let your senses engulf the perfume on his jacket, nor when you tried to close your eyes only to vividly imagine how your night went on. You even quietly prayed and hoped each day that week came fast. Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again. You grew nervous each day, the anticipation made you bounce your legs in class. It got you checking and re-checking the date.

Maybe the heavens above heard your silent pleas. Because the weekend arrived so quickly. You were so used to wearing just pants and shirts whenever you went to the music tutoring. However, this time, you find yourself fumbling through your dresses as you look for clothes you can wear that gaev off the "I dressed up well for you but I'm not gonna make it obvious" vibe.

You stood in front of the mirror, wearing a skirt and a knitted long sleeve. You look silly, but your heart is about to burst out from the giddiness you were feeling. It's not that you were gonna meet up with a date or something, but, maybe, you like him. Maybe you like Soobin a little bit. Your sessions were more than halfway done, with just 10 sessions remaining.

However, when you stepped inside, there was no Soobin to be found. Nor his things to be seen. The windows were open, though.

You were clutching onto his jacket he had lent you as you scan the room once again, still not used to the naked ass room he's holding the lesson in. However, a bigger couch caught your attention, it looks new. You sat on the couch and watched the clock ticking slowly. You placed his jacket on the couch, as you tried to make it puffy to serve as a makeshift pillow. It's still early anyway, taking a nap won't hurt, besides, he's still not here.

Soobin stepped inside the room, his hair a bit messy as if he just got up from a nap, or a fight, or whatever it was. His words are slurred. Was he drunk? "Hey, are you alright?" You asked as you stood up and walked closer to his tall frame still standing at the door. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands fumbled over your body as he pressed your back against the wall.

"H-hey.. S-soobin.. ah.." You tried to push him away but to no avail, he's much larger and stronger than you. His tongue grazed your neck as he sucked lightly as if he wanted to leave a mark. His slender fingers danced across your waist, slipping underneath your long sleeve. He lightly pinched your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hand travels back to your waist down to your thighs as he lifts your skirt. Your blood ran south, heat pooling on your slit. You can't help but whimper at his touch, his fingers gently rubbing your clothed pussy. He pushed your underwear to the side to slide his fingers in--

"Hey, hey y/n, are you okay?" His face was painted with worry as he tapped your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes snapped open. "You were whining in your sleep, is everything fine?" He asked grabbing a glass of water. Your face turned red. You can't believe you were dreaming about him, and a sexual dream at that. You chugged down the whole glass of water, you couldn't look him in the eyes, what was that dream all about? Oh god.

"I'm sorry, I was late, something came up and I needed to take care of it, that's why I uh, wasn't here." He apologized, his face still painted with worry.

"N-no it's fine. I mean, I early.. I'm got.. I was... I got here earlier t-than our scheduled time." You cannot even form your words straight. He let out a laugh, as he look at you once again. "You got me worried from all that whining." He sighed, "I thought you were having a bad dream." You scratch the back of your nape as you play with the glass in your hand, you can't tell him about your weird dream, it's not something to spill.

"Shall we start? I'll play a song first, then you'll play once I'm done and apply what you have learnt." He instructed as he strides towards the piano.

Your eyes were fixated on how his fingers danced gracefully on the keys. His beautiful fingers were able to reach the notes you were unable to do. Choi Soobin was actually known for his exceptional piano skills even when he was still at a young age. To most, him playing melodies effortlessly could enrapture the audience, but to you, his fingers stirred thoughts that went far beyond music. You had always thought how his fingers were so pretty although he was a man. It was as though he gave them extra care. The thought even caused you to dream about him. Not to mention you were dreaming about him inside his tutor room.

He had finished playing long ago, but you were still staring at his fingers, still in a daze. His body was already turned to you, examining your eyes and what they were staring at. An enigmatic smile played on his lips, "Care to tell what you are thinking about?" He asked, voice low and inviting. "W-what?" Your eyes snapped back at him. "What's on your mind, y/n." He chuckled when you avoided his gaze, he stood up, "Care to tell?" His head was tilted to the side once again. "Nothing... I.. I just think you're really good at playing the piano.. and that your fingers are p-pretty," you stuttered.

Soobin walks back to the couch where you were sitting, he draws his face near to yours as you back down, leaning your head on the backrest of the couch. "Is that all you're thinking about?" You felt your heart thump faster and harder as you nodded frantically, your palms sweaty. "I don't think so," he leans closer, one wrong move and you'll get your lips crashed with his, "I heard you call my name in your sleep -- let me correct myself, you were actually moaning my name." His arms were on both sides of your head, you're trapped on the couch.

"I'm not the type to let myself go in this kind of situation, but," he stopped as he twirled the end of your hair on his fingers, "You excite me. I'm actually surprised." He chuckled. "S-soobin, I... I didn't mean t--" "Mhm, you didn't baby, you didn't." He nods as he presses his thumb on your glossy lips. You gripped his jacket on your lap with nowhere to ground yourself. Your eyes flutter close at the skin contact. "See? You really didn't." He whispered before closing the gap between the two of you.

You did not know what happened, or what had gotten unto him, but there's one thing you were sure of. Your music tutor is making out with you.

"My, my... You were thinking about what else my fingers can do, am I right?" He remarked as he pulled away a bit. You bit your lips as you nodded lightly. "Naughty girl." He smirked.

His fingers danced across your face, touching your cheeks as he kissed you. You can't help but hold onto his arms.

"Stand up," he commanded as he pulled away. He gently drags you and makes you sit on the soft cushion chair in front of the piano. "Show me what you have learned." He ordered as he kneeled in front of you. "You look pretty by the way," he added.

You slowly pressed on the keys of the piano with an unstable rhythm and a pounding heart. "Spread your legs, I'll show you something," he chuckled at the thought. You clenched your hand as you slowly spread your legs in front of him. "Don't stop playing until I say so," he instructed as he pushed your underwear to the side.

You continued playing on the piano with a more uneven tone and rhythm as you trembled under his touch. His fingers danced gracefully on your pussy, slightly grazing your clit, making you shiver.

He bunches up your skirt to your waist and pulls your underwear all the way for easier access. "Tell me once again that you didn't mean what you were doing earlier," a playful smirk was plastered on his face as he looked up at you. "I... I didn't m-mean to m-moan your n-name..." You whispered with a shaky voice. "Is that right?" He asked, his finger nudging your clit. You nodded as you felt your body shrink at his melting gaze.

"Your body says otherwise, lovely." He chimed as his middle finger slides easily inside you making you gasp. "Continue playing, I'm grading you." He reminded.

You don't even know if the notes you're playing were making sense or if it's the right key, you just kept on pressing the keys with trembling hands as you felt Soobin's finger scissoring your pussy. "You're so wet that all I can hear is the squelching sound, your notes are being drowned," he commented, pressing on your sweet spots.

"S-soobin, I can't a-anymore..." Your fingers stopped, as you shook your head. "I'm grading you y/n. It's either you pass, or I'm going to refer you to another tutor." He warned. "B-but--" "No buts, pretty. Continue."

You did not know where your mind flew to. All you can think about is how his pretty fingers are stretching you out and reaching the spots your own fingers weren't able to reach. "I'm g-gonna cum..." Your voice all trembling and shaking as much as your legs do.

"So soon?" Soobin started to move a bit faster, the sound your pussy was making was so lewd and dirty. You're toes curled, your hand gripped on his shoulder as you try to stop yourself from cumming. Soobin smirked, you're so lovely to look at. "Hmm, pretty." He chuckled as he stared at you.

"P-please Soobin, I'm gonna cum..." You pleaded. He twisted his fingers, scissored and pushed it more inside your gummy walls, you're too weak to hold back. You came on his fingers as you shuddered with his finger still fucking inside you. You were whining and squirming, but he's too strong for your weakened body.

He pulled his fingers out. He stares at his sticky and slicked-covered fingers and looks at you. He saw how the flush crept over your cheeks. "We will continue our sessions, you still have a lot to learn." His gaze at you is unwavering, waiting for you to look back at him. And when you did, his fingers disappeared in his own mouth.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." He moaned, cleaning his own fingers covered with your cum. His low voice gives you a shiver down your spine. He continued on licking his fingers, eyes locked on yours. You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled away. "I'm still not done, hold your skirt up." As a good student, you gladly obliged, clutching on your skirt.

He placed one of your thighs on his shoulder as he dives into your pussy. Lapping every essence dripping down. You squirmed and gripped on his hair. His tongue poking on your cunt. "S-soobin ahh, shit." You've lost it. Your tutor is eating you out, the guy you have a little crush on.

He keeps on humming in your pussy, the vibration adds to the tingly sensation you are feeling. You were in ecstasy.

"N-no more... Hng.." he did not stop. No way he's gonna stop. Not when Soobin is already hard and on the verge of cumming just by eating you out. But he holds back. "Shit!" Soobin felt you clench on his tongue, riding your other high. Your legs spasmed while he was cleaning you with his tongue, scraping every drop of your cum. It's something he can't waste.

He looks up at you, wiping his glistening mouth and nose with the back of his hand.

"Lay on the couch." He bosses, as he proceeded to lock the door. "Maybe buying this bigger couch has a purpose. Too bad it'll get soiled today, I just bought it yesterday." He smiled as he unzipped his pants, "Bend over. You're the one to grade me this time. Which is the best? My finger, my tongue, or my cock."

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin x you #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #choi soobin imagines #choi soobin scenarios #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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fawnsflowerbed · 5 months ago

Text

A/N: MY FIRST COMMISSION AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FLOPS ON THE FLOOR AND ROLLS BACK AND FORTH!!!!!!!

This was a request from my lovely sunshine anon, following the shenanigans of Vendetta Leon with his hybrid puppy girl!!! Please enjoy <3

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, Vendetta Leon is referred to as daddy! Some mention of strict leon but he can’t stay mad at u, lots and lots of fluff!!! Headcanons!!!

Word count: 2,250 approx.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

What does he do when she has zoomies at night like the lights are all off and he's in bed and she won't stop running around LMFAO

Zoomies in the Kennedy household are either a joy or a NIGHTMARE. It truly depends on how Leon’s feeling.

Often he finds it adorable. After a long day of work, climbing into bed after shutting the house down for the night, he hears a THUD followed by several thump thump thump thumps of you rushing off from wherever you were sleeping, most likely your bed in your playpen, but sometimes right in front of the fireplace in winter is too tempting. Your feet - or rather paws, as he jokingly calls them to see you puff, huff, and giggle at him - scurrying around the house, sliding across wooden floorboards, following the headlights of passing cars when the beams rush across the walls through the windows. Running back and forth between the rooms to squish your face up against the glass at squirrels or birds, whining quietly because you know you have to be a good girl and stay quiet but that crow is staring you down and you WANT to bark at it! A yip or two might, just might, slip past your lips. He can’t help but roll his eyes with a tired smile on his face, listening to you try so very hard to not disturb his slumber.

Soon enough you hear a short, brief whistle, ears perked up at the sound. It makes your feet pad from side to side, whimpering at the concept of him being awake - both out of worry and excitement. You’re quick to zoom your way over to his room, peeking your head over the edge of the bed with a quick wagging tail.

Leon’s voice is warm and rasped as he ruffles your hair, a gravelly chuckle rumbling from his throat. “Got some leftover energy there, sweetheart?” You nuzzle right up into the touch, loving the affection as always. “Gonna need to buy melatonin at this rate, pup. Either for you or for me.”

On the off days where he’s tired or grumpy you get a bit of a glare, but he just can’t stay stern with you no matter how hard work has been on him. He spoils you, he knows he does. But how could he be strict on you when you stare at him so apologetically with those big puppy dog eyes? Doing little paces back and forth around his bed to work off the extra zoom in your bones, he sighs and pats the bed for you to curl up next to him with a happily tapping tail thump thump thumping against the bedsheets.

What would he do if she played too rough with him and bit or clawed too hard? (She'd feel bad ofc)

Wuh oh! Tug-of-war and fetch are two high things on Leon’s more favoured games to play with you. He gets a bit of a workout, whilst making sure you get plenty of exercise so you’re nice and tuckered out for bed. Plus listening to you growl and giggle, shaking your head back and forth excitedly. You just love him, you love spending time with him, yapping happily and sprinting after the ball to plop at his feet with a big grin. Throw it again, Leon. Throw it again, and again, and again for the next 20 minutes, Leon.

But you’re still a puppy hybrid after all! So sometimes you get too ahead of yourself, and you grab at his hand too hard with your canines when he’s trying to take the ball off of you to throw it, or you reach out your hands and scratch a bit too roughly at his forearms to get an advantage in tug-of-war.

He’s always quick to pull away with a hiss or a quick sound of pain, giving his hand a shake out, rubbing over the scratched skin. He reacts fast so you have time to realise what’s happened, just to be sure no other injuries occur. And it’s like a switch flicks in your little dog brain. Immediately you’re climbing between his legs with big sad eyes, whining and whimpering out apologies and pawing gently at him, your ears pressed to your hair sadly. You hurt him! Oh no, no, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen, you were playing!

Usually it’s not too bad, nothing a bandaid and a good clean won’t fix. Often it works as a good reminder for him to cut your nails or give you a few extra bones and toys to gnaw on, but that broken look on your face makes his heart hurt every time. Especially if you start crying over it if it’s pretty bad. After ensuring it’s not the end of the world he’s always running his hand over your floppy ears, shushing you as you hiccup out sorry over and over. He knows you don’t mean to hurt him, you’re a good girl.

“No no no, hey, it’s alright darlin’, no tears. Just means you got strong teeth, that’s a good thing. Means you’re taking care of them. Let’s save it for the ball next time though, ‘kay? Teeth don’t belong in daddy.”

“You’re still my good girl, puppy. Just go easy on me, daddy’s not exactly getting any younger here.”

How would he go about things if she was more quiet than normal/sad?

That would be odd for him. He’s gotten so used to you being this bright, bubbly thing full of life and laughter. Pawing at the door and yapping happily at him coming back home, spinning in little circles with a whipping fluffy tail. Back when he first got you it threw him off guard, how smiley you were, but he grew to love it dearly.

But today you’re… off. You look up at him from where you’re flopped on the couch, tail tapping softly, as you give him a small smile. And he has to admit, it aches a little. Watching you pace the house rather than sprint around it, how you stare at your food rather than truly digging in and chowing down, embracing your dog-hybrid side. It’s especially clear with how much you sleep. Napping around the house wherever you can, your posture a mess, eyes droopy with bags under them. That’s when he realises something’s up.

He tries to initiate from time to time, rolling a ball in your direction. “You wanna play ball, baby? Wanna fetch?” Nothing. Won’t even run at the sound of the treat bag shaking.

It’s like a sledgehammer to the heart seeing you dejected. No night zoomies, you rarely join him for cuddles in bed, gnaw sluggishly on your chew-toys and you simply stare out the window with slumped ears. He just can’t keep going with it. It’s too different.

“Here puppy, c’mon.” It’s a brief call from the living room, and he listens out for the sound of your collar jingling with each slow step. He can already see the way you’ve forced the corners of your mouth up into a plastered smile. But your eyes, those puppy-dog eyes, are glossier than usual. And he frowns.

“What’s going on, huh? What’s wrong, sweet thing?”

He knows the nicknames get you good. And soon enough you’re climbing up into his lap with a low hanging tail tucked between your legs. He can’t help but chuckle softly, oh how quickly you cave. You’re a cuddly thing after all, snuggles are your weakness. “There’s my clingy girl, there we go. There she is.” He’s pushing the hair out of your face, a quiet sigh passing from his dry lips. “Talk to me, sweetpea. C’mon, tell daddy. I wanna listen, wanna know what’s wrong with my girl.”

And it’s true, he does.

What if he's trying to work from home/read some files but she keeps bugging him for attention/affection or to play?? :3

Working from home was supposed to be easier for him since getting a puppy hybrid. And sometimes it is. You lay by his chair in his at-home office, one large calloused hand running over your silky ears, your soft snores or the light tap of your tail making the perfect white noise for him to get paperwork done.

But, once again, you’re still a puppy. So sometimes he hears you wander your way in to sit by him on the floor with a thump. And then come the eyes having a little look-see at the papers he has spread out, a small mumble of “Whatcha doin?” passing your lips.

That’s how he knows you want something.

It only evolves from there. Pushing his reading glasses up onto his head to ruffle your hair. “Workin, pumpkin. The usual. Go on now.”

You do not in fact ‘go on now’. He thinks you do, assumes you do, by the sound of your feet trotting out of the room. Likely to find something else to do.

Wrong.

He feels you nose at his elbow, soft yet demanding in your own sweet way, and he arches a brow at you. There you are, again, sitting at his feet with a ball in your mouth. In your lovely puppy brain you associate Leon’s work with his stress. And stress is bad for your Leon. But playing always makes you feel better, so it must be play time! And at the thought of playtime, now you have to play or your tail will wag so fast it flies from your jittery body.

“Play?”

He scoffs just a little. “No, not play, darlin’. Work.” Of course he humours you, takes the ball and turns to toss it down the hallway. Soon enough you're dashing after it happily, very convinced your plan is working. And so you come back to him with the ball in mouth, dropping it at his feet. Only this time he gives a short shake of his head.

“No, puppy. It’s not play time. It’s work time.”

“But I don’t like work.” You whimper meekly up at him. It’s true. Work takes him away from you for hours so you have to wait by the windows for hours.

“I know baby, but daddy has to work so he can get you all the stuffed animals and treats you want.”

“But I don’t want those, I want daddy.”

Owch, that hurts a little, he won’t lie. Why do you have to be so damn sweet? You’re giving him a cavity by just being next to him. So he caves. He always caves. He’ll get the work done once you’ve had half an hour of running around and you conk out cold on the couch.

“How about this, hm? This is called a.. Wait fuck what’s it called- a compromise. Yeah, a compromise. Don’t repeat that f word, though. No- no stop giggling and listen, silly girl.” Two hands gently clasp your own, shaking them gently to keep your attention as you laugh your sweet laugh. And yes, he can’t help but smile too.

“I’ll give you all the play you want if I get half an hour’s worth of work in, okay? Every ten minutes if you’re extra good I’ll throw in a few rounds of fetch.”

That’s a done deal for you.

A few of my other headcanons are that puppy reader is HORRIFIED of the vet.

It either goes two ways, in which Leon has to stand there holding your hand as you shake like a leaf the entire time. Picking you up like a baby since you go rigid once you realise this is in fact NOT the park!!! You have been LIED TO!!!! DECEIT!!!!!! Staring him down with big pathetic eyes at his act of treacherous betrayal. “I know, I know, but you need your shots.”

You don’t bite, you don’t growl or bark, you just stare wide eyed at the wall like you’ve seen a ghost. Whimpering during the whole appointment, he usually has to grab your chin several times so you’ll actually look at him rather than the posters on hybrid health that might freak you out even more. And if they even try to give you a vaccination you’re clambering up his body as if he’s some sort of chiselled, stubbled tree in a leather jacket. And yeah, every time he can’t help but laugh.

“Oh come on, sunshine. It’s just a prick, you’ll be alright. You’re my brave girl, aren’tcha? You my brave girl, yeah? Yes you are, you’re my sweet girl, my brave baby.” He pries and coos so the veterinary nurse can jab you, plaster a hello kitty bandaid over the spot, and hand you a treat. Thank GOD that’s over.

In other cases you have a regular checkup with female vets who coo and coddle over how pretty you are, your tail whipping happily between your giggles. Usually Leon just leans against the wall and watches as the nurse takes your jaw and tells you to say ‘ah’, with the ladies gasping out a ‘Oh look at those clean pearly teeth!’ so you wiggle around. Yeah, those times you like the vets.

Squirrels are your arch nemesis. Especially since Leon won’t let you take the time to learn how to climb a tree. Let’s face it, seeing his puppy girl halfway up an oak trying to catch a chipmunk would give that poor man a heart attack.

You’re an end of the bed sleeper when he first gets you warm to him, and then he can’t get you out of his bed. Not even in a like, innuendo way, he just comes home in winter to you curled up under his covers waiting for him to get home. You're a huge cuddler, a giant snuggle bug. Yes, you do two or three little circles before lying down.

Every yawn is accompanied by a deep coo of “Aw, sleepy girl.” from Leon, and every stretch given a “Oo, big stretch.” Yeah, he’s that kind of puppy owner.

And he loves you to absolute bits!!! He never thought a puppy was exactly what he needed in his life <3

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dearlymrme · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Kama Your Sutra (Papa Emeritus x Reader)

Summary: The boy’s favorite sex positions with you.

Primo x Reader || Secondo x Reader || Terzo x Reader || Copia x Reader || Vaginal Sex || Rough Sex || Quickie || Consensual Somnophilia || Poorly Translated Italian || WC: 2525

Primo

Spooning

You wake swaddled in warmth and wet, mostly between your legs. In that milky white space between dream and reality, you feel a gust of hot air blow against the back of your neck followed by the gentle pressure of lips. You groan as you feel heat strike at your core. The throb between your legs is likely what woke you up. That and the fingers Primo has buried and your sopping cunt.

“Did I wake you, mia stella?” Your husband asks softly, pressed up behind you. His other arm gently wrapped around you and cupped a handful of your breast. It's easy for him to pull you tighter against him. “Sorry, I could not help myself.” He gives the back of your neck another kiss as his fingers stretch at your entrance.

“You looked so soft and pliant. So innocent…” He had gotten up for a glass of water but was stopped in his tracks by the soft moonlight from the window that had caught your face. It practically made you glow, and you looked so beautiful and so easy to take advantage of.

His chuckle erupts deep from his chest and you shudder as his thumb swipes against your clit, expertly from years of practice.

“Even though it only takes just a few strokes of my fingers to turn you into a slut.”

You groan and slightly push your pelvis back against his and feel him hard against your lower back.

“Primo.” You say his name once with urgency, and the man groans against your neck before removing his fingers and sucking them into his mouth. You lift your leg and shudder as he slicks his cock with your juices, fumbles with the head, before sheathing himself in two long strokes.

You both give throaty groans from pleasure before a soft and even paced rocking motion was applied.

"Your back…" You breathlessly moan in concern for his sore spine, but with a click of his tongue and another kiss pressed to your neck, it's quickly forgotten about.

"Don't worry about it." He angles his hips, and a high pitch keen erupts from your lips as he slides oh so wonderfully against the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars behind your closed eyes.

"Just come for me, stella." He growls roughly in your ear before cupping you by the chin and turning your head just enough for him to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

You tangle your tongue lazily with his, still on the cusp of sleep and the featherlight buzz in your lower stomach, the heat of your lover’s embrace, and the steady rocking of your conjoined bodies, it quickly brings you to release as your body locks up in contractions.

Primo groans and gives a few more tenacious rocks of his hips before you feel his dick jumping inside you. You place your hand on your lower belly and rub, and maybe it's the sleep causing you to imagine things but you could swear you actually feel his hot cum warming you from the inside.

"Augh." You hear him give a pained groan and shift to get his cock to slip out. You rub at your eyes as you turn over to get out of bed and retrieve a hot water bottle, immediately more awake at the sound of his discomfort.

"I told you so." You teased with a yawn.

Primo exhales a chuckle through his nose and turns to lay on his back with a wince.

"You're always worth it, stella."

Secondo

Mating Press

You toss and turn in frustration, hands gripping his arms hard enough to bruise and nails dug in deep enough to bleed. But you're trapped. There is no way out and nothing for you to do but take what he has to give. Your knees are pressed up to your chest, hooked over his arms, and held in place. His arms are up and over your back, hands dug into your shoulders and keeping you in place. Savagely thrusting after thrust into your wet hole as he bares his teeth at you and growls like he does on stage, like an animal.

“Fu-fuck!” Your croak, voice hoarse from all the screaming you had done so far.

“Se-secondo!” You gasp for air like a fish out of water as he gives you absolutely no chance to catch your breath, just over and over. Your body’s slide together, slick with sweat, and shared heat, turning the temperature up to a nearly uncomfortable level. You feel lightheaded from it all, your body singing as his strong assault of your pussy sends vibrations of pleasure throughout your core, steadily crawling and coiling into your lower belly.

“That’s right. Say my name, dolcezza.” He growls, nearly as breathless as you are. His grunts loudly echoing through the room with your weak gasps for air as he drives his cock mercilessly into you. “Only I can make you feel this way. Chi possiede questa figa?” He then stops his thrusts to roll and slide right up against your g-spot with expert precision.

“Hmm? Who?” He grunts, and his rolls don’t last for long. Your heat too much, your body too demanding for more. He quickly goes back into ravaging you like a strike of lightning.

“Y-You!” You shriek, and his roar is ripped from his chest at the statement before he’s rolling forward again to reach and drag your tongue out to play with his. His lower stomach begins to jump with each thrust, and he’s getting close, just as he knows you are.

“Questo cazzo ti appartiene altrettanto.” He mutters against your lips and sucks your bottom lip like a drop of sweet candy, lapping it gently with his tongue and smiling at how red and swollen he has made it.

“Go on, dolcezza. Pinch that fucking clit. I want to feel you come.” At his demand your hand reaches down between your bodies to roll over that sensitive bundle of nerves. You rub furiously at the engorged bud and Secondo groans as your walls get tight and hotter around him. You climax is not sudden but it still rips through you like an earthquake, causing your entire body to lock and mouth open with a scream as Secondo fucks you through it.

He’s even faster now, chasing after his release like a madman. As your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head from his frantic pace and relentless assault on your quim, he pants through the marathon like an Olympic racer and finally.

Finally, his hips stutter, and he slams hard into you, his hands forcing you down with his finale thrusts. You wince at the force in what will clearly be a pelvic bruise tomorrow, but the aftershocks of your climax quickly do away with the worry.

Secondo breathes, his tense muscles finally relaxing into the molten looseness that comes with an orgasm and he shifts in place but keeps your legs lifted, you hips just slightly off the bed, giving his seed that extra leverage to faster reach your womb.

When he feels as though long enough time has passed, he releases you from his pin and lets you lower your legs around his hips.

He smirks at you and your red face before lowering himself to lay beside you and gathers you in his arms.

He reaches over to the bedside table to retrieve a water bottle and hands it to you before kissing you on your temple.

"Think it'll take this time?" He curiously asks over the crinkle of plastic as you drown down the bottle in less than a handful of seconds.

You gasped for air before slowly wiping your mouth and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"You know what they say. If at first you don't succeed…"

And the two of you will try as many times as it takes.

Terzo

Ballet Dancer

The lewd slaps of his balls meeting your wet cunt fills the small closet. You give a growl of frustration as he nearly purposely avoids that spot that has your toes curling and you lower your head to bite at his collar. Terzo hisses before giving a bark of laughter. You quickly reach up and slap a hand over his mouth.

“Quiet!” You hiss behind your bared teeth, and his eyes crinkle in what would be a charming smile. Then, to be an asshole he moans loudly into your hand before swiping his tongue across your palm. You roll your eyes and adjust your leg over his thigh before he sinks home into that spongy gland inside of you, and now you're the one making the noise.

He had cornered you in the hall in his papal robes and immaculate paint, clearly just finished getting ready for the day but as soon as he saw you he was grabbing you by the waist and sequestering you away to the nearest empty room, painting your neck and lips with black kiss marks as he ground his cock into you.

“Please? You know a quick fuck always makes the meetings more bearable.” It didn’t take much convincing to have your panties down to your ankles and your leg swung over his hip, his hands cupping your ass and you holding his arm to help support you as he pistons his dick in and out at a furious enough pace to have you gasping for breath.

Terzo ignores the snap of a fallen broom as it hits the floor, too fixated on your glorious heat as your cunt strangles his cock like a hot constrictor. The spine tingling pleasure is starting to build up like a coil in his cock and it won’t be too much longer now.

You reach up to cup Terzo by his face and pull him into a ferocious kiss. He breathes through his nose, attacking your tongue with a manic frenzy and breaking the kiss with a small bridge of spit. He snaps the connection by giving you a feral grin and readjusting his hold on you before he dips his hips low, arching at his lower back, and then he’s striking your core with every thrust.

“Fuck! T-Terzo.” You stutter, your thigh beginning to shake and your single supporting leg starting to jiggle from the onslaught of pleasure. He devilishly grins at your red face, at the small trail of drool beading down the side of your mouth, at the black lipstick he’s covered your lips and collar with.

“Come on, principessa.” He goads, rolling his ‘r’ like he’s rolling his hips. “I’m close. A-Are you close? Are you going to come for me?” You nod your head, so blissed out that you're not even sure what you're agreeing to anymore. You just want more as you’re coming to the end. Terzo licks up your spit before giving you another heated kiss, sucking on your lip before biting hard enough to draw blood.

That small snap of pain combined with molten pleasure is what does it for you. You clench down like a vice and dig your nails into his shoulders, nearly ripping his ceremonious outfit. His legs are the ones to buckle as he gives a few more good thrusts before reaching nirvana and sliding down to the ground, bringing you with him.

“Good. Damn good.” He pants against your chin and rides the aftershocks of his climax. He stares at you, taking in your wrecked appearance.

Your hair is messy from when his seeking fingers thread through it. Your eyes are glazed and half closed in pleasure. Your mouth shaped in a perfect ‘o’ and your cheeks stained with ruddy tears. The sight of your sex devastated body his his dick spring as your walls strangles that last drop of cum from his loins.

The meeting is sure to go by quickly now with his bones turned to jelly and the afterglow of a good fuck in his system. He’s not going to be able to pay a single bit of attention though. No, he’s going to be more focused on how to better make you scream once after the meeting is over.

Copia

Cowgirl

“S-Shit…Copia!” You moan as his hands go down to cup your thighs and help you to further spread your legs. Your thighs themselves burn from exertion but it’s too damn good to stop.

“Lift up just a little, cuore mia.” Copia pants against your chest before your shaking legs lift off.

“That’s right, just hover.” He advises and you bite your lip as his thrusting turn to grinds. He lifts you up against him, your soft breasts pressed against his chest. Your stomach trembles against his. Your hot sweaty skin slid against his body and his hips bucked up.

“Hold on.” He smirks and you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning more forward against him to take some of the weight off your thighs. He slouches further back against the couch and spreads his own legs to brace before-...

“Fuck!” It’s savagely ripped from your throat as his hips begin to jack-knife into you at a frightening pace. Faster than you could have ever ridden him on your own. The hot wet sounds of your love echoing through the room in slaps so wet it was nearly embarrassing. The noise only made you hotter and your toes curled.

The subtle hot fluttering around his cock tells him you’ve come, your mouth opened in a silent scream against his jaw as your nails dug into his neck. The pace he sets is relentless. Your arms around him are nearly suffocating if he wasn’t already choking on the pleasure. He can practically feel his heart throbbing in his cock as the black creeps at the edge of his vision while he fucked as hard and fast as he can.

His head goes light before he takes a gasp of air, swallowing as much oxygen as he could and slams you down atop his dick, trying to get as deep as possible. His legs shake from the stimulation as he sets his feet flat to the floor and gives a few final good thrusts, his dick pulsates inside of you with each jet of release.

You wait in the afterglow with him as you both try to regain your breath from one of the best fucks to date and then the burning of your thighs starts to return. You slide off of him with a satisfied groan and make a face as you feel his cum wetly spill out of you from the action, likely staining the couch or carpet, or both.

“Don’t worry about it.” Copia mutters dumbly, sufficiently fucked himself stupid and still light headed, he places a weak open mouth kiss to your chin. “Let’s get more comfortable.” You nod and stand on trembling legs, feeling very weak in the knees and hold out your hand to him.

He takes it and makes the attempt to stand but fails as his legs wobble and give out from under him, planting him back on the couch.

“On second thought, why don’t we nap here?”

~*~*~

Translations:

Chi possiede questa figa? Who owns this pussy?

Questo cazzo ti appartiene altrettanto. This dick belongs to you just as much.

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sky-is-the-limit · 2 months ago

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PART 1, PART 2:

P: Stalker!Gaz x F!Baker!Reader

TW: Stalking, obviously.

Notes: This is pre TF141.

It’s not stalking, Kyle tells himself. He’s just making sure you get home safe.

A city like London, with its narrow streets and shadowy corners, isn't kind to someone as lovely and precious as you.

Especially now, with the early sunsets and lurking dangers. You probably don’t even realise how tight those jeans are, how they hug your body in a way that puts the worst of sins to shame.

He wonders if you’re still listening to that 80s music through your headphones, oblivious to the men out there who would love to take advantage of you but he’s not one of them. Of course not. He’s a gentleman.

He keeps a safe distance, watching your every move, the sway of your hips with every step. He’s protecting you. You don’t need to know. His job is to observe and keep you safe, just like he would in the field. He’s your guardian angel, looking out for you, ensuring nothing bad happens.

Then you stop outside an apartment complex and suddenly, his chest tightens.

A man calls your name from across the street with a thick Scottish accent. Who the fuck is he? Why is he jogging over with a stupid mohawk and a cocky grin plastered on his face like he thinks he owns the world? Or worse, like he thinks he owns you.

Kyle feels his fists clench at his sides as he ducks, pretending to inspect the flowers growing along the pavement. He kneels down, pulls out his phone, snapping a random photo but his eyes never leave you.

You’re hugging him, arms wrapped around this stranger and his blood boils. Homicidal rage simmers beneath his skin.

Who is this bastard with his hands roaming your back, trailing lower, too low? He’s touching your waist, pulling you closer, his face buried in your neck, inhaling your perfume like he has the right.

Then, you’re laughing softly at something the man says, the sound hitting Kyle’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. How could you? How could you let someone else so close, touching you like that? His fingers twitch, the urge to intervene barely held back.

It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong but the thought of anyone else being that close to you drives him mad. His hands want to act, want to grab the nearest object and wipe that smug smile off the stranger’s face.

Who the fuck is this guy? He doesn’t deserve you. Is he hurting you? Cheating on you? Is he some temporary fling who doesn’t even take you seriously? He’d kill him if it meant keeping you safe. He’d die for you.

The man waves you off as a taxi pulls up, holding the door open for you with a casual smirk. As you slide into the backseat, he leans in, pressing a quick, possessive peck to your lips through the open window. You watch him through the glass as the driver begins to pull away, his hand still raised in a farewell wave.

His mind is made up. He’s convinced that his intentions are completely justified.

With a determined stride, he moves closer, his eyes never leaving the moving car. He needs to make sure you’re safe, that you’re not left vulnerable to anyone who might not have your best interests at heart. This is about your protection, he tells himself.

And so, Kyle stops the next taxi. Destination? Wherever you go next.

#we got a cameo #woop woop #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick smut #gaz smut #kyle garrick x reader #cod #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #tf 141

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cal-flakes · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ cigarettes out the window

warnings: swearing, angsty themes, drug use.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

“my girl liddy used to always smoke, cigarettes when she couldn’t sleep„

“rafe? what are you doing?” she mumbled, her feet padding lazily against the wooden floor of the balcony as she rubbed her groggy eyes. “shit..” he mumbled, fumbling around quickly, hoping the dark sky was enough to shield him from her glare as he slipped the half empty bag into his back pocket. “why are you out here?” she asked again, this time stepping closer while the cool air left goosebumps along her exposed legs.

“i just— uh, i couldn’t sleep..” he lied, turning away as he sniffled, subtly wiping away the excess lingering on his nostrils. sighing, she shuffled towards him, arms outstretched— utterly oblivious to the powdery residue left on the glass table. “c’mon, come back to bed..”

“yeah, just uh— gimme a minute, alright?” he asked, nodding gratefully as she gave him a small smile before heading back inside.

his head whipped around the door frame, ensuring she was gone before rushing back over to the table, pulling out a very, very used credit card. his eyes flitted to and from the door as he hurriedly scraped together the remains of his last bag, scooping them onto the edge of the plastic card before holding it up to his nose, throwing his head back in delight as he felt the granules brush against his skin.

“she’d disappear for an hour and a half, and when she’d come back she’d brush her teeth„

“hey topper, have you seen rafe?” she smiled sweetly, holding her own arms in comfort as her eyes searched the party for him. “shit man, i haven’t seen him in a while actually— if you find him, tell him i gotta speak to him” topper called back, struggling to hear over the thumping music. “oh, okay— yeah i’ll tell him” she sighed, watching him disappear into the crowd before scurrying upstairs, still searching.

“hey—sorry, have you seen rafe?” she asked politely, soon frowning as the group of girls shook their heads. turning away, y/n’s features contorted as an eruption of giggles assaulted her ears, quickly whipping back round, she met their pitiful looks.

mentally cursing the flight risk himself, she continued rattling numerous door handles until she reached the end of the corridor, where the bathroom was. using her knuckles, they turned white as she banged aggressively on the door, rapidly losing her patience.

“but i could still smell it on her raggedy tee, and taste it on her lips when we kissed”

y/n yawned incessantly as she floated about tannyhill, taking advantage of rafe’s family’s absence as she played housewife— tidying where she could, cooking dinner for the both of them, as well as doing the laundry. oh, how she loved when the cameron’s went on holiday.

sighing, she rested the plastic laundry basket on her hips while she headed back downstairs, thankful for rafe’s washing hamper being nearly empty. y/n hummed to herself as her sandals clicked against the marble flooring of the kitchen, swiftly moving passed the island, through to the laundry room.

rummaging through the numerous garments, she sorted them by colour before emptying out the pockets of his clothes, vividly remembering the time she’d accidentally left twenty bucks in one his pockets, essentially ruining his favourite shorts.

the rustle of plastic pierced her ears, quickly intriguing her as she disregarded an old hoodie, setting it aside to pick up the culprit— a pair of blue suit pants, worn to that years midsummers. y/n relished in the memory for a moment, remembering the way she giggled as he spun her around, whispering sweet nothings into her ear all night.

smiling to herself, she slid her hands into the left back pocket, soon frowning as she came up empty— yet quickly moved to the other. “a-ha!” she smirked, listening to the satisfying rustle as she moved her hands around, before sliding her fingers between the hem, reaching for whatever rubbish he’d left in his pocket.

her mouth quickly fell agape as she pulled out the plastic bag, filled with white powder. “what the hell?” she muttered to herself, tossing aside the expensive trousers as she stood up properly.

“poor little liddy used to always quit, but she never really quit, she’d just say she did„

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” she shrieked, slamming the door behind her as her heels clicked angrily through the house, storming up to his room. “what the fuck?” he snapped, taken back by her dramatic entrance as he lay comfortably in his bed, suddenly startled.

“pope saw you trying to score coke from barry again, what the hell rafe? i thought we talked about this?” she wailed, tossing her bag aside, her previous friday night mood dissipating rapidly.

“pope— what the hell are you talking to him for?” he retorted, shaking his head in feigned confusion. “never mind why i was talking to pope, why are you going back on how good you’ve been doing?” she seethed, her frame jittery from anger. “well your little friend—pope, is a fucking liar, i’ve been here all day, being a good little boy like your psychotic brain wants me to be!” he bellowed, pushing off from the bed to face her fully, quickly towering over her.

“oh, psychotic? fucking psychotic, really? are you serious right now?” she cried, tears brimming along her mascara coated lash line as she glared up at him, struggling to stay strong beneath his intimidating gaze.

the tension in the room could be cut with a blunt knife as they both fell silent, glaring at each other. “you know what, empty your pockets— c’mon” she spoke, ushering him to turn them out as his eyes widened. “i’m not— you’re fucking insane” he spat, turning away from her.

“don’t turn your back on me rafe, i’m trying to help you!” she cried, pleading. “i don’t want your fucking help” he sneered, sitting back on the bed. her bottom lips quivered as she watched him, taking note of his unmoving gaze.

“you don’t want— okay, fine. have it your way” she spat back, rushing to grab her bag before storming out, slamming his bedroom door behind her.

hot tears flooded her flushed face as she rushed downstairs, heartbreak pooling in her stomach as her chest tightened.

“y/n?” a soft voice called, laced with concern. turning back, she smiled weakly as she met rose’s eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry— i tried, i really tried” she sobbed, falling into the woman’s outstretched arms. “i know sweetie, i know” she cooed, stroking the girls tangled hair.

“i love him so much rose, but i just can’t do it anymore— he doesn’t care” y/n cried as she pulled away, sniffling. “he does care sweetheart, i could go on forever about how much that boy loves you, but he’s not himself, and you shouldn’t have to put your life on hold for someone like that”

“we’ll find moonlit nights strangely empty„

his chest tightened as his bottom lip trembled, tossing and turning restlessly through the night. “fuck..” he muttered, abruptly throwing the covers aside, allowing him to slide out from the bed, grabbing his phone before quickly making his way through to the main balcony.

he’d never longed for warmth so bad he couldn’t sleep, all these emotions were so unfamiliar. but all he knew— was that he had to get out of that bed, out of those sheets. the same sheets he’d stuffed in the washing machine numerous times, desperately trying to rid the material of the smell. the smell of artificial strawberry, and coconut shampoo, her smell. it had invaded his senses every night since she left.

“just do it— man up” he snapped at himself, smacking himself lightly as he ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, brushing back the curtains lingering in his eyeline.

shaking his head frustratedly, he reached for his phone before laying back against the cushioned chair, his chest heaving in anticipation.

his vision grew cloudy with salty tears as his thumb tapped away at the screen, scrolling through his contact.

“because when you call my name through them, there will be no answer„

hot tears streamed down her flushed cheeks while she clutched the soaked covers, stained with numerous weeks worth of tears. she shook her head as the incessant buzzing on her nightstand overwhelmed her, yet she couldn’t help but watch— watch the light fall from her screen as he seemingly gave up, probably shaking with anger as she let him go to voicemail, again.

“i’m sorry..” she whispered, hoping the bond they shared still lingered, carrying her message to him through the cloudy sky looming over kildare.

his head fell into his hands as he groaned, quickly scrambling to the floor, gathering the pieces of his now smashed phone, holding them gentle in his hands like a piece of his own heart. “i’m so sorry y/n..”

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

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ssentimentals · 27 days ago

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joshua + halloween prompt

creature: siren

note: look at me, as always being late to the party :D open ending here cause i'm incapable of writing angst and i made sirens capable of transforming into humans for plot. enjoy!

'they change their appereance. it's a myth that sirens exist only in the deep deep oceans.'

joshua blinks, shaking himself out of the stupor. evening in unfamiliar tavern turned into a horror story night and at first he didn't even listen to what old woman was saying, but then he got pulled in by the story just like all other random travelers. her soothing voice paired with a horrifically gore story about siren who lured in all kinds of innocent men and women had everyone under some spell; joshua's head feels a bit dizzy like he's tipsy even when he only had a one glass of ale.

'they eat your soul,' woman finishes in a spooky whisper. 'and the worst part is that you'll give it to them willingly'.

shiver runs up and down joshua's spine and he bristles at the cold wind from open windows. he stares at the storyteller, who collects her small payment from kind strangers, counting her coins - joshua searches his pockets to give her some change as well. it was entertaining even if he feels a bit unsettled, like something is pulling at the pit of his stomach. he finds some coins to spare and opens his mouth to call for the old woman, when someone slides up at the seat next to him.

'hello, stranger.'

joshua traveled east and west, south and north, but he's never seen someone as beautiful as you. part of him wants to pinch himself to see if you're real and not a figment of his imagination; the aura you give off is too majestic and out of this world. he stares and stares, knows it's rude but he can't help it - your beauty pulls him in like a vice. 'hi,' he breathes out, gaining back his ability to speak.

you smile and lean closer, gesturing towards his glass of ale. 'is it good?' joshua nods. 'can i try it?'

'uh.' it's not like this is a weird request but he's never met bold women and during his travels he rarely met women at all; joshua fears his social skills are somewhere in the dirt now. 'yeah-yeah, sure.'

every move of yours is gracious and for joshua everything happens in slow motion: the way you lean in, how you take his glass in your hands, how you tip it and never close your eyes, maintaining eye contact with him as you take a sip. it sends big enough sparks to start a fire in his chest; joshua holds his breath while you put the glass back, licking your lips in the way that cannot be considered innocent at all.

'sweet.' you conclude, never once looking away from him.

ale is not sweet. ale is generally bitter and this one here is not even good, but joshua's mind fails to register that. in fact, his mind fails to register anything apart from your big eyes that draw him in, refuse to let him go. without thinking, he pushes his glass in your direction with: 'you can have it'.

joshua is usually smoother than this, that's the thing. usually it's him who has other girls blushing and stuttering over their words, eating up from his palm. he's handsome and he knows it, uses it sometimes for his advantage. but right now he's the one scrambling, trying desperately to come up with anything to make you stay. 'is there anything else you want? i can get you something to eat, what do you want?'

joshua knows the answer before it even leaves your lips: 'you.'

he feels it then. when you are this close - when did you even manage to get this close? - he can feel something. it's hard to pinpoint what exactly, but it is something. something that makes hair on his arms stand up and goosebumps awaken. something that dulls ringing alarms in his mind that scream at him to sharpen his attention, to maybe get away, to-

'don't fight it,' you whisper, rising your hand to gently caress side of his face. 'what a pretty boy you are. why are you fighting?'

joshua doesn't know. he's not very aware that he's fighting but even if he's been unconsciously fighting something, all the willpower leaves him, when your other hand snakes up his thigh. god, you are unreal. a goddess sent to him from above, a gift from-

'hell.' suddenly old woman's voice rings in his ears and he turns sharply, looking at the storyteller who now stands right next to him. 'go back to where you came from.'

pointed nails dig into his thigh painfully and joshua hisses at both this and how your grip on his face tightens. he doesn't see how your face confronts into a grimace but he catches dangerous glint in your eyes, when you turn to the other woman. 'leave,' you say but it sounds like an order. 'it's too late now.'

when older woman turns to joshua, he sees so much regret and despair in her eyes that it almost triggers panic in him. he almost sits up straighter, almost takes her hand. almost reaches out to ask what's wrong. almost, because before he can do any of that, you turn his head to your side, leaning so close that he can feel your breath on his face. 'come with me,' you whisper, looking right into his soul. 'i'll sing for you, my dear.' your hands find their way into his hair. 'i'll make you happy, i'll make you mine. don't you want to be mine, hm?'

your nails scratch just slightly but your grip on his hair tightens when you make him turn to the right, away from the old woman. joshua is hypnotized, lets you treat him like a ragdoll, almost moans when your tongue traces his jawline. god, yes. yes, yes, yes. he's saying it out loud and he has no idea, needing more of this, needing anything you can give him, willing to beg for it. he closes his eyes in a bliss and doesn't see how your smile turns predatory and how your eyes gleam with bright blue for a second before turning back to black. he doesn't see how you turn back to the old woman, whispering something to her in a language that no one knows. he doesn't see, he only feels and he feels like he's floating, when your lips are on his neck and jaw, when your nails dig painfully into his shoulders.

'pretty boy,' you whisper again and there's something raw in your voice, something he hasn't heard before. 'all mine, yes?'

'yes,' joshua confirms, following you as a puppy when you lead him from the bar.

his mind tingles with questions but when he thinks of them his head only starts hurting. you coo at him, all lovingly, walking in hurried steps closer to the shore. 'what did i tell you, hm? don't fight it.'

right, don't fight it. joshua nods dumbly, lets himself be whisked away. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when you start singing. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when you pull him into the water. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when your face and skin slowly start to change. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when water reaches his chin. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when your entire face distorts, turns white and blue. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when water enters his lungs. he looks into your beautiful eyes, when they turn blue. your beautiful eyes are the last thing he sees, when sea takes him under.

a/n: so. ugh i hate spooky stuff, i don't think that can even count as 'spooky' but oh well. this one is for @rwithkali and i know it's not what you meant but it is halloween, so sirens as monster creatures it is! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

#joshua #seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #joshua seventeen #joshua hong #joshua x reader #joshua imagine #halloween #seventeen halloween #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios

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daisygirlwrites · 2 years ago

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Rookie Mistake

Summary: Alternative title, How You Got Your Call Sign

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, minor character death

Pairing(s): Task Force 141 x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Note: No use of (Y/N). Only description of the reader is that she’s short

a/n: hey there! first and foremost, big thanks to @einno-arko for editing it! please check out her page! it has been a long time since i’ve written a fanfic so do forgive me for how rough this is. it is also 3 in the morning as im typing, woops. also, would love to hear feedback so i can make improvements in future works. thank y’all!

Being short has its advantages at times. For your job as a sniper, you could be placed anywhere without being seen. During your basic and special forces training, where most people are at least a head taller than you, you were taught techniques for someone only your size can pull off.

The man in front of you is probably the tallest person you’ve seen on the field. At least two feet taller than you and all muscle. ‘Tank’, his teammates call him. Truly matches the description. You try not to think about how one of his hands can wrap around your neck and squeeze the life out of you.

Instead, you pull out your knife and charge towards him. He runs towards you, arms up and ready to take a swing. Expecting a punch, you lean your upper body forward, keeping your head low. On your last step, you push upwards with your foot. Tank misses you, his stance uneven and his legs still wide open.

For a millisecond, you thought about slicing the area between his thighs, making things easier for you in the long run. Instead, you stick with the training that’s been engraved into your head. Diving in the open space between his legs, you run your knife through his inner thigh, hoping it’s deep enough to at least damage the femoral artery.

Tank lets out a scream and staggers forward as you slide down on the floor. With his back to you, you push your body up and sprint towards him. The ideal situation is for you to get to him and pull his head back enough to slice his throat. But life isn’t always ideal.

To your shock, he quickly gets up onto his feet and turns around, facing you. As if his strength doubled, he knocks the knife out of your hand and, for a split second, your eyes follow the knife as it flies across the room. That was all Tank needed, grabbing both of your arms and lifting you up. Yeah, you should have just sliced his dick.

It was at this time that the rest of the team entered the room. The sight was almost comical; you being held up, legs dangling like a rag doll. Tank casts a quick glance from the corner of his eye. All four men with their rifles up, pointing towards the two of you, but it was the one with a skull mask that made his body break out into a cold sweat. Four against one are really bad odds, especially with an injured leg.

Tank still has you held out, practically using you as a human shield for the upper half of his body. But with your insistent wiggling and attempts at kicking him, it becomes more difficult for him to keep a grip on you.

He knows that he probably won’t leave this room alive, and he’d rather die than to surrender. Tank goes through his options, looking at the small soldier in his hands. ‘Should have grabbed them by the neck.’ As soon as he makes a move, the men in front of him will too.

“Just drop them mate!” A heavy Scottish accent is heard throughout the room.

Tank stays silent, eyes darting around the room, trying to find the means of escape. His train of thought became illogical. As he looks around his environment, he tries to avoid meeting the eyes of the man with the skull mask. ‘Ghost’ is his name. His dark eyes never leave Tank’s.

If he’s going to Hell, he won’t be going alone. Spotting the window to his right, his body moved before his brain could process what was happening. Tank twists his upper body and, with the last of his strength, he hurls you through the glass

During your time with the team, which was about six months when you first joined, you’ve kept quiet. Never raising your voice and only talking when you’re addressed. So, when they hear you yelp and let out a high-pitched scream as they watch your body crash through the window, they would have laughed if the circumstances were different.

As soon as your body stopped shielding him, Ghost took the shot. He watched as the large man slammed down to his knees, blood running down his face from the bullet hole on his head, before finally falling forward.

Getting thrown out the window sounds fun, besides landing on the glass and the very high chance of death. Any other person would have a couple of broken bones, but it seems like you had lady luck on your side today. For one, the warehouse is only one story high, and you’re all padded up. Without your gear and helmet, there would have been more puncture points from the shards. But the impact from hitting the ground doesn’t leave you unscathed. Something is probably broken, sprained, if not bruised. You don’t feel it now but it’s going to suck ass later. Laying on your side, you look around, trying to not move your body in the process. There are probably hundreds, maybe even thousands, of glass shards surrounding you.

“ROOKIE!” Soap comes running towards you.

You open your mouth, wanting to tell him to be careful but Ghost’s rough voice cuts you off. “Dammnit Johnny, watch out for the fuckin’ glass!”

Soap slows his movements, making calculated hops to avoid the sharp shards. “Heya lassie, how ya feeling?”

Not having the energy for a filter, you responded. “Felt like I got thrown out a window. Fuckin’ hell, Soap, what do you think?!”

Seeing his eyes widen, you immediately regret the words that came out of your mouth. “Holy shit, Soap. I am so sorry.”

He lets out a hearty laugh as he stops before you. He gives you a look over, trying to find any visibly large shards of glass embedded in your body. Seeing as there isn’t any visible, Soap sticks his hand out. Surprised to find how badly your arm is shaking, he gently grabs your forearm and pulls you up.

“You really are Ghost’s mini-me,” he chuckles.

“Huh?”

“Already picking up his humor and stealing his catchphrase.”

“Oh!” You look down, thanking your balaclava for hiding your flushed face.

With his arm under yours, you lean on him, slowly limping your way towards the rest of the team. Price took another look at you, spotting at least a dozen little glass shards that punctured your jacket and pants. “Best to have the med team take them out of you. The heli will be here in five.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into your head. You realize that during your next training sessions, he’s going to roast the ever living fuck out of you about what happened today. Dread begins to sink in.

—

With your left arm bare and the interior of the heli cold, you try to minimize your shivering so that the medic can properly do their job. You guessed that the guys would at least wait until you get back to base before they made jokes, but you were very wrong.

“Rookie, you literally got yeeted out the window.” Gaz was the first to break the silence.

“Yes, Gaz, I know.”

“We should have a contest to see how far each of us can throw her.” Soap barked out, joining in on the teasing.

“I would prefer not, Soap.”

And it went on for a little while longer, and you, again, were thankful for having your balaclava on so they wouldn’t see that you’re dying on the inside.

“Probably gonna stop calling you Rookie now.” Much to everyone’s surprise, they turn to Ghost.

You tilt your head, confused, before he continues. He stares at you, the heli quiet besides the hum of the wings. A beat later he speaks up again, “I think I’ll call you Crash.”

You follow with an immediate, “Oh hell no.”

At this point, Soap and Gaz are giggling like schoolgirls. Price turns away, lips pulled tight but his shoulders shaking up and down in muffled laughter. Ghost’s eyes narrow, but you can tell he has a smug grin under his mask.

“Crash it is then!”

“Don’t encourage him, Soap!”

“Sorry lassie, it’s law now, we outrank you.” He smiles at you.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you let out a quiet chuckle. Lifting your head up from your hand, you quietly say, “Fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this”

You watch Soap nod and Gaz give you a thumbs up before you pull down your balaclava, giving them a smile.

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader

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lyricalt · 8 days ago

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[tf2 minific] request: tie up job

sniperspy - rating T - sniper trying to flirt for his literal life

(NOW ON AO3)

------

“Oh, well. Hello there, darl. Ain’t this awkward,” Sniper says, glancing up from his scope when Spy’s foot steps over of the barrel of his rifle and stays there.

Spy looks down at him. His revolver isn’t pointed at Sniper, which is awfully lenient. Sniper, who is laying belly down in an extremely vulnerable position on the ground, notes that Spy makes a point to not put the revolver away either.

They don’t usually have run-ins like this. When Sniper takes on an extra side gig, he usually makes some vague reference to the location and Spy does the trick of avoiding the same general area. Unfortunately, vague comments don’t usually stand up to direct communication, which also don’t stand very well in the face of non-disclosure agreements signed with blood, metaphorical or otherwise.

“I hope that isn’t my asset you are attempting to assassinate,” Spy says, arching an eyebrow.

Sniper’s mark is, in fact, the very same asset Spy is probably trying to protect. There’s only one man sitting by his lonesome in his penthouse of pretty glass walls and likely stolen art pieces for some kind of money laundering scheme. Not that Sniper really understands most of it. He’s just a guy on top of a roof with a rifle, a bullet, and a hefty twenty percent deposit in his back pocket.

“No chance of voiding your contract?” he asks. He’d try and bat his eyes for a laugh but Spy’s got years of experience over him on that front. Besides, he shouldn’t need to resort to any more spy-ish tactics.

“Same chance of you nullifying yours, I’m afraid,” Spy replies with a ghost of a smile. He nudges Sniper’s rifle, making sure the aim’s no good. “My asset told me that someone might be after him. Imagine my surprise when the trail led to you.”

“Argh, that was right sloppy of me.” Sniper sighs. “What gave me away?”

“I find myself looking more towards rooftops lately,” Spy says, amused. He lets up on the rifle but slides his foot over Sniper’s firing wrist, pressing down hard until Sniper has no choice but to remove his finger from the trigger. “Now, you know I have to ask; who hired you?”

“And, as you might already know, I dunno. Got me a ticket from the clerk. They just wanted your man dead and I’m just some dummy bloke with a very long gun that can shoot very far.”

Spy groans. He lifts his revolver, pointing it at some non-lethal part of Sniper’s body. “I would hate to torture you for more information.”

Sniper flicks the brim of his hat up to give Spy a hopeful look. “I’m sure I could stand to have a little bit of torture. Who knows, might get me to admit some stuff. Maybe not relevant stuff to your mission. Depends on how hard you go. Y’had no problems tying me up to a chair two weeks ago.”

“How very unprofessional of you to bring that up. You know we’re both working right now.”

“I know, pookie. Just buyin’ some time,” Sniper says, grinning, and pulls the trigger.

Spy’s head whips towards the penthouse. There’s a crash of glass as the bullet goes through, shattering an entire window. The penthouse alarms start blaring.

The weight over Sniper’s wrist lets up by the tiniest fraction, but it’s enough. Sniper uses the second of distraction to take advantage of Spy’s foot as leverage, rolling his rifle over like a tripod to reload. He aims again and fires the second bullet. Spy flinches as the heat of the barrel sears his ankle.

“Bonza,” Sniper breathes, watching the mark fall over with a pretty new hole through their head. Gotta be proud of good work after all, even as Spy kicks the rifle away with an annoyed tsk.

“That was ill-advised,” Spy says, dangerous and low. “You didn’t let me explain. Now there will be other mercenaries after you. I’m only one of several. Your mark hired a team of us.”

“Right, right. I gotcha,” Sniper says and rolls on his back, sweet and innocent as a babe. He slowly puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Before you're obligated to capture me, can I make an offer?"

Spy's revolver tilts to the side, the equivalent of a shrug. "Might as well."

After a moment of making sure Spy won’t shoot him immediately, Sniper puts his fingers to the brim of his hat. Carefully projecting every movement, he pulls out a small slip of paper, like something that would come out of a fortune cookie.

“I’d like to hire you for the service of rescuing me," Sniper says, holding it out. "Here’s what I’ll pay.”

With the revolver still pointed at him, Spy takes the slip. He reads the lucky numbers.

“It’ll be easy,” Sniper adds. “You already know all their security details.”

Spy’s expression goes flat. “You left a trail on purpose. You knew I’d be working for them.”

“S’why I took the job, mate. Big boss cartel fellas are bloody hard to assassinate without some immediate opposition,” Sniper says, getting comfortable on the ground. He sees the end of Spy’s revolver dip downwards. “Already assumed that, even if I got the kill, there would be kickback. You bein’ one of them.”

Spy crumples the slip of paper in his fist. He puts it in his mouth and swallows it.

Sniper thinks the rice paper ought to be a nice touch. No chewing needed. Still, it doesn’t hurt to further his case with, “I did the math. My payout eclipses yours, even after taxes.”

Spy stares at him. “You looked through my desk. That night when you said you couldn’t find the cond-”

“Plus! Even with the minuscule hit to your reputation—which, with your network, should recover in a month—I’d still come out on top,” Sniper interrupts, now rushing the pitch, “And I’ll still have leftover change to treat you to dinner and a screw at one of them nice resorts you like.”

“You followed me. You took the job knowing I’d be there,” Spy says, sounding more affronted with each accusation. “You used me as an inside man.”

“Betcha so turned on right now. ‘Cause I did something heaps sneaky and underhanded. Like a rat bastard. Got you so hot for it, I bet.”

Spy’s gaze goes to the sky, as if questioning his life choices. He isn’t denying anything though, so Sniper can mark it as a triple win in his books.

“So, you gonna save me before your other guys start figuring’ it out, or what?” Sniper asks, dropping his voice into a small whine. He has a hunch Spy secretly likes hearing it. “C’mon, lemmie buy you out. You love all that turncoat nonsense.”

They stare at each other. From the corner of his eye, Sniper can see quite a lot of people gathering in the penthouse. The alarms have gone silent, which isn’t a very good sign. Laser sights start skimming the adjacent rooftops.

“What restaurant and which resort?” Spy finally asks, glancing at his watch.

“Non-negotiable, darl. They’re your type of shindigs though, I’ll promise you that.”

Spy’s eyes dart to the penthouse. His earpiece seems to be going off, muffled radio calls crackling through. “You mentioned screwing.”

“Lucky for you, you get a loyal customer discount,” Sniper says, and since he’s already on his back, he draws up his legs to nudge against Spy’s. “You can have me à la carte.”

Spy looks at the not-so-subtle positioning of his legs for a good long while. After a moment, he taps his earpiece and says something brief in Italian.

Eventually, he tucks the revolver away and holds out his hand. “I can have a getaway yacht ready in fifteen minutes.”

Sniper takes it, and Spy’s hauls him up into a sitting position. If their hands stay joined for a tad longer than strictly necessary, Sniper doesn’t mention it.

“I’ll have to knock you unconscious first,” Spy says. He has a very promising gleam in his eye.

Sniper winces.

“Aw, no. I can fake unconsciousness well enough,” he tries, but the whiny tone won’t work this time.

“Best to make it look authentic,” Spy says, leaning over to touch Sniper’s face, glove cold, but his thumb brushes against his bottom lip. He smirks down at Sniper in a very familiar way. “Relax your jaw for me.”

Sniper barely has time to do as he’s told before Spy backhands him into oblivion with the butt of his revolver.

#sniperspy #bloody suit #tf2 #local mercenaries in your area will not shut up #promptfic #nonao3

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cyberchronics · 10 months ago

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・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[part one]

ashamed of how long this took me to get out >_<

stalker mahito + getting punished (part two)

✶ dubcon (again mahito wants it but not explicitly said) ✶

★ sub yan mahito, mean dom reader, stalking (ofc), bondage, shibari, punishment, cock rings, orgasm denial, unprotected rough sex, marking, when I say delusional... did not mean for this to be so kinky but if the shoe fits ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

mahito has, of course, not learned his lesson from last night.

if anything, it's only encouraged him more. the entire day he's taking full advantage of being invisible to non-sorcerers to walk right beside you in public, snaking an arm around your waist lovingly and reveling in your ticked-off expression.

you can barely fight off the urge to make a scene over seemingly nothing while he's having the best time. mahito doesn't care that he's making you feel sick. that you squirm away from his touch subtly and push his hands away at every opportunity.

it makes him way too happy to be here in the moment. to be so delusional that he tricks himself into believing that maybe there's a small glimmer of hope that this relationship could be real.

that fantasy ends as soon as mahito makes the mistake of coming back.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

From the start, it's obvious that Mahito is looking to get caught. He fumbles with the window lock, though the fact you had replaced it didn't help, and opens the glass obnoxiously wide. Despite the time of the night, you're not lying in bed as per usual. How odd. Is his sweetheart avoiding him?

He can tell you're here. The familiar bed he lays in while you're gone is still radiating warmth when he runs his hand down the silky sheets. You always did have good taste, didn't you? Maybe that's why you gave Mahito so much attention last time instead of just calling the police or exorcizing him.

Pushing the thought aside for now, he ventures further inside the house to continue the search. When he approaches the bathroom the sound of constantly streaming water against tile filling the hall, the pieces click together immediately... what a treat he's stumbled upon.

When he's placed in such a position, you can't blame Mahito for letting his mind wander. He presses his ear against the cheap door, listening intently to the way you quietly hum while taking a shower as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines how beautiful you must look soaked in water, bare skin shining brightly and highlighting your body.

Seeing you so exposed last night was nice. The picture of your messy hair and exposed skin is burned into his brain. But.... maybe a little peek won't hurt. If anything, he'll just have enough masturbation material to lie low until you're not as pissed. It's a win-win situation.

Once he's managed to sneak inside the bathroom, the sight is all he could've wanted. Clear glass leaves nothing to the imagination and the way your body looks just makes him want to run his hands all over it, to commit it to memory as if your form will be the last thing he sees. And come to think of it... after tonight that just might be true.

He's so distracted he doesn't even notice the water being turnt off, captivated by the idea of your body on top of his own. Your eyes turn wide out of suprise as you finally turn around and notice him, before narrowing as you slide open the glass and walk over to him.

You never hesitate. It's one of his favorite things about you. While others would rush to throw on a towel or scream at the top of their lungs you just grab his hair and force him into your room, body still dripping with water. Mahito knows he's in for one hell of a night when you push him onto the bed, not even looking back as you reach underneath and pull out a length of rope.

It doesn't take long for him to get stripped and bound up in red, hands suspended above his head and tied to the headboard with ease. He's much more tolerable when he's naked except for the red shibari painting the pale canvas of his skin and obscuring his black stitches. Roughly textured knots dig into his flesh hard enough to purple it and– God, you look incredible. He'd reach out and touch you if it was possible.

Mahito's just about to slip into another daydream when he's delivered a familiar slap, the impact making a rosy color bloom on the already bruised skin. He's barely given time to recover, his already hard cock being squeezed harshly as a quiet whine slips out in tandem. It's not for his benefit as you give him way too fast strokes, your thumb-stopping to fidget with the silver ring at the base of his cock whenever he tries to fuck your fist.

This little game goes on until he's painfully hard, now red dick slapping against his stomach as you let go of it. He's been moaning throughout the entire experience as he writhes in place, unsure if he's chasing more or less as the line between pleasure and pain starts to blur. Mismatched eyes look up at you as you move up to straddle him, a bleary look only intensifying as you line up his leaky tip with your entrance and slip it inside.

He wishes he could savor the feeling for longer, reach up, and spread your legs apart so he can admire the way you squeeze tight around him. You give him no such luxury as you bounce on his cock relentlessly. Mahito watches as you pinch your nipples, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you slam your hips down on his own. You're using him like a toy for your pleasure and fuck, it makes him want to cum so bad. Want to fill you deep and watch as his cum leaks out, spread your puffy hole then stuff it with his finger to keep you from wasting a drop.

Mahito cries in frustration as you flutter around him before cumming, making a mess of both of you and the sheets underneath. You leave him like that, pent up and frustrated, as you pull away and roll over to lie beside him on the bed. There's a silence that comes over the room as you yawn, causing hope to bubble up in his chest as he isn't immediately sent away. "I guess... you can stay. Just for tonight." You mumble as you pull on your blanket, half-heartedly draping it over the two of you. There's no effort to untie him before you drift off, to at least let him finish before you sleep.

He's okay with that if it means being with you.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: highly anticipated!! hope it lives up to expectations :3c this probably will not get another part (at least for a while) bc how much I struggled with this one but I hope u enjoyed <3

#jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mahito x reader #mahito #mahito jjk #took entirely too long #💍#🪡

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rainbowcaleb · 6 months ago

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FICLET FRIDAY: My Flowerhaired Prince

Prompt: long hair Essek | Pairing: Shadowgast | Rating: T | Wordcount: 811 | CW: none

A trio of wind chimes ring in Caleb’s head. He puts his hand on the page of his book, and looks towards the front hall. The afternoon sun is low enough in the sky that the floor is confettied with colored splashes from the stained glass inset on the door. He watches and waits. There’s a shuffling against the door, but no secondary alarm goes off. Caleb lets out his breath and returns to his book. He’s borrowed it from Veth and it’s long past due to return to her. Apparently she’s trying to start a bookclub with Jester and this is their first pick. He smiles to himself; The Gale and the Raven is a rather raunchy pick, but he can see the appeal. The descriptions are lovingly, explicitly, detailed.

The door opens and Caleb turns his page. Only a rare few know where he lives, and even rarer who have a key. It has been seven years and his anxieties, while not gone, slumber like a cat in a sunbeam more often than they roar.

“Caleb, I’m back.” It’s Essek, because of course it is. He lives here, comfortably settled into life with Caleb, three cats, and friends who come and go whenever they are in town.

“How was the market?” Caleb calls out. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no, it’s all in one basket. Ah, darling, you won’t believe how ripe the plums are right now. Mister Aplinn was kind enough to set aside a carton for me, which proved fortuitous as Jester’s pastry errand took a while first.”

Caleb finishes up his page and picks an envelope off the endtable to use as a bookmark. It’s the outside of the wedding invitation from Jester and Fjord, the contents of which he’s memorized.

“How is Jester? Did you send along my regrets? The problem with teaching isn’t the students, it is always the endless meetings��” Caleb stops talking. Essek has just entered the room. “Oh.”

Essek raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” He starts towards the kitchen to unload his basket. Caleb practically throws the book onto his seat and goes to follow him.

“Essek, you look…” Caleb feels completely tongue tied. Yes, he saw Essek just this morning, early sunlight through peachy curtains making his bare skin glow against the covers of their shared bed. But Essek has returned looking different.

“Yes, ah, well you see Jester is practicing.” There’s a hint of color starting to dust across his cheeks.

Caleb raises his hands and cups those warm cheeks and turns Essek to face him. “For the wedding?”

“Yes.” Essek holds his gaze. “Do you like it?”

“Dear, you look lovely.” Caleb can’t help but twist a finger around one of the curls that has fallen across Essek’s forehead. Jester has taken full advantage of the new shoulder length growth, braiding a crown of hair around his head and leaving the rest to gently fall in waves. Intermingled with the braids are fresh flowers; dainty pink, spring green, and blue petals frame Essek’s face like gilding surrounding a fine painting.

“Jester didn’t have a mirror, but I did try and glance in a shop window. It’s not really me, I would say, but—” Essek pauses, and Caleb can sense the words tumbling until smooth. “It is something new.”

It warms Caleb’s heart, and he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to Essek’s smiling mouth. “If you wear this to the wedding, it is only fair that you braid my hair too. We should match.”

Standing this close together Caleb can practically see a sparkle in Essek’s eyes at the suggestion. “Yes, yes, a very good idea. But you can’t wiggle this time. It’ll ruin your hair.”

Caleb pouts. “When do I wiggle?”

Essek reaches up and threads his hand through Caleb’s hair, tugging a little as he goes. Caleb leans into his touch immediately, barely stifling a humming moan.

“See?” Essek kisses his neck, now handily bared as Caleb leans to his side. “You like it too much.”

“That simply means we need to practice, get it out of my system so to speak.” Caleb slides his arms down and around Essek, pulling him flush against him. “Good news, my evening plans are wide open. Shall we begin?”

“Caleb!” Essek does not pull away, but his tone is all playful admonishment. “But the food needs to be put away, the plums…”

Essek should have seen it coming. Caleb tugs him tighter, palming his backside in the process.

“Yes, the plum, which I have right now.”

That earns him a yank of his hair, but Caleb’s reaction is all reward, not punishment. Essek kisses the tip of his nose.

“Fine, you win. But you are making dinner afterwards.”

“Whatever you say, my flower haired love, now let me take you to bed.”

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast fic #critical role fic #mighty Nein fanfic #critical role #not really recent spoilers but perhaps if you squint #my fic #plum bum

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aliveinacoffin · 1 year ago

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Kinda request

hi! I just wanted to ask if u could write a fic of any fandom and character of ur choosing! I enjoy reading your fics so much and I would love to read one of your own liking! Thank you and have a great day <333

i love you guys so much i literally would eat a baby for you guys PLS 😭😭 decided to write a gta v fic with micheal because GYATT damn do I love him, also sorry this took so long, I have like, a trillion fics to write 🥲

Wedding Ring

You knew Micheal was married with a wife and kids, and that he went through hell and back to keep them safe and alive. When he goes off this crazy adventure and he has to hide from the cops, where does he go? That's right, the woman who he has been sharing a bed with the last four years.

Fem!Reader: She/Her pronouns and descriptions

TW!: NSFW, cheating, ghosting, manipulation

It was a nice and sunny day, something that was usual for a city like Los Santos. Still, you took advantage of this fact. You were lounging in your backyard with nothing but a swimsuit on, trying to suntan in peace with your music playing loud as possible, enjoying the feeling of the sun's hot rays on your skin.

That peace was quickly disrupted.

"Why the fuck are you playing music so god damn loud?" A familiar gruff voice barked from behind you. You snapped your eyes open, quickly sitting up to see the offender who disrupted your peace and broke into your house.

"Oh Michael." You groaned, laying back down on the white pool chair. The separated plastic part of the white chair dug in a satisfying way into your back.

"Seriously, Jesus it's eleven in the morning." Michael stumbled over to your phone, angrily smashing the side buttons.

"Damn who shit in your cereal? Or maybe drink would be better." You scoffed, pissed that he was even here. The old man hadn't contacted you in months, ghosting you after he fucked you in some shitty motel near sandy shores.

"An old friend of mine and my whole fuckin' family." Michael mumbled, and you watched him behind your black sunglasses approach the bottom of your sunbleached chair, resting his hands on your ankles. He looked down, light green eyes watching his hands trave circles in your ankles. With his motions, his gold wedding ring glittered in the California sun.

"Why are you here?" You asked, not bothering to move from your position hands resting on your stomach. Your fingers suddenly felt very bare.

"I just wanted to see you, is that such a crime?" He shrugged, but his hands started to trail higher, now rubbing on your calfs.

"Well, aside from the fact you haven't spoken to me in months, let a lone texted me. No, I guess not." You pulled your legs away, sitting on the side of the long chair. You still watched him, hands grabbing tightly on the metal, burning the palms of your hands.

"You know how it is, life gets in the way." He tried to wave you off, shrugging his shoulders. Michael had already taken off his suit jacket, white shirt looking grey with your vision. So he expected you to just hop on his dick right away?

"Yeah, I'm sure it does. With your wife and family keeping you busy." You got up, walking over to grab your phone and speaker.

Michael didn't say anything to that, instead he just watched you. He silently followed you inside, stopping you from closing the sliding glass door on him.

"Seriously Michael, why are you here?" You growled at him, not bothering to spare a glance back at him. You stopped at your sink, resting your knuckles on the metal appliance. His heavy footsteps followed you, and through the window above the sink you saw him come up behind you, watching you.

"I just have a lot of stress, and my therapy is always telling me to get rid of it." Michael's large hands rested on your hips, still watching your face.

"Then go to your wife. I'm obviously not anybody to you." You looked down, unable to meet his watchful gaze. Instead, you regrettable made eye contact with his ring. "Go home, go to your fuckin' over priced shitty therapist and your shitty family that your always whining about." You snapped, but you made no motion to move away from his hands.

"They left me." He admitted lowly, and that made you look up. Michael was not an honest man, he was a lying hypocrite who constantly cheated on his wife. He was always the type to skirt around the truth when it harmed him and constantly complained when he could. The man had left a life of crime, that much you knew, and ever since had regretted it.

"Why?" You asked softly, making eye contact with him again in the window. It was hard to see him, with your glasses and the bright sun outside, so you opted to take them off, making the appeal of Michael much clearer. Though, you couldn't stand stand look at him. Michael loved making eye contact with you, for a reason you never knew. But it absolutely pained you to watch his eyes fill with want and desperation.

"I'm not a good man. I chase things that I'll never get, things I can never keep." He leaned over your back, breathing into your neck. He pushed your hips back, pulling you flush against him. His hands wormed their way under the elastic of your bottom, rubbing and pinching the fat there. He pressed gentle kisses into your neck, lightly nipping the skin that was presented to him.

"Is that right? What about the things you have?" You knew for Michael no matter what he did, no matter what he got, nothing would ever be good enough for him. The perfect life he could have in his own expensive mansion is ruined by his own self hate and incompetence.

He just scoffed at that, like the very notion of his luxury car and permanent retirement from life was so hard, something to just be brushed off like nothing.

"What about me? When will I stop being enough? Or have I already?" You asked, stopping his movements. He had already gotten the strings halfway down your ass, reaching just the top part of your bottom. Michael stilled, unmoving against your warm body.

"No, I can never get enough of you. I had to work on my marriage, but I never stopped thinking about you." Michael admitted, and that made your head hung low. You knew he was prone to just saying whatever would get him into your pants. He always knew what to say the exact words that would make you drop to your knees.

"Or maybe because I'm some pretty young thing who won't give you crabs." You tried to lighten the mood, tried to tease to cover up the aching hole the older man had unknowingly made inside you. He had created a Michael shaped hole in your heart that made you mourn during random hours of the day, and when he would fill it in the late hours of the night it soothed your bleeding heart.

"Hah, maybe." That made you tear up, eyes fluttering while he slipped off your bottoms, groping you fully. You could feel his hard on pressing into you, demanding its way onto you.

He slipped two calloused fingers down, tracing up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that has accrued.

"You act so fucking bratty, but you're so god damn wet." He barked in your ear, mocking you as he slipped a finger in. You sighed, rocking back against his fingers, wanting, needing more. Who knows when the next time he'll come back?

If ever.

"Come on, you know I can handle way more than that." You rushed, wanting to just get this over with and never wanting this to end.

He tugged on your hair, pulling at your scalp.

"Don't rush me, just shut up and look pretty." Michael's past actions would attest to that, he loved it when you argued, when you threw fits and pouted, he loved every minute of it. Because he knew that if he pushed you for enough, you'd beg for his cock, you'd be crying and whining for it, you'd be crying for him.

Michael never was the one to love a submissive woman, would he like to have one? Sure, any man would. But after a while it would get boring, there'd be no angry sex, no makeup sex, there'd be no back talk for him to shut up. Plus, it would be like speaking to a void, nothing important would actually be said, just a blank woman who agreed to everything and anything.

"Then fuck me silly, hey, that rhymed!" You laughed, before a moan got caught in your throat. Two more fingers shoved themselves into you, stretching you out quickly. It would've hurt more if you weren't already wet and near painfully horny. In truth, Michael was the only man you've slept with in a while. You've had flings with other people, maybe one or two serious relationships thrown in, but when you met Michael, an old depressed angry father, right up your alley might you add, at that disgusting old bar, well, everything and everyone else was thrown out the window. Then, you started seeing each other regularly, you dropped all the people you were talking to, even the sweet girl who had really taken an interest in you, and he had stopped going to cheap hookers, instead going to you solely to satisfy his sins.

He said nothing in response, merely just resuming his harsh treatment of your body, curling his fingers inside you beautifully, his memorization of your body never once faded. Your moans grew louder, curling into your counter until your stomach pressed painfully into the sharp edge.

"Just put it in me already, you old fuck." You spat, trying to push back against him. Michael pulled his fingers out, slapping your ass painfully.

"Watch your mouth when you're begging for my cock." He growled, nonetheless, he pulled down his zipper dutifully and fished himself out. He slid himself up and down your slit wetting himself with your juices, bumbling and pressing into your clit over and over again. It drove you absolutely crazy, unable to buck and finally just put himself into you. You arched, trying to entice him as much as you could, white knuckle gripping the sink.

Finally, finally he slowly slid into you, and you both let out a low groan. Michael must've been impatient, since he thrusted his way fully into you, filling you so fast it felt like he was in your ribs.

"Fuh-fuck Micky." You whined, and he wrapped his arms around your middle section and boobs, holding you tight while he absolutely rammed into you. Usually, because of his age and inactivity, he preferred to be on the bottom, let you do all the work. But he must've missed you, maybe he was pent up, or maybe he was taking his anger out on you. Either way, it felt heavenly, his thick cock ramming into you, feeling him drag inside you in and out at a brutal pace, not allowing you to think.

"Of course you like that, huh? Like my cock inside you, treating you like some cheap slut." He growled in your ear, and it would've made you wetter than you already were if you couldn't feel the cool metal digging into your boob. The reminder of what it meant searing into your soul. You hummed lowly, darting your eyes away from him, finding the counter suddenly interesting. Michael seemed to sense your mood shift, and slowed down, but he never stopped. Instead taking to shallow thrusts inside you.

"What's wrong?" He asked, more annoyance in his voice than care.

"Nothing, why'd you slow down?" You lied through your teeth, trying to buck your hips and resume his pace. But he held you tight and close, even if Michael never really worked out, and was closer to fifty than forty, he still had years worth of muscles underneath.

"Because your poutin', now tell me what's wrong?" He asked again, tone sharp and asking to be tested.

"Your ring." You spat out, feeling slightly ashamed.

"What about my ring?" Michael snapped at you, fully stopping his movements.

"It's digging into me." You knew that wasn't the only thing that bothered you, it haunted you almost everyday knowing you were technically a homewrecker. He had two kids and a wife waiting at home for him, and even if he complained about them, even if both him and his wife cheated on each other constantly, it was still wrong. Usually when you complained about his ring he moved his hand, or set it down gently to the side. But not this time.

Michael groaned, and in one swift movement he threw the ring across the house, and you heard it cling! loudly behind you.

"Michael-" You started to reprimand him, but he bent you over fully on your counter, and let you go. He placed his hands on the counter, using it to slam into you again.

"Oh fuck!" You yelled, eyes nearly rolling into your skull.

"Told you." He was breathless, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

"To-told me wh-what?" You squealed when he pressed that delicate spongy spot inside you, making you see stars.

"I needed you, all I can think of is you. All your annoying remarks, the way you feel around me, how you look at me like I'm not an absolute piece of shit." Michael leaned down, pressing his head into your neck, nuzzling into you.

"Then why'd you leave?" You managed to gasp out, feeling your orgasm steadily appeared. That wave of pleasure was slowly crashing closer, it made the thoughts in your head become less coherent, nothing mattered aside from the way Michael made you feel.

"I didn't have a choice, I didn't want to. Had to. I never stopped thinking about you." He lifted one hand, and trailed it down, circling your aching clit. You keened, clamping down on him while your vision whited out. Michael grunted, fully pressing himself into you, and you could feel him filling you up, painting your soft walls white.

You both took a minute to breath, still connected while you panted. Slowly, slowly he pulled out of your over-sensitive walls, leaving you achingly empty. You and him just stood there, panting, unmoving.

“So, you gonna dip, or are you going to hang out here for a bit?” You asked, still a little breathless. There was that bitterness again because no matter what Michael said, he’d end up leaving one way or another.

“I think I’ll hang out here for a little bit.” He shrugged, and as you spared him a glance you watched him tuck himself away, not bothering to clean himself.

You sighed, hobbling over to your bathroom to grab a wet wipe to clean yourself up.

“Whatever.” You called out. “You know where the door is.”

Michae did end up staying for a week or two, sleeping in the same bed as you and spending any time he could with you. For a second you believed he really did change, that he really did want you, instead of what you could offer.

But one day, when you came home from work and called out to no response, you realized he was gone. You sighed, split between wanting to check under the couch or living your life with as little damage to your psyche as possible.

The former side of you won, your heart pounding in your ribcage. A new wave of sadness ushered over you, your heart aching as your stomach turned, pain overtaking your whole body.

He took the ring with him.

#michael de santa #michael townley #Michael de santa x reader #Michael townley x reader #micheal from gtav #gta v #gta 5 #x reader #smut #Michael de santa smut #grand theft auto 5 #gta smut #gta v smut #he makes me mentally ill #but i love him #also i have a sore throat and it's kicking my ASS

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literatooru · 2 months ago

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pairing: gn!reader x miya osamu

flufftober 2024!

Divination has never been Osamu’s favorite class. He always finds himself feeling drowsy; and whether it's because of how it seems to make the hours dreadfully drag on and on, or because of how the professor’s voice mixed with the heavily perfumed smoke that wafts all around the slightly claustrophobic room, he’s not sure.

He had only chosen it because it was easy to fool the professor by making up “predictions” of the future, as long as a tragedy or two (or five) were added. But by Merlin, sometimes he wonders if he should have picked Arithmancy or Study of Ancient runes to at least keep his brain a little more active. He’s also unsure as to why it’s even taught at all, considered that, at best, it’s viewed as a flawed and feeble “art” by most. He thinks it’s more of a fraud.

The only perk he could think of was that at least he got to spend an hour (or two, if he was lucky and had double period) with you.

Osamu heaves a sigh as he climbs the silvery ladder and looks around the crammed classroom. He blinks a couple times to adjust his eyesight to the new, crimson lighting, the corners of his lips automatically quirking up when his eyes finally land on you.

He makes his way to you, evading the dozens of small, circular tables filling the classroom. Once he reaches you, he lets the strap of his bag slide down his arm and it lands on the rug with a muted thud, then sinks onto the little round ottoman right across from yours.

“D’ya think she’s gonna make us continue the dream diary?” he says as a greeting.

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you let out a groan. The classroom slowly starts filling up with students, all of them disrupting the silence with animated chatter.

“I hope not. I barely managed to make up enough of them last year,” you mumble, blinking slowly as drowsiness immediately starts taking over you. “I wish we could open a window. It’s so stuffy in here.”

“Psh, ya really wanna disrupt yer Sight like that?” he says with humor.

Osamu busies himself pulling out his textbooks, dropping the heavy tomes on the table with a small huff and rolling his shoulder where his bag had been slung over.

“Ah! My darlings! I could sense you had all finally arrived,” Professor Trelawney speaks in that typical misty tone of hers, rearranging her shawl delicately. “Welcome, welcome. Oh, no need for those today, my dear,” she says, gesturing at a student that had just pulled out one of his textbooks. Osamu purses his lips and carelessly drops his own books into his bag. “I am aware that everyone’s minds seem to get rather foggy after a prolonged break."

“All the incense does a rather fine job as well,” your friend mutters under his breath, and his smile grows when you stifle a chuckle behind your hand.

"I myself make sure to exercise my Inner Eye as often as I can,” the Professor continues. She pushes her large glasses further up the bridge of her nose, sniffing softly as she walks among the tables.

“We shall make a revision of the subjects we’ve previously touched, starting with the basics, just as a refresher. Pass me the large silver teapot, dearie."

A girl stands up from her seat to do as told as Professor Trelawney runs her eyes across the various shelves, grabbing a couple different things off them. “Now, everyone please collect a teacup from the shelf. I will fill it for you.”

Osamu and you stand up from your seats and walk towards the shelves, waiting in line to grab a cup.

“Hold on, I got it,” he tells you. He walks through the crowd, mumbling apologies as he gently nudges people aside, and he takes advantage of his height by reaching out to take two of the teacups and saucers from the top shelf. After that, he makes his way back to you and offers you the delicate china with a warm smile.

“Thank you, giraffe,” you say with a smile of your own.

“I presume you all remember how this goes. Really, the process is fairly simple,” the Professor says. She pours tea into the teacups that are extended to her. “Of course, reading the leaves is the complicated part. Only those that possess the Sight, such as myself—”

Her voice is drowned under the chatter as you and Osamu go back to your table and take a seat. You blow lightly on the scalding liquid, dark ripples disturbing the surface.

Osamu moves the teacup to his lips, gently places the rim against them, takes a small sip and immediately frowns.

“Oof!” he exclaims. His whole face soon scrunches up into a grimace as he takes a second sip without even waiting for it to cool down. “It could do with a little sugar.”

“More than a little.” You nod, coughing a little after taking the first sip. “I wish we could do this with butterbeer instead.”

“Man, what I wouldn’t do for one right now. It’s getting chilly.”

Once you both finally manage to down the bitter beverage, you each swill the remaining dregs around the cups three times with your left hand, then turn them upside down on the saucers and wait for the last of the tea to drain away before exchanging cups.

You reach into your bag to pull out your old copy of Unfogging the Future (which you had casted Reducio on to decrease its size until it matched that of a small dictionary’s) and place it on the table, flicking through the pages as you examine Osamu’s teacup.

“All right, hit me, partner. Exactly how many tragedies are in store for me?”

You roll your eyes with humor, shaking your head softly as you peer into his teacup.

“I see… a…” You squint your eyes and frown as you try to make out exactly what the shapes are supposed to depict. “An umbrella. According to what the book says it means ‘difficulties’. And I think that’s— an apple? No, wait, it looks more like a butterfly,” you mumble, rotating the cup and craning your neck with your lips pursed. Osamu snorts, earning a glare from you before you shift your gaze to consult your book. “Which means… success. And that over there could be a crescent moon, which means… prosperity. So I guess you’re going to struggle with something you’re working on but end up successful, and that’s going to bring you good things."

“I don’t think you’ve exercised yer Inner Eye much, have ya?” Osamu says with an arched eyebrow, and his index finger pressed against his lips to suppress a smile.

You scoff. Your eyes remain on him as you set the teacup down, then mimic his cocked brow and lean forward, closer to him.

“So you’re an expert now?” you ask.

You drum your fingers on the surface of the table as you watch his smile grow, and it’s almost infuriating how pretty he looks. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his entire face seems to light up, his eyes glued on you as he gives a sharp nod. Is it just you feeling a little lighter? Perhaps all the smoke and incense have finally gotten to you.

“‘Course. I have an innate ability for divination. M'great, great, great, great aunt was a renowned Seer. She used to read Tarot Cards for the Queen herself.”

You throw your head back with laughter, the sound filling Osamu’s ears and making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He knows it’s not the environment he’s in—it’s because of you.

“Right, sure. Go on then.” You grab your teacup from the saucer and offer it to him, a look full of expectation on your face. “Tell me what the future holds for me, O' great Seer.”

Osamu huffs out a chuckle. When he reaches out to grab the teacup, his fingers accidentally brush yours. You jerk your hand back and he clears his throat. He stands up from his ottoman and walks over to you, halting once he’s right by your side. Osamu leans down, rests his elbows on the table and gets closer to make sure you can see the inside of the cup as well.

His arm brushes yours every time he moves it, and you you can’t help glancing at him every now and then. How have you never noticed he has such a pretty profile? Well, to be completely honest, his entire face is pretty. It’s just that you’ve somehow only just paid close attention to it. He takes a quick peek at you and smiles when he catches your eyes on him, making you immediately avert your gaze and lean forward so much that your nose is almost touching the teacup.

Osamu chews on the inside of his cheek. You’re so… adorable.

“See that, right there?” he asks quietly, index finger stretched out to point at what looks like… a dark blob. You shoot him a concerned, sideways glance, absolutely confused as to what he’s seeing. “That’s a hat. Means Improvement, if I recall correctly. And a sun and horseshoe right text to it! That means such improvement will also bring you great fortune and happiness.” He cocks his head to the side, his breath mingling with yours due to the closeness. His voice drops in volume, almost forcing you to get even closer to him—close enough that he can smell your perfume over the smokiness of the room. And it just smells so good that he has to stop himself from taking a very obvious deep breath. “A pumpkin…” he carries on, forcing himself to focus on the dregs rather than you. “A circle… huh.”

“What?” you murmur.

You had actually been so focused on his words that when you turn your face to look at him, you start when you find him so close to you. You feel warmth creep up your neck, and—yep, it’s definitely not due to the ambiance of the Divination classroom.

“It’s a good cup,” Osamu declares, tapping the rim with his index finger. He sets it back down on the saucer and places his left hand on the table, his right one moving to rest on his hip as he looks down at you, lips pursed as he seems to mull something over. “Maybe I should just pop the question then.”

“What are you talking ab—”

“Go out with me,” Osamu interrupts you.

You blink up at him once, twice; suddenly feeling so very grateful that you’re sitting down. You mouth wordlessly at Osamu, then blink once more.

“That’s not a question,” you manage blurt out when you finally find your voice. You’re not sure whether you should slap yourself or punch yourself in the face. Both options sound appropriate for the situation. Osamu Miya has just asked you out on a date and there you are, making a fool of yourself.

To your surprise (and relief), Samu smiles.

“Will you go out with me?”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, reaching for your discarded teacup and fiddling with it for a second just to keep your hands busy.

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“That you will if you say yeah.” He adds a cheeky smile to his retort, earning a snort from you.

Smartass.

“And what if I say no?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, you can’t say no.”

“Why not?” You force a frown onto your face, if anything to conceal the nervousness threatening to take over you.

“Because, my dearie,” he begins, mimicking Professor Trelawney’s misty voice as he yanks the teacup from your hands and waves it in front of your face, “it’s written in the tea leaves.”

This time, the laugh that bubbles out of you is so genuinely filled with good humor that Osamu can’t help the smile that almost splits his face in two. Merlin’s Beard, he loves that sound. He’s willing to make himself look like an absolute idiot if it means getting to hear it again and being the reason for it.

“is it, now?” you say through your chuckling. “I didn’t see anything like that in my cup.”

“Because you don’t possess the Sight, unlike me,” Osamu retorts, tapping his index finger right between your eyebrows gently. “If you had broadened yer mind and casted yerself into the future, you’d know it. I saw it with my own two eyes— er… three?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that, Samu?”

“A lucky idiot, I hope?” he says leaning forward a bit. “The Three Broomsticks, Friday night. You, me, and a couple of Butterbeers. I’ll wait for you outside your Common Room.”

And there it is, the smile he’s found himself longing for more times than he can count and that you’re convinces makes you like like an absolute idiot.

“It’s a date.”

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