#and then shooting its ass down with its own gun

[steampunktomboy]

Currently playing through half life 2 and as it turns out it really is that good

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

House Warming | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: You've worked your ass off to finally get a place of your own and now your friends are throwing you a house warming party. However, you get a house warming gift you weren't expecting.

•Pairings: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, masturbation (m. caught), unprotected, friends to lovers, fluff ending

an: this was inspired by this clip here

(be advise before clicking as it is nsfw ⚠️ volume warning as well)

Want more smut? Follow the 🍌

You finally did it. Your countless nights of hard work have paid off, and now you've got your own place. The eight men you've known and loved for six years throw you a housewarming party. It's loud and chaotic, with the scent of food wafting through the air, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But someone is missing.

"Hey, Bin?" you call, walking up to Changbin, who is currently hanging onto Hyunjin and giggling. "Have you seen Chan?"

"Yeah, he said he was going inside to get more meat," he tells you before resuming his affection-filled suffocation of Hyunjin. The latter silently pleads for your help, but there's nothing to be done once Binnie decides on something.

You step into the cool air-conditioned space that is now yours and walk into the kitchen, but there's no sign of Chan anywhere. Did he leave? Surely he would have said something before leaving. You're about to head back outside to ask around some more when you hear a faint, muffled growl from down the hall. You don't have a dog, and neither Han nor Hyunjin brought theirs over, so out of curiosity, you go to search for the source of the sound.

Slowly, you creep down the hall, your steps muted against the cream-colored carpet as you follow the soft growling that's soon accompanied by quiet panting. The closer you get to your bedroom, the louder the sound becomes, sounding more desperate by the second. When you're just outside the cracked door to your bedroom, you hear the slick, wet sounds, the desperate groans, and the creak of your mattress.

Peeking through the cracked door, you see Chan bare from the waist down, legs spread and head thrown back as he pumps his thick, hard cock into his hand. Your breath hitches at the sight, and desire shoots through you instantly. You can feel your body react, your pussy growing wetter at the sight of Chan in your bed fucking his fist. Your pussy instinctively clenches at the raw and primal sounds. He leans back on one hand, thrusting his hips upwards and groaning louder.

"Yeah… fuck, Y/N. Oh yeah!" he growls, precum flowing heavily from the head of his cock.

You bite your bottom lip to stifle the surprise gasp. Six years of friendship, and you never would have guessed that Chan would be attracted to you, never would have even guessed that he lusted over you. He did, though. For so long, he wanted you. Under him, on top of him. He thought of you in every position every single day. It made making music a little difficult, but he'd just lock the door to his studio, dim the lights inside the pale green room, and rub one out. Maybe two or three, depending on how vivid his imagination was that day or if you had made a surprise visit like you usually do.

Today, what did it for him was the beautiful, flowy summer dress you wore. He lost it when you got into a water gun fight with Seungmin, Felix, Jisung, and Jisung's girlfriend, Jade. The water made your bra just slightly visible under the summer sun, its rays drying up the water that made droplets on your skin. He made the excuse to get more meat for Minho as he grilled various things. On the way to the bathroom, he noticed your bedroom door was open, and from there he just felt compelled to step inside.

The space already smelled like you, which made his cock harder. He sat on the edge of your bed and imagined you straddling him, grinding your pussy along his hard length, coating the thickness in your juices. He couldn't control himself. The smell of you surrounding him was too much.

"Fuck! Oh my gosh!" he thrusts upwards, so much precum dribbling down his cock that the slick sounds echo off the bare walls along with his moaning.

He'd been pumping away at his cock for five minutes before you found him, and he could feel the tightening sensation building. If he knew you were watching, he'd quickly scramble up and embarrassingly utter some lame apology while covering himself. There was a thrill for him in possibly getting caught, but he soon forgot where he was, and his grunts became louder.

"So close, Y/N. That's it, baby girl, fucking ride me," he mumbles through gritted teeth.

Without thinking, you walk into the room, shutting and locking the door behind you swiftly. The soft click is drowned out by his desperation. Chan doesn't look up, not until your hands are on his shoulders and you're sinking down onto him. The brief flicker of fear in his eyes is replaced with desire when he's fully inside you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Didn't… fuck, didn't mean for you to see me," he grunts, hands flying to your waist.

"Shush, Channie. Just fuck me," you tell him, grinding your hips into his, and he's thrusting up, meeting you halfway.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N. So wet. For me, yeah?"

"Yes, oh my fuck… yes. For you, Chan. S—so big, mm!"

"You take it so well, beautiful. Fuck, keep going, keep fucking me, baby," he tells you, thrusting faster up into you, making you bounce on his cock.

Your fingers dig into the black T-shirt over his shoulders, protecting him from you marking him. His arms wrap around you, and he buries his face into your chest, biting down on your breast over the cotton of your dress. You cry out, arching your back, forcing your breast closer to him, feeling that coil inside you threatening to snap.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward harder, faster.

You can barely breathe, barely think. "Harder," you beg. "Please."

He doesn't need to be told twice. His pace quickens, his thrusts harder, deeper. It's almost too much, almost too intense, but it's perfect. It's exactly what you need.

"Gosh, you're amazing," he says, his voice rough with passion. "So fucking amazing."

You can feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. "Chan, I'm close," you warn, your voice breathless.

"Me too," he says. "Fuck, me too." He groans, his movements becoming more frantic, more urgent. "Cum for me. Cum for me, Y/N," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you cum."

His hand slips between you, finding your clit, and it's enough. It's too much. You come apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back.

"Fuck, yes!" he groans, and then he's cumming too, his hips stuttering, his release hot and wet inside you.

The world shatters around you as you climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush of ecstasy. You cry out his name, your body convulsing around him as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

He collapses backward onto the mattress, pulling you with him, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. For a long moment, you lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the aftermath of what you've done. A giggle bubbles up, and then you both are fully laughing together.

"Some housewarming gift, Channie. Now what do we tell the others?" you say with a smile, looking down at him.

He captures your lips, and when he pulls back, he gives you a wide grin, showing off those disarming dimples. "We'll just tell them I made a fool of myself and you couldn't resist it."

You swat at him playfully, and he chuckles, pulling you in for another kiss that would have led to another round if the sound of your names being called didn't stop you.

"Laters, yeah?" Chan whispers, holding you tighter.

"Laters."

Tag List | Tag List Request

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst

[frudoo]

Mountain Man!Price save me… save me…

Warnings: SMUT. Unprotected PIV, creampie ofc y’all know me. Also mentions of guns + hunting deer. Fem!Reader.

MDNI

“You see that one there?” John’s voice is low but not quite a whisper, using his pinky finger to point out a huge buck a couple hundred yards away from where the two of you are planted on the ground.

“Yeah,” You reply softly, keeping a watchful eye on the creature as it takes a drink of water from the creek.

“That’s who we want. Get a dozen meals offa him, easy,” he responds, pulling back from the scope to look back at you with a grin. “Wanna give it a go?”

Your eyes widen and you laugh softly, shaking your head. When you agreed to join him on his hunt, you were under the impression that you’d be acting as moral support, not as an accessory to… deer murder. You’ll cook the meat all day long, but actually killing the poor thing is a far different story.

“Nope, all yours, sugar,” You huff, glancing back at the big buck who was now feasting on a berry bush.

“C’mon, love, ‘fore we miss him,” John insists, lifting his arm and beckoning you closer with a jerk of his head.

You sigh heavily, scrunching your face as the dangling strands on the sleeve of his ghillie suit tickle you. He readjusts the rifle until the heel rests on your shoulder, gently explaining how to rest your head until your eye meets the scope and you can see through it clearly. Suddenly, the tattoos on his biceps make a lot more sense—what you thought were nonsensical spheres and lines are actually a common perspective for your man.

“Yeah, perfect. Don’t let him outta your sight, I’m just gonna…” John trails off, carefully bringing his arm back down and climbing partially on top of you. “Sorry, darlin’, it’s easier for me to show you this way.”

He positions your hand around the grip and your pointer finger on the trigger, then switches off the safety. Once he’s ensured that everything is properly structured, John rests his chin on your shoulder opposite of where the gun is. Your breath hitches in your throat as you try your hardest to keep your attention on the deer, but it’s hard when your husband’s hot breath is blowing against your face and his weight is pressing into you from above.

You try to get back in the zone by adjusting your body, but only succeed in pushing your ass back against his crotch. The low groan that emits from his throat makes you whimper and repeat the action, earning yourself a tut into your ear.

“Focus, baby, or we don’t eat for the next week,” John warns through gritted teeth, desperately holding himself back from grinding up against you.

Biting your lip, you allow your eye to focus on the deer once again, watching him strut to the next bush covered in vibrant red berries. The buck chomps down on a cluster of fruit gracefully, chewing slowly, unaware of the bullet you plan to shoot right into his heart. You suck in a deep breath, slowly start to press down on the trigger, but before you get the chance to fire, a pair of familiar lips attach to your neck hungrily. Your fingers clench out of instinct and the rifle goes off, but instead of hitting its target it buries itself somewhere in the dirt while the buck sprints away to safety.

Gasping, you drop the gun and push it away from you, turning your head back to look at John with furrowed eyebrows. His face is flushed beneath the streaks of green and black paint he had you smear across his skin, eyes wild with the telltale glint of lust.

“John, I had him! Why-”

“Fuck the deer,” He growls, no longer attempting to push down his desires and instead covering your body entirely with his own. “Got my own pretty, wide-eyed doe right here.”

John grasps your throat and tilts your head back so that his mouth can hastily smash against yours. His tongue shoves its way past your lips, tasting your shock, devouring the unspoken questions that dissolved before they got the chance to slip out. You don’t hesitate to kiss back, eyelids falling shut as his big hands glide between your body and the dewy grass to fumble with your cargos. The button snaps a little harsher than it should and you already know you’re gonna need to sew a new one on when you get back to the cabin.

“Fuck, your cunt’s already so damn wet,” John exhales heavily as he pulls your pants and knickers down just past your hips, exposing your ass and the glistening slick that’s collected between your thighs. “My cock’s just gonna slip right in.”

You whine at that, arching your back in invitation. John hisses and smacks one of your asscheeks hard enough to sting his palm. He chuckles at the little squeal you let out before sitting up on his knees and shoving down the pants of his ghillie suit just enough to expose his dick. It’s already throbbing, fully erect and dripping pearls of precum onto your raw skin. He glides the engorged tip through your warm folds before sliding home in one deep thrust.

The two of you shudder in sync as he bottoms out, hitting the barrier of your cervix with a blissful, dull pinch. John wraps one arm around your neck, allowing you to rest your head on his bicep as he holds himself up with his opposite elbow.

“Fuckin’ deep, ain’t it?” He grunts, punctuating each word with a strong pump of his hips.

“So deep,” you confirm with a gurgle, cheeks completely squashed between the fat and muscle of his bicep and forearm. “Feels so good, John.”

“I know it does, my sweet doe.”

Every thrust is devastating, the veins and ridges of his fat cock rubbing perfectly against the sensitive walls of your tight pussy. Raspy groans fall from his lips and echo into your ear as he nibbles on the lobe, the sound of skin on skin ricocheting throughout the busy woods along with your pretty moans. The head of his dick punches against that rough spot that makes you scream, and he chuckles, angling his hips so that he can make you see stars over and over again.

“That’s right, love, scream for me. Let the fuckin’ mockingbirds hear you, so every single soul that comes through here knows how pretty you sound when I make you cum. Yeah, just like that, baby, sing for me, sing for the birds.”

His words encourage you to obey, your cunt clamping down on him like it’s trying to keep his cock inside permanently. Rivulets of slick cream cling to every inch of his dick as he buries his face in your neck, uncaring of how the strands of his ghillie suit brush against your skin, overwhelming your senses. With a final thrust, he pushes himself deep and releases his potent load into your willing womb, spurts of his seed painting your walls an off-white.

Once the two of you have calmed down, breathing evening out, John gently pulls out and shimmies your panties and cargos back up your hips, effectively keeping his cum contained. He moves from on top of you and stands, pulling his own pants up and tucking away his spent cock, then throws the rifle over his back. You’re utterly useless, laying on the grass and mumbling something incoherent. Your lover just chuckles and scoops you up into his arms, carrying you back to the cabin, safe, warm and definitely planning to have leftover soup for dinner once again.

(When he returns to the woods the next day for a successful hunt without your distracting presence, he hears an awfully familiar call from a certain bird in one of the trees.)

[st4rrth0ughts]

using a gun during hate? sex with Aventurine. ♣️🎲

cw, tw: exhibitionism, gun play. the next few posts will be requests and drabbles from my drafts, stay patient, lovelies :3 edit: im the og sub aventurine writer?!?!

Aventurine is the man your supposed to have killed. One of his old clients had paid you a good sum to kill him. But it seemed that your lovely gambler had found out about it, so now, its just the two of you in his dimly lit office, his hips grinding your crotch teasingly as he whispers in you, his former bodyguard’s ear, how your unable to pull the trigger, how you don't have the guts to actually go through with it. Well, you may not have the intentions of shooting him, but you have no intention of letting him go without punishment.

He is still trying to tease you. Even when you have him against his desk, a gun to his neck, his back facing you, he still manages to turn around and gives you that infuriatingly smug smirk as his face is just ever so slightly flushed, letting away a chance for you to break his composure. Grab his pants and pull it down, your finger immediately finding his clit, inserting a finger roughly, watching the blond jerk in surprise as a moan escapes his lips, as you realise that he's leaking slick. Bastard, he's turned on by the fact that you were about to kill him? How pathetic.

While he's busy whimpering like a dog in heat at how your cool fingers slide in him, his movements getting more and more frantic as he tries to fuck himself back on your fingers, you shove the head of the gun into his mouth, muffling his grunts and whines as he sucks on the head of the gun, his mind already in a hazy state. He's is drooling around the head of the gun, his lilac eyes rolling back while he complains about you pulling your fingers out of him, and letting out a choked yelp when you shove your angry cock into him.

Press him against the desk, your cock hitting all the right spots in him, just like how it was before. The gambler's reduced to nothing but a drooling, moaning mess while he cums around you for the nth time, begging you to stop, trying to grab onto your hands. Slap his ass, whisper in his ear about how fucking slutty he looks, being fucked silly by the man who was going to assassinate him, all the while he's gripping the table or your wrists, sobbing as he feels you pound into his cervix. The door to his office was unlocked, as much as the possibility of his subordinates or some other poor person seeing a man of authority getting fucked stupid by his assassin both terrified and excited him, even if no one else knew who you really were. Not that it mattered, he still considered you his lover.

Press him against the office window, fucking him hard from behind as his wrists are pressed against the pane, his eyes rolling back as one leg is slung over your shoulder, the new angle letting you push even deeper in his slutty hole, sharp wails tumbling out of his mouth as he cums around your cock again, a ring of white forming around the base of your dick, cum dripping onto the carpet below the two of you. He's on display, even if it is the dead of the night, anyone could walk below the building, and they would have a full view of one of the IPC's strategic investment senior manager getting breeded by his own bodyguard. Well, at least to the others, you were his bodyguard. he couldn't get away from you, even if he wanted to.

He'll wail when your cum fills him up, tears dripping down his face as drool slips past his lips, body slumping forward as he goes limp, soft pleas of 'p-please… s' too m-much…'. Of course, you don't heed his begging, opting to lift his legs onto your shoulders and press him against the office door, he shrieks when you slam into him, his body spasming in pure ecstasy and pain as your thrusts sent jolts through his entire being. Maybe keeping you around wasn't such a bad decision.

bonus!! Chai bot for this scenario complete!

Start a chat with Aventurine on Chai! https://chai.ml/chat/share/_bot_591e7b77-fbb9-40b0-aa68-9fd045cf5dbf

[slut4thebroken]

Ruin

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason punishes you after you disobey him.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, knifeplay, blood, cutting, brief use of guns, bondage, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, denial, pain play, sex toys, dacryphilia, hard to soft dom Jay, established relationship.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | For reader’s suit, imagine Black Windows’s but it’s not one whole piece, it’s a top and a bottom but still in the same style. (And yes… part of this was based on a video😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“You disobeyed a direct order!” He seethed, slamming the front door shut. You huffed and turned around to face him with your arms crossed. 

“Well, your order was shit.” You shrugged, making his jaw clench as he exhaled through his nose. 

“If you can’t do what you’re told then you can’t work with me.” 

“You mean work for you.” You narrowed your eyes at him and he scoffed. “Why can’t you just admit that you were wrong for once and I made the right call.” Your voice started to raise again. 

“You could have died! And all because, what? Your pride?” He asked in disbelief. 

“But I didn’t!”

“Because I had to fucking save your ass!” 

You and Jason have always been too similar. A lot of the same things set you off, you’re both too cocky, care too much about your pride and ego. And you can bet that if one starts screaming, the other will too. Your anger fuels his, just like his fuels yours. 

“I’m not one of your little underlings that has to follow your every command, Jason. And if that’s what you think, you need to get your head out of your ass.” Your voice was lower now, but still full of malice. 

“You know what, princess?” He started stalking toward you but you held your ground. “I think you’ve forgotten your place. And I’m going to remind you.”

“Oh fuck off, Todd.” You watched the muscles in his jaw tense. You never call him by his last name unless he’s really pissing you off. Before you could even blink, his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back and moving you closer to him. His breath fanned your lips but you made sure to keep the scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, debating if you should spit in his face or not. Instead, you grabbed a knife from your pants and held it up to his neck. He gave you an unimpressed look and then his gun was under your chin. So you used your second hand to do the same with your own gun. His grip tightened on your hair and you both just stared at each other, having a silent battle for dominance. Despite the fact that you’re both bluffing, you pressed the knife harder against his skin, watching a small bead of blood fall to his collarbone. 

“Everything you do right now I’m going to do ten times worse to you in a few minutes.” He warned, not even flinching at the blade piercing his skin. You stared at him with narrowed eyes, but you could feel your confidence and dominance start to break— the submissive part of you forcing its way up through the cracks. You clenched your jaw and hardened your gaze, willing it to go back down. But Jason already knew. You could tell by the way his lips were slowly curling up into a smirk. 

“Put the knife away, baby.” You ignored the butterflies from the pet name and glared at him. 

“Keep patronizing me and I’ll cut out your vocal cords.” You spat. 

“I’m sure you will, princess.” He smirked and you fucking knew he said it with that tone specifically because of what you just said. You breathed heavily as you seethed, his low laughter only fueling your anger. With a growl, you shoved his chest— you weren’t strong enough to actually move him, but he humored you by moving with the force, letting go of your hair. 

“Keep taunting me, princess and I’ll shoot you.” You pointed the gun at him, clenching your jaw. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, clearly entertained by your outburst. He was on you in a second, pushing the gun to the side and forcing the knife out of your hand, making you whimper when he bent your wrist the wrong way. Once he disarmed you, he placed a hand on your neck and quickly pushed you back until you hit the wall with a grunt. 

“You need to learn your fucking place.” He growled, squeezing your neck. 

“You’re supposed to teach me?” You scoffed, adding gasoline to the fire. Instead of reacting with anger like you thought he would, his eyes darkened and he smirked.  

“That’s right, baby. Now get your ass on the bed.” He took a step away from you and pointed his gun at your face. When you didn’t move, he cocked it, making you roll your eyes but start walking. You sat on the bed, looking up at him with a smirk. 

“Take away that gun and what are you? Just a little boy desperate for control.” The second you said it, you knew you fucked up. 

Bad. 

He glared at you for a moment and you held your breath as you waited, then he just chuckled darkly and set the gun on the nightstand. While he was there, he grabbed the handcuffs and vibrator you always keep in the drawer. You put up a fight as he handcuffed you but he overpowered you easily. To immobilize your legs, he just sat on your thighs. 

He dragged the zipper of your suit down at a tortuously slow pace. Once it was unzipped, he pulled a knife from his pants and cut your bra straight down the middle. You shouted a protest, which was ignored as he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts. 

“So soft.” He muttered absentmindedly as he trailed the tip of the knife over your chest. “So delicate…” He trailed it up to your neck then pressed down in the same place you had cut him. “So fragile.” You hissed when the blade broke the skin but showed no other reaction. 

He removed the knife and leaned down, licking a stripe up your neck, over the cut. You let out a low moan and subconsciously lifted your hands to place in his hair. The chain rattling on the headboard made him pull back with a small smirk. 

He put the tip of the knife back on your neck to continue, going up your jaw, then down your cheek before landing on your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as the skin split under the blade and once he was satisfied with the amount of blood, he removed it and leaned back down to kiss you. 

You moaned into the kiss and he groaned in response, licking his tongue into your mouth, focusing on your lip before sliding inside to meet your own. The kiss was hot and messy and almost aggressive but so entirely Jason. 

He pulled away, but immediately moved to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and dark bruises. He gave one last kiss on the cut on your neck, then sat up again. If all he was planning on doing to punish you was cut you occasionally and kiss you… well that wasn’t much of a punishment at all to be honest. You tried not to smirk at the thought. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” You hinted at the question you wanted to ask instead. 

“Baby, why would I talk dirty to you when I know how much you love it?” He grinned, making you frown. Instead of pouting you tried a different tactic. 

“Sounds like an excuse to be lazy. Is that also why you got the vibrator out?” You smirked, glancing at the toy on the bed. “Careful, Jay. You’re awfully close to becoming a pillow princess.”  

“Keep talking. You’re only making it worse for yourself and more fun for me.” He said smugly. 

“What’s a pillow princess gonna do?” You scoffed, still smirking. You were always terrible at knowing when to keep your mouth shut. He stared at you for a moment, then laughed quietly at your disobedience and moved between your legs. He pulled on the waistband of your pants and underwear, forcing them down your legs until they were at your ankles, where he had to quickly rip your boots off to fully remove them. Then he was back to sitting over your thighs. 

He didn’t even say anything as he picked up the vibrator, immediately turning it on and pressing it against your clit. You let out a choked moan from the sudden stimulation and he started slowly moving it in small circles, still maintaining firm pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut with a long vulgar moan and heard him chuckle quietly. 

“Fuck— Jason.” You said through a breath, feeling yourself already close to the edge. It’s rare that you ever need to use the vibrator so whenever you do, it’s always really intense. You expected him to pull away, to make a remark about how you don’t have permission to come, but he didn’t say or do anything. Not being able to hold it any longer, you fell over the edge, then all stimulation was gone. You let out a choked sob and opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Jason,” You whimpered, giving him the pout that always makes him cave. By now, your ruined orgasm was done and your chest heaved as you watched him. 

“I’m sorry, did you still want this?” He condescended, glancing at the toy then back to you. 

“Fuck you.” You growled, now angry from the lack of pleasurable release. He clicked his tongue and turned it back on, pressing it firmly against your now sensitive clit. You cried out, trying to squirm away from him, but not being able to because of him sitting on your legs. 

“S-stop, Jay— stop,” You whimpered, barely able to handle the overstimulation. He just let out a dark chuckle, making you look at him with watery eyes. 

“No, baby. We’re gonna do this over and over again and I’m only gonna stop once it dies.” He smirked. You let out a strangled whimper and yanked your hands forward, the metal chain rattling loudly on the headboard. 

“Please, I- I’m sorry,” He shushed you and you let your words die off into incoherent babbling. 

“You did this to yourself. You’re a big girl, you can handle the consequences of your own actions.” He condescended. You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Can’t…” Despite your words, you could already feel your second orgasm barreling toward you. After only another moment, the coil in your stomach snapped and you let out a loud moan that turned into a sob when he once again removed the vibrator. 

“Please! Please, I'm sorry!” You cried, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall. “Please, Jay, I won’t do it again. I promise— please,” He brought his hand down hard on your sensitive clit with a loud smack, forcing a broken moan from you.  

“No amount of begging is gonna get you out of this, princess.” 

“Jason,” You whimpered. Your watery puppy dog eyes had no effect on him though. He placed the vibrator back on your clit, making you cry out and yank on the handcuffs again. “Fuck! Jay— Jay, please.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut and feeling hot tears start to roll down your temples. 

“God you look so fucking hot like this. Let me see those pretty fuck me eyes.” Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him through wet lashes, bottom lip trembling. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, gaze rapidly moving over your face and the rest of your body. 

“Aren’t you a fuckin sight, huh? Tits out, arms tied to the bed, tears running down that pretty face, and look at how red your little pussy is, baby.” He lifted the vibrator and you let out a heavy breath of relief as your chest heaved. The second you looked down like he said, the toy was back on your clit. Your crying intensified and you continued trying to squirm away from the stimulation. 

“Jay— fuck… Please, Jay.. hurts so bad.” You whimpered, pulling out all the stops to get his mercy. “Please, baby, I’m sorry— I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll listen to you.” 

“I know you will. But I also know it’s going to take more than just this to make your words actually truthful. Right now you’re just saying what I want to hear to get me to stop.” 

“No! No, I- I'm not lying, Jay.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He shrugged, making you let out a sob and pull on the restraints again, your legs trying to kick him off of you. “Throwing a tantrum now?” He asked with raised brows. 

“Fuck— Jay, please. I’m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, baby. You don’t want the gag, do you?” You whined at the threat, bottom lip trembling, and shook your head. “That’s what I thought. So why don’t you shut the fuck up and take your punishment, like a good little girl?” Your third orgasm hit you suddenly, but as soon as your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut, he removed the vibrator, making you release an anguished cry. 

He kept that up for what felt like hours. After the fifth orgasm you could barely talk, but after the seventh, you lost count of how many ones he ruined. When the vibrator finally died, you were both relieved and disappointed. 

“Ready for my cock?” He asked, making your breath hitch. You nodded, not even attempting to speak, and watched him walk over to the closet where most of the sex toys are stored. When he came back with a fleshlight, you whined with a pout. “Relax, I’m still gonna fuck you, princess.” You were too fucked out to try and figure out what that meant. He lined up the end with your hole, making you tense up. 

“What are you doing?” Your words slurred together, heavy with exhaustion. 

“Shh. Just trust me, baby.” He cooed and you couldn’t help but obey, your body relaxing into the bed. You whined when he pushed the toy in, feeling far too sensitive, but also relieved that you were finally full. When he settled between your legs and took out his cock, it finally clicked. 

“Jay,” You whined, watching as he stroked himself slowly. “You said you were gonna fuck me.” 

“I am.” He lined the tip of his cock up with the entrance of the fake pussy and all of your protests died on your tongue when he sunk in, brows scrunched together and mouth open in a silent moan. The toy shifted inside of you, but it wasn’t enough to give you any genuine relief. You let out a strangled sob and pulled on the handcuffs— much softer than before though because of how raw your wrists had gotten. 

“You’re okay.” He cooed, making you shake your head as you cried. “Shh, princess. You can take it, can’t you? For me?” You whined, feeling conflicted. 

“Please… ‘m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“I know, baby. You’ll be okay.” He slowly dragged his cock out, then pushed back in. A strangled sob escaped your lips and he leaned down, muffling your sounds with a kiss. Once you started whining and whimpering instead of crying out and sobbing, he pulled back. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your face. His hips moved slowly, barely jostling the toy inside you. The only plus to this situation was that you weren’t empty anymore. “Took your punishment so well, baby.” 

“Jay,” Your bottom lip wobbled and he gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek. When you let out a choked sob, he shushed you softly. “Wanna touch you..” You whimpered, feeling more tears fall when you unsuccessfully tried to bring your hands forward again. 

“Yeah?” You nodded, biting your trembling lip. “Okay, sweetheart. Since you’re doing such a good job, you can touch me.” The second your arms were free, you wrapped them around his body, pulling him down into a hug as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. When you placed a soft kiss there, he let out a shaky breath. 

“Fuck— I’m not gonna last much longer.” He grumbled, breathing heavily against your shoulder as his hips sped up. “This is a punishment for me too, baby. It’s nowhere near as good as the real thing.” You wanted to beg him to take this out and use the real thing instead, but you could barely get any words out when he sped up even more. Your walls fluttered around the toy and you got even needier just by listening to his desperate grunts and moans as he rutted into you, chasing his orgasm. “But don’t worry, I’m still gonna give you my come.” He whispered, planting a wet kiss on the side of your neck. You moved a hand to his hair and tugged on the strands lightly as your back arched up into him. 

When he suddenly pulled up, out of your arms, you whined, but it cut off once you saw that he was pulling the toy out of you and off of his cock. He stroked himself quickly, his breathing coming in short pants until he let out a low groan, covering your sore, abused pussy in his release. He rode out his orgasm, then his hand slowed to a stop as he caught his breath. 

“C’mere, princess.” He said softly, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you snuggled into him more. 

“Needy..” You mumbled. When he laughed quietly, the corners of your lips turned up into a small smile. 

“That’s the only bad thing you’re feeling?” He asked again, and you realized now what he meant. 

“Mhm. Still just a little fuzzy.” 

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head again, then started running his fingers through your hair, making your eyes flutter closed as you let out a pleased sigh. The longer you laid here, not distracted by anything, the more your thoughts continued to race. You already felt bad for what you did, but the drop of endorphins, as well as the fact that you just finished a somewhat intense scene, only exacerbated the feeling. 

“Jay, I- I’m sorry.” You started, then cleared your sore throat and spoke a little louder. “I thought I was doing the right thing but I shouldn’t have deviated from the plan and I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for scaring you too.” If the roles were reversed and Jason didn’t follow the plan, then almost died— again— you wouldn’t let him out of your sight for weeks, maybe even months. 

“I’m sorry for yelling.” He said quietly, his own way of accepting your apology. 

“I deserved it.” You smiled. Your heart fluttered when you heard the deep rumble in his chest as he laughed quietly.  

“But hey I mean… if you ever want to go against the plan— in a way that doesn’t almost maim or kill you— I’m not saying it would lead to some pretty hot sex, but…” You giggled into his chest at his words. 

“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that shit again. The ruined orgasms and overstimulation? That was just downright cruel, Jay.” You tried to suppress your laughter and sound stern, but as soon as you heard his chuckle, your serious exterior broke. “And how on earth did you come up with the fleshlight thing?” That part, even though it was torture for you, was almost impressive honestly. 

“I don’t know… I wanted to fuck you, but I didn’t want to fuck you… if that makes any sense.” He said sheepishly. 

“Close enough.” You laughed quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you deviate from the plan.” You said with a smirk. Riding a dildo right next to his cock would probably drive him mad and you were already creating a plan in your head for everything else you could do to him— for all of the ways you could torture him. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

[jiyansthesis]

LEON KENNEDY (post-re4) x reader

summary — you and leon never thought what would lead to the two of you fucking would be a surprise zombie and an aphrodisiac

note — a little something i had in the drafts for a while. i was gonna post it when re4make came out but i totally forgot. might as well post it while im getting traction on my other leon post ^^

tags — smut, aphrodisiac, basically in public, rough, overstimulation, fem bodied reader, fem implied pet names

i am not responsible for any minors that interact + nsfw below the cut

not proofread

"we're gonna get our asses kicked," you groaned, focusing on the scope of your gun which you used to survey your surroundings.

"no, you're gonna get your ass kicked. i can hold my own," leon shot back, trailing ahead of you.

there was a red wash over the two of you as you ran down the hallway, attempting to look for some vials before they get destroyed by the zombies lurking around.

"you don't happen to know where these serums are, do you?" you questioned, a zombie coming out the shadows only for you to quickly aim and fire your gun at its head, it immediately flying backwards to land lifelessly on the floor. "this is like some bad game of whack-a-mole. except without the hammer. and the moles are zombies. and we could possibly die. i'm getting tired of it."

"do you ever stop talking?" he opened a door, revealing a room with cabinets of liquids and something that looked like a chamber with a glass window.

"adding a bit of fun into this mission, leon. i can't just walk around shooting zombies and not have something to say."

he grunted, and went over to the cabinets, grabbing a container of blue liquid.

"this is it. i'll get all of these, you keep watch." you nodded in acknowledgement, considering the fact that leon was your superior.

you peered out the hallway you had come from, saw that it was clear, and shut the door, locking it.

then you decided to go into the connecting room, just in case something was in there.

the red emergency light was still messing with your eyes, and so you turned on your flashlight, scanning the room.

there were more bottles of substances. but it didn't look like the blue ones leon was getting. these ones were a reddish-pink, and had a certain glow to them. you stepped closer to it to examine it, but you swung around as soon as you heard a growl. you unsheathed the dagger around your waist.

the blade lodged in the zombie's throat, your reaction time saving you as usual. it crumpled over, but bumped into the display, causing the cases to break.

you thought it was a liquid, but it was like you could see the cloud of fumes rise from the broken vials. quickly you put a hand over your mouth and nose and ran out the room, but not before you caught a whiff of the strangely sweet, almost sugary flower smell.

you shut the heavy doors behind you, and let out a gasp of air. leon looked towards you, hurrying over as you fell to your knees.

"hey, you alright? what happened?" he held onto your arms, lifting you up and placing you in an office chair.

"th-there was a zombie. i killed it and it. . . it bumped into these flasks of pink stuff." your hands went to wrap around your stomach, a cramp suddenly appearing.

"pink stuff?" he asked

"yeah," you grimaced with pain. "there was this thing that came out of the broken tubes. it was like a gas or something."

"and how are you feeling right now?"

you felt immensely uncomfortable. there was a cramp in your lower abdomen and it felt like something was dripping out of you. your legs squirmed, not liking the feeling of your wet panties.

"i can-can't explain it." you stammered out. you think you know what were in those things, but you didn't want to make it awkward for you and leon. of course, you've known him since raccoon city, and congratulated him when he came back with the president's daughter. but you knew damn well you guys weren't this close.

even if you desperately wished you were.

"it hurts there?" he gestured to your hand over your abdomen, you nodded.

"it might've been something toxic." he glanced around the room at all the computers, lucky enough to find one that was unlocked.

you heard him type away as you shut your eyes. the pain was becoming excruciating, and you didn't know why you felt your crotch throbbing.

not only that, but your thoughts were bunching up, and you couldn't think straight. what were you here for again?

"hey, i think i know what it is." you felt him nudge you. "but you might not like it."

"i think i know what it is too. doesn't take much thinking to find out." you winced as you shifted in your seat.

he raised an eyebrow. "you know?"

"it's obviously an aphrodisiac. there's no other explanation." you slurred out.

"well, it's not a normal one. normal ones wear off with time, but this one. . . you need something for it to wear off. or you might die."

"die!?" you exclaimed, ignoring the pain of you suddenly standing upright. this definitely cleared your mind. "for fucks sake, leon. i didn't want to die from a fucking drug today!"

he let out a breath of air. "it's easily fixable. but i need you to trust me." his voice got a bit more husky.

"i always trust you, leon." you assured him. he hesitated, and slowly lowered you back down on the seat.

his fingers ghosted over the waistband of your tactical pants. "may i?" he looked up to you. never in a million years would you have thought you'd have leon kennedy under you.

you could already tell what had to be done for you to get rid of this feeling, and you gave him the okay. well, at least you get to have one of your fantasies out the way while also avoiding death from aphrodisiac.

he pulled down your pants, quickly followed by your underwear.

"didn't think to tell me about what was happening down here?" he smirked. "you're so wet."

you whined at the cold air, and urged him to hurry up and stop teasing you.

he followed your request, and instead of inching in his fingers like you'd expected, he immediately latched onto your dripping cunt, and you arched your back.

"leon, fuck!" you moaned out, a hand immediately going to grab a handful of his hair.

he hummed in amusement, leading you to clench your thighs around his head. leon quickly moved his hands to grab your plush thighs and spread them apart, locking them in place no matter how hard you tried to escape it.

it was like he wasn't even thinking about the aphrodisiac. it was all for his and your pleasure, rather than as an extremely awkward and embarrassing task that had to be done. or he was just too good at the job at hand.

every stroke of his tongue had your legs shaking, and you pulled at his hair every time he sucked on your clit too hard. it felt like a few minutes before you felt the buildup of something in your stomach, quickly overshadowing the pain you had previously felt.

"leon, m' gonna-"

his hands left your legs and went straight to your pussy. "make a mess for me, baby," he said as your hips bucked up violently and you let out what was almost a scream.

you panted, and you thought that at this point you'd be satisfied, the pain would be gone, and the two of you could put this all behind you and go on your merry way.

but you were wrong. it was like it got even worse.

your thoughts were scrambled, and all you could think about was the bulge in his pants. and it definitely wasn't his gun.

"why'd you have to do. . . all that?" you stammered out. you also realized he called you baby. your cheeks became even hotter.

"can't get my gloves dirty. and i wanted a taste." he winked. "are you feeling better?"

you shook your head, involuntarily grinding against the seat. maybe if you imagined it was his thigh. . . you wouldn't have to ask him to fuck you senseless. you were already shameless enough, with the fact he had just finished eating you out like his final supper, and the effects of the aphrodisiac were not helping.

just the sound of his voice and his smell was enough to send you into a frenzy.

"do you need some more help?" he began unbuckling his pants.

"yes, need mo' help," you whined. you never thought what would get you into leon s. kennedy's pants would have to be a mystery sex drug in a science lab. if you knew, maybe you would've done this way beforehand.

you almost drooled at how big he was. you would've put your lips right around him at that moment, but he was already lining himself up with you entrance.

"you ready, princess?"

"jus' hurry up," you moved your hips closer to him, sliding the tip inside which caused you to whimper. deciding not to let you suffer any longer, he slammed the rest of his throbbing cock inside of you. with every thrust he did, you were a whining, blabbering mess.

"does that feel good?" he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you could tell that the effects of the drug were making you more sensitive.

"s' good leon," you threw your arms around his neck and brought him down for a kiss, which he quickly reciprocated. he was biting on your lips, his tongue occasionally slipping through your lips.

"i fucking love the sounds you make," he got out once the two of you broke away for air. it was like he was feral and had the aphrodisiac himself, pounding into you without giving you time to breathe.

"fuck, leon, don't stop," you could feel tears streaming down your face as your mouth gaped wide open to let out all your noises.

no doubt you were attracting monsters, but that didn't matter when you had this hot man you've been pinning for for years making you dumb on his cock.

he admired the way he had you already clawing for whatever you could grab a hold on, which was his back, and the look that you gave him.

he'd wanted to fuck you for so long, although that developed from him falling in love after the events in raccoon city. you'd kept him sane, believe it or not.

thank god he had this reason to finally have you under him.

"you gonna cum for me, yeah?" he began relentlessly hitting your g-spot, which had you screaming. he left open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you didn't answer. or well, you couldn't with how he practically fucked the breath out of you.

not receiving an answer, he quickly took you out the chair and placed you on top of the table. you whined as he pulled out, but were quickly shut up by him thrusting inside of you again.

and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, the new angle caused him to almost brush up against your cervix. his hand made its way to your tummy and pressed down on the slight bump, making your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

"hey, pretty girl. i want to hear everything." he persuaded you to place your hands to stabilize yourself on the office desk.

"i-mm, i think i'm gonna make a mess," you warned.

"you gonna come for me? good girl," he praised, and with those words he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, devouring your sounds of ecstasy as you convulsed with your climax.

you started feeling overstimulated, the pain and sensitivity mixing in with the pleasure.

"le-leon, jus' cum in me," you pleaded, feeling your third climax coming already. maybe it was because you were practically intoxicated, or it was because you haven't had sex in so long, but you were almost self-conscious about how short of a time it took for you to cum.

"yeah? you want me to fill you up baby? do i make you feel too good?" a pool of your cum was pooling on the desk.

"yes! wan' you to, wan' you to," you trailed off as he grunted and let out a few soft, low moans, and you felt a warmth seep inside of you.

slowly he pulled out, which still had you twitch, and he looked almost apologetic about that. he searched the place for something to clean you up with, before ripping a piece off an abandoned lab coat, and slowly wiping you up with it. the table on the other hand, required the whole coat to wipe up.

he helped you put your pants back on as you regained and put your thoughts back in order.

"holy shit, we're at least twenty minutes late from meeting up at the extraction point," you checked the watch on your wrist. the two of you scurry to grab all your things as well as what you came here for, and went on your out the building. leon then called chris, who was pissed about the time delay.

as you left, it was strangely silent, as if the two of you had scared the monsters away rather than attract them.

"never thought that'd ever happen," you admitted as the two of you made it outside and to the rendezvous.

"never thought i'd fuck you during a mission in the middle of nowhere." he agreed. "how about dinner later, pretty girl?"

"isn't it a bit late for that?"

"it's never too late to take a lady like you on a fancy date. you deserve it." he shouted as the wind from a helicopter overtook your hearing.

"hmm, i'll think about it!" you grinned, saluting. "nice work out there."

"if that was my real job, i'd be doing it all the time."

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

TWO: G & G.

You know that there are those in the world who strike fear into people’s hearts and souls.

But you’ve never seen anyone react to a single human being the way they do the duo that struts into the bar in their leather cowboy boots. 

You’ve never seen the saloon so quiet and still before then when the duo steps into the scene. A tumbleweed could blow by with how silent it is.

Everyone’s eyes stay planted on the tall, handsome men oozing with confidence and intimidation standing among the swinging doors, appearing like sexy phantoms in the night.

There stands Geto Suguru, the 6’4 long-haired gunslinger with the perfect, black locks that cascade down his broad shoulders and back, seductive eyes, and skillful hands that he hides behind two riding gloves.

He usually is seen riding a black Bronco that is just as big as him and sporting a black cape with black riding pants, boots, and a low-brim cowboy hat. Black fits him so damn well. The only thing that isn’t black on him is the red vest that is so low-cut that you can see the outline of his pecs. 

Beside him is his partner (and lover as it’s rumored) Gojo Satoru, the lean, confident, cocky, blindfolded bandit standing at 6’3 with snow-white hair, a sly smile, leather gloves that hide some skillful and deadly hands, and a blindfold covering his eyes that have never been seen but are said to make a man go cold with fear where he stands.

In contrast to Geto, the white-haired cowboy is doused in colors: a denim jacket that matches his slacks where a star-shaped belt buckle hangs from his crotch; brown boots with spurs; a red bandana wrapped around his neck; and a white cowboy hat sits low on his head. He, too, has his own horse: a brown Bronco that is recognizable from its hooves clicking across the ground.  

They are a match made in heaven and hell. Handsome, skillful, and deadly. They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their pistols. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties.

Everyone knows them and so do you. 

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!” 

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they had been arrested!” 

And they did, last year. At some point, the articles of gunslingers, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with their connection to your boss. 

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?” 

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.” 

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons. 

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you. 

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in their wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the cowboys settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?” 

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?” 

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply.

He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.” 

You swallow hard, so sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that order, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks. 

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.”

Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle, Satoru. We won’t be here long.” 

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers. 

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is,” he says. 

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your BF and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is Kenzo, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.  

Valentine, a criminal on the lamb and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again. 

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all of its employees and riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a male prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys. 

You were hot on his trails when he showed up Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented those. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history. 

“I’ve heard of him, yes,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass. 

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone in it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from down at the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.” 

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How about you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” You look down, studying Valentine’s face.

You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?” 

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains. 

“And for personal business,” Gojo adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.”

He doesn’t need to go any more into detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.” 

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink. 

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles.  “I see not with you,” he replies. 

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been around gunslingers in my time.” 

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.” 

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even your first love! The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. 

“Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” 

He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. “Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him.

Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold covering his eyes. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.” 

Geto nods and nudges to Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.” 

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drinks and yours,” he says with a crooked smile. “Have a good night, little miss.” 

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it. It takes a moment to get your head back, but once you do, you down the rest of your drink and get up from your seat. Shoko catches your eye and gives you a look, her eyes telling you a message: 

“Don’t get caught,” she warns you. “And don’t get killed.” 

You nod, blowing her a kiss, before following your boss and the duo upstairs.

[lunarfleur]

I Just Had To Check ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Warnings:Blood, mentions of fighting, mention of a gun being used

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @hiyaitssans

A/N: Y’all I pulled this outta my ass idek where it came from, so if this is bad I’m sorry 😟

This is x gender neutral reader

Miles woke them up with a knock on their window. His mask and claws had been slipped into his bag, now only wearing his costumes.

When they opened the window, the first thing they noticed was how out of breath he was. He was panting, eyeing them nervously before they let him step in.

“Miles?” They asked, despite knowing it was him. He set his bag down on the floor with a quiet thump and sucked in a breath. Y/N was met with Miles’s arms enveloping their body, his face being shoved into their neck. They brought their hand to the back of his neck, scratching gently.

“Hey, what’s up?” They asked. They didn’t get an answer, though. At least, not until they heard the quietest, most painful sobs escaping him. In the entire time they had been dating, that was the one thing he never did. They had never seen Miles cry.

“C’mere, sit down,” they mumbled, leading him over to the edge of their bed. Miles didn’t let go. He only held on tighter.

Any and all embarrassment Miles would have-should have-felt for crying disappeared the minute his arms found them. It had been so long since he’d done it, it was making his face hurt.

Miles pulled away a second later-tears still free falling down his cheeks. He pressed his forehead to their’s, grabbing their hands and squeezing.

“What’s going on, Miles?”

Y/N’s hands found his face, tender hands wiping his tears. His face was contorted into one of discomfort, the clearest sign of just how long it had been.

“I just had to check,” he whimpered, “I had to see you.” Miles pressed shaky kisses to Y/N’s lips, which they gladly returned.

A mere, short 2 minutes later, his tears had stopped. Miles’s hands were no longer trembling, his shoulders no longer shaking.

“You should change,” they whispered to him. Truthfully, he didn’t want to. He was perfectly comfortable where he was.

But Y/N, much to Miles’s dismay, got up. Searching through their room to find the clothes they stole from him. Sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Wiping his face, Miles got up. He took the clothes from their hands, not even bothering to leave the room before he was slipping his shirt off. Y/N stared at the scratches that littered his back and arms, obviously fresh. It gave them only the slightest idea why he was there.

He walked back over quickly, laying his head in their lap. One arm wrapped around their waist, the other hand resting gently on their thigh. They held his one hand, rubbing the skin soothingly with their thumb. The other hand returned to the back of his neck, the one place that never failed to relax him.

“You wanna talk about it?” They suggested.

“He had a gun,” Miles mumbled. “He was gonna shoot me.”

“Oh.”

“I keep having this dream,” he continued, “any time we fight, that I die letting you think I hate you.” His breath hitched under his own words. Miles fidgeted with the hem of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt.

“I don’t think you hate me,” Y/N whispered, eyebrows furrowing tightly.

“But you might, one day.”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

A brief silence hit the room.

“I ain’t ever gonna hate you, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“And I love you more than anything. You know that, too, right?”

“I know. I love you just as much.”

Sitting up, Miles pulled Y/N closer into him. He peppered kisses around their face and around their jaw. They snickered quietly, pushing his face away to look him in the eyes. A smile forced its way onto Miles’s lips, his forehead bumping against theirs gently.

“Kiss?” He asked.

They were more than happy to oblige.

[4pfsukuna]

Enemies to f⭐️cking lover Toji

Ok so ive been thinking about releasing a 3-5 part enemies to lovers(or something along those lines) for toji although i know the most common works on here is one shot smut. Trust smut will be involved… its toji

You used to be an american spy but japan pays nearly tripple. The jobs were quick easy taking 2 days at max. You had climbed the interest ladder for your ability to get things done in a quick and neat fashion with minimal mess and uproar increasing your salary from 4 figures to six in only a couple of months. Unfortunately theres another assasin whos getting in your way and hes the exact opposite of everything you stand for. 

Not only does he not wear a mask to cover his identity, he lets his targets know exactly who he his just so they can have his name as their last thought before death.

Toji fushiguro.

The biggest jackass youve ever met.

This wasnt your typical one sided beef where youd get mad at him and hed flirt no he had beef with the number one assassin who was stealing his target which means his money. It truly grinded his gears and yours when they made you split a salary.

“Might as well go home princess” you hear his raspy voice though princess was said in a derogatory way hes made it clear several times he hated the way you did things. Why be so… clean. Death is death.

“Fuck off pretty boy go back and crawl into whatever shitty little backroom of a laundry mat and return to horse betting” you seethe having done your research on him. Its not like he needed the money for anything important unlike you who wanted it for taking care of responsibilities back home.

This mission had been one of your biggest yet and you did not need to blow your hiding spot nor cover by arguing with his big ass over nothing.

You're grabbed from the crouching position your in and slammed against the brick wall not hard enough to hurt but it does press into your all black outfit.

“You can do whatever research you want on me but you dont fucking know me… you dont know shit.” he snarls lip on his scar stretching further yet you shove him off. “And im not a pretty boy”

“Please youre not the threat you think you are” you scoff attempting to bruise his ego and the way he steps forward lets you know you did but you never let your guard down to your surroundings and youre quick to pull out your gun aiming in his direction.

He chuckles crossing his arms over his broad chest and you may be uninterested but youre not blind to how his compression tee squeezes him in a way thats… satisfactory to the eye.

“Going to shoot me princess? I thought you were too good to get your hands dirty. Squeemish at blood even” he pokes until you release six shots shooting the men slowly approaching that he failed to notice.

“You fucking shot me!” He growls touching the tiny drip of blood from where the bullet grazed the tip of his ear just enough to break skin not cause any definite damage. 

Taking a bow you smirk before making eye contact with him the only gap in your mask being the slot for your eyes.

“Oh sorry about that pretty boy, ill do you a solid and let you tell shiu you got this one all on your own.” you tease knowing his pride wouldn't let him take the credit for something he wouldn’t do. 

“No i don’t want your pity kill” he seethes looking as if he’s ready to throw a tantrum yet you can only smile knowing you won this battle.

“Great more money for me” you grin running past him the location no longer serving you any purpose. It was time to cash in and Shiu didnt stay up past 2am.

Toji grabs your arm stopping you from escaping though before he could speak the faint sound of sirens in the distance growing closer.

“What? You goin’ to hold me here until the cops get here with these other dead bodies how do you think that’s going to look? A big, strong and muscular giant holding a petite young woman like myself” you victimize yourself and you watch the frustration grow in his eyes knowing he has to let you go.

“Its not fucking over” he hisses releasing you with a slight push making your smile grow even wider.

“Great more chances for me to teach a pup like you what not to do” you tease tearing off a piece of his shirt and pressing it to his ear. “Wouldn’t want your blood at a crime scene would we fushiguru”

And youre dissapearing into the darkness of night and he watches your silhouette slip down an alley until he no longer can. 

You may have thought you had the last laugh but he was best friends with Shiu. So when you near you third week of no assignment you figure its time to reach out to the former and see what the issue is. Learning that Toji somehow convinced him you wanted a break you decided it was time to cut your ties temporarily with the man and find a new “project manager”

The next assignment is the most you’ve ever been offered so high in the six digits it’s close to seven and for a simple retreival mission.

So when youre standing surrounded

“Toj

Waking up with a throbbing headache youre confused when you meet the eyes of a spikey haired 5 year old who is playing with a toy truck a black puppy not to far behind. He must feel you stairing since he turns to face you and gives you a toothy grin.

“My dad must like you, he doesnt let us wear hats in the house but let you keep your mask on” he stutters slightly and you reach up feeling the mask

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 4: Runaway

My Little Runaway (5+1)

In the aftermath of the “earthquakes” – Wayne doesn’t buy that government bullshit for a second, earthquakes his ass – Hawkins becomes entirely uninhabitable. And said United States government, out of the goodness of its heart, deigns to relocate all of its remaining citizens to one of the nearby towns in Indiana (except for Eddie and his friends that got all mixed up in that bullshit Wayne still doesn’t fully know about; all of them get relocated to Illinois, Wayne included.)

And it's nice, in the immediate aftermath, having all of them around, Jim and Joyce and those kids. They make Eddie come to life in a way that Wayne had worried he’d never see again during those first few days in the hospital. It’s nice having other adults to talk to, who understand the circles under his eyes, who wake up alongside their own kids when they start screaming. Hell, it’s even nice living next to the Harrington’s boy – Steve, who looks just like his father yet couldn’t act more different. Steve, who shepherds around the kids and that girl with the short blonde hair without a complaint.

Steve, who is starting to spend a lot of time in Eddie’s bedroom these days.

So despite the hullaballoo and pain it took to get here, Wayne is grateful that they all live so close, that their houses are all in a row on that sunny suburban block. He’s grateful to have a house, with neighbors that are actually his friends. And he’s grateful that when Steve and Eddie do start dating, when Eddie is all but moved into Steve’s small house next-door, that he’s still close enough to see his kid every day.

(At least, he’s grateful for it at first.)

1. The Lawn Incident

The first time it happens, they aren’t dating yet.

“WAYNE!”

Wayne startles at the sound of Eddie’s shout as he sprints through the front door, screen shutting behind him with a loud bang.

“What? What is it?!”

The government is after them. That kid from Hawkins is there, he’s got a gun. Eddie’s hurt, he’s bleeding, he’s – 

“Get me away from him!” Eddie screeches, gesturing at the door he just ran through. Wayne grabs for his rifle (the one he keeps next to the door just in case) and runs forward, expecting to see a mob on his doorstep – 

There’s no mob.

There’s no sign of anyone. Just Steve Harrington mowing Claudia Henderson’s lawn across the street, shirtless –

Wayne sets the gun back down by the door and turns to shoot Eddie an unimpressed look.

“What? What?! Didn’t you see that? He’s trying to kill me!” Eddie pants, peering out the window and ducking as Steve turns. He sees Wayne and waves.

“He’s not the one you need to worry about killing you, boy.”

Wayne leaves Eddie to his moaning about the boy’s physique and tan and sweat and heads to the kitchen. (Surely 10 AM isn’t too early for a beer.)

2. The First Date

Wayne’s honestly grateful that the Harrington boy moves faster than his own nephew. If it was up to Eddie, he’d be pining for years. Steve, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to invite him to dinner the next time he saw Eddie after The Lawn Incident. And he has the insight to plan their dinner date for the following day, meaning Eddie only has twenty-four hours to work himself into a tizzy.

(Granted, that’s plenty of time for Eddie to accomplish that, but still.)

Anyways, Wayne has to sit through Eddie parading across the living room in various band shirts of varying quality before Eddie finally decides on the one he’d tried on first (Iron Maiden, and Wayne doesn’t have the heart to tell him that maybe a grinning skeleton isn’t the best idea for a first date but hey, the Harrington boy already knows what he’s getting into), and Eddie’s debating the merits of sneakers versus boots when the doorbell rings.

Eddie spins around so fast to stare at Wayne that Wayne has to stifle his laughter. “He’s here!”

“You gonna get the door then, or are you just gonna let him decorate the porch?”

“Right, right,” Eddie mutters, first to Wayne and then to himself. Throwing his shoulders back, he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the front door. Wayne watches as Eddie nods to himself once, twice, and pulls the door open – 

And then just stands there, blinking at the Harrington boy, before slamming the door in his face.

“Eds? Everything okay?”

Eddie whips around and backs up against the door, pale like he’s seen a ghost. He tries to whisper something to Wayne, but Wayne can’t hear it. “Sorry?”

“I said HE BROUGHT ME FLOWERS!”

“Are you gonna let him in and get a vase or – ”

“Huh? Oh, SHIT - ” Eddie turns back around and throws open the door. The Harrington boy is standing there with an amused grin on his face that only grows wider as Eddie starts babbling, snatches the flowers out of his hand and makes a break for the kitchen, leaving Wayne and the kid to look at each other.

“He’s a little excitable,” Wayne finally breaks the silence, and the Harrington boy laughs.

“I know. I like that about him, though.”

Wayne lets himself finally smile at the Harrington kid – Steve. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

3. The GED

“Wayne, you gotta hide me!”

Wayne barely has time to set his coffee down before Eddie is sliding into the living room and diving behind the couch. “Oh? And what’s the emergency today?”

Eddie pokes his head up from behind the chartreuse couch cushion. “Wheeler’s gone crazy, Wayne! Do you know how many flashcards she has?”

“More than a few, I’d hope. Your test is coming up next month.”

“They’re color-coded,” Eddie hisses. The doorbell rings and he dives back down, making a meep sound.

Wayne rolls his eyes and stands up out of his rocking chair. “I guess I’ll get the door.”

“NO NO NO - ”

He opens the door and Steve is standing there, alongside the older Wheeler girl and Steve’s friend Robin. “Wayne,” the Wheeler girl greets him with a tight smile, and then she’s passing him and powerwalking into the living room, Robin at her heels. (And judging by the immediate hollering Wayne hears, she finds Eddie relatively quickly.)

“Evening,” Wayne greets Steve over the din of voices in his living room. “I take it studying’s going well?”

The sound of something breaking cuts Steve off before he has a chance to reply, and Steve shoots a nervous look at Wayne. “It’s, uh, it’s going. I think Nance might have met her match.”

“Mmm,” Wayne hums, and then something else crashes onto the floor and ya know, Wayne didn’t need to watch Bonanza tonight anyways.

“I heard Hopper got some new IPAs from Wisconsin?” Steve offers, wincing as the sound of Eddie and Wheeler arguing meets its crescendo.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

4. The Fight

Wayne’s not expecting there to be any lights on when he gets home from the shop that day; Eddie had said something about an anniversary dinner with Steve, something about six months of dating, so it’s a shock to walk through the door and see Eddie swaddled under a blanket, eating ice cream while watching The Thing.

“Everything okay, son?”

“Of course! I mean, what would I have to be upset about?” Eddie snaps, forcefully digging his spoon into the Chunky Monkey.

“Right,” Wayne says, and then slowly makes his way into his bedroom where he makes a call.

“Eddie, please, I just want to talk - ”

“Sorry, son, it’s just me.”

A choked-up Steve sighs over the phone. “Hey Wayne.”

“Hey, kid. You mind telling me why Eddie’s on a mission to clean out Ben & Jerry’s tonight?”

 Steve sniffles. “I asked him to be my boyfriend. Like, officially.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Eddie assumed we already were, which is bullshit because I asked him, like, after our fourth date and he said no, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be ‘Steve Harrington’s Boyfriend’ or whatever but apparently it was a joke and, I mean, it’s not like I’ve been dating anyone else but I just thought - ”

“That he meant what he said, right,” Wayne huffs out a breath. “Let me go talk to him for a bit, okay son?”

“ ‘kay. Thanks, Wayne,” Steve replies quietly, and then he hangs up the phone. Wayne takes a moment to look at the ceiling – Lord, he loves his kid, but this is not what he wanted to be doing on his Friday – but he heads back into the living room anyways and turns off the TV.

“Hey!”

“Son, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what you said to Steve, that’s what.”

Eddie grumbles, stabbing his spoon through the bottom of the ice cream carton. “You’re on his side then?”

“Hey, you’re my kid. I’m always gonna be on your side. But that means sometimes I gotta tell you when you’re in the wrong and right now, son, you’re in the wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back against the couch with a sigh. “It’s just – he should have known!”

“Eds, we both got a bit of that Munson-meanness in us. We both know that sometimes our jokes don’t sound like jokes. How was your boy supposed to know that if you didn’t talk to him about it after the fact? He can’t read your mind, kid.”

“I know, I know, I fucking know!” Eddie scrunched his face up and threw the empty ice cream carton to the side. “It’s my fucking fault and I just – I hate that he thought I was just trying him out for six fucking months, as if I’d actually do something like that to him!”

“Well,” Wayne sighs, “then it sounds like both of you let your own shit get in the way of things. And the only way you can fix it now is if you talk it out.”

“And say what?”

“That it was a stupid joke and that you’re not the sort of person who’d treat anyone that way. And for the record, kid, I think he knows that. He might be gone on you, but he’s not the type of guy who’d stay with someone who treated him badly.”

Eddie bites at his lip for a little bit. “Okay. I’m gonna go talk to Steve.”

“Good,” Wayne nods, and then Eddie is fast-walking to the door – 

And he still has Wayne’s blanket.

“Bring that blanket back!”

“Yes, Wayne.”

“And some more Chunky Monkey!”

“Yes, Wayne!”

(Wayne’ll be lucky if he sees either in the next year.)

5. The Game

It’s a perfect fall Sunday; a cool breeze flows in through the open window, Wayne has a cold beer and a new can of peanuts in front of him, and the Colts are starting as receivers for the first playoff game of the season. He has four blissful hours of peace in front of him, just him, his football team, and –

“WAYNE!”

Wayne groans as Eddie slams into the house. “WAYNE, I need – no, no, no, WHY? You’re watching the game too?!”

“It’s the playoffs, son,” Wayne says. Or, rather, he tries to say; a whole stampede of footsteps follow Eddie into the house and suddenly Wayne’s surrounded by his kid, six teenagers, a pre-teen and the Corroded Coffin boys (who were in town for a visit). 

“Whatever, he can watch the game Eddie, we just need a table - ”

“ – grab the extra chairs, we can get it set up - ”

“Wait, wait, wait, set up what exactly?” Wayne asks but the teens have scattered, running to all ends of his house to set up something at his dining room table and – ah, yes. Their dragon game.

“Really, son?” Wayne asks as Eddie walks by and snatches a couch pillow. “Can’t you do this at your house?”

“I promised Steve that he could have the house if his team made the finals or whatever - ”

“The playoffs, Ed.”

“ – yeah, that’s what I said, but we need to finish up this campaign before Jeff and Gareth go back to school and - ”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wayne scoops his beer and his peanuts up and heads for the door.

“ – only six hours or so and – hey, where are you going?”

“I’m running away,” Wayne replies drily as he shoots Eddie a final wave. “Steve has a bigger TV anyways.”

Eddie lets out a theatrical gasp, but Wayne is too far away to hear whatever else he has to say. 

(Steve does have a bigger TV. And Jim and Charles are fans, too. Maybe they have more of that IPA.)

+1 The Proposal

Wayne’s used to it by now, the sound of his front door slamming shut. It usually signals that Eddie’s in one of his moods, or is excited to share something about the store or Steve or their brand new puppy – Strider, because his kid is a nerd – or because it’s been seventy-two hours and at that point Eddie usually feels the need to make an entrance to check in on Wayne because it’s rare these day that they go three days without at least checking in, but when Wayne goes to check the door, it isn’t Eddie standing there.

It's Steve, and he’s panting.

“Steve? You okay, son?”

‘Yeah, yeah,” he nods, “I just – I don’t know how much longer I can put it off.”

Wayne feels warm all the way in the cockles of his heart. “It’s just ‘til this weekend, son.”

“I know! But Eddie’s so smart,” Steve complains, running his fingers through his hair, “he’s so smart and he knows something’s up and I’m trying not to act weird but because I’m trying not to act weird then he knows that I’m acting weird, and I’m afraid he’s going to pull away again and I just – we just keep having moments where I want to tell him and I keep having to stop myself and I don’t know if I can wait any longer – ”

“Then don’t.”

“ – and I – what?”

Wayne shrugs. “If you don’t want to wait any longer, then don’t.”

Steve looks lost. “But I – I just want this to be perfect. Eddie deserves something perfect.”

“Kid, you are his something perfect,” Wayne replies, and Steve flushes bright red. “You could ask him while he’s on the shitter and it’d be perfect because it’s you.”

“You really think so?” Steve asks shyly. “I mean, not that I’m going to ask him when he’s going to the bathroom - ”

“You probably could do a little better than that,” Wayne agrees, and the two men are laughing when Eddie bursts into the room behind them.

“WHAT is going on here, hmm?” Eddie exclaims.

“Eddie,” Wayne starts, trying to stop whatever monologue is coming but Eddie cuts him off.

“No, Wayne, don’t try to tell me something isn’t going on because something is going on and you,” Eddie says, turning to point at a bright-red Steve, “you are being incredibly suspicious right now and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you keep running every time we’re in the same room because you don’t want to be with me anymore but that can’t possibly be true because I woke up with you - ”

“EDWARD ANTHONY MUNSON,” Wayne interrupts, completely unwilling to hear whatever scandalous thing was going to come out of Eddie’s mouth next, but it turns out he didn’t have to be the one to interrupt Eddie after all because Eddie has stopped talking entirely. He’s just standing in Wayne’s living room and gaping at Steve.

Steve, who is kneeling on Wayne’s shaggy carpet, a black ring box in his hand.

Wayne’s throat tightens up as soon as he sees the tears lining Eddie’s eyes. “Steve?”

“I was going to wait until next weekend,” Steve starts shakily. “I had a whole plan. I was going to take you to Metallica next weekend and wait until they started playing our song - ”

“Nothing Else Matters.”

“ – right, ���Nothing Else Matters,’” Steve replies, his own eyes swimming but he’s beaming at Eddie, he’s smiling up at Wayne’s son and shit, Wayne’s going to need a handkerchief himself, “and then I was going to slide this ring onto your hand and – I know that we’ve only been together a year, I know it’s really, really fast – ”

Eddie’s half-laughing and half-gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face and collecting in the corners of his smile.

“ – and I know that it’s only for us, really, but being with you – this past year has been the best year of my life and maybe it makes me selfish, but I want the rest of them, too. I want them all with you, Eds. Will you - ” Steve swallows, bracing himself, “would you do me the honor of being my not-at-all-lawfully-wedded husband?”

Eddie nods and gasps and shouts out the word “YES!” and then he’s throwing himself on top of Steve, laughing and crying together and kissing and then Steve is sliding the ring on Eddie’s finger – a small black diamond with a silver band, one that Wayne had helped Steve decide on out of four possible choices – and then they’re kissing again and murmuring words of love into each others’ mouths and the moment is everything Wayne has ever wanted for Eddie but if Eddie keeps kissing Steve like that it is going to quickly become something Wayne doesn’t want to see, so he interrupts.

“Congratulations, sons,” he says, and then Eddie is jumping up and running in Wayne’s arms, laughing and jumping and asking if he knew and if he wants to see the ring and if Wayne knew it would ever be possible for Eddie to be this happy.

“Oh, I knew,” Wayne replies with a sly grin. “Knew it the day you ran away because you saw him mowing Claudia’s lawn shirtless.”

“Hey!”

“Aww, my little runaway,” Steve says, hugging Eddie from behind and pressing a smattering of kisses against his cheek. “Just as long as you let me run away with you from now on.”

“Deal,” Eddie says, turning to smile at Steve and yeah, Wayne can give them a few moments while he digs out the IPAs. (They’re not champagne but hey, they’ll do.)

(And having Steve as a son-in-law? Yeah. That’ll do too.) 

[slutforsnow]

As an apology for being dead as hell, i would like to provide this one-shot/oc fic of Billy the Kid from the TV drama series.

A Pretty Girl Playin' With The Big Boys

Inspired by Diva and Beautiful Liar

CW//saloon fight, western time period, poker, mild sa (like almost touches but nothing more), implied sh00ting threat, Billy is his own warning for being so hot, mentions of abusive ex, rape mention

She smiled to herself as she watched her brother Jesse play poker as she took a shot of whiskey sittin' in her chair like the cowboys so one caught sight of a woman planning to get in on the next game. What she didn't notice was that a man, around 2 years older than her, was watching her as he played. His gaze seemed predatory and observant as he played-like he didn't really feel like focusing on the game.

He took a shot of his whiskey as he showed his cards, and Jesse slowly set his down. He lost, and he looked pretty pissed about it. He frowned, clenching his jaw. He half-expected it but had some hope that'd bring home somethin' to his ma and Joe since Henry was injured. As Billy got up from his seat and place his hat on his head again, he noticed an oddly small cowboy take the seat that his opponent, Jesse, had been sittin' in as Jesse gathered his winnins.

"She's gonna get herself found out," Jesse murmured laughin' to himself. Billy snapped his head to Jesse, his brows furrowed in confusion.

'She? She who?' The brunette thought before turning his gaze to the mysterious she at the poker table. She had put a rather large sum of money on the table, causing Jesse to raise his brows, surprised. "She never bets that much."

'She's a regular poker player?'

As the game proceeded, the mysterious she kept quiet, only making noise to clear her throat or move away from one of her opponents that seemed off and tried to lay hands on her more private areas.

Billy kept a frown on his lips as he watched her discomfort, but every moment he went to go shove a man off her, she'd shoot him a glare as if to say 'if you expose me, I'll shoot you.'

As the game came to a close, she smirked, gathering her winnings as she won more than Jesse. The other men bet more in this game than the last one and were surprised to lose a quite hefty amount. The men were genuinely shocked, thinking they lost to a 15 - or 16 year old boy. One man, however, looked pissed and as the mystery girl began to stand after pocketing her winnings, he grabbed her arm pulling her down to the table, knocking her hat off and letting her lustrous curls unfurl from her messy bun that was tucked neatly under her hat. The curls fell around her face, and one strand fell in front of her face. Smiling awkwardly, she stayed still.

'Well shit,' She thought, freezing as the man froze. The gambler lost to a woman, and he was furious. A WOMAN beat his ass in poker, a men's game.

The saloon was dead silent as the sound of her hat hit the ground seemingly echoed.

"Now, sir, there's no need to violent its just poker," She said, trying to wiggle her arm free, only for the man to tighten his hold. 'Okay, maybe I'll need Jesse for this,' She thought, glancing to her brother and his friend.

"You beat me in my game. No one ever beats me," the gambler growled, grabbing his gun and bringing it to her temple. The man's words sent Billy's mind to the night Carlos was shot for winning and for being Mexican. He wasn't having a repeat of that. Before he could think, Billy spun his gun out of the holster, shooting the hole through a broken window, hitting an old crate which exploded due to the force of the bullet hitting such a delicate and old thing.

The sound grabbed everyone's attention, even the gambler who dropped his gun in surprise. The saloon was still in silence, watching Billy's next move.

"Let her go," He said, moving his gun and aiming it at the man's head. The mystery woman smirked in approval of Billy, liking how he was handling it. "I don't wanna have to kill you, so just let her go."

Out of pure fear, the man dropped his gun and let go of her, causing her to fall onto the floor with a hard thud.

Standing up, she brushed the dirt off her jeans and grabbed her hat, swiping the dust off.

"Gentleman," She commented after a moment of silence and bowing, exiting the saloon with Jesse behind her and Billy behind both of them.

As the three walked in awkward silence, she put her hat on, ignoring the stares from other women at her boyish appearance, aside from her cerulean eyes and ginger locks that had been pulled into a braid down her back.

"I suppose I should thank you," She uttered, smiling towards Billy and turning to walk backward, now following Jesse based on the sound of his footsteps.

"'S nothin'," Billy told her, shrugging as he walked behind her, but noticing her bruised arm as she pulled her over shirt off to check on the bruise. "You gonna be okay?"

"Oh I'll be fine," She answered, shrugging off his concern. "This ain't nothin' compared to my last man."

"Last man?" He repeated, staring at her puzzled. "What happened to him?"

"Jesse ran him out of town for trying to marry me while I was seventeen. Stopped him from rapin' me too," She commented. "Ex was awful."

Billy stared at her, surprised at how she could be so calm about it. Then he thought of something; she was so calm about it as if it was nothin' more than picking flowers by a river. It reminded him of how calm and unbothered he is to murdering, at least small animals and people who truly deserved it. He smirked a little before extending his hand to her to shake.

"Billy Antrim."

"Violet Evans."

[modelbus]

Have I ever mentioned I’m a Greek mythology nerd? If not… here’s a good time to drop that. This is HEAVILY Orpheus and Eurydice inspired!!

This is just a little writing EXERCISE, I know it’s not good :) I will be posting an actual writing thing on WEDNESDAY!!

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader

He Doesn’t Look Back

You’d follow your lieutenant through fire if he asked you to. And he never did ask, but you still did it. Bullets pinging at your feet, all you can do is grip your gun and keep your eyes trained on his back.

Ghost doesn’t look back.

Hesitating for even a second would get you both killed, and he knows it. Glancing back at you, even just to confirm you’re alive and following, would end with a bullet in his head too.

It’s not far from cover, a building you two can duck into to reload and go back at it. Call Price for an evac, inform him the mission went sideways.

Damn intel leaks.

This was your mission, technically. You were sent out alone, collecting information on a mobster from afar. It was simple, safe.

Until the Task Force servers were hacked and your mission was leaked.

Being disconnected from the team unless you called them left you unable to know what happened. When the mobster suddenly went into hiding, you searched the city high and low, trying to figure out what had triggered it.

Ghost was the one to come into the city to tell you, to save your ass. And now he’s the one helping you get out, helping you live, continuously saving your ass.

Despite what everyone says, Ghost is hardly callous or emotionless. If you chose, you’d liken him to a tragedy. For all intents and purposes, he’s the makings of a hero: strong and brave, loyal enough to dive into hell to save you. But he’s got the air of a dead man walking, someone who has so many ghosts that they’ll drag him down. Ironic, considering his Callsign.

You let out a muffled curse as a bullet zings past you, barely missing. Ghost doesn’t turn, too busy dodging his own bullets.

There’s just a few more paces, then you’ll be in the safety of cover. This is the last time you’re letting Price put you on undercover work, you swear. Soap will probably tease you for days for needing Ghost to come rescue you.

Your hands tighten on your gun instinctively, glancing over as you catch a glimpse of fabric. Honestly, you’re not sure you’ve been in a worse situation. At least in other times you had all of 141 to back you.

Finally, Ghost ducks into the doorway of the abandoned house, looking back at you before he’s even fully in. You can see his eyes through the mask, relief clear as he reaches back to haul you through with him.

You lower your gun, stretching to grab his arm, eyes only on him and the prospect of safety.

Neither of you ever sees the grenade.

It flings you back, the ground seeming to erupt beneath your feet as you fly. You slam against someone’s abandoned car, scrabbling for purchase as you’re sent tumbling across its hood. Glass tears through your sleeves and gloves, piercing through to your skin.

Ghost shouts your Callsign, but you can’t even hear it past the ringing in your ears. Like everything is muffled, you can barely get yourself to focus on pushing yourself to a sitting position.

Pain shoots through your body, but you ignore it. You have to get up, you have to get to Ghost, you have to fucking live.

You look up, right into the barrel of a gun.

A man you’ve never seen before stares down at you, sneering. As you watch, his hand tightens around the grip.

Ghost is nowhere in sight. He came back for you, but at what cost? He looked back to help you, to make sure you were still alive, and you were a fool for dropping your gun to reach for him.

The man above you squeezes the trigger.

Ghost’s name is the last thing on your lips.

[randomshitwhore]

Affirmative Ghost(rider)

word count:2.5k

pairing: ghost x f!reader

summary: ghost made a promise to you on your mission to retrieve a flash drive, and he intends to keep it...

warnings: contains smut(its very bad so my apologizes),[unprotected sex, ghost being slightly dominate and a bottom for my own personal enjoyment LMAO, fingering]

AN: thank you all so much for all the love on Negative Ghost(rider), you guys have made it the most popular post on my page ever, possibly the top post on any of the ghost/Simon Riley hashtags! words can't express how much it truly means to me that you all enjoyed it! so please enjoy part two, Affirmative Ghost(rider). :)

Your mission was a success. You had successfully retrieved the flash drive and caught Hassan in the process. You boarded back onto the chopper with Soap and Ghost, greeted and congratulated by your superiors. You opened the flash drive and looked over the files with Ghost, him hovering just over your shoulder.

“You gonna stick to your word and keep your promise?”You asked, your voice just barely above a whisper. “You seriously asking that question now Eclipse?”Ghost countered, letting his eye burn into the side of your head. “Yes, now answer my question Lieutenant.” You said, skim-reading the files. “I told you, yes. Now copy those files and update me or Soap when you are finished, understood private?”He whisper-ordered, so as not to attract the attention of his and your superiors.

“Yes”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You walked off the airspace and into the base, praised by Price for your bravery and attitude on your first mission, which you knew was total bullshit on your end. You were scared shitless, trying not to cry, and constantly complained about the amount of time you hung off the side of the building; but he didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you, sir” You smiled warmly, shaking his hand with a firm grip. He returned a warm smile to you. “I hope the gentlemen behind you are treating you well?”Price asked shooting a look to Soap and Ghost, standing behind you at a rest position. “Yes sir. They treat me wonderfully.” You answered, shooting a caring look at both of them. It was true. Those two treated you like gold; always helping you when you asked. It had been that way since you had first started training with them privately; a personal request from Ghost, but that was something you didn’t know.

“Ghost, I feel like I’m not doing this right..”You said, a gun butt placed in between your ribs and armpit. “That’s because you’re not holding it right Y/N,” Simon said, walking over to you and readjusting it to its correct position; the stock to your cheek first and then back to your shoulder. “You hold it like you just did, your ass would be on the ground” Soap laughed, monitoring a short distance away. Ghost took his boot and gently swept your feet apart to fix your stance. “Dont hold it too tight, and not too loose and when you feel ready, pull the trigger, got it?”Simon asked, his masked face just barely brushing against yours.

“Yes, sir” You answered, tightening your grip slighting. “She just call you sir Simon?”Soap asked, rocking back onto his heels and off the fence he was resting on. “Yes, Johnny now zip-” He started but was interrupted by the blast from your gun firing onto the target; just barely outside the first circle near the bullseye.

“Oh my god, I hit it! Ugh, I was so close to the bullseye too!”You said, setting the gun down and turning around to them with a huge smile on your face. “Goddamn, nice shot Y/N!”John said, honestly amazed at your shooting skills. “Did I do good, Simon?”You asked, your smile still plastered onto your face. “Affirmative was a very good shot” He answered. “What does that word mean? Affirmative?”You asked, looking at Soap. “Just his way of saying yes Y/N, he doesn’t act like a normal human being and just says yes or no. It’s Negative or Affirmative, nothing else” Soap answered, just laughing and shaking his head. You let out an amused noise, looking back at Ghost. Although you couldn’t see it, he slowly spread a smile across his face.

You talked with Price a little longer after he released Soap and Ghost back to their barracks about the rest of the mission; going over and encoding files before he sent you off to your barrick. You walked quietly across the base to your barrack until your phone buzzed in your pocket.

New Message from Lt. Ghost

You slid your phone open and tapped on the message.

My barrack hall. 10 minutes.

You clicked your phone off and turned on your heel to Simons’s barrick. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest. Sure, you had seen his face before. You both knew that your relationship was evolving, and you both knew that your relationship was on the border of being unprofessional, at least it would be if you were caught. You reached his barrick around the eight-minute mark and slowly turned the knob. You walked down a long hallway and stopped right in front of his room. You knocked softly on the door to be met with his voice.

“It’s open”

You turned the knob and entered the room. You pressed the door shut with your back, your hand still wrapped around the door knob. You looked up to see him in his black camo army pants, a form-fitting black muscle shirt, and of course; his mask. You could see his skin through the eye holes of his mask, none of his black eyeshadow was present.

“Hi” You whispered, as he walked to you closing the space in between you. “Hello” He returned, now practically pinning you into a corner against the door. He reached his hand just past your waist to push the lock into place. “We dont want any interruptions, now do we?”

You sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth and shook your head no. You watched as his fingers wrapped around the bottom of his mask. “Hey, you promised me..”You pouted. He held his hands up in the air and placed them behind his back. “Apologizes. Please, continue.”He said. You gently smiled as your fingers lifted his mask to show his plump lips; curved into a small smile. 

You gently traced the outline of his lips, slowly taking in his features. “What’s your next course of action, private?” He asked, his hands still in place behind his back. You pulled him closer to you, your lips just barely touching. “Permission to engage, Lieutenant?”You purred, making direct eye contact with him. You felt his smile grow wider against your lips. “Permission granted,” He answered. You pressed your lips against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. You felt him shift and felt his hands fall onto your waist, grinding his hips into yours. 

This was the most beautiful thing about your relationship; nobody knew it had been going on for over a year and a half, you were honestly still shocked no one thought to ask questions, but you honestly were happy they didn’t. You and Him were able to give looks that only you two knew, and say something only you could understand. He loved that he wasn’t being pressed by questions about what you were going to do when you and he went out together; just saying you were going over plans for the next mission. You both could relax, knowing you were safe in each other presence. 

You took your hand wrapped around his neck and removed the rest of his mask, tossing somewhere across the room. You shifted your weight, leading him to his bed; pushing him down. He looked up at you, his eyes dark; filled with lust. You placed yourself on top of him, pressing your lips to the line of his jaw. His hand slipped up the back of your shirt, rubbing his rough hands up your back. You trailed your lips down to his neck, leaving love marks along the way. Lucky thing he has a mask, imagine trying to explain those to your superiors. 

“Y/N..” He said, letting a small low-pitched whine out of his mouth. You reached the base of his neck, forcing him gently down onto the bed. “Simon..”You teased, edging him on. “You look so beautiful from this angle,” He said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You flashed him a smile that was quickly replaced by your eyes shooting wide open, him flipping you over; putting him on top.

“But you look even better from this one” He whispered, his lips grazing the bottom of your ear; sending a chill down your spine. He placed his lips on your neck, leaving as many marks as he could; he didn’t leave them too deep. He’s a gentleman after all. 

You pushed your hips up and into his, wanting to get even the littlest amount of friction. His lips molded into a smile on your neck, letting his hand trail down your side and to your cargo pants. His hand took two quick pinches to unbutton them and slip his hand down. “Permission to engage?”He teased, using your line from earlier. You let out a small laugh.

“Affirmative ghost rider, permission to engage,” You said, taunting with your line from earlier in the night. He let out a laugh into your ear. “You’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?”He said, his free hand brushing against your ribs. “Negati-Oh” You started but were interrupted by his digits slipping into your pussy.

You bit your lip to keep a moan from coming out, pressing your hand over your mouth as an extra precaution. You could feel his fingers moving in and out of you as you fought to not let him hear how much you were enjoying it. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist and pull it away from your mouth, letting a small moan escape your lips. “Doesn’t that feel better, darling?” He said, planting a kiss against your lips. You could feel your stomach tighten with every pump of his fingers. “Si-imon, I’m gonna…Oh my god,” You moan, your hand gripping his bicep with your palm as you felt your eye roll to the back of your head. “Let go Y/N, let it out” He whispered in your ear, placing a new mark onto your neck, and that was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself tighten around his fingers and let your nails dig deeper into his bicep as you let yourself go underneath his fingers.

You looked down at him to watch him slip his muscle shirt slowly off his body. You took the shape of his toned torso, curves, and scars; his biggest insecurity but the thing you loved most about him. You took your fingers and traced one on his waist. He had told you he got that one trying to save you from the apartment complex you were held hostage in.

He watched your hands smooth over his stomach, nothing but pure love and admiration behind your eyes. “You're so beautiful..”You breathed out as he sat back on the balls of his feet to slide your cargo pants and own shirt off, not breaking eye contact. He smiled warmly at you. Although he never admits it, and probably never will, he loves it when you call him beautiful. 

You dragged your hand down to his cargo pants and looped a finger into his belt loop, gently brushing your fingers against his own arousal. His breath hitched at your fingers brushed back and forward against him. He narrowed his eye at you, trying to figure out what your next plan of action was. You looked him in the eye as you warped the rest of your fingers quickly around his belt loop and yanked hard on them, pulling him down to your level and placing yourself on top of him.

“Tell me I look pretty from this angle again,” You said, your hands fidgeting with his belt loop. “You look pretty from this angle..”He breathed out, taking in the swollen shape of your breasts. “Just pretty?”You teased, lifting yourself up slightly to slide his cargos off; leaving him only in his boxers. “Gorgeous, Amazing, Breathtaking…”He named as you placed yourself back on top of him. 

"Do you think you deserve this after leaving me outside in the cold?" You said, playing with the waistband of his boxers. You could feel him squirming underneath you, wanting you to touch him; practically on the verge of begging. You loved seeing him helpless underneath you. It gave you a sense of power. “No," He weakly confessed, sliding his hands back and forth on your thighs. “How much do you want this?”You asked, edging him on. “So bad..”He answer quickly, his hands squeezing into your thighs as you dragged his boxers down to his own thighs. 

“Beg." "Please,"

“Please what?”

“Please ma’am,” He said, practically almost moaning it out. He was so weak under your touch and he knew it too. Again, he would never admit it, but he loved seeing you take control. He loved the way you felt as you were in control.

A blunt pressure stole the air from his lungs when you finally sank onto him, his cock spreading you wide open. He was so glad you were on the pill; it let him feel every part of you. Your throat let out a small whine, his fingers digging into the side of your hips, leaving you listening to his satisfied grunting. “Holy fucking..”He breathed out, looking up at you through his eyelashes. He could see a shit-eating grin on your face, just watching him unfurl underneath you. 

You started to rock your hips back and forth gently, making your pace faster with each thrust. You watched as Simon became pussy drunk completely under you; that sight brought a smile to your face. Your nails scratched down on his tattooed arm and your back arched in response as you heard possibly the most pornographic moan escape his lips. 

He watched as you continued to thrust yourself into him at a brutal, punishing pace, leaving him clinging to you helplessly, letting the moans escaping his mouth grow louder with every thrust. “You're such a...Oh, my fucking..” You moaned out, tangling your hand with his own, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head. You vaguely heard him curse out under his breath, his own end approaching much faster than he wanted. “You wanna cum, pretty boy?”You breathed out, feeling your own stomach beginning to tighten. He nodded in compliance, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Together, okay?”You said, watching him nod back again.

Both your hands gripped onto each other's bodies as you both came to your release. His hands definitely left a bruise from how tight they were gripping onto your hips. He could feel his back arching off the bed, your name leaving his mouth at least ten times, riding out his high. You watched as a smile spread across his face once he started coming down from his high, causing you to laugh a little.

“What?”He said, the smile still plastered across his face. You just shocked your head and laughed. “Just you being absolutely in love with me, I know that smile,” You said sliding out of him, laying down, and planting a kiss onto his swollen lips. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling him closer to you. “I love you,” He said, placing a kiss on your ear. “I love you too, sweaty man” You giggled, wiping away the sweat on his forehead and planting a kiss there before he fell into a deep sleep on your chest.

[jevilowo]

TEAM ASCENDED FORTRESS 2

An AU by me in which the mercs ascend to their ultimate forms

Oh God tumblr wrecked the quality-

More about the AU under the cut!

WOKE SCOUT: she started taking estrogen and instead of fixing her it made her worse. She gets into fights on twitter about neopronouns and has successfully cancelled everyone she doesn't like at least once. However, as cancel culture isn't real, this only lasted about three seconds for each. She managed to pull Ms Pauling also which is pretty cool.

SOLDIERSUNE MIKU: the ghost of Shakespearicles told him to dress as Miku and redo the salem witch trials. Only knowing one witch (Merasmus), he finished this quickly and now roams the country with Zhanna (who is now Zhannagane Miku after Mikus metal counterpart) spreading malice and wonder through the power of AMERICAN SONG COVERS. He uses a wig for the Miku effect, but is working on growing his hair out also.

MITOSIS: Pyro and Engie were shagging one time and they came so hard they did mitosis. Now theres 23 babey Pyros (count em) and Engineer is a single dad. There's a lot of Pyro Mitosis Lore™ in my head, but the basics are that they evolve into either humanoid, beastial, demonic or celestial Pyros eventually.

TAVISH, KING OF THE LOCH NESS: he did it he blew up that bloody sea monster and now he is king of Loch Ness. The self loathing has died down a lot which is great for him but his body is still a scrumpty distillery which is eh. Still, he has funky water powers and his partners Soldiersune and Zhannagane come to visit often.

KEEPER OF TIME AND SPACE GUY: Heavy was mad, he knew he'd been had so he shot at the sun with a gun. Instead of being a show off like that bitch Juno, he had a nice philosophical conversation and chess match with Time and impressed Time so much he was appointed as the guardian of Time and Time's partner, Space. His guns (the six angel thingies pictured) can turn into celestial weapons which helps in the protecting but people don't shoot at the sun so often so its a relaxing enough gig really.

GODDAMMIT ENGIE: after realising how much more efficient Gunslinger was than a lame ass human hand, Engie succumbed to his hubris and eventually replaced all his body parts with robot parts. Including his dick which led to the Mitosis Incident. Anyway. His chest is a dispenser which makes projects pretty convenient and he has a mini-sentry attached to each arm and leg, making him a walking weapon. This did not help with the god complex, but it helps with the single father thing.

THE INFERNAL DOCTOR: Medic kept attaching more souls to his own and selling them to Satan for power. Satan got so sick of this eventually he attempted to beat the shit out of Medic. By now Medic was slightly more powerful than Satan so this ended with Medic absorbing Satan's powers and basically taking his place. Somehow, his relationship with the guy who is now a celestial being was unaffected by this. If they really tried they could probably ascend even further. To godhood, perhaps. In any case, Medic becoming The Devil from The Bible did nothing for the god complex.

???: Sniper just kind of fucked off into the woods one day god knows what happened to him but Scout's convinced she saw him for like three seconds a week ago and "YOU GUYS HE HAD ANTLERS I SWEAR-"

RETIRED AND BECAME A FUNCTIONING MEMBER OF SOCIETY SPY: yeah. He's very happy with Scout's Mother (Maureen), and he's letting his roots grow out (his spy agency made him dye his hair black). He's even making an effort to be a good parent to Scout, bought her the trans flag ipad cover and everything, but she just keeps trying to cancel him. Maureen's sure they'll work it out between themselves eventually, but until then she has to keep finding more secure hiding places for the ipad (the best so far was the time she buried it under a tree a mile away, took Scout at least four hours to find and retrieve it that time)

There's also YURI MS PAULING, in which she pulled a whole polycule of beautiful women, but I'll cover her in another post.

Also TERFS DNI please. Woke Scout is just Scout being Scout (which is to say a bit stupid), and assuming all trans women are like that would be ridiculous. So fuck off.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter four

you know you never stood a chance series

four: beg me to take care of things

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You continue your free use arrangement with Joel in exchange for shelter, but it hits a little snag.

Warnings: qz life comes with its own warning, dub-con due to power imbalance, trading sex for shelter, free use, vaginal sex, anal play, oral sex (m&f receiving), canon-typical violence, whoops there's more plot, Joel is mean/bad at feelings, no y/n, despite what it looks like this is NOT going to follow canon

also on ao3

“Not a fucking sound,” he whispers, stifling your moan with his hand. Ellie is asleep in the next room over, but the glass of the door between you is broken. It’s the only reason he feels comfortable leaving her in that room: the sole entrance is in his line of sight.

He’s got you pinned to the grimy tile, his whole weight atop you as he fucks into your cunt. You can’t make a sound if you wanted; you can hardly draw a breath. He’s not a small man by any means. But it feels so fucking good.

It’s been weeks. Ever since you got roped into this mission, ever since you left the QZ, he hadn’t touched you once.

It hurts in the best way, though just a little past the point of pleasure. There wasn't the time for prep. But your whole body is tingling just from finally having his hands back on you, his thick cock inside you, feeling like more than just a burden.

Each slap of his hips against you is a rebirth. In the six months before you started on this horrible trek, you had known very little outside of Joel’s touch. You went to work each morning, collected rations, and came home. He’d come home an hour later, always on edge, always looking for an outlet.

For six months, you had been little more than Joel Miller’s live-in fucktoy, and honestly, it was probably the best six months of your life since the outbreak. You wanted for nothing (at least in the realities of post-apocalyptic life—in the grander scheme of things, you wouldn’t have said no to some fucking McDonald’s french fries). You had protection. You had shelter. You had company.

Well. Okay. You sort of had company. You could count on him to speak at least a few words in the evening. He almost always made sure you came, too. It had been hard at first, relying on him, but there was no use for a martyr complex these days. The only one who’d suffer by turning down assistance was, well, you.

He doesn’t make sure you cum, this time, but you think he can tell you don’t need any help. The relief of having him inside you is enough, and you can’t spare the energy to be embarrassed about it.

After he pulls out, having covered your ass in his cum, he stands up immediately, knees cracking. He tucks himself away and nudges you with the toe of his boot. “Up, get dressed.”

You scramble up, tugging your pants back into place, and watch him for a moment. His jaw is ticking, and he’s scowling at the wall behind you.

You open your mouth, and he cuts you off. “Shouldn’t have done that. Not gonna happen again.”

You’re aghast. “What?”

“Wasn’t fair of me. Y’don’t owe me anythin’ out here.”

You take a hesitant step closer. His jaw twitches again, but he doesn’t move (or look at you). “You’re still protecting me,” you offer.

“I made you come out here. Kinda have to protect you.”

“You don’t, though,” you say, feeling emboldened enough to slide your hand up his arm to his bicep.

He knocks your arm away and grabs you by the chin. “Why’d you even come? You just do whatever I say, even stupid shit?”

“Well, yeah. Didn't really have a better offer.”

“Christ.” He drops his hand from you and wipes it down his face.

“How ‘bout you get some sleep?” you say warily. The bags under his eyes are deeper and darker than ever. “I can keep watch.”

“You learn how to shoot a gun when I was takin’ a piss earlier?”

“No, but I can still keep watch. I can wake you up if anything happens.”

You’re shocked when he seems to actually consider it. It’s the safest you’ve been in weeks, here in this abandoned high-rise. There are no signs of Infected or hunters.

“Fine.” He grunts. “But you wake me if there’s any sound. I don’t care if you think it’s a rat or the wind. You fuckin’ wake me, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you joke. Something darkens behind his eyes just for a moment, until he blinks it away. You file that away for later.

He hands you a pistol and a knife, just in case. Not that you’ll know what to do with either, but he can’t just leave you unarmed. You nod, understanding passing between you.

He sucks on his front teeth, staring at you for a moment like he wants to say something. You’re not sure you want to hear it, though, so you say, “Goodnight, Joel.”

Nothing happens. You stand, leaning against the door frame, Joel’s pistol in your hands. Despite his paranoia, there’s not even a squeak out of place, and he sleeps for four full hours before getting up. He moves more nimbly than he has since, well. Since Tess.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to know what was between them. She had, after all, seemed very aware of what function you served to Joel, but there was no jealousy in her eyes. Maybe when he fucked her, it was like making love, and she was fine to leave all the rough, angry moments for you to absorb.

Or maybe it was nothing. It hardly mattered, and she was nice to you, so you respected her memory by leaving it alone.

Though you do wonder if that’s why he wouldn’t touch you anymore.

Dawn hasn’t broken, and Ellie is still asleep. When he comes out to check on you, you offer the only other comfort you can.

When you sink to your knees, he closes his eyes for just a moment and sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. His body had worked ahead of his brain, already undoing the button on his jeans, and he lets you ease him into the morning.

After, when he helps you stand, he holds you against him for a moment, and even presses a kiss into your hair almost absentmindedly. You figure maybe he’s forgotten his promise that it would never happen again.

And he does, for a little while.

When you first moved into his apartment, it was so incredibly awkward. Like, worse than a school dance awkward. Worse than walking in on your sister getting railed by some scrawny FEDRA officer awkward.

Eventually, you tracked his habits and rhythms and used the information to stay out of his way. You stopped wearing underwear when you were home, as it ended up on the floor anyway. After a while, he just started leaving you a couple of his shirts, and you gave up on sweatpants entirely.

You’d be lying if you said you were uncomfortable, and he tended to leave the shirt on you when he fucked you, so there was no need for dressing and undressing.

He left first in the morning and came home last, so the key quickly became your responsibility. He had shoved it into your hand the second evening.

“I’m leavin’ for a couple days. Lock the apartment. Don’t talk to anyone, and don’t tell anyone I’m gone.”

Before he left that evening, he ordered you to your knees and fucked your throat, wiping away the tears after he finished. “Be good,” he said, dragging his knuckles down your cheek.

And then he was gone. You locked the door behind him and sat on the dingy carpet, legs folded pretzel-style. The yellow fluorescent bulb overhead had a faint pulse to it, a barely-there dimming and brightening that started to hurt your eyes. What the fuck were you supposed to do here, in this flat you were haunting?

You didn’t dare look around. You ate the rations you had earned and left everything else alone. You knew there were pills, guns, and alcohol somewhere. You weren’t keen on learning where, though. Plausible deniability and all that.

Joel came home in the middle of the night three days later. The key issue became apparent when he had to pound on the door until you woke up to let him in.

“New plan,” he snarled when he came in. “From now on, when I’m gone, I’m lockin’ you in here until I get back.”

“Fuck no,” you said.

“The fuck did you say to me?” he said, stalking closer.

“What if you don’t come back soon enough? What if I fuckin’ run out of food?”

“You think I’d go to all this trouble to keep you safe and then let ya die in here?”

“I don’t know!” Your heart struggled to keep up with your irrational fury, and stumbled at his words. Why did he go to all this trouble? You were about to ask, but of course, he ruined it.

“What good’s your pussy to me then, huh?” He was chest-to-chest with you, towering with a venomous glare.

“I don’t know, Miller, you’re kind of a creep. Maybe you’re into that.”

“I’m a creep, huh? Then why are you so wet?”

You flushed, heat crawling across your cheeks and ears. “Who says I’m wet?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He pinned you against the door and shoved your pants down, plunging three fingers right into your cunt. You yelped at the stretch and pinch, but had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, as he brought them up to your face, coated in slick.

“Looks pretty wet to me,” he said, the words rumbling from somewhere deep and dark within. “Open.”

You did. God help you, you did. He smirked and pressed his fingers in, wiping them on your tongue.

“Suck,” he murmured.

You closed your lips around him and sucked until your cheeks hollowed around them, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth. He pulled his fingers out and patted your cheek with the same hand, leaving a wet trail behind.

“Go get on the fuckin’ bed.”

"Which bed is the fucking bed?" you said before you could control yourself, and darted into his room before he could register your words.

You were hardly in position when his hands gripped the sides of your hips, and he licked into your cunt. “Fuckin’ slut, trying to say ya weren’t wet and waitin’ for me,” he grumbled, and nipped at your thigh before diving back in.

Your orgasm came embarrassingly quickly. His derisive chuckle brushed against your clit, which he sucked at until you were spent.

“Seems like ya missed me,” he said, standing and wasting no time before stuffing his cock in. “Well? Did ya?”

You didn’t answer, whining into the sheets as he set a slow but harsh pace, slamming in only to draw back out inch by inch.

He slapped your ass, watching it ripple. “Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”

“Oh, were you gone?” you huffed between thrusts.

He brought his hand down again. “What did I just fuckin’ say?”

“Y’know, come to think of it,” you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t shut up, “there was a distinct lack of grouchy old creeps hanging around.”

He grabbed your hair and craned your neck back so you could see the way his eyes were blown dark, teeth bared. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I’ve had a real bad couple of days. Here I thought I was comin’ home to a sweet cunt.”

You opened your mouth, though you didn’t feel a retort dancing on your tongue. You figured by the time you came up with it, you’d have already said it.

He didn’t give you the chance. His other hand came up, and he hooked two fingers into your cheek. The hand in your hair released to dip into your mouth, swiping his thumb through the pooling saliva. He dragged it down and pressed the wet thumb into the cleft of your ass, firm pressure against your tight hole.

You were breathing heavily around his fingers, back arched. He didn’t stop fucking into you, hissing as you clamped down when his thumb pushed in, just enough to make you feel the pressure.

“Awfully quiet now,” he drawled. “You just needed all your holes filled, huh?”

You thought you might die from the humiliation, if only the pleasure didn’t take you first. You squirmed, pushing back into him.

He jostled your head by pinching the fingers in your mouth and shaking your cheek. “You gonna be quiet if I take these out?”

You nodded. He withdrew the fingers and brought the hand down to your hip, holding you steady so he could chase his orgasm. Each rough thrust knocked a quiet cry from your lips, and he pulled away from your asshole to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back again.

The kiss was mostly teeth and spit, but it was euphoric. He felt the way you tightened and tensed, and he smiled against your lips. “Cum for me,” he said, and licked into your mouth to gobble up your scream.

When you convulsed on his cock, he lost control, and almost didn’t pull out in time. He spilled against the bed, swearing deep and low.

That memory and the many others get you through the lonely nights on the journey, your hand down your pants and gasps muffled around your fist when you can catch a moment alone. If Joel notices, he doesn’t show it. Except tonight, when you look back on it, you realize he was only making good on his promise not to let you rot in his apartment. Whatever delusions you had about being brought along get left behind in the shitty high rise.

next chapter

*title from "Send the Pain Below" by Chevelle.

[cheersyouslxg]

╰┈➤ 💀 Ghost 💀

Word count: 6,986 ┆ ┆ MDNI - 18+┆ ┆ »»———- I started this as a SMALL drabble for a pairing made with a friend with Simon that turned into.. this. ———-««

TLDR; Simon is taking on his last mission before retirement. Why? Because in this world, Simon found the love of his life and began a family. With three girls and another baby on the way, Simon decides its time to hang up the mask and take a desk job within the company to be home with his family more... However, This last mission goes awry, losing communication with his team, and Ghost will do anything to bring himself back home to his wife and children.

Triggers: bad militant writing (Just look past the things that don't quite make sense. I did my best.), angst, gore and injury, swearing, torture, ghost being scary ghost, etc etc

⊹ Comments, feedback, thoughts and reblogs are encouraged! ⊹

This wasn’t the first time Ghost had been in the dark, but it would be his last. 

The first twenty minutes, maybe thirty, in hiding had been spent wandering down a self depreciating hole of misery. How could they have been so stupid? Were there signs he missed coming into the target location? Every seemable precaution was made. They’ve checked and double checked their sourcing claiming that their target was hiding out in that damned safe house! But they knew that, didn’t they? Azimi and his men had put out a lure with a fresh slab of bait on a hook and waited. And foolishly, they had taken it. Line, hook, sink, catch. 

Quickly, it became clear that wallowing would do nothing but have him willingly lying in wait should the enemy sweep through the area one last time. He’d done enough to prostrate his ass as a target, willingly walking into the fire to be burned. With no working radio, no eyes watching his movements, the team effectively evacuated without him… Ghost crawled out from the spot he’d shoved himself into while running from the enemy. His left shoulder had sustained injury from a soldier high on his luck, pouring heaps of molten lava into his shoulder every time he attempted to move it. 

He spent another ten minutes using a knife to dig into his flesh with gritted teeth clamped down on his gun’s shoulder strap. He’d endured pain worse than a bullet in the arm, in his own personal hell crafted by whatever cruel deities saw to it to conspire against any chance of happiness that came within arms reach. This failed mission had meant to be his last. On paper this was a simple capture and take into custody. Everything looked easier on paper, but he’d been convinced the mission was a walk in the park. The park just happened to lead into hell. 

The blunt of the bullet was scraped and clawed at by steel until enough blood lubricated its exit and plinked silently into his lap. The pain had not been as kind to have left with the bullet, shooting through his nerve endings and lighting up his spinal cord. The brain was truly a remarkable organ. Its function was to keep the body alive, projecting whatever means it had to whilst attempting to survive. Where blinding, white hot roils of agony burbled through his body, the brain sent message after message to the adrenal glands that his body was in crisis. Responding effectively, his heart raced and drowned out the thundering pain of his shoulder. Possibly to encourage his ass off the ground and back towards the false safe housing unit, Ghost was reminded of the reason he was here. 

Three little faces crossed behind his eyes in a mental image, slowly becoming more vivid as a camera lens focused onto its subject. Smiling faces and hopeful grins pushed him forward, recalling the haunting laughter of his squealing daughters. The image grew hazy, a sharp spark of pain undulating through his body burning up the film of the picture. He would hear them laugh again. Right foot forward, left quickly in pursuit to launch itself past its twin until Ghost broke out into a run. An amateur’s handiwork patched up his shoulder enough to keep the bleeding contained, though his muscles ached as the wounded left arm steadied the butt of his gun against his right shoulder. 

Including himself, four of the original seven men in his team had appeared to survive. Scattered amongst them were soldiers in friendly uniforms brought down in the fray as they assisted in immediate evacuation. Not even their tags had been brought for proper identification. Resounding waves of guilt were buried under his resolve to move quickly, stopping respectfully to each fallen man to retrieve their patch and tags. His wife, he thought, would prefer to have Ghost’s tags should he ever have fallen. Something to have a memorial in his honor. It was a silly daydream, casting away the lingering dread brought along with the implication that he may not return from this mission. 

Less enemy lay on the ground as he approached the safe house, running the outer perimeter quickly before entering through the splintered back door housing numerous bullet holes. Glass crackled slowly under a trained boot floating through the wreckage on high alert for the slightest infraction in the air announcing unidentified movement.  Even wounded he was a soldier of flawless rhythm, trusting his feet as he waded through the kitchen and into the living room that was also clear of other life. The first floor was swept clean, being guided by the end of a barrel upstairs onto the second floor. There, Ghost found four enemy bodies, one of which was still groveling with death for a second chance. By the looks of it, the soldier was bluffing about what cards he had in his hand, and death had just picked up the last card he needed to complete a Royal Flush. 

Looming over the crumble of debris in the husk of a man, Ghost’s pistol pulled from his belt spoke before he did. A warning shot rang through the air and bit into the wood beside the man’s right shoulder. He swiftly sank to his knees as the other recoiled in the shock of echoed ringing resounding from the bullets' holler. A warmth was pressed to the man’s temple, ghost's knee lodged between the man’s leg with considerable weight pinning his thigh into the ground, much to the soldiers' chagrin. This enemy was wounded before ghost had arrived, too weak to truly fight this encounter. He did, however, have enough wind in his lungs to spew aggressive attacks of venomous words shrouded by a language Ghost did not understand. 

Ghost remained unconvinced that this agent of evil couldn’t understand him when he demanded he speak English. Ragged intakes of air stoked a fire fueling Ghosts rage. He’d caught a fistful of the soldiers hair and slammed his head into the floor beneath them, silencing his prattling with a sharp cry instead. This left room for ghost to speak, making his intentions very clear if this final demand was not met promptly, “Speak English.”

Maybe it was the strikingly raw, unhinged tone of Ghost's voice, which nearly relieved the soldier of the contents in his bowels shaking so viciously under the Lieutenants capture. Or maybe the blood loss and head trauma he’d sustained while falling had blurred his vision so much that he believed he was looking straight into the face of the grim reaper. He couldn’t help but wonder what the Grim Reaper was doing in Britain to have such a thick accent, nor was he expecting death’s eyes to be as piercing and cold as splinters of ice~ unnaturally blue  crystals encapsulated within a blood splattered skull. Either way, death’s eyes drilled deep into the tendrils of the young soldier’s heart and struck enough fear to silence his charade of playing dumb, speaking in a broken English accent, spilling all of his master's secrets to stay alive. Even so, it wasn’t enough to sway Ghost into his decision of putting the rest of his clip into his skull, but then- Ghost heard the crackle of the soldier’s radio come to life, spewing the foreign language. 

Ghost grabbed the beacon of communication before the soldier had the thought to announce a survivor, pressing the cooling barrel under his chin tightly, the radio at his ear. “Translate.” Almost literally, Ghost had the man by the balls, his knee hovering uncomfortably close over his groin to ensure that any attempt of escape would result in searing pain. Either by a quick and shocking bullet to the head or a mind numbing impression of his knee and all 250 pounds of ghosts weight crushing into this twats dick. There seemed to be no other choice, held under the extreme duress of fear when dealing with death himself. 

Quivering lips trembled more violently than leaves on an oak in the torment of a summer storm, relaying to ghost moments after each warble of the radio went dead that Azimi had been transported securely to their harbored location deeper in the mountains. The sick bastard had enough gall to be right under their noses, hiding out in the same damned country that he’d had Ghost’s team sent to their deaths! Some foreign location was mumbled, furrowing Ghost’s brow underneath the mask. 

“Where is that? How far away are we from there?” He pressed quickly, shoving the end of his pistol further into the soldiers flesh between his jaw. He could imagine the bloodbath he’d endure if he pulled the trigger then, lips twitching in minor intrigue. An unadulterated savage man lay within the stare once frozen, now melted under a rage boiling so hot the orange and yellow flames were consumed by the blue heat. The soldier had been able to compose himself under the expected cold of which death brought each member of his new legion with his touch… but the fires of hell burned at a temperature lower than this devil’s stare. 

“I- I no know! I no know! Uh- uh- many days trip from town! East!” Tears blinded his vision, sobbing in his native tongue for mercy. Maybe it was for his vast amount of time left unlived. Maybe it was for his mother, begging to keep her son on this earth. Maybe he had a wife and young babe. Unfortunately for him, Ghost couldn’t understand him. He emptied the clip, bathing ceremoniously in the splatter of flesh, blood and brain exploding from gunfire. Death had a family too; he would stop at nothing to see to it he held them again. The man in the mask didn’t flinch, hardly batting an eye more than was necessary to deflect brian matter from leaking into his corneas. The soldier hadn’t even the courage to meet death's final gaze, in the form of a ghost, crying and pissing himself. He died akin to the way he was born into this world: a blubbering, defecating baby. 

A town was nestled deep within the dense forests surrounding the mountains. It was the only town this side of the mountain, that much Ghost had gathered while taking a scan of the area before they’d deployed. As a consequence, people were scarce this far up the mountain aside from small huts and houses owned by the extreme reclusive types that could take care of themselves. Or a safe house where terrorists camped out waiting for death to visit. It was rude to delay them any longer than was necessary, heading east to track down the town. 

It was hard to keep his bearings in such a dense forest. The trees locked tightly by the heads and blocked out any sunlight, had there been any to block out. It looked like he would be walking through the night, guided only by a compass and night vision in a sea of ominous darkness. The sun had set three hours ago. Ghost still had a long stretch of night to labor in. Miles of walking offered a space where he could drift into the recesses of his mind now and again. Once the initial spike of fear had cemented into his chest, the anxiety became bearable overtime. It existed only as a discomforting thrum, easily ignored by vigilance to survive and common sense to not allow himself to sit and give up. 

As far as last missions go, Ghost was humored and humbled. His job had never been easy. No rational human being could look at the requirements and sign up because it seemed easy.  Decades of experience had a way to continually humble him whenever he began thinking that this was the hardest the job could become. A new threat to humanity introduced itself with a hard stick up the ass, serving Ghost new life lessons and piling upon him more trauma that would paralyze the average man. He took everything in stride, hoping for the worst and lightly surprised when sometimes the end result proved better than worse. 

The only time he’d even been proven wrong was when he married his wife. He had hoped for the best, and their nearly thirteen years of marriage had proved better than conceivably imaginable. Every single day he was stunned by the reality he woke up to as if he hadn’t built it brick by brick with her over the course of their relationship. She was his only constant in a world ever changing, ever worsening and dedicated to seeing Simon fail.  She made him a better man, helped him achieve new goals. Scarlett Riley was the love of his life and brightest star in the cold, cruel universe. 

Her glittering eyes stared back at him within the wallpaper of his phone, as well as the three pairs of near identical stars shimmering within her arms as a Father’s Day photoshoot one year when Olivia was nine. She was now twelve and filled with her own ideas and opinions that were strikingly similar to his own which meant they often came at an impasse. She was a spitting image of her stubborn and resilient father, her smile gleaming at him through the lighted screen almost challenging him now. Come home to us, daddy. We need you here.

For now he would say goodbye to them in the woods, taking out the sims card and smashing his cellphone with a rock. He incinerated the sims holding the keys to his heart, burying the evidence until the only tie to his family was the tattoo of his wife’s name on his chest and the poorly drawn field of flowers rising up his right arm from where his children had creatively given him the idea to tattoo their artwork on his body forever. The colorful work didn’t match any of his other tattoos, and he loved it all the more for it. He kept no printed pictures nor wore his wedding ring while deployed for the sole reason of remaining as alone as was possible. He would never have to say that he was the reason his family was tracked down and tortured because of careless keepsakes left on his person. 

Elaine was inching closer and closer to the double digits, breaking Simon’s heart daily the taller she grew. As it was with the most beautiful flowers, weeds tried their best to choke out her light with playground teases about her weight and shaming her for her softened heart. Simon could swear honestly and say he didn’t have a favorite between his three girls. He would place his hand on the Bible in front of a judge with a clear conscience and confess that each of his girls were loved wholly and without judgment on which he favored more than the other. However, Lainey held a special place in his heart for her demure personality, and he sought harder to protect it. Livvy was a firecracker, able to handle her own (oftentimes bringing him and her mother to visit the school principal from something she had said or did while defending her honor and her families.). Elaine Marie could not even hurt a fly which was considered an atrocity within her moral compass. She depended on her father to save her from pesky trolls and mean goblins and instead of fighting the dragon, she wanted her knight in shining armor to make peace with the misunderstood creature who only wanted her to be able to see the kingdom from a new angle in the tower. 

By now, nothing but rage and determination fueled Ghost's ambition. As far as he was concerned, anyone standing in his way was a threat to his chance of getting home and seeing his family. The mask he wore protected him from leaking emotion otherwise bottled to the festering brim. A red string of fate wound tightly around his trigger finger and guided him through the thick and almost stifling foliage. The end of the line was tied to Azimi, but through the long path tangled his minions Ghost would rip through one by one until it was impossible for Azimi to hide behind fire power and shrouds of smoke. Out-running death was as impossible as trying to get blood to pour from a stone. 

When he needed to rest, he allowed himself no more than fifteen minutes to catch his breath and relieve his aching shoulder of the pressure of his arm weighing down. A sling would have been ideal, but with that came stalling in the event that he needed to use his firearm. An emergency pack of food was rationed, water sipped frugally when the pits of hell opened up inside of his throat and introduced a thirst so vicious the man nearly gagged on nothing, the ducts of his salivary glands shriveling in consequence. 

By early eve the next day, the treacherous and seemingly endless void of trees opened up into a small path of dirt marking passage where cars and trucks came from more inhabited areas. From the little he knew and what he had been told by the soldier, there was only one small town within the mountains and calling it a town was considered generous. Few farmers lived in the surrounding acres, and a single truck saw to it that the dirt road was put to good use to transport products ready for sale. It drove from the town to a landing where it was flown then down the mountain because no one had ever been adventurous enough to carve out trees and rocks up the entire mountain for a vehicle to pass through. 

The man shadowed the treeline, following this path up through a winding incline to where he was sure it would empty out into a larger mouth of streets. His exact intention was unknown to himself, hoping to find food and possibly someone oblivious enough of his militant clothing to trust him enough and aid him as he passed through. Time was his ultimate adversary, the egging notion that the longer he took to get to the hide out of Azimi, the longer the man had time to find a new destination. He was lucky that Azimi was arrogant enough to remain in the country and so close by their ambush location. But he wasn’t foolish enough to stay here for long, and whatever he was planning in the near future would drive him further out into the world to ruin and slaughter the lives of hundreds, thousands of innocent people if Ghost didn’t book it walking double time. 

Had he worn an apple watch, his activity record would be off the charts. He’d never felt more exhausted and ready to throw in the towel and die in the barren floor of the woods than when he’d finally seen proof of life at the end of the dirt road. Coming into town was only the beginning of his journey, and had he not focused on his family waiting for him at home, Ghost would have let the moss of the earth consume him slowly. 

But he thought of Violet May, his youngest daughter at home probably screaming and cackling as she fights her mother for the apparent god-given right to shovel as many stones into her mouth as she can or scrabble atop the back of their great pyrenees Benny. God, she loved that old dog, and god did that dog deserve a dog-house the size of a mansion in whatever afterlife was available for good boys when they pass over. Wherever Violet bounded towards with stubby legs and stumbling escapes, Benny Boy was behind her nudging her with a wet nose creating a ripple effect of giggles and squeals in the toddler demanding a ride back to the house where her mother scolded her for going too far from her sight. 

He had promised her a trip for ice cream when he returned from this mission. His last mission. As a man who strived to never make a promise he couldn’t keep, Ghost closed his eyes and rested for twenty minutes blurring right passed him in the blink of an eye and then he found a hiding spot for his rifle and pack. Nearing the town’s edge, he realized his mistake in stashing the larger firearm to appear less threatening to locals. A field stretched beyond him, and within the field was a line of workers collecting whatever plant they’d sifted months before in preparation for harvest. Outlining the field was the scattering of men wearing the same colors as the soldier he had performed an immediate removal of the brain on. It appeared that Azimi had taken control of the businesses in the town, and perhaps their reversed attack hadn’t been so planned afterall. 

With only a throwing knife, pistol, and two spare mags on his vest, Ghost calculated the best plan of action given his odds of survival in his current state of health. Gathering intel allowed for another brief moment's rest, watching the men chat idly with automatics relaxed in their arms jeering threateningly at any imprisoned worker let to glance their way. The way they conversated so nonchalantly while holding an oppressing thumb down on honest, hard-working citizens enraged Ghost, simmering silently. One soldier broke off from the group, sweeping the perimeter or venturing closer towards the woods to take a piss. Either was in favor of the shadow slinking back enough to skirt closer without being detected by ruffling branches and snapping of dead twigs; though, being honest, Ghost moved silently even under duress. 

A thrown rock disturbed the brush a few feet from the soldier, beckoning him to investigate the movement. For a brief second, Ghost thought it wouldn’t have been enough to lure him outside of the line of sight. He blended in with the large trunk nearby, peering in a crouched position until the soldier’s back was completely turned towards Ghost. The stalking predator inched closer, moving swiftly with a graceful complexity often only seen portrayed by felines. With knife in hand, Ghost blocked the soldier’s ability to breath with the blade shoved through his neck. He made only a soft gurgle of blood fleeing his body in protest of having to serve a future dead man. 

Since the other man wouldn’t be needing it, Ghost picked up the semi-automatic and searched his person for other useful tools he may be able to use. An extra magazine of ammo was located, and a hand held that Ghost wouldn’t pass up. Just in case.  It appeared that the universe was looking kindly down on the man now, for the gun had a silencer attached to it. The man’s phone was also pocketed as well as the radio. Noting that the guy on the floor’s friends would soon notice his absence, Ghost moved on in the woods closer to the gathering herd of soldiers. There was bound to be more, and since he couldn’t tell just how many, Ghost was put in a precarious position. 

Going in guns blazing was not a smart idea. One man against the unknown was a suicide mission. He couldn’t guarantee that the workers wouldn’t react if he took them out quietly all at once. Their screams might be heard from afar off and attract other soldiers, ruining the element of surprise. Or they could run into town for safety, and the same result would come to pass. Then again, leaving them to eventually come searching for their dead friend was also ill advised. He may have ten to twenty in such a case before he was found or reported missing and the hunt for something amiss would begin. Think, Ghost…

For now, he created more distance from the body while he debated his options. If the universe was in an even more beneficial mood, there may not be that many of Azimi’s men  in town. Three or four of them tops stationed at each field to keep their laborers in line… Maybe a few within the small center of town to oversee the general store. All he knew was that if he started, he would have to continue until all of them were gone. Or he would have to be the one gone before word would travel fast enough to push Azimi from his hiding. Fuck… He was in a bind. 

The mountain’s signal was scarce but nonexistent. A shred of hope kept him moving despite the exhaustion fighting to have him give up. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, Ghost shoved at the rock, glaring down the sight as he maneuvered two men into his scope before pulling the trigger. Within a second he was readjusting and shifting three inches to the right, dropping the last soldier before he had time to register the blood splatter on his face. Those in the field were stunned but didn’t scream, dropping themselves within the crop to shield themselves possibly from the ghost gunman. They would live to see another day, or at the very least would not be taken by Ghost’s precise aim. 

The nearest hut was void of people, sparking a flicker of hope that Ghost was careful not to let be fanned too hot lest the board be shifted and he fall from beneath solid ground. Hope gave security and security bred inattentiveness and vulnerability. It appeared to be used by soldiers by the looks of the inside. It may have been a friend he had met before. He didn’t push his luck, taking whatever food and rations he could rummage through and slipping out to stake out the town.  

Ghost stayed only as long as was necessary to gather what he needed and allow himself an hour or two of sleep. From the town he had borrowed their radio to intercept the radio waves and tweak it to reach the encrypted signal only used by his team. Wary of sticking around too long to chat, he offered only the directed coordinates to the safe house where he was headed next and to pass along word for his family. 

“Tell the stars I’m coming home.” Simple, yet effective, for the right people would know what he was referring to. His stars: Scarlett, Olivia, Elaine and Violet Riley…. And the littlest star yet to be born. 

With a confirmed coordinance and map of the area, Ghost felt better than ever as he continued his hike onwards towards victory. He had confirmation that approximately by the time he would arrive at the safe house his back up would arrive to meet him at the rendezvous and ambush Azimi once and for all. As far as he could tell there had been no emergency transmissions warning their leader of a survivor having ransacked their army in the town. He couldn’t know the future of the locals there, and he couldn’t worry about it either. 

In two days there was a total of 53 miles cleared. Ghost didn’t try to add up all of the other miles he’d trekked in the past week, directing the last of his energy and determination on the end mission ahead of him. Once reaching the rendezvous, he rested. All he could do was wait for his team and hope and pray to whoever was above that Azimi had not moved yet. Half a day passed where Ghost intermediately slept and kept watch, rousing from sleep upon the slightest crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot. Concealed well, he watched, coming out from hiding only when he saw the familiar boonie hat trailing through the thick trees. 

“Captain…” Ghost garbled, choking on dryness found in his throat from days without use of speech. All heads, and guns, turned to the familiar voice of their lost friend. He never had a doubt they wouldn’t come. 

“Ghost!” A harsh whisper exclaimed incredulously from the captain, drawing near to assure himself that he was not seeing things. If he had been hallucinating, his mind would have been playing a cruel joke on him. His lieutenant looked awful. Dirt and debris covered him from head to toe, sitting in soggy clothes from the morning dew and rainfall he’d walked through. His eyes, the only visible part of his face, were hollow and the skin around it sunken and sullen. Hell’s ash clung to his person, reeking of wildlife and neglect. But… He was alive. Above all, Simon was alive. “It’s good to see you, mate. How are you? Sanderson, take him back to the exfi site and wait for us there.” Price called in to Laswell, their watcher, confirming Ghost’s attendance and assuring command that he was alive if not fully well. 

“I’m fine, captain. That won’t be necessary. I’m not finished, sir.” The severity of conclusion in Ghost’s voice silenced even his superior, admittedly unnerved by the resolution in Ghost’s eyes. There was no changing his mind. They were there only as his support now, to guide him safely home with Azimi alive. Or dead. Capture or kill.  Ghost wouldn’t comment on which he was most partial to. It should be quite obvious. 

~~~ 

The return helo might have been worse than the week he had endured in the middle of nowhere. At least before encountering Azimi Simon hadn’t managed to break three ribs. Before being thrown off a balcony and landing on massive jagged stones, Ghost didn’t have to deal with the emergency medic poking and prodding and bitching. He’d been kicked harder than an abused dog whose owner had come home drunk from an awful day at work, but at least in the field this twat hadn’t been there. 

“With all due respect, lieutenant, the mask needs to be removed to ensure that you have no major head injuries. You’re not breathing well as it is. I hate to pull this card, but my charge supersedes your title in this situation!” The soldier had valor, he would admit, but it was completely misguided and useless. Ghost’s breathing rattled like a broken chain rotating on a bicycle. Jolts of pain encompassed the entirety of his being with every shallow breath he choked on. 

Death’s cold stare shifted from the equally banged up and detained unconscious target, strapped beside Garrick, to the woman futility barking up the wrong masked tree. He tasted iron with every swallow of thick, pinkish saliva. “How about you fuckin’ focus-” He wheezed, groaning from the pain produced sharply while coughing. Groaning upset his body more which brought more pain which made him cough harder which brought more pain which- “f-focus on the bullet wound or ribs digging into my-” another wheeze. Another coughing fit. More pain. “Goddamn chest. The mask. Stays. ON.” 

Captain John Price redirected the medic, a hand gingerly placed on Ghost’s shoulder. “Forget it, Gallahan. Mask is fine where it is.”

Ghost didn’t meet Price’s gaze, returning his glares to the terrorist. A thousand and one ideas flashed before him on how to remove the worthless scum from off the earth’s shoe. Something in him had been defiantly tempted to go against his orders and assert much deserved revenge. He was better used alive, but would anyone actually have mourned his loss if Ghost had lodged a bullet between his eyes? It was the last thought he ruminated on before his vision blurred. Something had been administered to take the edge off, and it surely helped with his pain, but it also pulled heavily at his eyelids. 

“Stay with me, Ghost. Stay-” 

Ghost, for the first time in over a week, slept deeply. Though he didn’t dream, he felt as though he had been suspended under water. His eyes remained closed, but he had been able to see himself outside of time and its constructs. His body neither floated nor sank within the depths of an eerily still ocean, held by the lazy burbles of air pockets trickling from underneath his body in a steady flow from somewhere unseen below. He had felt them, as clearly as he felt the bed beneath when he did stir (which wasn’t very clear at all with how much dope they pumped through his system..), gyrate excitedly over his back in search of an unobstructed path towards the surface. The more he considered this, the more he concluded that these bubbles were pushing him towards the surface with them, or so his human reasoning decided. Humans were funny that way, assigning emotion and intent to inanimate things. Truth? These air pockets were only burbling to the surface from an underwater geyser or volcano. Then again, these air pockets were fictitious to begin with, so it didn’t fucking matter what they were or weren’t trying to do to the man. 

It was disappointing that the first thing Simon saw waking up was her. Taylor Gallahan stood over his bedside like the fucking boogeyman taking his blood pressure and checking his vitals. She had been doing so hourly for the entire evening, changed from her field gear into scrubs. The stench of his week had followed him, by his own command and stubbornness, mingling unsettlingly with the hospital's sterile air. Breathing proved to be no more easier than before, but at least the pain was nothing more than a dull prodding at his side when he inhaled. 

“Welcome back, sir.” Taylor appeared less than enthused to see the faded blue peering up at her. “Don’t worry about staying awake just yet. First dose of morphine always packs a punch.” Her eyes flickered to the IV stand holding various pouches of liquids all being fed into his body through veins of their own working tandem with his. Simon’s gaze weakly followed hers, attempting to blink away the blurred edges in his vision. “Rest assured, Ghost, your mask stayed on.” Irritation was easily noticed in her tone, even while Simon was higher than a kite. His lip twitched underneath the mask, lolling his head to the side. Again, he slept. 

A car met Scarlett Riley at Eloise’s flat. Two soldiers welcomed her into the country with a classic ‘Ello’ and instruction that nothing be spoken of in public regarding SpecGru or those it had in its care. Classic English city views shifted into the countryside as they drove her into the elusive base. Such a brilliantly hidden-in-plain sight machine operated at a high level of clearance. Arrangements were made quickly and efficiently when a certain CIA agent notified them that The Mrs. Riley would be touching down in England to see The Simon Riley. All of the SpecGru staff within the hospital seemed to have molded and framed their duties to tend to the soldier lost in the blind who returned alive with the most wanted target in handcuffs. These things just didn’t happen on a random fucking Wednesday. 

“Scarlett…” It should have come to no surprise to anyone that John was the first familiar face to welcome Scarlett into the building. East of the entrance was the intensive care unit designed for the soldiers put into situations such as Simon. The best in the world lay behind those doors rotating dutifully to see to it that their patients lived to tell the tales. Price held an air of warmth wherever he went accompanied by friends, but his eyes were just as exhausted as the rest of his teams sat in a line of chairs against the waiting room wall. None of them had gotten much sleep. None of them had left the waiting room after being cleared from the medical inspection. Kyle and Johnny had risen to their feet faster than the speed of light at the sound of her voice, reassuring her the only way they knew how with a hug. 

“He’s stable.” A smile grew on his lips, brushing off weight from her shoulders with his hands soothingly. “Got the best care in the world kissin’ his arse just beyond those doors. They won’t let anyone in just yet. I’ll talk to the attendant about having the doctor come and speak with you as soon as possible. Have a seat, dear. Johnny will go fetch you a tea. Just try to calm down, alright?”

“Don’t worry, Scar. I slipped my phone with him in the helo and had them give him a charger earlier.” Johnny’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, inviting her, guiding her to an empty chair. 

The world’s finest tending to Simon's ass? Yes. Kissing it? 

“Evening, sir.” Taylor’s voice disrupted Simon’s dreamless sleep, assisting the man’s search for something clear to hold onto in consciousness. “How are you feeling? Scale of one to ten?” 

Simon knew that her fingers pressed against his wrist, but he couldn’t find the pressure to feel it. He stared blankly at his wrist, mouth dryer than the Sahara desert. When he spoke, his voice cracked with a hoarse whisper, “Have to be able to feel anything to have a rating.” 

“That’s a good thing, Ghost.” Taylor’s smug smile tugged at Simon’s patience, using it to become more lucid. “Otherwise you’d be weeping in pain.” His vitals were recorded, bloody discharge emptied and Simon’s person checked. “Do you need to use the restroom yet?” To save Simon’s dignity, she didn’t mention having to clean his ass after he relieved himself while unconscious. It was common when the body was fighting for survival and couldn’t directly express attention to holding the contents of its bowels in. Whether or not he remembered was not for her to worry about. Simon shook his head, and she nodded. “Morphine will do that. You may be constipated for a while. If you don’t go within a day or two, we’ll administer a laxative to help soften things. You’ll have to… shit…before you’re released to go home.” She had heard enough of Simon’s cursing to feel comfortable enough to do so herself. She felt entitled after having to deal with his lively attitude… 

Taylor genuinely smiled, pleased to be able to say, “I’ve been told to let you know that your wife has arrived. Doctor O’Rorke says that once your lungs are clear, you can have a visitor.” She took note of the stark difference in his countenance, a sudden clarity dawning across his eyes. For the first time, she saw a glimpse of humanity in his expression. Humanity cloaked his body, easily visible by any passing glance that he was physically human, but she was just now noting the desperation in his eyes. Quickly it was corrected, and she mistook it for the morphine thrumming through his body. 

Simon had promised her that she would be the first to see his face once he got home. It was a sort of ritual he had begun after Olivia was born and Scarlett retired from active service. Ghost carried Simon through the mission, safely into the hands of the very capable woman. He had been in and out of sleep over the course of the next three days, sporadically in communication with his wife whenever he could see clear enough to reply. (so he may have a slight concussion… maybe… perhaps… it didn’t fucking matter right at that moment!)

Regularly he was awoken by Taylor who would make small conversation while checking his vitals to ensure he was still operating as normal as one could in his condition. He never seemed like a peanut gallery, offering her the basic answers while staring her down. He was more respectful of her station when she was practically carrying his weight to sit at the portable bathroom chair. It was always then when she respected his desire for silence, quickly completing the necessary task and helping him back into bed before disappearing to flush his urine into the toilet. Soon, she encouraged, they could try walking to the joined bathroom. 

He was expecting the tall blonde when he was pleasantly surprised by the familiar silhouetted brunette. The door had become his alarm clock, blinking groggily until he was urged to wake up faster. She appeared by his side as an apparition, almost not believing she was real until her weight dipped the mattress, pulling shock and awe across his glazing eyes. 

“Lovie, How are you?” Simon whispered, or wheezed, regretting immediately his attempt to sit further up from his perched position on the angled bed (never allowed to lay back enough to truly sleep comfortably so his lung could drain properly.), forced back against the pillows by the jolt of electricity shredding through his battered chest. He settled for holding her hand, sliding his hand further up her arm for more contact. His thumb traced circles along her flesh, tapping gently before he retreated his only arm in working condition to slip off his mask. 

Air had never been so fresh, so refreshing when he was removed from claustrophobia. Self-imposed torture had been everything and more than worth it as he honored tradition, returning his hand into hers quickly. “It’s a lot better than it looks….I assume.” He cracked a smile, the creases around the corners of a bruised and swollen eye wrinkling. His cheek wasn’t much better with blotted purples and blues from smacking his face not only against the ground but his *mask*, but the very same mask had kept his nose from breaking in the fall. Ghost had kept him alive.

“Already feel a hell of a lot better now. Get my clothes. I’m ready to go home.” He teased, prodding to get her smile to meet those gorgeous eyes of hers. “May need a cookie first… to build my strength of course.” The back of her hand was brought to his lips, pressing kisses over each knuckle. Even her hands smelled fantastic. *Like home*. Her hand was returned to her, deftly searching her stomach with his palm. “Hey there, little Riley.”