#captain shoulders strikes again

[merciawintersageposting]

the bodyguard edit🛡️

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑 .

# with black-leg sanji.

milk started to leak from your nipples — and sanji was never one to waste food.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day one. smut (mdni). breast worship. lactation. praise kink. pathetic sanji. handjob. no y/n used. afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

sanji had witnessed a fair share of devil-fruits in action throughout their sailing. from those who were foolish in its essence, such as that of the candle wax; to those who were horrid and lethal — sanji could well-reminisce the brightness and the sharp ache that followed-in-suit to enel’s lightning strikes. he figured not another thing could surprise him; until his crew faced a short-lived and stupid battle against the pirates from a self-proclaimed stork-stork captain.

the opponents caused no harm. their captain, all but managing to brush your shoulder before being swiftly knocked out. relieved with your untouched health — as it was shown through your exterior —, the straw-hats’ lives returned to common routine in the aftermath, not a thing amiss. that was, of course, until you started to throw up.

countless examinations and book researches pointed out the source of your illness. the devil-fruit from the stork-captain was known for the ability to impregnate others. however, the user needed to touch two people, and that hadn’t been the case — which had sanji praying and thanking gods he hardly believed in. the mere thought of you, bearing the marimo’s child, was enough to leave him seething. comical reaction aside, chopper theorized that, as you had no bundle of cells within your uterus, you’d but suffer from some pregnancy-related effects for a while — perhaps a time equal to the duration of your period. their doctor advised you to refrain from touching others with the previous common frequency, as to avoid the triggering of said devil-fruit.

that had happened four days ago, and sanji was in the deepest pit of despair. you were far from sight throughout the day, gracing them with your presence only during meal times — and even then, your chair was placed the furthest away from the rest, as to avoid accidental brushing. sanji was half-aware of the anatomical consequences of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, swelling; and being unable to support you through it all was driving him insane.

the soothing herbal tea he brewed was intercepted. he had chopper trailing behind him for hours on end. whenever you aimed to spend time outside the walls of your room, the damned marimo stood by the crow’s nest door as though a guarding dog, unallowing him to proceed. even then, with the sunny docked and most of the crew elsewhere, sanji held no expectations of sharing an alone moment with you whatsoever, as robin had been the one assigned to stay behind in order to guarantee that the pair of you would be kept separated. sanji could neither argue nor defy a woman’s request, and robin could not be swayed with monetary bribery on your part.

he sighed. the weather was not suitable for lukewarm beverages, so he could, at least, distract himself from you with thoughts on how to turn thyme tea into a pleasant summer drink. a knock on the kitchen’s door — followed-in-suit by light steps — tore him from his thoughts, however. sanji’s nostrils were filled with the characteristic scent of your perfume, and he turned to your direction so fast he was positive a bone in his back cracked.

“my love!” sanji shouted, gripping the counter to resist the urge to jump you.

“hi,” you greeted softly, sitting on the side opposite from him.

his throat dried up. he had missed the sound of your voice and sight of your face. having you close yet again after four, painful and infinite days, had him squirming as though an addict being offered his most favored drug.

“how did you manage to convince sweet robin?” he inquired, whose worried you waved away.

“i have my ways,” you smiled. sanji fell to his knees, immediately bolstering himself up with flushed cheeks, for he could not waste a second of that moment. “missed me that much?”

“oh, mon amour, you have no idea,” he started out, placing one hand above his chest in order to profess his affection. “the sun doesn’t shine as bright without you. the food loses its taste. the vastness of the ocean brings not freedom but rather a cruel, monstrous prison—”

“shit,” you interrupted through a curse, the lovesick glance once held switching to one of annoyance. sanji’s attention remolded itself, his instincts all but shouting at him to pay closer attention to your needs, rather than to complain about his non-comparable misery.

“are you hurting, my pearl? do you need me to prepare something? perhaps some tea,” he fretted, searching for soothing herbs. “are there any cravings? i can cook it for you, no matter how offsetting.”

“it’s none of the sort, don’t worry,” you sighed. “i just need to see chopper later on. it keeps leaking.”

sanji’s eyes trailed to the wet patch on your shirt; two dots staining the fabric and offering him the clear outline of your nipples. his knees buckled yet again, although he had learned enough from the previous embarrassment to contain himself. pregnancy had a countless set of effects; he could not believe he had forgotten of lactation — a process which happened to have a direct influence on the size of your breasts. sanji caught himself drooling upon the sight of it; your hands supporting the weight you were unused to.

“does it hurt?” he inquired, licking his lips.

“it is far from light on the back,” you answered, squeezing it with a sour expression. sanji grew embarrassed at the speed of his erection — his cock aching amidst the coffins of his clothes. yet another renewed influx of milk had begun, leaving a trail in its wake; tearing through the thin fabric, molded into a droplet that fell on your thighs.

“mon ange,” he whined, losing his breath mid-sentence. sanji felt the surge of tears pooling in his eyes, the sheer yearn to hold you one enough to drive him straight into a bridge of delirium. “please, it’s been so long.”

his hands clenched and unclenched. a pathetic gesture; a mute plead to be given the pleasure of groping your breasts. the glance spared was one filled with uncertainty, for you were the rock whose surface swayed with the waves of his lust. it was fair to be cautious — if sanji was a most decent man, he, too, would have waited — yet, he was anything but. the man jumped through the counter’s surface to drop on his knees in front of you, his lips ghosting over the flesh of your legs as he glanced up at you, shedding a single tear.

“please,” he pleaded. “i won’t put it in, i just want—no, i need a taste. i promise i will make you feel good, lumière de ma vie.”

your fingers threaded through blonde locks of hair; infatuation filled-eyes. “you wish to be good to me?”

“yes,” he whined, pressing feather-light kisses to the extension of your legs. “more than anything, ma belle.”

you hummed then, at last conceding to his desire. when your touch left his figure in order to remove the ruined shirt, sanji raised to his feet, placing his hands on your waist.

“wait, wait,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. “i want it to be comfortable for you. a mere kitchen chair will not suffice.”

your thumb parted his lips, resting above the lower share. “you’re so caring, love. always treats me so well, what would i do without my knight?”

he whimpered, closing his mouth around the tip of your finger, his tongue swirling with regained desire. sanji’s arms cradled your figure closer, raising you from the previous seat in order to reach a more comfortable room. you retreated your hand, wiping the tears off his cheeks with fleeting brushes of your lips. adoring whispers were a blessing bestowed upon his ears — praises regarding his strength; his beauty; his love. he could feel the warmth of his pre-cum, smearing the tip and the underwear’s fabric.

he sat you with tenderness on the crimson cushes of the leisure room, placing one of its pillows on your lap. when sanji’s fingers met the edges of your shirt, he found them trembling.

“so eager,” you cooed, petting his chin. “will you be my good boy, sanji?”

“yes,” he whined, tender hands working on the removal of your shirt. the wet patch was more prominent, with nothing but the dripping fabric of your bra separating him from the anticipated and sacred vision.

sanji struggled with the clasp, yet you neither reprimanded nor complained. instead, your words were nothing but soothing. “take your time, there’s no rush.”

he slid the straps down your arms, dragging his tongue around the internal dampness etched on your bra’s cups. the taste had him shuddering; whining and rutting his erection against your bare leg as he attempted to swallow it all, sucking on the fabric. your touch was soft on his scalp; toying with the disheveled hair.

“how does it taste?”

“like heaven, ma moitié.”

a lonesome string of saliva connected his lips from the fabric of your bra, yet it was broken once he placed it on the couch. you tapped twice on the pillow above your lap, beckoning him closer. sanji had then positioned his head on it, eyes trailed to your swollen nipples.

“open wide,” you instructed, and he behaved as though a loyal servant; you, his muse and goddess. “that’s it, such a good boy.”

he moaned, witnessing as you pinched on your left nipple, an amount of liquid gushing over. sanji angled his head in order to catch it all; his tongue lolling out. the perfection of your body had offered him a feast and he would rather not waste a single drop. the initial taste drove him mad, and you raised a knee to drive his face closer to where he wished. sanji’s mouth closed around the hardened nipple, as he cupped and teased the other breast, striving to have it leaking as well.

tears rolled down and sanji closed his eyes at the enhanced taste, moaning with sheer desperation as he delved further, his tongue swirling around the bud as his cheeks hollowed in an attempt to coat more of your milk.

“open your eyes for me, my love. i want to see you,” you voiced out, brushing his fringe aside. when he caught a glimpse of your face — worked up and eager; loving and grateful — he rutted his hips against thin air, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “my handsome prince; my diligent heart. you, too, want to be touched, don’t you?”

sanji tried to convey his agreement through a glance, the thought of departing his lips from your breast to produce an answer all too unbearable. you tsked, tugging lightly on his hair.

“a good boy uses his words, and you’re good, aren’t you, san-ji?” you dragged the syllables of his name, teasing him further.

“yes,” he swallowed the milk beforehand, his lips leaving your nipple with a pop. the sudden lack of contact had you whining — it was brief; hidden; but there nevertheless. “please, love, please touch me.”

sanji whimpered as your fingers hovered over the waistband of his pants. “how could i ever deny my baby?”

the fabric of his pants and underwear lowered ever-so-slightly — only enough to free his aching cock — and sanji cried out when he felt the teasing of your thumb on the tip. his mouth latched itself around your nipple yet again, his fingers pinching and teasing the other one as if to coax your essence. the strokes on his cock matched the rhythm of his tongue, swirling and hot, coated white. sanji dragged out his teeth — a butterfly-touch; a temptive bite — and your lips produced the sound of an angel’s choir.

you shuddered, arching your back, face contorting with pleasure as he claimed your sensitive breast. sanji’s eyes were wide, drowning in the magnificent beauty. crimson, warm, red dripped down his nostrils, a trail that merged with the white from your essence. the milk he failed to swallow escaped past his lips, dripping on the pillow; wetting his goatee. the sound of his moan came out muffled, though the vibration had you mewling.

“keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”

he was your knight; baby; perfect. neither a failure nor a nuisance, but your good boy.

the taste was intrinsic to you, yet unique; the sweetest beverage he was given the honor to drown in. inimitable, stimulating points of his palate that diverged from those teased by your cum. the divine essence born from your pleasure had a saltier base, it would have worked well as a topping for caramelized meals, though sanji hadn’t been able to convince you to use your cum for that purpose. your milk, however; oh, how he yearned to use it. how would it affect the flavor of a smoothie, a cheesecake? which ingredients would suit best to neutralize the overbearing sweetness?

sanji groaned with need, groping your other breast, his cock twitching once the scarce milk tainted his palm, trailing down his wrist; wetting the buttoned sleeves of his shirt. his lascivious tongue followed-in-suit, his nose burrowed into your flesh.

“t’es mon obsession,” he whimpered, sucking on the tender spots around your nipple, ensuing a painting of red and purple; leaving butterfly-kisses and soft bites, tearing up as his mouth failed to swallow you whole. “je t’aime beaucoup.”

your voice failed mid-moan, and you pushed his face back into your swollen niple, eyes rolling once sanji returned to his previous ministrations. your palm squeezed him; his pre-cum a lubrification that enhanced the pleasure from the masturbation. he rutted his hips, craving your touch, and your fingers busied themselves with his face; drawing heart-patterns, wiping the fresh blood off his nose. your thumb brushed against the milk that fell from the side of his lips, red and white creating pink.

when you smeared the tip of your tongue with it, tasting and moaning around your own finger, sanji combusted. he tore his mouth from your nipple, rubbing himself against your hand while moaning louder than he had ever done. a drop of milk fell upon his trembling lips and he opened them as wide as he could, tainting your palm with his cum while your milk did the same to his tongue.

you hummed with approval, pushing his sweat-drenched fringe off his temple. “let it all out, my love. i’m here, that’s it.”

sanji choked on your milk, whimpering whatsoever as a particular squeeze dried him off his essence.

“a good boy cleans up his mess,” you cooed, wiping his tears. “will you be good for me?”

“always, my heart,” he stuttered, his tongue lapping at the damp flesh of his other palm, chasing the sweet taste of your milk.

the breast he hadn’t sucked on leaked less; sanji wondered if he could change that in the future. your thumb gathered the milk on his cheeks and goatee and guided it to his awaiting lips. sanji sucked on it with diligence, drawing pleasure from your approving expression. at last, he sat upright, wiping his cum hastily with his underwear, whining as you sucked on the rest of his load that stained your fingers.

“don’t move,” he instructed, pulling his pants up with a cough. sanji removed the pillow off your lap and properly laid your back on the couch. he wrapped his coat around your shoulders, caressing your chin before pressing his lips against yours. “i’ll pick you a clean shirt and bra. some water, too. just relax, chérie.”

when sanji left, he made sure to hide your previous clothes inside his own closet, sniffing the fabric and chasing the vanishing scent of your milk; committing it to memory. he would not be able to live without that, his palate itching to be graced with the sweet flavor again. he had no idea of the duration of that devil-fruit, but it was of no problem, as all he had to do then, to keep on draining you off your milk, was put a real baby on you.

— 🐈‍⬛ : the nasty month is officially upon us! had to start with my beautiful french blonde, the light of my life. 🫡 let’s have some fun through october!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Deforestation｡⋆.

John Price x plus size reader

Price being mad you shaved your pussy. That’s it

Warnings: smut, Dom!Price, possessive!Price, fluff, established relationship, pussy spanking WC: 840

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You stepped out of the master bathroom feeling like a brand new woman, empty wine glass in your hand and your body practically glistening with the amount of expensive moisturiser you used. This is what you needed, a boiling hot everything shower to wash off the stress of the week. From your shitty manager laying off yet another one of your coworkers and giving you their workload to learning that your fiance was about to be deployed again for the second time in three months, you needed a proper refresh.

The bedroom was significantly cooler than the sauna you turned the bathroom into. Goosebumps bloomed across your exfoliated skin as you eased yourself into the plush chair in front of the vanity John had built for you. The dark green satin robe slipped from your shoulder but you ignored it, your gaze instead on the line of oils just below the mirror. 

A pair of warm if not slightly chapped lips descended upon your bare shoulder, he wasn’t quite kissing you, just pressing as much of himself around you as he could. You hummed and leaned your head against his temple, breathing in the smell of tobacco and cheap cologne and something so wholly John that clung to him.

“Good shower?” He muttered, his large calloused hands coming around to rest on your plush stomach, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against the sliver of bare skin revealed by your robe. 

“Mmm very good. I needed it so badly.” Your nose trailed along the edge of his hairline, your eyes fluttering shut as his hands began to wander downwards. John released a low sound from deep in his chest as you spread your thighs and granted him exactly what he had come to the bedroom for. He knew just how pliable you got after your showers, barely needing any prep for his thick cock with how relaxed and soft you were. 

You held onto his forearms as he finally reached down and… froze.

“Everything ok there, cap?” You teased. John grunted in reply and cupped your pussy in his massive hand, the heel of his palm digging against your clit as he probed around.

“You shaved.” 

“I did.” You confirmed, wiggling forward in the seat so he could feel even more of you. “Decided I wanted to clean up a bit.”

You received an almost feral snarl in reply. “I thought I told you this was mine.”

——————

The headboard slammed into the wall with such force that the drywall had begun to crack and flake away but the special forces captain refused to stop, not when he was so close to proving his point.

You wailed and squirmed beneath him, your nails digging into his strong back as he continued to pound into you viciously. “Please!” You cried, your voice broken and hoarse. Your stomach twisted with pleasure and you tightened around him. John glared down at you.

“No.” Immediately, he changed his pace, ripping your orgasm away from you. You sobbed in frustration but John was unforgiving. “She is mine, I know what’s best for her, not you. I know when she needs to cum because obviously you can’t be trusted taking care of her anymore.”

Your body bounced with each thrust, your words only coming out in short bursts. “It’s. My. Pussy.” You ended with a bitten off moan as John slammed into your g-spot, the fat head of his cock making your vision blur.

“She’s fucking mine.” John angrily pressed down on your lower stomach. “I trained her to take me. I know exactly what she needs to feel good. She loves me, she knows I take good care of her.” You grumbled as he once again shifted, lifting your hips from the bed so your shoulders pressed into the mattress. 

Your thighs shook violently, the breath being knocked from your lungs by a precise strike to your cervix. John reached forward, his palm meeting your bare cunt with a loud smack. You cried out and he did it again, his lips pulled downwards in what his boys dubbed the ‘Captain Face’. He clicked his tongue and delivered one last slap to your over sensitive pussy.

“Look at her, she’s so cold now. Guess I’ll just have to warm her up.” His thumb flew to your throbbing clit, finally letting you cum around him. Your back arched further up as your jaw dropped open. He huffed out a breathless laugh at the way your body locked up so tightly, he could barely pull out. “That’s it. See, knew exactly what she needed.”

As soon as your muscles relaxed, John readjusted his hips and slammed back into you, his pace immediately picking up again. Your stomach burned with the stretch of his cock and the sensitivity of your first and long overdue orgasm. “John!” You tried to protest but the man only lifted your legs higher onto his waist with a victorious grin.

“Like I said, I have to keep her warm until her coat comes back.”

Modern Warfare Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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John ‘Bravo-6’ Price

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[yeyinde]

Fuck please tell me captain price gets to go first! After all, he's the leader, and he has more experience? Gotta teach her right her first time, yea? The others get to watch, maybe get to touch...if the captain lets them..

Fuck I'm foaming at the mouth.

as captain, i think he def gets to go first. if only just to get that outta the way so the others can show you what you've been missing out on.

he doesn't put a lot of weight on first times, but he's a generous Captain and is willing to let Soap and Gaz both have at you, prepare you for him. them. he holds both by the scruff of their necks, too. in full control. always.

and with your legs thrown around Gaz's shoulders, he makes you hold his cigar (don't drop it now, love, or there'll be hell to pay) in your trembling hand for him, keeping it close to his mouth to take a puff whenever the urge strikes.

his are busy, after all—

—busy pushing Gaz's face into your cunt first, letting him feast as Soap palms his bloody hand over your body, punching your nipples. whining for a taste. cock dripping all over the place. like a sloppy, drooling dog.

takes his turn when you're buzzing after being denied so long. poor pussy forced to endure both Gaz and Soap eating you out, sucking on your clit, slipping their fingers inside. but never allowed to cum. they're always ripped back the moment he thinks you might be there, on the edge. you're only allowed to cum on his cock, sweetheart. (and maybe, maybe, if you've been good, he'll let you sit on his face after.)

when he does fuck you for the first time, he makes you feel every inch going inside of you. has Gaz hold your fingers against your rim, feeling for yourself how wide he stretches you, how deep he goes. makes you whine and beg for all sorts of lewd things—his cock deeper in your pussy, Soap's tongue on your clit, Gaz's cock in your mouth, Ghost's hands around your throat.

you're worn out before he even finishes. a shame, too, because Soap barely waits until Price has pulled out before he's shoving his fingers inside of you, cooing in your ear about how messy you are. how badly you must want his cock next. hungry little thing, aren't ye?

Price will probably go last, too. but it's not even really about sex this time when he sits you on his lap, humming at the whimpers you make, overstimulated and sore, as his cock slips inside again. warmed. soaked. you're all messy with each of them, and he rubs it into your skin, makes you suck it off his fingers. with your back flushed to his broad chest, damp curls sticking to your skin, matted from sweat, he holds you like this. big arms anchored around your front, over your belly, holding you there. and just lets you feel the rumble in his chest when he purrs in your ear about how good you've been for them, taking them all, satiating them. how pretty you look all fucked out and sloppy like this.

(and really, love. you belong like this, don't you? the perfect place for you has always been sat, balls deep, on their cocks, taking them. it's about time you learned that, mm?)

[ddejavvu]

MEI i have severe top gun maverick brain rot and all i can think about is reader being the admirals daughter and everyone assumes rooster or hangman is gonna go after her but it turns out she’s been hooking up with bob for AGES and they’re all like ??? how did you do that???? bob gets kinda flustered but readers just like idk he was really nice and he’s really good in bed

"Check it out," Phoenix elbows Bob where the man is engrossed in reading the back of the bar napkins Penny had handed them so that they didn't stain her tables again, "There's Mav's daughter. 'Think she's got that Hawaiian shirt on to seduce Rooster?"

Bob's eyes dart to where you're chatting with Penny, his shoulders stiffening as his friends turn to watch you.

"Nah, Rooster doesn't like orange. But those cowboy boots she's got on are probably for Hangman- didn't he say he'd teach her how to square dance?"

Penny reaches over the bar to tug affectionately at one of your braids and Bob tries to no avail to break the conversation.

"Actually, she's-"

"I'd say she was here to meet Fanboy, but she doesn't date losers," Phoenix's eyes are narrowed dangerously, and she hides a smirk against the rim of her bottle.

"Hey! Hangman's a bigger loser than I am!" He protests, but before the taller man can trap him in a headlock, Penny points towards the dagger squad where they're lounged in a corner of the bar, and your eyes shine as you rush over.

"Bob!" You shriek, throwing your arms around his neck and letting your legs bend when he hoists you off of the ground for a hearty hug. His muscles are well hidden beneath his regulation khakis, but he's built for much heavier loads than you, and he lets you hover a few inches off of the ground while he hugs you.

Your face is buried in his neck but you press a kiss against his cheek, catching the bewildered blinking of the rest of his squadron over his shoulder.

"Oh. I forgot you didn't know." You supply, your feet back on the ground as Bob keeps one arm slung loosely around your waist, "Sorry, we- uh, we've been hooking up for a while, it's just... I haven't seen him since you guys got shipped out."

"You've been hooking up with her?" Coyote stares down his nose at Bob who shifts subtly closer to you, nodding once, stiffly in the face of his teammate's scrutiny.

"Damn. And he was good enough in bed to keep you waiting 'til he got back?"

Bob flushes - you feel his skin warm where it's pressed against your own, and you fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, please. I'm sure you've seen it in the locker room; I'd wait a lifetime."

Bob scoffs over your shoulder, now even more flustered, but Phoenix is happy to save the situation.

"Does your dad know?" She tilts her chin towards you, remembering how viscerally uncomfortable their Captain had been whenever someone had suggested you get together with one of his aviators.

"Of course he knows," You laugh, "He's the one that set us up! 'Said Bob had to get his hands on me before Texas over there tried to Hold 'Em."

Bob wraps an arm protectively over your chest, leaning over your shoulder from behind to return a kiss against your own cheek.

Hangman whistles lowly, shaking his head with a dazed look, "Well, shit. I didn't know the offer to hold 'em was on the table, but-shit!"

Bob's face darkens but Rooster levels the toe of his boot with Hangman's lower thigh, striking him at the back of the knee and subsequently spilling beer over his khakis. Hangman grunts as his knees knock against the beer-sticky floor, but he seems to know he deserved what he'd gotten because he doesn't retaliate.

"We'll wrangle him." Rooster promises, "You two go have fun, Bob you gotta quarter for the jukebox?"

"Yes'sir," Bob nods, tugging you towards a lesser populated area- perfect for slow dancing even if the bar isn't, "Let's make up for lost time, honey."

[hotvintagepoll]

this is a poll for a movie that doesn't exist.

It is vintage times. The powers that be have decided to again remake the classic vampire novel Dracula for the screen. in an amazing show of inter-studio solidarity, Hollywood’s most elite hotties are up for the starring roles. the producers know whoever they cast will greatly impact the genre, quality, and tone of the finished film, so they are turning to their wisest voices for guidance.

you are the new casting director for this star-studded epic. choose your players wisely.

Previously cast:

Jonathan Harker—Jimmy Stewart

The Old Woman—Martita Hunt

Count Dracula—Gloria Holden

Mina Murray—Setsuko Hara

Lucy Westenra—Judy Garland

The Three Voluptuous Women—Betty Grable, Marilyn Monroe, and Lauren Bacall

The Agonized Mother—Mary Philbin (rip)

Dr. Jack Seward—Vincent Price

Quincey P. Morris—Toshiro Mifune

Arthur Holmwood—Sidney Poitier

R.M. Renfield—Conrad Veidt

The Captain of the Demeter—Omar Sharif (rip)

The First Mate of the Demeter—Leonard Nimoy (rip)

Mr. Swales—Ed Wynn (rip)

The Correspondent for The Daily Graph—Ethel Waters

Dracula in dog form—Frank Oz with a puppet

Sister Agatha—Angela Lansbury

Mrs. Westenra—Gladys Cooper

Dracula's solicitors—Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee

Van Helsing is described at length in the novel. He is Dr. Seward's old mentor, possessing "an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, an indomitable resolution, self-command, [....] and the kindliest and truest heart that beats." According to Mina, he is "a man of medium height, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods." Van Helsing tends to talk through funny stories and bizarre metaphors, is one of the first to consider the supernatural in Lucy's illness, and comes from Amsterdam.

[shadowdaddies]

Distraction

Azriel x Reader

A/N: I keep thinking about how this scene from Captain America: the Winter Soldier would fit so well for Azriel x reader on a spy mission

warnings: none

A knock on your door shook you from your daze, wide eyes alert in a prepared defense until you heard the familiar voice rumble lowly through the wooden doorway.

“Are you ready?” Azriel questioned, rough voice sending an unrecognizable thrill through you as you strode towards the door. Turning the handle, you looked up to see hazel eyes darkening as the striking Illyrian swallowed, gaze raking over your form in the fitted dress you’d donned for the evening.

“Ready, Az,” you nodded, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of admiring your friend’s appearance. He was dressed in a fitted all-black ensemble, tailored to show his impressive physique and highlight his features. He looked like a Prince of Darkness as he stepped to the side, holding out an arm for you to take.

“You look very nice, Azriel,” you smiled, playfully nudging him with your shoulder as he led you down the hall to the grand ballroom. 

He stiffened slightly at your words, as though shocked by the compliment, before he turned to face you. “You look...” he paused, taking a deep breath when he stepped back to look at you. Something sparked in your chest when he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Nodding, you looked away in an attempt to hide your blush as well as Azriel had hidden his shadows for the evening. You were both undercover from the Night Court, attending this ball in Hybern to find information on potential traitors. 

Since the war was won, Prythian had absorbed the kingdom of Hybern, but many were still resistant to the ideals of the Continent. You were sent with Azriel to the new ruler of Hybern’s birthday celebration to gather intel, searching for those who might pose a threat to the High Lord and Lady’s restructured kingdom. 

With Azriel’s shadows, he would be quickly identified as the infamous shadowsinger of the Night Court, but with his shadows hidden and you by his side, you could blend in with the other fae relatively easily. 

Which is why you now carried your shimmering skirts, shoes clicking down the marble floored halls with Azriel on your arm. You had expected to be more nervous going into the event, but something about Azriel’s touch kept you grounded, feeling calmer than ever. 

Approaching the double doors that led to the grand ballroom, you nodded your appreciation to the guards who opened the doors for you both. Words escaped you at the beauty of the room before you, murals of fairies from old lining the walls along with gilded chandeliers and twinkling faelight. It was beautiful and romantic, a far cry from what you had imagined Hybern to be.

Feeling a tug on your arm, you looked up to see Azriel flashing you a knowing grin as he guided you towards a servant. Picking up two drinks from their tray, he murmured appreciation to them before handing you a glass. You half-expected him to say something about the beauty of the evening, but surprise didn’t find you with his words.

“Remember our story. Keep it vague and learn what you can tonight,” Azriel murmured, his warm hand rubbing affectionately on your waist at odds with his words. You nodded, remembering your role new mates as your role for the night, and that his touch meant nothing more.

Twining your fingers with his, you led Azriel to a couple who stood by the hearth, smiling as they both listened to the band play its lively tune. You chatted with them, learning the gossip about several royal families who did not approve of the new structure in Hybern. 

“Well done,” Azriel murmured, his lips warm against your knuckles as he pulled them, twirling you in a playful move across the dance floor closer to the next target for intel. 

You wished the giggle that escaped you was more effort than it was, but something about you was truly drawn to Azriel. He was gentle with you, but fiercely defensive of those he cared for. A skilled warrior and good friend. 

Swallowing, you willed your emotions beneath the surface to plaster on your face of grace. Swiping another glass of faerie wine, you focused on the faux feelings you’d manufactured for the evening, ignoring those you really felt towards Azriel as best you could.

You were deep in conversation, laughing and joking with the female visiting from Vallahan when Azriel’s fingers tensed around your waist. Feigning ignorance, you smiled lazily at your “mate.” 

“Is everything alright, my love?” You asked - the question you’d planned beforehand if anything unplanned were to arise. 

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you, more wild than you had ever seen his bright hazel eyes. “I am just aching for a dance with my mate, is all,” he purred, teasing voice betraying the shaking fingertips that hovered your hips.

With audible “awws” and cooing at two new mates who couldn’t resist to be apart, the other fae ushered you towards the busy dance floor, where Azriel took your hand and waist, back held in surprisingly impressive form.

“I know the male in the opposite corner from where I face,” Azriel whispered in your ear, soft as if he were telling you sweet nothings. You ignored the hitch in your breath, gaze flicking briefly to a tall, burly male in the corner whose own eyes flicked to Azriel with curiosity.

“Come with me,” you whispered back, not missing how Azriel shivered at your lips on his ear. He followed you, hands loosely intertwined while you wove through the crowd towards the dark corner of the room opposite from the suspecting male.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the male moved through the ballroom, gaze scanning the crowd including yourselves as though he were looking for someone. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered, pulling Azriel’s body tight against your own, which was pressed to the cold wall. 

“W-what?” he choked out, and you had to bite back your grin at the uncharacteristically flustered spymaster. 

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. Kiss me,” you demanded, willing yourself not to look to the presence you could sense nearing you.

Azriel’s eyes practically glowed as he searched your face, searching for affirmation before one hand found your waist, the other wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a deep kiss.

An electric energy shot through you, the spark hitting your chest hard enough to steal your breath at the feeling of his soft lips on your own. You melted into the kiss with ease, both of your bodies interlacing like two halves of a whole. 

You were dizzy for air, completely forgetting everyone else around you when Azriel pulled away, his eyes wide with something that looked like shock. 

Pushing back, you scanned the area for potential threats before deciding you couldn’t find anything. “Azriel, what happened? Are you okay?” You whispered, thumb stroking his cheek to keep up the charade of new mates.

“I- you’re my...” Azriel stuttered, just as you caught sight of the suspicious male slipping out onto the balcony. 

“Come on, Az. Let’s see what they’re up to,” you whispered, keeping a note in your mind to ask him what he was distracted by at a later time.

[spurbleu]

oldman!price x reader angsty (?) drabble

‧︎✳︎༚︎‧︎⁎︎°︎

age leaves john price in tantrum.

he despises what it’s done to his body. the creak in his knees when he walks, the strain in his shoulder when he reaches across the table. steam engine, ironclad and coal hot, neglected the rust on the belly of its stirrups. adopted a sudden fragility he cannot stand.

takes a literal force of nature to get him to retire, and he grieves it like a father. it, in all honesty, was one. taught him how to shoot straight, how to hold his men, how to be without feeling like he’s an imposter in his own skin. forced him to grow up- which is ironically exactly what ended their alliance.

nursed whiskeys, fattened ice kissing the base. smoked like somehow- fossilized in ligero- he’d find his youth again. blistered under reluctant mortality, indulged in fatal vices because if anything is putting him in the grave it’s a gun or a cigar.

a pot never boils watched, yet you stay at your designated post by the doorway while he broods (he’s a dramatic at heart), storm clouds stamped on the collapse of his shoulders.

if you were one of his soldiers, you let him fester.

but you were his wife.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t aged yourself, silver linings sprouting from your scalp, sun spots and bleached knuckles. even so, you found time to pick up his medications, comb through amateur food blogs for gut health and bone pain, roll the aches out of his shoulder before bed. you were kind- and it was insulting.

spitfire catching on the burs of his muttonchops- unfamiliar with dependence. he was a captain for Christ’s sake- alloy lighthouse, built by cement and sheer fucking will. he didn’t need to be hand fed vitamin C and dragged to yoga class. he pitched barbed wire, dug his shallow trench and intended lay in it.

until, one evening, thunder strikes him out of dewy acrimony. he clambers up the stairs, musk of tobacco and spite plants a grimy boot in the oak. he glances over the railing, and stills.

bathroom door, cutting swaddled atmosphere with thin bisque, a pyramid down the center of the hall that created the illusion of darker corners. centered in the odd, domestic scaffolding was you- shower damp and concentrated.

it was like watching a bird preen feathers. tugging at the sags, yanking at the silvers, skin pitching at the nostril and eyes narrowing into thin keyways. and if he squinted, sniper accuracy rendered tears. sallow river bed on your flushed cheeks, clumped lashes, a frown that broke hearts.

“you’re never struggling alone, John,” you had said one evening, when he had been foolishly apathetic, “i’ll make sure of that.”

he hadn’t said anything.

guilt squirms at the base of his neck. the stranger named comfort that swelled within your embrace unnerved him so much he had forgotten to introduce himself. and now, milking moonlit lighting, with a wife who thought he was hiding from her, he called himself what he had never been as a soldier.

a coward.

you were making tea the next morning, windows surrendering a warmth when the day was still docile. it was while you were humming that your husband, sneaky bastard, folds you into the plush of his chest, drowsy lips dragging on the cusp of your shoulder.

“you always look so beautiful in the mornin, darlin.”

and it was true. you’ve never looked better to the old man.

[lalunanymph]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — sylus

୨୧ meeting him meant the end of your innocence and ignorance

✧.* warnings: suggestive, hunter/prey dynamic, sylus has issues™, mentions of death, mentions of blood, making out, finger sucking, just sylus being a tease

✧.* this my chemical romance edgelord looking ass evil man has got me by the cl!t </3 i cant stop the sylus brainrot help

The sole of your mud-splattered boot splashes into a puddle of filthy water, soaking the hem of your Hunters’ pants. 

Hot breaths spill from your parted lips, and you glance back, full of panic, trying and failing to catch the barest hint of a shadowy figure spilling closer towards you.

Nothing.

But, that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. 

Doubling your speed, you tighten your grip on your gun, feeling the hard handle slipping between your clammy hands. 

“Damn it,” cursing under your breath, you make a sharp turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a wall. Using your Resonance, you feel for the potential threat, breaths rising and falling sharply as your watch beeps your coordinates back to your anxious teammates.

The second your whereabouts were exposed, you feared what the repercussions would be for allowing yourself to be drawn into such a risky mission. 

Captain Jenna has already warned you not once but twice for going after Onychinus on your own. 

Defying her once again, you fear it would be the last time you would ever hear her sharp words or firm tone. 

A crunch of leaves overhead startles you, and you swivel with your gun raised, eyes darting everywhere in the vicinity. The smell of rubbish burns through your nose, and coupled with the sharp sting of your sweat, it nearly makes you sick with nausea. 

Panic infuses through you, rendering you mute and unable to move when you hear a slow, dark chuckle emanating from the shadows.

He appears, dressed in all black, strands of silvery hair falling right into his deep eyes; your worst nightmare coming to life. 

“There you are,” he seems to purr, deep baritone dragging through each syllable; hammering in how defenseless and trapped you were. “I never thought I’d ever see a day when a Hunter finally becomes the hunted.”

Sylus—head of Onychinus—approaches you with a slow smile spreading across his striking face. His tall stature and fitted clothes, in every shade of black you can imagine, is exacerbated by the crow perched right on his shoulder, its blood-red pupils widening at the scent of your fear. Despite the dangerous aura surrounding him, he could easily pass as a gentleman walking down the streets of Linkon City—eccentric and grinning. 

“You’ll never get away with this.” 

Your words, meant to be a threat, only serves to amuse him further. 

“Oh? Isn’t that what every good guy says?” Approaching you closer, he doesn’t pay any mind to the nozzle of your gun digging right into his chest. He knows you can’t shoot him; you still need your answers. “And then, inevitably, they all turn out to be wrong.”

A flash of red. Your arm seizes and goes limp, the gun in your hands tumbling to the ground; pained cries reverberating across the alleyway. The crow on his shoulder caws, flapping its wings in excitement. 

He grabs your face, digging his nails into the fat of your cheeks. “Pretty little hunter,” Sylus coos again, and this time, pushes you to your feet, controlling your movements with his Evol so you have no choice but to be the puppet at the end of his strings. 

Your legs spread without your consent, and your back meets the wall. 

Sylus watches, those sharp eyes ever mysterious and waiting. He doesn’t lunge or immediately savor your helplessness; letting you stew in your panic and loss of control. 

“Wh-wait,” you splutter. “Don’t do this—”

“Is this not what you were hungering for, my little hunter?” As he speaks, he advances towards you, every heavy footfall spiking fear in your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you tried to pursue me. So,” he stops in front of you, bending down close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Why the hesitation now?” 

“How do you know about my heart condition?” you demand, referring to the encrypted video he sent you a few days ago meant to lure you out into the open. ��No one else knows that besides my grandmother.”

Sylus arches one dark brow, cocking his head to the side to truly study the mutiny on your face.

“And how are you so sure your grandmother was the only one with such classified information?” 

This asshole. He was never going to give you a straight answer. You had walked right into his trap.

Trying to move your limbs was futile. You were fully under his mercy. 

The stench of your entire situation grows harder to ignore. You replay every single moment which led you right in this situation. 

A shady video sent straight to your Hunter’s Watch. The dark background and the modulated voice whispering how you can get your answers if you meet him right at the docks at exactly one in the morning. Ignoring Xavier’s concern and Jenna’s suggestion for you to take a partner. Nero, who usually supported your crazy ideas, was for once hesitant when he inspected the video. They never expected you to take this on by yourself—for you to act this recklessly.

And tonight, you would die without any of them knowing the truth.

You want to shout, to tell the entire world that the leader of Onychinus is right in front of you. But, you cannot find  your voice. 

Sylus is close enough for the sharpness of his cologne to fill your nostrils. You can barely move your hand to press the alert button on your watch; your movements are restricted by this dangerous Evol you don’t think you’ve ever encountered.

“Tell me, why do you seek such answers when you do not know the magnitude of their implications?” 

His voice is saccharine sweet, condescending to a fault. 

Scoffing, you turn your face away, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.

“I guess… I want to know why my grandmother and Caleb had to die.”

The admission feels like a punch to your gut. To anyone else, your voice remains steady and firm. But, it took a special sort of psychopath to hear the tremble at the tailend of your sentence and yet, choose to laugh.

“Ah. Yes. I can answer that one for you—Onychinus did not cause the death of your grandmother and friend.” Nothing about tonight’s encounter could prepare you for what he has to say next. 

“You might want to look a little closer to home.”

Closer to… home? 

The confusion in your eyes is his aphrodisiac, and his nostrils flare; getting off on your distress.

“The Hunters,” he clarifies; tone like a teacher speaking down to a toddler. “Don’t you think it strange that they never investigated what happened to your family? Or, did a postmortem on your grandmother’s remains?” 

He’s speaking circles around you, intentionally messing with your mind. 

And yet, a seed of doubt begins to take root. You have to physically clench down on your fists to stop from lashing out at him; Jenna’s sympathetic expression, the doctors who told you that there was no feasible way they could glean what happened to your grandmother and Caleb without at least 85% of the body intact.

An accident. An anomaly. That was how they classified your family’s demise.

You weren’t even allowed to have a closed coffin funeral for them. 

His thumbs touch your cheek, swiping the tears away in a gesture far too intimate for a man who was meeting you for the first time tonight.

“Ever since I first saw you, you’ve done nothing but invade my thoughts.”

Your back melts off the wall and meets the ground, his entire weight pressed on top of you. He has you right under him with nowhere to go, and you can’t even call for help, those long, elegant fingers sliding right into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them.

“My pretty little stubborn Hunter,” he whispers. 

You know the look in his eye; the one men would get when they’re crossing the threshold of claiming the object they’ve been seeking for years. It’s the same look in Xavier’s eyes whenever you accidentally graze his thigh, or how Zayne’s expression visibly darkens when you call him ‘doctor’. It’s the same look Rafayel gives you when you say you want nothing more than to be by his side forever.

Desire.

And fear. 

Sylus swallows hard, and you’re surprised to find his touch faltering. Those magnetically dark eyes could engulf you whole, growing closer and closer until you’re forced to close your own eyes; his lips the first spark that sets your entire world ablaze.

Devouring you like you were oxygen in a deprived world, Sylus kisses are brutal and hard, nipping at your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth so you have no choice but to choke on your own spit. A dark shadow flits overhead, its caws filling the night air with rampant euphoria. 

He is too forward… this is going much too fast…

“Do you not like it when intentions are made known to you?” He tugs at your bottom lip, smirking at your faltering expression when you realize you’ve spoken those words aloud.

You struggle against him, trying to turn your face away, but Sylus will not relent his grip on your cheeks. 

“Why?” you gasp. “Why are you treating me like this when we both are on different sides?” Struggling to push him away, you’re overtaken once again by his mouth moving down your jaw, caressing your pulse point and traversing down the column of your throat. Kisses which feel more like a possessive mark.  

“Who said we were any different?” He murmurs, and you have no choice but to voice out your disbelief.

“I’m a Hunter. You’re an illegal weapons seller. My job is to stop you—oh.” 

He kneads your hip roughly with one hand, expression open with want. You can’t formulate a single coherent thought, your vision purely dominated by the halo of his silver hair and those deep, impenetrable dark eyes. 

“No,” his deep voice intones, sending shivers up your spine. “You have no idea. We are more similar than you think.” 

Holding secrets you weren’t aware of, Sylus didn’t know where to start; how to make you believe him.

So, he settles for pinning you against the ground, your wrists held above your head and your body trapped under his bigger build.

“Heed my words, little Hunter,” he whispers, and there’s a look in his eye, an unfathomable emotion you wanted to unravel but it was gone the second you dared to look closer. “Do not trust what you think is the truth.”

Before your eyes, he dissipates to smoke, small flecks of blood landing on your cheeks and parted mouth. His raven caterwauls, inducing goosebumps across your entire body as it spirals into the night sky, disappearing from view.

You turn onto your hands and knees, spitting out the blood, wiping it off your cheeks with frantic swipes. 

Someone calls your name, and you don’t realize how badly you’re shivering until a warm embrace engulfs you.

“Oh, Y/N,” Xavier exhales, bringing you closer to the streetlamp light so he can scrutinize your face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

Thumbing the blood from your face, you nod, murmuring, “This isn’t mine.”

 Xavier opens his mouth, about to ask you what exactly happened when your Hunter Watch went off the grid when Jenna pushes through the alley, her gun at the ready, mouth set into a grim line.

“Y/N. You’re safe.” 

Accepting Xavier’s outstretched hand, you stood up with his help. Jenna shines a flashlight on your face, momentarily blinding you.

“Is that your blood?” she demands, sounding like she was a second away from giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

You grimace, and Xavier tightens his grip around your waist.

“Captain, we should take her back for an inspection—”

“Agreed,” Jenna cuts him off, then narrows her eyes as she leans closer. “Is that… a mark on your neck? And your lips—they’re quite swollen.”

Slapping a hand to your mouth, you shake your head, hoping your wide, pleading eyes will get them to drop this. Next to you, Xavier stiffens, those blue eyes going glacial as he sweeps them all over your disheveled frame. It’s unavoidable that he comes to such assumptions based on your appearance. 

But, rather than lashing out in jealousy, he reels it in, choosing to steer you back towards safety.

“Whatever happened, you can tell us later. We need to get you checked up.”

His grip digs into your skin, and you don’t know what to say once the inevitable interrogation comes up.

How could you divulge all that Sylus had said without putting Xavier in a predicament between trusting you or being loyal to an organization he serves well? 

If what the Onychinus leader said was true, you couldn’t trust Captain Jenna either. 

And Tara…

Everything dear in your world begins to blur, infecting the foundations of your love for the people you trust; making them crack and crumble. 

Xavier, Jenna, Tara, Nero… did they all know what happened to your family but refused to tell you the truth? 

You had no idea how to react; you couldn’t wrap your head around such a betrayal if the truth were to come to light.

You think you could probably destroy the entire Organization with your bare hands if what Sylus said was true. 

Abovehead, somewhere in the trees, a raven caws—a harbinger of worse things to come.

a/n. save me emo edgelord crow boy save me .... reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Sparring Session Round 2

Superman assessed his opponent - Captain Marvel, his red-clad team mate and sparring partner. The guy bounced from toe to toe, cracking his knuckles with childlike glee as they waited for the signal to begin.

After their first and only sparring session tore the training room out of the Watchtower, sending it hurtling through outer space; even though they retrieved the tungsten box that was their training room, and Superman's heat vision welded the box back in place; the pair was banned from ever using the room for sparring again.

Justice League trained all members to hone their hand to hand combat skills.

Until Cap joined the team, there wasn't anyone on equal footing with Superman, who could spar with him. Sure, Wonder Woman was the closest match, but Clark still had to be careful not to cause serious injuries, or, heaven forbid, kill her by accident.

Both Superman and Captain Marvel were completely invulnerable, kryptonite excluded, of course.

Batman had found a dead planet the size of planet earth to serve as their training ground.

All communications were done through the earbuds for space missions.

After countless lectures and videos to demonstrate various fighting techniques, Superman and Captain Marvel could finally practice what they learnt, in an all out, no holds barred, training session.

Hal's ring verified that there were no living beings on that planet. It's gravitational force was the same as planet earth, though it had no breathable atmosphere. That didn't pose a problem for Superman or Captain Marvel, but Batman and other regular humans could only watch the session through the livestream from the drones position all around the planet.

Trainers Batman and Wonder Woman, and guest trainer Wildcat from the Justice Society would be watching their session from the monitor room in the Watchtower.

"Twenty bucks says Big Blue will thrash Big Red," said Hal.

"Nah," Flash replied. "Big Red has the speed advantage."

Superhearing picks up everything. X-ray and telescopic vision revealed the entire Justice League and Justice Society crammed into the monitor room, glued to the screen, watching their training session. Plastic man was taking bets, touting their sparring as the match of the century.

Superman rolled his eyes.

"Supes," Captain Marvel tilted his head. "Is anything wrong?"

"Nope," Superman chuckled as he rolled his shoulders in preparation for the fight.

Cap frowned. "If you say so."

"Ready?" Batman growled.

Superman couldn't help smiling as he regarded his exuberant opponent. Their last sparring session was liberating, though way too short.

"Begin," Batman gave the order.

Bouncing around on his toes, jabbing with his fists, Cap executed Wildcat's moves.

The only ground rules were "Don't kill each other. No permanent injuries."

Nothing in the briefing stated that they had to use only what Justice League trainers taught.

Superman executed a Klurkor chop - a form of martial arts he had learned from the archives left in the space bassonet that brought him to earth.

"Holy Moley!" Cap ducked the blow.

Swirling around, Supes performed a kick he had adapted from Kryptonian techniques, striking Cap in the chest, sending him spiralling out of the solar system.

"Stay on the planet," Batman growled.

In a red blur, Captain Marvel's fist pummeled Superman's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, sending him flying into the yellow sun. For some strange reason, Cap's fighting style reminded Superman of a street kid.

That, by the way, was a dumb move on Cap's part. Yellow sun exposure amplifies Superman's power.

"What part of 'on the planet' do you two not understand?" Batman growled.

Supes returned Cap's favour with a punch that sent his red-clad counterpart right through the centre of the planet.

Emerging from the other side, covered in lava, Cap laughed. "Hot mud bath! Your turn."

He body slammed Supes creating another tunnel through the planet's centre.

Lava poured out of the holes, streaming out of the cracks on the ground. Concerned, Cap asked Batman. "How, now?"

"Continue," said the Bat.

In a Kryptonian move that Superman had been wanting to practice, Supes kicked Cap right through the planet.

Emerging, from the other side, beaming like a kid that was having too much fun, Cap punched Supes through the molten core.

The ground shook.

Lava erupted.

Caked in dried lava and ashes, Big Blue and Big Red looked at each other. "Uh oh."

The planet, their new training arena, exploded.

"Terminate exercise," Batman growled. He sounded unhappy, but when is The Bat ever happy. "Return to Watchtower now."

[simping-overload]

Hello! I was just wondering if you could write some angst!!

I was wondering if you could write a ghost x male reader where reader gets seriously injured to the point where it scares the shit out of ghost and ghost lectures him but ends up crying as he's lecturing the reader? 👀

a/n: hurt/comfort my love tags: canon typical violence, gore(??ppl get stabbed and someone gets their throat sliced open) no use of y/n, male reader, injured reader, prob occ ghost??? ghost cries, everyone cries. angst, hurt/comfort

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm/nbmlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You were a sniper. You weren’t supposed to get too close to the fight. All you had to do was hang back and try to offer support, but by the gods do you never listen.

The situation got tight, Gaz and Soap trapped in a room by enemy fire. Captain Price and Ghost were clearing out another building.

You being the oh so self-sacrificing bastard you are ran to help. You went the back way, so the enemies’ backs would face you, unaware of your approach.

You quickly and efficiently took them out, just as you were trained, but—you missed one. A heavy hitter, a fucking Juggernaut.

He didn’t bother reloading his gun, throwing it to the side before he started swinging. The first few swings caught you off guard, and he got you right in the nose, breaking it. This throws you off balance, which gives him the opportunity to throw you against the concrete wall.

You rolled to the side before he could kick your ribs in, quickly standing up on your feet, slightly dazed. You pull out your knife, the one you were gifted to Simon, as using a gun in close combat would be useless.

You circled each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Vaguely out of the corner of your eye, you can see Soap carry Gaz out of the building. You feel a slight relief that now they’re safe.

Your way of winning this fight was to take it nice and slow, bait him into moving so he wears out easier due to all that heavy gear.

You move forward like you’re going to swing, which causes him to charge forward. You sidestep. His armor barley grazes yours.

“Oh? Is That all you got?” You mock, tapping your foot like an impatient child. You’ve played this game before.

He huffed like a big bad wolf, “I’ll fucking kill you,” He growls out.

Charing at you again, he actually gets you. He grabs onto the side of your armor and pulls you on him, securing his arms around your body before throwing you onto the ground with him.

You can feel something crack as your head fits the floor, that doesn’t stop you from squirming and wriggling in his grasp. You use your knife, plunging it into the nearest flesh you can find.

It didn’t go far, but it did make him shout in pain. For just a moment, his grip loosens, you throw yourself out of his hold, trying to dash away to create distance.

He recovered quickly, grabbing onto your ankle. He forced you to trip. Landing face first, you couldn’t stop him from dragging you back to him. He gets on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees as he starts punching you again.

You black out, head and mouth bleeding. The man cackles, throwing you up against the wall with a cackle. He holds you up, forearm pressed against your through as your feet dangle helplessly in the air.

Your eyes shoot open at your sudden lack of air, you kick at him weakly. Shaking hands, reach for your knife, ripping it out of his thigh. You can’t use it before he rips the blade out of your head and stabs your stomach multiple times.

High off of adrenaline, you grab a smaller knife from your shoulder strap, one that was covered in a fast acting poison to render your opponents immobile. You did the knife under his helmet; the knife meeting his now exposed throat and you slice.

The man immediately drops you, leaving the knife in your stomach as he stumbles back, holding his neck. He slides down against the wall as his body gives up on him.

You raise a shaky hand to your walkie, “Captain-L.T. I need a medic asap. I can’t stay awake for much longer.” You can feel your eyelids get heavy.

“Stay awake, soldier. I’m on my way.” Simon’s gruff voice was the last thing you heard before your eyes seemed to shut for what may be the last time.

You float in and out of consciousness, eyes cracking over just barley as you feel familiar arms pick you up and run to the evac. On the helicopter, his gloved hands holding your face with such gentleness.

The last thing you remembered was being jabbed with one too many needles before passing out completely.

You felt like shit. Your head was pounding, and the rest of your body felt like it was on fire. You crack your eyes open, wincing at the blinding lights of the medical ward.

Your eyes scan the room. There isn’t anyone here. Aside from whoever is sleeping next to you. You turn your head slightly, recognizing the familiar build of the love of your life, Simon.

“Simon.” You try, voice dry and horse.

His head automatically shoots up at the call of his name. His eyes lock with yours. You can see the internal strife within them debating over what he wants to say.

“You’re an idiot.” The insult doesn’t make you wince, as it’s true.

“I know—.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You rush in blind, without a care in the world. You could’ve been killed, and you nearly were.” Simon takes your hand in his.

“I was only trying to help Si... I couldn’t do shit from the bird’s nest.” You interlock your fingers and squeeze his hand.

“What help are you if you ended up dead?” His shoulders drop. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you did.”

You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Simon... let me see you.” You nudged the edge of the mask with your free hand.

Simon slips off the mask, his eyes are bloodshot-a result of hours of crying. You cup his face with a shaky hand. “But I am here now, that is what matters, yeah?”

He leans into your palm, tears streaming down his cheeks. You sigh, pulling him towards you. Pressing your forehead against yours, he sighs against you.

“I’ll make sure to be safer next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

[tartagilicious]

8:17pm / kiss me until my lips fall off, kiss me until i start to rot

heyyyyy guys :hehe: thank GOD i still have access to this blog because i've been back in my genshin player days for the past month or so, and i FINALLY WANNA WRITE FOR IT AGAIN IM CRYIUNG!!!!!!!!!! missed all of u sm, hopefully this will be more of a regular occurance now :') going back to my beloved seasons series, also with the last installment, capitano + winter !!

the strongest has never been an easy title to shoulder, both in times of need or peace, sanctifying a never ending cycle of authority that he had been entertaining for centuries. the captain. a newer adornment to his identity, but a significant one nonetheless. once an icon to a legion of soldiers, his place with the archon of ice beckoned a need to keep himself trained, as frigid as the nation he had learned to call home.

and truly, it was with a sword gripped in his gloved hands that he felt most at home -- strong despite the rot that had woven its way into his skin like a disease, whole despite all that he has lost in his centuries of life.

however, it was in your presence alone that he felt most meek.

everything about you seemed to strike him, digging into the innermost dips of flesh in the cavern he called his chest, searching for a heart that had long been subdued. you weren't gentle in your search, oh no -- you never were.

capitano bled for you. although, for once, it was not in a warrior's sense. your smaller hands never struck him, your words never aimed for his weakest points. never once did you aim to worsen the wound you were so often responsible for tearing open. how could you, when you were unaware of its existence?

he bled for you in grumbled words of affection. during those quiet nights it was too cold for you to stand it, when it was simply out of the question to be anywhere but within his broad embrace. he bled for you when you yearned for your homeland, in a way that he had never ceased to mirror, even in his wearier states.

and perhaps most of all, he bled for you when his helmet was discarded.

having grown used to the piece of metal that aided him in shielding the abyssal rot of his features, he was entirely unprepared for the magnitude of emotion that overran him when it came time to expose himself to you for the first time.

but you had never been one to shy away from life's rougher aspects.

your breath escapes your mouth in small white clouds, puffs of air to display your exertion as you walk along the edge of the zapolyarny palace's frosted edges. the grand building melts into the landscape of ice and snow much like its hotter counterpart, the pale mosiac of bricks embodying the chill of its inhabitants.

at the very least, there is one within its depths that you can count on to return the warmth to your worn body. the cloak your lover had gifted you long ago shields you from the rougher elements of snezhnaya's winter at face value. but it's the excitement festering in your chest that keeps you warm enough to find your way through the snowy night. it's the adoration in your heart that lights up the space around you as you step into the harbinger's abode, leading you home.

yet, it's his arm that slings around your waist when you step quietly into the house, the other half of your warm embrace, simply manifesting in a larger form. an appreciative smile is beckoned to your lips as you stretch within the confines of his large arm, your own cloak dropping to the floor as he wills it.

"...you are late." are the words that finally escape from him in a mumbled fashion, voice smothered by the heated skin of your neck. capitano leans over you like a creature out of myth, taking the opportune moment of your hand resting on his back to bury his nose in your hair.

no helmet.

a pleased sound is drawn from the back of your throat as you lean into him, head tilting to follow the path of his lips before you're returning, "...the snowfall is heavy this time of year."

a large hand trails down to your frostbitten own, the action of his fingers intertwining with yours mimicking a blanket of warmth. despite his state of otherworldly decay, you've found that your lover can run quite warm.

spurred on by his own heart, you're sure.

he speaks softly into your hair, tugging you until you're against his chest, no longer your own half -- but now part of a whole. "...you must dress accordingly. your fingers are freezing."

"they will warm up quickly." you promise under your breath, head tilting up to take in his face. no longer is there a quiet sting between you, like the contact of your gaze pains him. all that has been left behind is a dull, and ever-present warmth. "you will warm them up quickly." you add almost cheekily, seemingly proud of your own response.

a rough hum of acceptance replaces a verbal response as he simply pulls you closer, his arms falling to your torso. a once strained action has long become comfortable, and you relish in the familiarity of it as you sink into the harbinger's embrace.

despite his strength, capitano has found that being weak is not terribly bad, either.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡The Morning After｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Ghost was a big man, he loomed over everyone in the squad but you never dared to imagine how big he was everywhere until you accidentally walk in on him in the shower

Warnings: nudity, Ghost is fucking massive, horny thoughts, reader’s callsign is Pyro, implied smut, size difference WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You couldn’t look your LT in the eye, not that you could before but now it was even worse. You knew that he knew something was wrong but you were too damn stubborn and too damn embarrassed to clear it up. You could feel those striking brown eyes staring at the back of your head as you poured yourself a coffee from the ancient coffee machine. His gaze followed you as you bypassed your usual seat next to him and instead sat beside Soap, expertly positioning your body beside the Scott as to not see your superior.

“You’re next to me today then lass?” Soap threw an arm over your shoulders, shaking you with his excitement. 

“Regrettably, yes.” You snapped back, your exhausted state only adding to the annoyance you felt around the man you called your friend. He smirked, dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What’s up yer ass today?” He asked right as you took a sip of the shitty coffee causing you to choke on the dark liquid, drawing the attention of the whole table to you. Soap beamed as you coughed and for a brief moment, your focus was not on the piercing gaze of Ghost.

“Nothing! Nothing, just didn’t sleep well.” You forced your attention to the front of the room where Captain Price was beginning his morning debrief.

Getting lost in the monotonous tones of the Brit, your mind began to wander to the events of last night.

Your entire body was covered in a layer of grime and sweat, a consequence of having to test out the new training course for the recruits coming in next week. You had been chosen ‘at random’ but knew that it was because you were the youngest of the 141 and thus at the bottom of the pecking order.

All you could think about after being in the cold mud and rain for a solid three hours (you had to run through it multiple times of course to make sure it was sound) was a steaming hot shower and maybe a quick version of your skin care routine. 

Your feet dragged as you made your way to the showers, confident that you would be able to enjoy the room to yourself considering that it was nearing 1 in the morning, not hearing the gentle cascade of water already running over the sound of your own self-pity.

You beelined for your favourite stall but froze when you finally noticed the man standing under the steam. There was no question of who stood before you, the sheer size of him pointed to only one person on your squad.

Water rolled down his broad back like a river, snaking its way over scar tissue and muscle, reddening his skin with its heat. His shoulders rolled as his hands worked through his short dirty blonde hair, washing away the standard issues shampoo that clung to his locks.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift lower, settling on the pert cheeks of his ass and his strong, thick legs. Heat crawled up your neck and it was only partially because of the warm temperature of the shower. You held your breath as he turned to reach for the bar of soap sitting on the shelf beside him, exposing his profile to you.

Your eyes went wide and wetness pooled between your plump thighs. Good lord he was so-

“Pyro, we need you to run through the training course again. Ghost will help you out.” You were physically shaken from your daydream by your captain’s voice with the accompanying laugh from the man next to you. Your eyes flicked back up to your commanding officer.

“I must’ve run that thing 50 times sir. It works fine!” The older man raised an eyebrow at you before crossing his arms over his chest and levelling a disappointed look your way.

“Fine is not good enough. You’ll run it until Ghost thinks it’s enough.”

Soap, obviously finding amusement in your torment, said. “You’ll be runnin that course blindfolded if Riley has anything to do with it.” You groaned in annoyance and let your head fall to the table with a thud, ignoring the jeers of your teammates. 

The rest of the day’s tasks were dolled out and the team was quickly dismissed, leaving only you and Simon in the room. He cleared his throat but before he could speak, you shot up. “I’ll meet you down there, I gotta hit the head.”

You scrambled from the room, leaving the giant alone smirking under his balaclava. 

——————

“Faster!” Ghost barked, his voice booming between the obstacles. You growled in frustration, redoubling your efforts as you scaled the 12 ft wall in the centre of the course. You had already beaten your record three times over, yet this seemed to not be enough for your LT.

You reached for the rope at the top, your fingertips just grazing the braided fibres but right as you were about to grab for it, your other arm finally gave out after hours of work and you began to fall backwards. 

Before the scream could escape your lips, your body was cradled in something warm and comfortable. When you were sure that you hadn’t just slammed into the ground, you opened one of your eyes and came face-to-mask with Ghost.

You could tell he was smiling behind that caricature of a skull by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. You huffed and attempted to wriggle out of his arms, desperately forcing yourself not to think about how warm and fucking massive they were. “Now where ya goin there Pyro. That was a big fall, I’d hate to see ya hurt.” His voice was even deeper than normal, husky and raw. It made your cunt clench around nothing.

“I um-“ You started to say but you were quickly cut off by a tut from your superior officer.

“I think we’re done for the day Sergeant, you’ve obviously proved your… endurance.” He said the last word like it was dirty, his brown eyes growing even darker as his biceps flexed, keeping you pinned to his chest. Something in your stomach fluttered. Even holding you up to him, Ghost was still looming over you, the shadow of his bulk blocking out the sunlight that licked at his broad shoulders.

Your gaze flicked to where the black of his mask clung to his lips before you caught yourself and forced your eyes elsewhere. “Yes lieutenant.” Simon chuckled and lowered you, more gently than you would’ve thought him capable, to the dusty ground of the training area. 

“Good girl.” He purred and for a second, you thought that maybe you had actually bashed your head and now you were hallucinating. Ghost kept a paw-like hand wrapped around your elbow, preventing you from sprinting off.

“S-sir?” 

“Ya know ye aren’t as sneaky as ya think ya are Pyro. If ya wanted ta join me for a shower, ya coulda. Don’t cha deny it, could feel those pretty eyes of yours searing inta me from 50 paces.” Your heart dropped.

“Oh god sir, ‘m so sorry, it was a total accident. It’ll never happen again.” His grip tightened, making your mouth snap shut with an audible click.

“Now when did I say tha I didn’t want tha?” His head tilted, the deep brown of his eyes glinting mischievously as he lowered himself closer to your face. “How ‘bout I show ya what ya missed out on a give ya a proper reward for bein such a good little girl?” 

It was all you could do to nod your head and not collapse to the ground with a pathetic whimper. The edge of his mask shifted as he smirked down at you. 

——————

“Sorry I’m late Captain, won’t happen again.” You limped into the briefing room, dark bags marring your cheeks. Price nodded at you and continued his debrief for the day. You winced as you plopped down in the only open seat, ending up right next to Soap for the second day in a row.

“Ye look li shite.” He leaned over to you. You jabbed your index and middle fingers into his ribs, making Johnny jump slightly and earning him a glare from Price. “Jausus, Ghost musta really battered ya ta make ya so bitchy today.” 

You smirked and caught said lieutenant’s eye. “He really fucking did.” 

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baseball player!connie

baseball player!connie who is one of the top pitchers in the country. ever since he was young his family and friends knew he would be one of the best and they were right.

baseball player!connie who had been working the hardest on the team from his freshman year of college all the way to his junior year right now.

baseball player!connie who decided in high school that he wanted to get a degree before taking baseball to the next level and has stuck with it.

baseball player!connie who despite his 6’3, strong figure and prodigious talent in almost every sport, only took an offer for baseball, seeing that sport as his true calling since he was little.

baseball player!connie who would’ve never thought he’d be going to college with you, his high school sweetheart. you’ve been together since his freshman year of high school, always at his varsity games with pretty bows in your hair as you cheered on his team. you’d sit front and center, school colors painted in two lines on your cheeks as you sat in his opposite jersey with a bright smile on your face.

baseball player!connie who never leaves for a game without getting a pep talk from his favorite girl, your serious face always turning him on as he thinks about how you value these games just as much as he does.

connie’s wide hands were outstretched on your ass, rubbing and squeezing as he stood in his team warmup. he had an important away game today and you could tell he wasn’t feeling good about it, him and his team’s poor performance during the last few practices filling his brain with doubt. “ion wanna lose mami” he groaned, his neck tattoos peaking from his collar as he averted his gaze to the living room. you brought your hands to his cheeks, slowly moving his head back towards you as you spoke. “you been workin hard?” he nodded, hands giving your ass a squeeze as he thought back to some of his better pitches he threw during practice. “you still think you the best?” he nodded again, making you smile as you moved to your tippy toes to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “then stop worryin, the team feeds off you. if you go out there actin unsure of yourself then they gon be unsure of themselves too. you the captain ain’t you?”

“yes ma’am”

you smiled at the name, moving from his hold to pick up his bag from the floor. you slid the strap onto his shoulder before giving them a light squeeze.

“then lead em”

baseball player!connie who does phenomenal every game, but really excels when you’re there watching him. your pretty face and voice always bringing a small smirk to his face as he listens to you cheer after striking his opponent out.

baseball player!connie who is still in college, but is pretty famous since his games are broadcasted on espn and his highlights are shown all over sports pages. he even got sponsored by nike and did some commercials for them with other stars his age.

baseball player!connie who despite his age and profession, has friends everywhere. he’s had rappers, singers, pros, and even the nations best in other sports attend his games. showing their support for their friend. his closest friends are the nations finest volleyball and basketball players aran and ony. they were all around the same age and absolutely dominated in their respective leagues. the three men would always make time for each other regardless of their differences and busy schedules. the media liked to call them the three stooges for their funny personalities and when they’re around each other.

baseball player!connie who has different women in his face everyday, trying their very best to get the athletes attention, but they never got far. always getting brushed off with an “i’m married” before he’d walk off and look for you in the room.

baseball player!connie who doesn’t care that the two of you aren’t actually married or even engaged, during every interview he labels you as his wife since he’s vowed to love, honor, and protect you since the two of you started dating, no ring or wedding required.

“jesus christ c.p i gotta give it to ya. you’ve got to be one of the most talented players i’ve seen in a long time. you bat wonderfully, you run faster than a running back, and when your opponents think they have time to breathe they are plagued with your bullet like pitches. what do you have to say about your wonderful performance tonight?” the reporter said, a smile already forming on connie’s face as he looked down towards the ring tied in his laces.

“well first i wanna say hey t’my wife. she wanted t’be here but she’s a lil sick.” he said, a small frown on his face as he looked towards the camera as if he were staring at you. “i love you tho and i’m always gon thank you cause i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for all those nights you’d encourage me and get on the field wit me t’work on my pitches. uhh what else? oh yea my performance!”

you giggled from your seat on the couch, nothing but put joy and pride filling your heart as you watched your man go on about how much he loved and adored you and the sport he was blessed to play.

baseball player!connie who to isn’t allowed to wear the promise ring you bought him during games so he ties it in the lace of his left cleat, always leaning over to rub it during games to let you know he’s thinking of you.

baseball player!connie who already pitched great when you’re there, but does even better when he’s angry. the sight of some random guy hitting on you in the stands made anger rush through his veins. his arm moving as if the ball were on fire in his palm.

“strike one!” the umpire said, the batter standing straight up in surprise as if he didn’t even see when the ball was released. connie wasn’t paying attention though because he was counting his own strikes for you, the first one being you letting this man touch your hair. ‘strike one’ he thought.

as his anger built up so did the speed of the ball as connie threw this second one as if it weighed nothing. “strike two!” the umpire said, the commentators going crazy as they watched your man throw another record breaking pitch. the crowd was going nuts but connie’s eyes stayed on you. your pretty teeth bare to the man next to you as you let him take your phone for something, probably to put his socials in it. ‘strike two’

your last strike nearly costed the catcher his hand, the force of the ball so strong that he felt it through the glove.

‘strike three’

“strike three! out!”

both connie and the umpire were in sync as the pitcher moved from his place. connie wasn’t paying the game any mind anymore, his anger at its highest peak as he watched the bastard bring his lips to your ear, whispering things to you with a smirk on his face as your eyes widened.

‘you’re out’

baseball player!connie who didn’t even let you explain that the man in the stands was a friend you invited from class before taking you home and having you face down in the sheets of your shared bed.

“got me fucked up furreal” he grumbled, his big hand colliding with your ass three times as connie deepened his thrusts. your cries and begs were muffled into the sheets, his other hand squeezing the back of your neck as he pushed your face down into the silk fabric. “got me staring into the stands every ten seconds cause you think it’s okay t’be all buddy buddy wit men ion know. tch….cuero grande mami” (such a slut)

you tried to move your hand towards his abdomen to soothe him, but connie roughly rejected you. slapping your small hand away before spanking you again. “don’t touch me. youn get t’touch me when you be letting randoms do it so easily” you cried loudly, your tears soaking the sheets under you as you tried your best to pull your wet face from the cushion so you can speak. “papiiiiii! s’not l-like that, p-promiseeee!” your beg fell on deaf ears as connie flattened his free hand on your back, pushing your stomach to the mattress as he fed you every last inch of his dick at a breathtaking speed. “uhh huhhhh. s’not like you was letting some lambón (ass kisser) be all in your face, right? not like you was letting him touch your phone and whisper shit in your ear, right mami?”

now that he put it that way you did look a little guilty, but you and the guy were strictly friends and you were determined to let your boyfriend know that. “i love youuu! o-only you daddy i swear” connie knew you’d never cheat on him, the love the two of you carried too strong for either of you to even think of being with someone else, but he couldn’t stop himself from becoming this jealous, possessive lover as his fame began to grow. when more people recognized him the more they began to recognize you as well. your pretty face and kind personality driving many men crazy to the point where connie had to keep a a close eye on your choice of “friends”. your easily gained trust making you prone to getting tricked into being friends with a man that only wants one thing from you.

connie knew for sure that was the case when it came to the man he saw today, his wandering eyes and lingering touches giving him away completely to your boyfriend, but you were naive, too innocent to understand that this man wanted only one thing from you. just thinking about it brought connie’s anger back up to a ten, his hips slamming into you as he lifted your back to his chest with one hand. “how yall meet, huh? he came up t’you after class didn’t he?” you nodded your head, earning you a hard slap on your clit from connie’s rough fingers. “que mama? respóndeme la pregunta” (what mama? answer the question) his hand snaked around your throat, giving it a tight squeeze to let you know he wasn’t playing, but you could already tell he wasn’t given the situation you were in right now.

“y-yes, he came up t’me after class” connie nodded as you spoke, already knowing he was correct. “and being the kind little lady you are, you invited him t’come sit wit you at my game, correct?” you replied wit a small “yes” coaxing him to continue. “and f’course he came, probably asked for your instagram on your phone so he could follow himself, said y’all should take a lil selfie to save the moment and begged you t’post it and tag him, right?” your eyes widened at how spot on your boyfriend was, his thrusts doubling in power as he listened to you agree to everything he said. “but you a my good girl so i know you ain’t post it, but he ain’t let it go did he? nahhh…he leaned down and whispered in your ear some stupid pickup line that made your eyes widen, and since you rejected him i know for a fact he ain’t follow you back, and he doesn’t plan on talking t’you ever again”

you couldn’t stop the little whine from escaping your throat as you listened to the wise words of your boyfriend. “m’sorry p-papi i didn’t knowwww” connie quickly shushed you, leaving light kisses on your wet cheeks as he pushed you back down towards the bed. he laid both of his hands flat on your back before pushing your arch so deep you almost screamed.

“you too nice mami i been tellin you this, but it’s coo tho. papi gon make sure you understand by the end of the night.”

baseball player!connie who spent an entire night fucking his lesson into your poor little pussy, making sure his sweet girlfriend didn’t fall victim to the bad, clout chasing, drama filled people you’d encounter everyday at college.

[kingofthe-egirls]

SILLY IS THE NEW SEXY: GEAR 5 LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sex, flirting, squirting, creampie, silliness)

(an: i can't stop writing about gear 5 luffy)

Songs: "Monkey and Bear" by Joanna Newsom

words: 2.1k

You have curves like the sea, and as soon as Luffy lays eyes on you, he knows you’re different.

You ooze sex.

It clings to you like a second skin, as if sex appeal is a boa constrictor draped around your neck. Glittering and emerald, luxurious and reptilian, with striking ferocity in every touch.

He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Captain,” you say smoothly one night, enjoying drinks in the firelight, “You’re staring again.”

Luffy freezes, and then giggles sheepishly with his hand behind his head. “Shishishi, sorry,” he says, “M’not tryna be rude.”

“What are you trying to do?” You ask curiously, tipping your champagne back from its crystal flute. It tastes like sour cherries.

“I dunno,” he says plainly, and leans back on his hands. His legs are splayed out in front of him, sitting on the wood of the deck. He knocks his feet together. “I like looking at you, I guess.”

You stiffen, flattered at his words, before you take another sip. Stars flutter overhead. Blue velvet stretches across the sky, and the silver moon is only half-full.

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, pleased, “I like looking at you, too.”

He beams at that, and you both gaze at each other steadily. The waves crash and echo around the softly creaking ship, lullabies all around you. You let your gaze rake over him, boyish in form with muscular limbs and a shining face. Black hair under his straw hat, sticking out in spikes. You hum, appreciative.

“I like it a lot, in fact.”

You flush at your boldness, but only slightly. You’re no stranger to flirtation, and this is getting fun.

Luffy cocks his head. “Whatcha like about it?”

You detail the planes of his body with your eyes, gray and hazy in the moonlight. You take another sip of fizzy, liquid gold.

“Your face,” you say first, honestly, “It always makes me happy. Especially when you smile,” you cup your own cheek in one hand. He crinkles his nose, pleased, and looks off to the side. The silent question hangs on his lips: What else?

“Your shoulders are next,” you let your eyes fall over his muscles like a featherlight touch. “Your arms, your strength. It’s really impressive. I like when you wear red,” you move to sit on your knees, lowering onto the ground from where you’d been perched in a deck chair. Luffy scoots closer to you, too. He holds his forearm in front of you, and flexes. His wide hand is clenched in a loose fist. You let your fingers drift over swollen knuckles.

“Your hands,” you say softly, heat blooming in your gut. “You have really gorgeous hands,” you confess, and turn away before you can embarrass yourself further. You never knew the flirtation would get this far, with him sitting so close to you he’s radiating heat like the sun. You flick a lock of hair over your shoulder, and bump slightly into him. You clear your throat, “What about me?”

“Your curves! I like the way they look like waves,” he drags a broad hand across your waist, and pinches at the fat of your belly. “I like the way this rolls over,” he says, voice low, “I like the way your thighs shake as you walk. I like your ass,” he says the crass compliment like it’s nothing, like his touch isn’t burning hot lava into you. “I like the way you smell.”

“What do I smell like?” You breathe, already too far gone to pretend any further. You’re putty in his rubber hands.

He screws up his nose in thought. “Like butter? Or maybe…sea salt?” He licks his lips, “It smells tasty.”

“You smell good, too,” you blush, turning away. He knocks his shoulder into yours. You scoot closer, so your legs are touching. He hooks an ankle over yours. “Like tea.”

“Good tea?” He asks, and you nod. Tentatively, you lean your head onto his shoulder. He hesitates, breath held, but then relaxes into your touch quite naturally. He rests his head on top of yours, fluffy hair tickling your cheek.

“Very good tea,” you affirm. Your body is electrified, never having been this close to your captain before. “Do you like girls?” You ask abruptly, not wanting to tread water for any longer. You need to breathe.

“Mhmm,” he says, nodding against the top of your head. “Lotta people think I don’t, but I do.” He twines his fingers around yours, bringing them to rest on his lap. “D’you like boys?”

“Too much,” you chuckle, and sit up from him again. “Do you like me?” You gaze at him truthfully, letting your want and desire seep through into your skin. Your captain is clueless, but not that clueless. He regards you with a princely stare.

“Too much,” he echoes, and leans forward to kiss you.

****

Now, you’re suspended in midair, back pressed against the cabin wall, while Luffy fucks you senseless.

He’d brought you to his cabin, pressing your back against his door. He'd reached behind your supple hips to turn the deadbolt into its lock.

“Love ya, kitty,” he breathes into your shoulder, before scraping his teeth along your sensitive skin. “Love how ya move around like no one’s watching. As if anyone could ignore those fuckin’ curves.”

He grips hard at your ass, his other arm supporting your lower back. Your shoulder blades scrape against the cabin wall. He tastes like sea salt, and milk. You stick your tongue down his throat.

“Mmph,” Luffy moans into your throat, languid thrusts rocking you gently. He reaches down to thumb at your clit between you.

“So good, baby,” you croon, raking your fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck. He flickers gold for a second, white hair foaming at the ends of his raven strands. “Luffy?” You ask, watching his eyes swirl rosy. He giggles, grin wide, as he speeds up inside you. Your stomach bulges with his cock, and he gasps in mad abandon.

“Look at that…,” he whispers, feeling the head of his cock through your abdomen. Your stomach is not flat by any means (quite the opposite), but that doesn’t matter for Monkey D. Luffy. If he wants to see his cock, he’s gonna see his fucking cock.

“Luffy!!” Gasping for breath, watching his dick thrust in and out of you like you’re both made of rubber. Little hearts sprint in circles around his face, little ducklings following suit. He giggles, and you do, too.

Your eyes haze over into gold, with pink flecks of light bouncing around your tits. “Fuck—,” you gasp, watching the now curly-haired Luffy grit his teeth and fuck you hard. He lifts you off the wall, bucking his hips up into your cunt from below. The sounds of his balls slamming against your ass reverberates through the room, before his eyes bug out of his head like cartoon hearts. He’s slacked-jawed, tongue hanging out of his mouth as a wolf whistle sounds from somewhere off to the side.

“Aaaahhhh, kitty, ya feel so—oh!—goood!!!” He wails with his eyes squeezed shut. His muscular abs clench as he pistons his hips up into you. His cock is huge now, cartoonishly big as he pummels up into your cunt. It slaps and gushes, your clit aching, as Luffy tightens his hold around you. He leans down to bury his face in your tits, sucking hard on your sensitive nipples. He rolls his tongue around them, before elongating the muscle to wrap around your tit like a slimy tentacle. The tip flicks at your nipple.

Electricity bolts through you, zinging up your spine and down to your toes. Steam is curling around your face, presumably pouring out of your own ears. Luffy is giggling, manic, before leaning backward to careen you both into the bed. He jackhammers up into you, sitting now with you on his lap. His long tongue moves around your tit, sucking and licking like an animated restraint. His limbs are rubber wrapped around you now, sparks flying from where your bodies connect. His cock is thrusting sloppily against your cervix, which usually hurts but with him slams stars into your eyes. Your body is as elastic as he is, apparently.

Your fingers curl into his hair. “Luuuffyyyy,” you groan.

“Haahahaha!!!” He cackles, slurping his tongue back into his mouth. He slaps your other tit with a smack that makes a sound like a spring.

He leans down to suck your other nipple, not wanting his baby to feel uneven. His lips wrap around your bud, soft and chapped as he plays you with his tongue. Slow, sensual licks all over your hardened bud send shivers coursing through you. Luffy giggles, before ramming you down hard onto his aching cock. His lips stay tightly glued to your nip, so it makes your tit bounce up and down like a fucking porno. Luffy crosses his eyes up in pleasure.

Sex with new Luffy is freaky as fuck.

But (surprisingly?) his silliness has in no way deterred you from your own sparkling orgasm.

“S’fun, isn’t it?” He asks as he pops off your overstimmed nipple. You nod, vigorously. You push him forward onto his back, so that you can ride him at your own haphazard pace. You sink down further onto his cock, letting him hit it from below. Your elbows are on either side of his manic head. Your hips rocket repeatedly down into his, both of you grunting with every thrust.

Steamy hearts explode in front of your eyes.

"So fucking fun," you say, searing his grin into your senses for later. You're gonna be thinking about this hookup for ages.

Your pussy clenches at the thought, of maybe not having this be a one time experience, as Luffy moans. He stutters, grabbing your hips in searing hands.

Captain Luffy whines, head thrown back in sheer joy. His cock is bullying your walls, smaller now but no less thick. He brushes up against your g-spot, over and over again. It feels like something is going to spring out of you at any minute. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the impending release of your shaky orgasm. A wolf whistle sounds off again, steam clouding the room. You gasp, as you cum.

“Luffy!!” You squeal, heat overtaking you as you shiver in ecstasy. “Luuffy, fuuuuck….,” you drawl out, dragging your hands over his sculpted chest. He’s heaving in ragged breaths, scarlet blushed formed on his squishy cheeks.

“Squirt for me,” he commands, thumbing at your clit in rough circles. “Cmon, baby, I know ya can do it.”

He presses down hard against your lower abdomen, twitching his cock up inside you as you ride him. You bounce your way to orgasm, screaming and crying for the whole ship to hear. Somewhere deep in your core, you squirt onto his lower abdomen. Luffy laughs, giddy.

“S’coming, baby,” he warns you, eyes dark, as his thrusts grow sloppy. He slams his hips up into you, cock thrusting against your sweetest spots.

So deep--!

“Yeeesss,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You bury your face in moonlight hair.

“Ganna—,” he stutters, hips shuddering as he cums inside you with a violent thrust.

His eyes cross in pleasure as he spills his seed inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Luffy gasps, eyes squeezing shut as a wave of orgasmic, cosmic energy flows through him. He’s never had sex like this, before. He’s never had you, before. No way he’s letting you slip away, now.

“Say you’re mine, baby,” he says, sweating and panting as you both come down. His fingers trail along your hipbones. “I wanna be yours."

He's panting, his voice raspy and hoarse.

His hair is dark, now.

You watch as the last shreds of cartoon hearts fade out of existence around you. The steam has cleared up, too. And no more whistles sound. You snicker, "Sex is so fun, with you."

"Shishishi," he grins. And then, "Say you're mine, baby? Pleeaseee?" He whines up at you, and you snort.

"Sure thing, captain," you slide off of him, and he groans, "I'm all yours."

"Seriously," he pouts, poking your inner thigh. Your leg twitches, still spasming from the aftershocks. "Sex isn't usually this fun."

"Even after Gear 5?"

He smirks, "Steam was new. But," he looks up at you, wide-eyed and serious, "I really do wantcha, y/n."

You still, regarding him down the length of your nose. Your chest is fluttering, crazy butterflies going off in your stomach. "Sex is one thing," you allow, scared, "But relationships are a whole other thing. Seriously means you're serious with me. S'okay?"

Luffy nods. His grip tightens around your hips, as he sits up. "Seriously," he says, hand running over your thighs, "Silly, maybe. But serious." His face darkens, "And I don't wanna play games with you."

You swallow, and nod.

"Me neither."

****