#either way it was FULL of the above and more

[dreaminguponlilypads]

HOLY FUCK!!! I absolutely adored “punishment”!! You did really well writing it, had me HOOKED

Would love to see a part 2, please (no pressure tho! I appreciate whatever you decide to post <33)

ofccc!!

PUNISHMENT PT.2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

pt.1

The days that followed were unbearable.

Simon had faced impossible odds before. He had survived missions that should have been his last, endured horrors that would break lesser men. But nothing—nothing—felt as gut-wrenching as the way you now looked through him like he wasn’t even there.

You weren’t avoiding him, not outright. You still showed up for training, still ate meals with the others, still followed orders with the same precision and focus that made you an asset to the team.

But to him? You had gone silent.

Every glance you used to give him—soft, full of warmth—was now vacant. Every touch, every whispered joke between you both, had vanished. If he spoke to you, all he got in return was a clipped nod or a quiet hum of acknowledgment.

He was losing you.

And it was his own damn fault.

Simon tried everything.

At first, he kept it simple—small gestures, reminders that he wasn’t giving up. He’d leave a cup of coffee on your desk the way he used to. You never touched it. He’d linger beside you during training, offering help or pointers. You’d take instruction from anyone but him.

He hated it.

Then, one night, he found himself standing outside your door, his fingers hovering just above the wood.

He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over. Had tried to figure out how to fix what he broke. But for the first time in years, words failed him.

So he knocked.

Silence.

He tried again. “Love.” His voice was quiet, rough with emotion.

Nothing.

Simon exhaled sharply, resting his forehead against the door. “Please.”

Still, you didn’t answer.

But he could feel you on the other side.

His hands clenched at his sides. He could walk away. Give you space. But the thought of losing you, of letting this fester, made something cold settle in his chest.

So he did what he had never done before.

He let himself be vulnerable.

“I never deserved you,” he murmured. “I know that.” He let out a slow breath. “And I sure as hell don’t deserve another chance after what I did. But I need you to know… it stopped being a joke the second I met you.”

Silence.

Simon pressed on. “I was an idiot. I thought I didn’t need anyone. That I didn’t deserve anyone. But you—you came into my life, and you made me want more.”

His throat tightened. “You made me better.”

He swallowed hard, his fingers grazing the ring box in his pocket.

“I was going to propose.” His voice was barely above a whisper now. “Not because of a bet. Not because of guilt. But because I love you. Because I want a life with you.”

A long pause. Then—

The door didn’t open.

But he heard the quietest hitch of your breath.

It was enough.

For now.

-

The next day, Simon didn’t push. He didn’t hover, didn’t force conversation. He gave you space.

But during a morning briefing, when he passed by you to take his seat, he caught the smallest thing—

A cup of coffee.

Placed beside his usual seat.

Your silent way of saying you had heard him.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t ready to let him go either.

Simon knew better than to rush things.

The coffee had been a small olive branch, but it didn’t mean everything was okay. You were still distant, still guarded, but you hadn’t completely shut him out—and that was enough to keep him from spiraling.

He took it slow. Kept his distance but made sure you knew he was there. When you needed extra ammo at the range, he was the first to hand it over. When you stayed behind after training to work on close-quarters combat, he was the one holding the pads, letting you take out your frustration in controlled strikes.

And when you finally—finally—looked at him without that hollow expression in your eyes, he knew there was still hope.

It was nearly a week later when you finally spoke to him.

You found him sitting outside, mask pulled down, a cigarette burning between his fingers. It was late—most of the base had already settled in for the night. The sky stretched above, dark and endless.

You hesitated.

He noticed.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” he murmured, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He didn’t look at you, didn’t push—just let you decide how much space you needed.

You sat down beside him, leaving just enough distance that he felt the absence of your usual warmth.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—

“I don’t know how to fix this.” Your voice was quiet, raw.

Simon inhaled deeply, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before finally turning to look at you. “I don’t either,” he admitted. “But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You swallowed, your fingers curling around the fabric of your fatigues. “I trusted you.” Your voice wavered slightly. “You made me believe I was worth something, that I—” You exhaled shakily. “And then I find out it started as some bet?”

Regret twisted in his chest. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice sharpened, but not with anger—just pain. “You don’t know what it’s like to finally feel wanted, only to realize it was never real to begin with.”

Simon clenched his jaw. “It was real,” he said firmly. “Maybe not at first. And maybe I was too much of a coward to tell you sooner. But everything after that first date? That was real.”

You searched his face, eyes flickering over every inch of him like you were trying to determine if he was telling the truth.

And then, so quietly he almost missed it—

“I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

The words hit harder than any bullet.

For someone who hardly trusted anyone, it sure hurt more than it should've.

Simon exhaled, his grip tightening around the cigarette before he finally put it out. “Then let me earn it back.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “However long it takes.”

You didn’t answer. But you didn’t leave, either.

Instead, after a long silence, you leaned just slightly against him, the smallest shift, barely noticeable—but he felt it.

And Simon knew.

You weren’t ready to forgive him.

But you weren’t ready to walk away, either.

[organic-bloodbath]

can you pls do a thanks x reader where reader is like lowk a bad ass. enemies to lovers kind of thing. maybe they have known each other for years. she tripped up during mingle but someone saved just in the nick of time but later in the bathroom he yells at her telling her he can’t lose her because he loves her. and then they kiss and stuff and fall asleep together (im a sucker for angst with a fluffy ending🙏)

I love you, fucking idiot

Thanos x Reader

Summary: As above.

A/N: Hope you like 🫶🏻

☆☆☆

You and Thanos had known each other since middle school. You wouldn't consider the two of you friends, honestly you didn't really know what you were since you wouldn't think of you as enemies either. You had always disliked him, atleast that's what you thought, but it wouldn't go as far as hate. More like he simply annoyed the shit out of you. Thanos had been teasing and bickering with you ever since you were teenagers, and he seemed to enjoy it. It was always harmless, he never actually bullied you.

"Well, well, well – look who it is," Thanos said as he approached you and looked at your figure from head to toe before continuing. "I see you've dyed your hair."

Your hair was naturally dark brown, but you had dyed it pink a few months ago.

"Did you do it to match with me?" Thanos smiled. "Didn't know you were so obsessed with me."

"You wish," you denied, rolling your eyes. "I haven't had a single thought about you in several months."

"So, you admit you've sometimes thought about me," he pointed out and brought his hand to rest on his heart. "That's so touching, Cotton Candy."

"Don't be so full of yourself," you scoffed. "And cut the nickname, it's gross."

When the game started right after, Thanos leaned a little closer to you.

"Wanna race?" he asked.

"For what?" you asked, right brow lifted in curiosity.

"If i win, i'll get to keep the nickname for you," he suggested with a smirk.

"And when i win?" you asked. "Because there's no way i'm losing to you."

"I'll drop the nickname."

"Well, challenge accepted."

As you were running forward, trying to ignore Thanos near you, someone suddenly pushed you, making you fall on the ground. You laid there on your back, managing to stay still when the doll turned around to scan any possible movements in the area.

"As clumsy as always," Thanos mocked quietly above you, smirk on his face.

"Shut up," you mumbled in annoyance.

When it was time to move again, Thanos offered his hand to pull you up.

"I don't need your help," you muttered and started to get up.

"Stop being grumpy and take my hand," he insisted.

You rolled your eyes and let him pull you up. However, he pulled you with more force than you had expected, making you almost to trip forward again but he held you still. You were standing against him now, your heads facing each other to make you lock eyes. Right then the doll turned again, forcing you to stay still for a while.

"Did you always have freckles on your cheeks?" Thanos muttered quietly as he examined your face closer, just thinking outloud.

"Duh," you mumbled and got off his grip when you could move again, taking a quick sprint forward to get ahead of him.

In the end, you did win the game just couple of seconds before Thanos, he was running right beside you the entire way.

"Ha! I win," you mocked him. "Didn't know you let yourself go out of shape when you started focusing on rapping."

"You were just lucky this time," he huffed and rolled his eyes, not wanting to bruise his ego by admitting his defeat to you.

"This time? You want to do this again, huh?"

"Until i win."

☆☆☆

The second game arrived the next day and you were supposed to form groups of 5 with each other.

"Alright, Y/N, you're with my team," Thanos stated, as if he had done the decision by himself.

"Um, no thank you," you laughed.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Thanos narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer to you.

"Now, what kind of competition would it be if we played in the same group?" you asked, crossing your arms on your chest. "The group that finishes earlier than the other wins."

"I see," Thanos hummed. "So what's the prize?"

"You'll see," you said and winked, leaving Thanos on his own without another word to search for your own team members.

Thanos wouldn't show it on the outside, but seeing you go and find a different group stinged his heart a little in a horrible way. Having you in the same group would have meant to either die together or live together. Being in different groups would mean the other could die while the other lived. But he couldn't force you to be in his team, no.

Your group played first and you did end up winning five seconds earlier than Thanos' group. It pissed him off so badly how you could win him twice and then rub it on his face afterwards.

"So, what do i owe you?"

"Besides all those pens you never returned to me in middle school?" you asked. "Hm. New shoes."

"Aw, is that a way to ask me to go shopping with you?" Thanos asked, having that same smile on his face which you hated. "I knew you liked my company."

You just punched his shoulder before leaving.

☆☆☆

The third game started, and along with his own team, you stood next to him as well.

"Now, you're not going to start wandering around this room on your own, got it?" Thanos said to you.

"What are you, my dad?" you scoffed, but having a playful smirk on your face. "You can't tell me what to do."

God, it started to annoy him how you took this as a joke. He wanted to keep you safe – no, he needed to keep you safe.

"You're not going to leave my side, are we clear?"

"That bossing me around is both annoying and kind of hot," you admitted, one of your eyebrows lifted.

"Are we clear?" Thanos asked firmly, voice getting louder.

"Yes, sir," you agreed, but Thanos could see that you didn't take him as seriously as he would have hoped.

As the rounds went by, you did stay with him and not go on your own ways. For that, Thanos was more than thankful. Since he had noticed that you kept following him, one round he didn't look so closely at your way anymore. He trusted that you were right behind him again, because the time was running out very, very quickly now and his team was struggling to find a free room. Thanos eventually did get into an empty room right at the last second.

Thanos turned around as the door had closed and locked itself, but when he saw a guy instead of you, his heart stopped. There were three players in the room with him, and none of them were you.

You had been right behind him, he had seen you. Barely two steps behind running and searching for a room with him. Thanos had been sure of it. But you weren't in the room now.

Thanos instantly ran to the gap of the door to peek out as the shootings started.

"Y/N!"

His heart was racing faster than ever before. Several people had been left outside, you included, and now their bodies were being carried into the black coffins tied with those fucking pink bows. It was too dark to recognise which body belonged to you.

Thanos leaned against the wall in disbelief. You couldn't be gone, that was impossible. You could survive anything. You had to.

He looked at his remaining team mates who were all staring at him. Nam-gyu, Se-mi and Gyeong-su, who looked at Thanos with the most terrified look out of all three.

Thanos stormed towards Gyeong-su and slammed him right against the wall, holding him captive by his shoulders.

"Where did you leave Y/N?!" Thanos shouted. "It was supposed to be Y/N!"

Nam-gyu had to pull Thanos away with a good amount of force so that he wouldn't start beating Gyeong-su up completely.

"Chill up, man," Nam-Gyu tried to calm Thanos down. "She probably found another room, don't get all heated up in the middle of the game."

Thanos took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration. God he was angry - mostly at himself how he had let this happen just like that and not kept a closer eye on you. He should have held your hand to make sure you were there, but he knew you would have refused and only pulled your hand away.

For the next round, he didn't see you anywhere among the players. There were a lot left and he didn't go through the entire carousel because he had lost all hope. He was sure there was no way you could have survived finding a room in just a few seconds.

Thanos didn't say a word as he walked back with his team after the challenge was finished. Nam-gyu tried to talk to him but he didn't spare any attention on him at the moment.

Then, his heart stopped for a mere second when he saw you walking next to another player, having a conversation with her which Thanos couldn't hear. You laughed at something what player 120 said to you.

You were alive. He heard your laugh, which was always louder than many other people's laugh normally were. Thanos was frozen still for a few seconds, only looking towards you.

He was disappointed when he noticed that you kept your attention just on player 120 and didn't scan the room for Thanos as closely as Thanos did for you. But he didn't waste one moment longer until he stormed towards you with large and loud steps that made many other players around him to turn and look at him.

Thanos grabbed your hand without a warning and pulled you behind him towards the bathroom. You tried to yank your hand off but his grip was too tight.

"Su-bong," you said. "Su-bong, stop."

He didn't listen to you, only dragged you after him so fast you were about to trip soon.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" Thanos shouted when the door had closed. He didn't know if anyone was in the stalls right now and he didn't care.

"What?" you asked with brows furrowed, confused what Thanos was on right now.

"Don't you 'what' at me," Thanos spat, then pointing his finger at you. "What the fuck was that in the game?"

"What was?"

Thanos took a deep, frustrated breath in not to explode in total pieces in front of you.

"You didn't come to the room with me," Thanos said with a chuckle, though he found absolutely no part of this conversation funny. "You weren't in our room, Y/N. Why the fuck weren't you there?"

"I tripped," you shrugged. "You were gone already so i found another room."

You looked so indifferent and how this wasn't a big deal. You looked like you didn't care and it made Thanos even more enraged, fire building inside him unbearably hot.

Thanos laughed. Actually laughed. He didn't know where it came from because none of this was funny, but his emotions unfolded in uncontrollable laughter for a moment.

"Okay Thanos, what's going on?" you asked and crossed your arms. "I tripped, found a room and i'm now here."

"Don't you understand, Y/N?" he said in desperation, putting his arms on both of your shoulders. He had stopped laughing, his face completely serious and turning into anger and annoyance again. "You could have died!"

"Yes, Thanos, i know," you took your turn in laughing. "That's the point, they kill who lose-"

"But you could have been one of them!" he yelled at you, his face now only a few inches away from you. As he looked into your eyes, his wide eyes softened and his face relaxed more, voice turning a lot more quiet as well. "I could have lost you, Y/N. I was meant to protect you."

His hands moved upwards to cup your cheeks in their gentle hold.

"I can't watch you die," he said by barely a whisper. You leaned your face into his touch, a smile spreading on your lips. It annoyed Thanos. "What's so funny?"

"You like me," you stated with a grin. "Admit it, you like me."

Thanos huffed and rolled his eyes, letting go off you. He turned around to leave without another word.

"Come on, just say it," you said playfully, starting to follow his back. He gave you only silence and tried to ignore your finger drawing zigzag patterns on his back. "Come onnnnn, Su-bong. You like me, you like me, you like-"

He turned around in a mere second, stopping on his tracks so aprubtly that you bumped on his chest.

"I love you, Y/N!" Thanos shouted. "Don't you get that?"

Your eyes widened and so did his. The words weren't supposed to leave his lips like that, but you managed to press his buttons in a way to squeeze them out of him. You looked at each other, him sparing a quick glance at your lips.

Before either of you knew it, both of you leaned in towards each other and crashed your lips into a hungry kiss.

His arms were roaming all around your body, pulling you tightly against his body by your lower back. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing through his purple hair. His tongue forced your mouth open wider and was able to dig itself deeper to explore new parts of you.

Then, the door of one of the stalls opened slowly a few metres behind you, startling both of you out of the trance of savoring each other.

Min-su looked at both of you awkwardly, hint of pink on his cheeks, then quickly going to wash his hands and avoiding any eye contact with you. Neither you or Thanos moved during this time, not an inch besides of your heads to follow his movements. Your left hand was resting on his shoulder, your right fingers against the back of his neck. Thanos had his hands on your lower back.

Min-su glanced at you, both of you staring at him and waiting for him to leave, and then hurried out of the bathroom without another look. You and Thanos both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Oh my god," you mumbled and wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye.

Thanos put his finger on your chin, a smirk playing on his face.

"So, want to continue this," he suggested, trailing his tattooed finger along your lip and jawline, "somewhere more private, hm?"

You pushed his hand off.

"As if."

You were about to walk past him, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you around back to face him.

"So you're just going to leave me hanging like that, Y/N?" Thanos asked, eyebrows raised close to his hairline.

"Thanos, i'm not going to go to the damn stall with you."

Thanos grabbed your face into his hands, making you look at him. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he only looked deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, i meant it," he said seriously. "I love you."

Your brows furrowed.

"I love you and i can't handle the feeling inside me when i even think that something bad might have happened to you," he explained with such a vulnerability in his voice you had never experienced before.

You looked at him seriously for a while, until you started to giggle.

"You loveee me," you teased.

"Shut up," Thanos mumbled, rolling his eyes, and turned his back to you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind and rested your chin on his left shoulder, gently caressing his chest with your palm in a soothing and calming way like you were trying to calm down a child after a breakdown. He stayed still under your touch.

"I think i like you too," you admitted.

"Just 'like'?" he asked. "Like, a friend or what?"

"Well, i wouldn't want to have you die either," you admitted. "It would make me sad."

"Would you cry over me?" Thanos asked.

"I might. A little bit."

Thanos knew you didn't show your true emotions easily to others and especially didn't admit them with words. He had always known that you showed your emotions through actions, not through speech. It would be useless to force you confess 'i love you' back even if you did love him.

"Would you be okay if... you saw me with another woman?" he asked slowly. "Someone else kissing me like we did, hm?"

You were quiet for a moment, still standing behind him on your tiptoes in the same position, but now grabbed his cheeks with your hand, turning his face towards yours. Your faces were so close your noses were only an inch apart from each other.

"You're mine, you hear me?" you stated seriously with a stern voice, fingers pressing hard on his cheeks. "No other woman is going to touch you as long as i live, got it?"

Grin spread on Thanos' face.

"You likeee me," he mocked you with a smile, imitating you.

"I'll hit you if i have to," you threatened but kept your hold on his shoulders as gentle and relaxed as before.

"I know you've fallen so madly in love with me," he insisted.

"And how are you so sure about that?"

Thanos turned around to make your bodies face each other.

"Because when i do this," Thanos said and simply put his hands on your cheek and lower back, pulling you closer, "you get all flustered and you scrunch your nose like this," he explained, slightly scrunching his own nose. "And you get jealous."

"I don't get flustered," you refused, narrowing your eyes, but you could feel your cheeks getting warmer.

"I'll get you to admit it some day."

"Get over yourself."

☆☆☆

When it was time to finally go to sleep, you had just laid yourself on your bunk, until felt another presence behind you. You didn't have to turn around to see who it was.

"If you think i'm going to have sex with you right now, you're very much mistaken," you stated and turned your back to him. "Go to sleep, Thanos."

Thanos scooped over to lay on the bed on his side behind you.

"Who talked about sex?" Thanos asked, like the entire thing was a foreign concept to him. "I'm tired after the game too, you know."

"What are you doing?" you asked as he put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, your back against his chest.

"Getting a comfortable position to sleep."

You stretched your neck to look at Thanos over your shoulder.

"You planned to sleep here?"

"Obviously, señorita."

"Why?"

"Because that's what men do when they love a woman – or so i've heard."

"We're not a married couple, Su-bong."

"Do i have to fall on my knees to propose to you right now to make you shut up and accept me as your sleeping buddy?" Thanos asked, looking a little too serious that he'd actually do it if you kept resisting.

You eyed him for a moment until turned your head away from him back to rest on the pillow.

"If your hand wanders anywhere else than my waist i'll kick you to the floor," you stated seriously as you closed your eyes.

"Fair." Thanos lifted his head to plant a soft kiss on your temple. "Goodnight, grumpy princess."

"Gross."

"I know you love it."

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Part 2)

A/N: Small Chapter update! Bit more of a Xaden focused chapter (sue me) the in-between of the journey to Samara! Thank you for the love. Again - this is also on A03. xoxo K

Watching Xaden and Violet whisper to each other, it’s clear that things are strained. Their tethers were drenched in betrayal and grief; rolling off in waves from Violet and the regret from Xaden - they were suffocating. The rising discomfort as their emotions barreled through me, it took everything to withhold my instinct to bring automatic comfort. What good is my signet if I can’t help others? Securing the straps on my gloves and the fit of my flight goggles. There was very little to pack of my own personal belongings, the sleeping pad added extra support against my lower back. All of it tightly secured, there was nothing left in Basgiath. 

“It’s gonna be a long flight, sweetheart. Do you need me to grab you anymore food?” Garrick orbits my space. Too nervous to fully cross it, but unable to stay away. Flittering around finding things to do for me, to comfort me, to be near me - it’s enough to make me go a little stir-crazy. However, a small whisper reminds me that this morning I thought he was dead and that is all it takes for me to allow him to continue. Rathnait exhales steam against my back in comfort, bringing some warmth to my bones. Her wariness towards Garrick was apparent the moment we stepped on the flight field and she barreled towards the large man, talons gripping the earth, teeth barred as she snarled in warning. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit as spit landed on his face. An ashen tone overtook his skin as Garrick stood deathly still. He had murmured something to her but she refused to tell me what it was that was said.

“I have a few snacks to hold me over.” I snip, making sure the laces on my boots are tucked in. Feeling him flinch at my short tone has me waver slightly. 

You have more patience than most, bright one. 

The sharp exhale escapes my lips, flicking the long braid over my shoulder. His eyes roam the length of it, before they meet mine. What I see in them makes me falter even more.

“I don’t want to be angry, Garrick, However, you’re going to have to either allow me to be for a while longer or leave me be until I can sort through … my emotions.” 

His jaw clenches ever so slightly before striding my way, making the choice to cross into my space, my orbit. Garrick towers me, forcing myself to look up and straining my neck slightly. The sight of the new scar on his face making him look all the more like a war hardened soldier, a rider. What would our parent’s think of us now? 

 “I made a mistake that - I’m here whenever or however you need me, sweetheart. I just want to make sure our travel goes smoothly for you.” A wet sheen covers his eyes for a moment before blinking it away. Garrick lost Liam and Soleil too. Everything was so fresh, all the mourning and anxiety. Reaching up towards him with shaky gloved hands, Garrick presses his face into my palm, nose nudged against the exposed skin and breathing in deeply once, twice. Gods, I was so fucked.. “Don’t ever feel like you have to dampen yourself for me, your emotions. I knew what I wanted the moment I saw you ride towards the sun on Rathnait.” He murmurs, lips pursed against my pulse point that thunders on my wrist. A quick glance on the relic that hides beneath my flight jacket and gloves, only a sliver of black is visible to him. Yet it seems to be what he needs to see before giving me his full attention with a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches me try not to cry, or melt, or combust - any of the above. 

He just looks at you and you melt, child. Rathnait cackles in my mind. Sending her a quick fuck off and closing the connection. 

“They don’t feel very nice - the feelings inside of me. I know there is still much to talk about. The monster in my chest definitely feels like punching you and the other part of me thought I’d never see you again-“ my voice breaks, cringing at the thought of losing the tight control I have before our long trip to Samara. Instantly, I’m incased in strong warm arms - the smell of well worn leather, churam and pine flood my senses. I can’t help the few tears that leak out, wetting the skin against his neck. 

I nearly didn’t have this. 

I nearly lost this feeling forever. 

Garrick shushes me gently, as if hearing the thoughts in my head. 

“Punch me when you need to. I can take it - although not to hard, I still want you to like my pretty face,” he whispers to me. A snort makes its way past my lips as I drag the sleeve of my jacket over my eyes in attempt to clear them. 

“Are Xaden and Violet ok?” I question, watching the lightening wielder cry and throw her arms around Xaden. Tenderness floods from him, lighting his tether in hues of orange and yellows like a waning sunset. 

“Violet knows about what lives in the barrens. She thought it was all a fairytale. And…” He stays silent, hesitant as he watches me. 

He wishes to tell you that Violet’s brother has been alive all this time. Living in Aretia helping rebuilding efforts. Chradh wishes you take it easy on them. 

It feels like my eyes bulge out of their sockets. Damn. That has to be awful for Violet, finding out that your older brother made the choice to never return to Navarre again. A deep, exhausted sight rises to the surface. I nod at him silently, watching Xaden and Violet take a step away from each other before turning towards us. 

“You were a great section leader.” Violet grins softly, clutching Xaden’s hand as she stand before me. Long gone was a naive general’s daughter. A true rider, a lightening wielder, a warrior against Venin. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m sorry too, Sorrengail. I wish this world was different for the both of us. And yet, I know great things are coming for you - and hopefully I’ll be there alongside ya,” I wink, pulling her into my arms in a tight hug. “I’ll watch this idiot, don’t worry. He’ll see you in a couple weeks.” She musters a laugh, recognizing the soul deep exhaustion that everyone is in. With a final embrace from the two lovers, we make our way towards our dragon. The anxiety flowing off of Xaden made me want to be sick. 

“She’ll be ok. You have to trust her, the same way you want her to trust you.” I murmur softly, imbuing him with comfort. With a pat on the back, I walk towards Rathnait who waits eagerly for a long night in the sky. 

You know there is nothing else, no one else I trust more than you.  I confess to her, pressing my forehead to hers, shaky breaths fill the space. With a gentle trill, she encourages me up her leg, settling for the long ride ahead. 

*  *  *

We head east. Nothing but vast snow capped mountain ranges across the Elsum Province. The winter flight jacket I had on did little to shield me from the frigid cold that seeped deep into my bones. From Basgiath to Samara is about a day trip, and leaving at night gave us a bit of a buffer to take our time. Chradh, throughout the past 12 hours, kept bushing his wing against Rathnait - much to her irritation and secret delight. Garrick would smirk at every snap or roar from my dragon, laughing at whatever Chradh would tell him. As the sun came up, I relished in the feeling of its warmth. My dragon no longer needing to ask as she tore away from our small riot and shot up towards the sun. With a scream of excitement I tightened my grip on her scales and spikes, for a moment she freezes in the air, wings stretched as far as they would go - her shimmers of shades of red glistening in the light. She chuckles in my mind as she feels my anticipation, the precipice of descent. Rathnait lets herself fall backwards, before fixing her position and darting towards the mountain range. My hands outstretch as we bank out, flares of fire bursting and twirling around us, I let it skim her wings, warming her up. 

How all you humans should treat us. She purrs in relief. I laugh as I watch her relish in the way my fire signet bursts to life around us.

A chitter from Sgaeyl however, draws us back to the others as we make a descent to a pasture that encompasses a small mountain lake. I stiffly make my way of Rathnait, my legs feeling like jelly as I touch sold ground for the first time in hours. Making my way towards the boys who have set up a mini camp, I quickly light a fire on the shores of the lake. We all sit on the ground, Xaden rifling through his pack while Garrick tries to entice me with berries and chocolate he had stolen from the kitchen in Basgiath. A moment of contentment passed through us. 

“It was a setup. Athebyne, the post - all of it.” Xaden sighed, dragging a dagger through the sand in mindless patterns. “The post was emptied, Aetos made sure there was only one path to take. L-Liam, he saw the Venin reach the trading post. We had to make a choice of defending or retreating.”

“Xaden, you don’t have to,” I say softly, watching and feeling the torment he’s enduring. “We can talk about it another time.”

“Flare, please.” Xaden looks up at me, willing me to understand. “I have to tell you now so nothing happens to you, so you prepare. Okay?” He demands. I nod and listen; how the Venin scorched and burned and drained. The Wyvern. The way Deigh fell and Liam had moments. I try to stop the onslaught of tears that rise and fall, spilling against my cheeks like a waterfall. My lip bleeding as I trap them between my teeth, trying to stay quiet and listen and Xaden tells me everything and anything that he can remember. Garrick, eyes vacant and hollow as he too endures the memories. However, his hand that rests on my lap, open and inviting quickly intertwines with my own, bringing them to his chest where his heart beat thunderously beneath his skin. No longer can I hold the sob in as I listen to everything they had gone through, everything they suffered through. 

“And Aretia?” I finally ask, not missing the way Xaden’s shoulder’s slump in defeat. “This whole time you’ve been restoring it?” 

“The contingency if Navarre didn’t hold up their end of the deal. We would have never left you.” He assures. “My mistake was believing you would be safer if you didn’t know  until necessary. Now? I - we need you. Need you to train harder. Need you to fight alongside us. Need your expertise, need your signets, need your dragon. Flare, we need you to hold us together because Garrick and I can no longer do it on our own. There are too many factors now.” 

“Like Violet,” I comment softly. Willing him to understand it’s not out of accusation, but out of consideration. Before, all Xaden had to think about was himself, the marked ones - the survival. Now? 

Love was able to endure plenty chaos, but only to the strength of the riders, of their hearts.

War was coming. There was no stopping it. And I would be damned if I was gonna let it rage without me. 

[cursedwretch]

What Lurks Beneath - Chapter 6

Viktor x AFAB!Reader; Word count: 4948 Words; Rating 18+ MDNI

AO3 | Prev

Plot and Smut?! Content warnings below: CW: Creepy behavior at the start (non-con undertones but nothing extreme), hurt/comfort, angst, smidge of soft dom!Viktor/switch!Viktor if you squint, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, praise kink, light overstim

Chapter also contains canon-typical (implied) violence, and mentions of injury/blood.

Perhaps I should have heeded Viktor’s warning.

I come to, head throbbing and vision streaky, in a warehouse of sorts. Full of dinge and grime, with light so sparse I’m amazed anyone would even consider working in these conditions. I shift in the seat with a groan, blinking as I will my vision to refocus.

A harsh push against my shoulders holds me put. I follow the arm to see one man—a veritable wall of muscle—towering above me. I swallow, mouth too-dry, surveying the room to find two other men nearby, both reedy and underfed. The one standing closer leans in, though his words are garbled, drowned out by the persistent ringing in my ears—broken only by the thrum of my heartbeat.

I wince, blinking away the tears threatening to form as the hand at my shoulder tightens. A whine slips out. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic—landing myself in this situation as well as playing the whimpering, sniveling fool. I hiss as all the sound in the world comes rushing back with a resounding POP. My eyes wrench shut.

A tap at my cheek has them flying back open, struggling to lurch away from his touch as he sneers, “uh-uh princess, we’re gonna have a little talk.”

“Let me go,” I spit, thrashing. I am a pathetic, cornered little rodent. Another heavy hand falls on my other shoulder, pushing me into the cold steel of the chair.

The man laughs, pinching my cheeks between his hands—the harsh press of flesh between teeth and bone is searing. “What’s a piltie bitch like you doing here, huh?”

I cry out as he grips harder, tears lining my eyes, “I’m a marine biologist. A scientist.”

His eyes narrow, leaning into my space, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Listen, please, I’m just studying the river. Fish. Okay?”

He’s either unmoved or lacking understanding. Either way, he clearly doesn’t give a shit. Any words I had left to say die in my throat as he fixes me with a sordid sneer, leaning close. Close enough that I can smell his rotten breath cascading across my face. Eyes screwing shut, I shift away—

My makeshift savior comes by way of a heavy slam of a door. The hands pull away from my face as if burned, thank the gods. I lean forward, eyes wild, struggling to get my breathing under control. Rise, fall. Rise, rise, fall.

“Hey Boss! Found a little topsider rat skulking around,” the lech calls out.

“Oh yeah? Came to admire the view, huh?” The ‘boss’ laughed, crossing the long warehouse. I blink into the darkness, until I can pick him out from the shadow.

“Said she’s learnin the fishes,” the lech snickers.

The man’s steps halt in a half-stumbling little shuffle before they resume. “You idiot,” he hisses, “Chross’ll fucking kill you if he finds out.”

“Why?” the lech says with a pinched face. Confusion clear as can be.

The new man—stocky, scarred—crosses into the light, smacking his underling up the side of his head, fixing the room with a glare. The hands at my shoulders leave me as well. Relief. Foolish, naïve relief washes over me and I blink away more treacherous tears.

“The eye said hands off the fucking scientist,” he points my way.

I swallow, the lech’s face pales as he speaks, “I never heard nothin—“

“Which is why you don’t run shit,” the other spits. He mumbles under his breath as he approaches me, “whole business is knowin shit and this motherfucker couldn’t walk into a fact if it was right in front of him.”

He stalls in front of me, evaluating me with a long, dark stare before turning to the other man, hand clamping around the nape of his neck as he leads him away with a hushed whisper. His voice trails off, followed by footsteps. There’s another slam of that unseen door, and I’m alone.

I twist in my seat, craning in search of something, anything. Nothing but distant machinery and worn metal tables and conveyor belts and darkness. I regret my field of study, for a brief moment. Viktor would be able to physics and fulcrum his way out of this, I’m sure. Viktor would also never find himself in this position, but, that is beside the point. I grit my teeth, doing another scan.

Be inventive, damn it. Think.

I crane my neck, looking behind to assess the knot; the rope is sturdy, but looks worn. Not so much that it’s brittle. Still, there’s a promise in those frayed and tattered fibers. I scan the metal chair, in search of an edge… there. A little ragged metal lip where the leg connects with the body. It’s an awkward stretch. I grimace past the once-forgotten pain in my palms as I rub the rope against the spot. It’ll take hours to chew through…

A fulcrum isn’t such a bad idea, actually.

I make a few week points around the knot as I glance about… Something long, something sturdy enough.

Ah.

An iron tool of sorts, rusted and battered, lays atop one of the conveyor belts. My legs are free, thank the gods, though I choose to ignore the implication hidden in that choice. A few clumsy steps and I have it in my palms. The cold metal biting my raw skin.

My eyes screw shut as I ram one end through the knot, the other through the gap in the metal chair. I push down, breathing through the pain, applying as much leverage as I can muster. A curse.

My back snaps against the chair, the jostle sending that ringing back through my body; just a burst of it, thankfully. And… I’m free.

I need to be fast. Idiots these men may be, I can’t imagine they’ll leave me for long. I swallow, blinking into the deep, crushing darkness. I stumble forward, the opposite direction of that door, in search of another route. My hand meets corrugated metal—a wall, I think. I follow it, hand held against it as if the darkness itself is intent on whisking me away, cuts picking gods-know-what in the process. A break in the pattern. A hinge?

An exit.

Unlocked, too. How convenient hubris can be—a double edged blade, I suppose. I slip out, blinking rapidly, pupils slow to grow accustomed to the too-bright exterior. It’s clear. The one silhouette from earlier now gone, I presume he was one of the men inside the warehouse. One of the ones figuring out how to cover up their mistake… Why, exactly, was grabbing me a mistake worth fretting over? Later. Worry about that later.

I swallow, throat catching, before staggering forward on still-shaky legs. One foot in front of the other. As quick as can be.

Somehow, they manage to take me through the undercity, past that looming neon eye, into the bathysphere, up through Piltover—it’s easy to ignore the stares I receive on my way. What’s a little more humiliation?—until I find myself knocking at Viktor’s door. It’s a foolish a gamble, really.

One that pays off with the slow crack of his door.

“Jayce? It’s late. What could possibly—“ he halts, blinking at me. His harsh brows pinching in concern as he mumbles my name, “what are you doing here?”

That’s what breaks the dam. A creaky, sobbing dam. I exhale a garbled explanation, wordsslurringtogether broken only by gasps for air. An explanation he clearly doesn’t catch, eyes wide and confusion painted across his features as he ushers me inside.

“You’re bleeding?” His voice is pitchy.

I nod, frowning as I fight against another set of sobs. They’re right there, at the surface. My stomach burns with the effort. He leaves me at the couch, returning moments later with a first aid kit. Silver steadily streaks from my eyes as I wait. Pathetic.

He sits down, cradling my hand within his own, teeth baring in a wince.

“This will hurt,” he says simply, bringing the alcohol-soaked rag to my skin. I curse as I feel it eat away at my wounds.

His touch is gentle, fingers ghosting along my skin as he wraps my palms in a bandage. And on to the second. As he finishes, he keeps my hand cupped within his, thumb running along the seam of the bandage.

His gaze, however, is sharp and assessing as he speaks, “Tell me, what happened?”

I shouldn’t have come here, I realize. It was far too needy and naïve. Reckless. The theme of the day, apparently.

My inhale is shaky, shoulders rising and falling. I steel myself as I speak, recapping it all. I watch his emotions run the gamut, jaw ticking as his face flickers from concern to judgment to anger to pain.

With a whisper of my name he pulls me into a tight embrace, chest rising with a heavy sigh—the carefully-controlled kind that bubbles up with white hot rage. He swallows, thumb tracing circles on my skin, “If you weren’t currently sobbing in my home, I’d call you an idiot.”

“What does that mean?” I croak.

I feel his cheek rest against my hair. His reply is low and teasing, “I mean you’re fortunate I’m not a cruel man, hm?”

“You’re just going to call me an idiot later,” I groan.

“Mh, true,” I can hear the lazy smirk in his voice.

I look up to glower at him, and he relaxes his arms just enough to accommodate the movement, fingers still making those steadying little circles.

One hand pushes the hair behind my ear, thumb coming to wipe my tear-stained skin.

“If you’re going to insist on returning alone repeatedly, you need to learn how it operates,” he chides, “you are not a naïve woman.”

“I know,” I sigh, resignation deep within my bones, “I got comfortable.”

“Yes,” he agrees. His eyes shift around the room for a beat, thinking, before he looks back at me with a quiet resolve, “come here.”

He pulls me close, my back to his chest, slotting easily between his legs as he leans back. Enveloping me entirely, I breath out, eyelids softening as the events of the day ebb away. Until there’s just a whisper of that pain left. We sit in a lengthy stretch of silence. Comfortable and secure.

Eventually, Viktor is the first to speak, voice a quiet rumble, barely above a whisper, “fissure folk are not inherently dangerous—“

“I know,” I cut in, trying to twist to look at him.

“Eh, let me finish, please.” He presses a kiss to my hair, “it’s the conditions that create the crime, as well as certain people capitalizing off of it. Chross is one of them.”

I still, nodding. I feel his arms tighten around me as I ask, “meaning what, exactly?”

“He’s from Piltover,” Viktor sighs, “a parasite, which you will find more than you’d expect. I say this because it’s also what will give you the most resistance in your own work.”

I rest my hand along his arm, drawing a line back and forth with my fingers, committing to memory every little scar and vein and freckle in my path. “And whoever gave me protection…” I mumble.

I can feel the rumble of his hum against my back as he considers, “No. I’m afraid that is after my time—though there are rumors, of someone filling the vacuum left by Vander.”

“Vander?” I ask, adjusting in his lap.

Viktor’s fingers leave divots on my hips, stilling me.  “He built the lanes,” Viktor explains, “a true pillar of the community.”

“Aren’t the lanes a smuggling operation?”

“Mh, yes,” he says simply, utterly undeterred.

“And when—when did you leave home?” I let my hand roam, starting at his knee, a meandering touch.

He shifts, uncomfortable. My fingers still. A moment passes, and his head dips forward to whisper against the back of my ear, “enough homework for tonight.”

He shifts again, leg turning out a little wider. It’s enough permission to continue down that treacherous path, nails catching the fabric as I glide down his inner thigh.

“You were the one saying I need to learn,” I tease.

Teeth catch against the skin of my neck—a playful little nip. I hiss, cringing away from his bite as his hand splays out against my stomach, holding me in place. “Another time,” he murmurs, soothing where he just bit with a swipe of his tongue.

I let out a stuttering gasp, back arching.

A hand traced up the length of my body to wrap around my jaw, tilting my head to the side. I fight against it with a whine, trying to turn his way, chasing his mouth. He tuts between wet kisses to my neck. “I’d like to take care of you,” he whispers, “will you let me?”

I gasp a resounding yes. His hand toys with the hem of my shirt, fingers dipping beneath.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” he murmurs against my skin, hand sliding beneath my shirt, “to feel you again.”

I pant as he skims over my breast, arching into his touch. I’m pathetic, whiny already and I’ve barely been touched, “me, too.”

He pinches at my nipple, rolling it between his fingers and thumb until I’m letting out a sharp moan, brushing against him as I shift in my seat. He takes a sharp breath in, that hand splayed across me sliding closer to where I need—fingers barely sliding beneath the waistband of my pants.

“You’ve been thinking of me, hm?” His nose brushes my skin as he kisses his way back up my neck.

I nod, hips rolling against nothing.

He lets out a laugh—rumbling and low. His thumb tugs at the button of my pants. He waits.

“Viktor,” I sigh, nodding once more, “please.”

“Lift your hips for me,” he murmurs, tugging them open and past my hips in a smooth motion. I kick them the rest of the way off.

“You have too much on,” I pout.

“Eh, don’t worry about me,” he says, fingers sliding down, brushing along the outside of my folds with a teasing touch.

My breath hitches, back arching into his other hand in a silent plea. More. His lips find the crook of my neck, sucking.

My voice is breathy, wanton, “you’ll leave a mark.”

“I know,” he hums.

Any retort dies on my lips as his fingers find my center. I let out a strangled little gasp, head falling back automatically, canting to give him better access. Let him cover every inch of me as long as he keeps touching me like this.

“Good?” He whispers, voice soft. The check-in shouldn’t make my heart flutter as rapidly as it does.

“Gods, yes,” I gasp.

His touch is experimental—like my body is a puzzle—cataloging every response or lack thereof. It’s strangely vulnerable. He must sense this, too, as his other hand slides across my torso, pulling me even tighter to his chest. I close my eyes, let the feeling swallow me up.

His lips drag against my skin as he purrs, “so wet for me.”

He continues, fingers playing me like an instrument. Whispering sinful words that have me panting. Pleasure steadily building until I’m at the edge, hips wantonly rolling against his hand.

“Are you close?” He murmurs. At my frantic nod he laughs, “so needy.”

I nod once more.

His hand splays out against my stomach, fingers picking up their pace against me. He nips at my ear lobe, letting out a low, insistent murmur of my name until I’m crying out—dots spotting at my vision.

My body quakes as I come down, panting. His fingers—trecherous things—keep their insistent circles on my clit, tearing a cry from my lips.

“Viktor,” I plead.

He slows, but doesn’t yet stop. His leg hooks around mine, holding my legs open for him as he smirks, “can you give me one more, hm?”

I short circuit entirely. A keening whine and I find myself nodding, back arching at his touch.

“Mm,” he murmurs, fingers picking up against me, legs opening me a little wider, “so good.”

I reach behind my back to press my hand against his bulge, his hips shift at the touch automatically, bucking into my hand. I tilt my head up, holding his gaze as I grind my palm down—I hope he gets the message. I ignore the sting at my palms as the bandage digs in.

He, however, doesn’t; with a hiss he grabs my hand, bringing it tight against his chest. His heart thundering. He swallows, fingers not slowing as he rasps, “here? Or the bed?”

I look at his knee, frowning, “I don’t think here would be comfortable.”

He laughs as he slides out from beneath me, until my back hits the cushions beneath. It’s with another lazy smirk that he settles between my legs, grinding up against me to prove a point, “its a good thing that sex isn’t always about comfort then, don’t you think?”

I pant, fingers digging at his shoulders with each roll of his hips. “Gonna ruin your pants,” I gasp.

“Ever practical,” he teases, but his hand slides down, unfastening his pants and pushing them down his hips with practiced ease.

He slides against me, teasing my clit in a way that has my head spinning, mewling as I grind back against him. He sits up a little, watching, utterly rapt with each stroke.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. It’s quiet, earnest, lacking the usual theater that comes with bedroom talk. It makes me feel exposed, laid-too-bare. I shift my hips, pulling him into a kiss and letting my eyes softly close.

He groans into my mouth, and I am rewarded with the heady stretch as he buries himself in me. He doesn’t move for a moment—not his hips, at least—his lips slowing to a stop, a line of spit connecting us as he pulls back. His eyes burn, scanning every inch of my face, as if memorizing every little detail—the way my lips fall open as my breath hitches, the twitch in my brow. My own hands rise to cup his face, fingers brushing into his hair.

It’s quiet, save for the beat of my heart thundering in my ears and the sound of our breathing—ragged, uneven little pants. That vulnerability is back, that unfamiliar, ugly little thing. Too intense. I clench around him, a silent urge to move. It’s a cop out, admittedly.

But, one I’m rewarded for.

His thrusts are slow, deep, each movement sending me spinning. He lets out a quiet groan that sounds suspiciously like my name.

“Gods, you feel so good.”

He dips down, forehead presses against mine— skin starting to slick with sweat. Holding himself up with one arm, the other hand is everywhere. Toying, experimenting, searching for all the spots that make me shake.

“Viktor, need more—“ I whine.

His hand snakes around to my thigh, fingers leaving divots in my flesh as he thrusts deeper. “Is this what you want, hm?” He teases.

My eyes slide closed as I nod, my own hand slipping between us to circle against my clit, eliciting a strangled noise from his throat.

“Gods,” he chokes, eyes hazy as his pace picks up. Each thrust hitting exactly where I need it, pleasure coiling in my core. He continues to rasp, half-crazed, “you, ah, really are perfect. Made for me. I don’t know why I took so long—“

He cuts himself off, a groan falling from his lips. Too late. That little slip had my heart doing somersaults. But all I can focus on is the feeling of him inside me, sparks dancing on the edge of my vision with each intoxicating thrust.

“Fuck, Vik,” I gasp, eyes sliding shut.

His hips snap against mine, filling the room with all matter of indecent noises. He groans, “are you close?”

I mewl, nodding desperately.

“Open your eyes for me,” he husks, “I want to see you when you finish.”

I whine, eyes fluttering open. Overwhelmed. His thrusts get uneven, choppy, bottoming out inside me with each stroke. Until I’m on the very edge—

“Come,” he pleads.

That’s all it takes.

My back arches, the coil snapping as I cry out his name. I feel him pulse inside me as he follows me over the edge, eyes burning into mine for a moment—too warm, too full of something else—before fluttering shut, pulling me into a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth as his hips come to a skittering stop.

We lay there, just for a moment. Breathless bliss before reality sets in. Clarity. Its purely physical, at first: the sting of my palms, the faint ache as he slides from me, the way he hisses as he adjusts his leg, his sweat-slicked forehead resting in the crook of my neck. Then, a dull realization. That heavy, heady ache in my heart. I swallow. This time may have meant something more entirely.

Viktor sits up with a groan, hand resting on my leg as he looks around the room. Anywhere but me? Perhaps. His thumb draws circles against my skin, and I suddenly feel too exposed once more.

“Pants,” my voice comes out hoarse, moving to sit up as well. His hand leaves my skin as he reaches forward, handing me the discarded garments from the floor. He smiles at me as he hands them over. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That was good,” he says.

There’s something else that’s different about his eyes as he looks at me—still warm, just a little closed off, calculating.

“It was,” I return with a pasted-on smile, standing as I slide my clothes back on with weak legs, “I should probably head home. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning.”

His head whips up, swallowing. Though his only reply is, “if you’re sure.”

I nod, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Feeling the way his body tenses, relaxes, tenses again beneath my fingertips. There’s a stone in my stomach that I do my best to ignore.

“I’m sure.”

---

I wallow, sure. I indulge in it, just for the night, let the feeling fester and twist in my gut:

It’s that hatred of dependence that has me returning to the lanes the next day, hands still wrapped from the night previous. This time, I let the eye draw me in.

It’s a club. Music blaring at all hours of the day. All sweat-soaked neon and smoke. I’m not sure why I hadn’t noticed before; I always tried not to let my gaze linger, I suppose, lest it look back at me.

The eye.

The interior is filled. More leches, gamblers in the corner, everyone armed to the teeth, and me, standing in the doorway, like a mouse. I tuck my hand into my pocket, clutching the knife I brought until my knuckles turn white.

A woman—tall, menacing—red cloth draped elegantly around her shoulders, in direct contrast with her cocky swagger, approaches me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she raises an eyebrow.

I keep my returning stare flat, raising my chin just a little, “I’m looking for your boss.”

She scoffs, “he doesn’t do drop ins.”

“He’ll want to see me,” I challenge, “again.”

That, admittedly, was a minor gamble.

She smirks, laughing to herself as she shakes her head. Some private joke. “C’mon.”

I follow her up the stairs and to his office, ignoring the weight of the stares boring into my back from the bar below.

The man stands, back to me, framed by an ornate glass and wrought iron window. It looks as if it’s been broken and reforged 100 times over. I catch a glint of orange as he turns towards me.

Sevika guides me towards one of the chairs, pushing me down to sit before looming beside the door.

It’s a routine, I realize. One I’m eager to interrupt.

I clear my throat, leaning forward, “you’re protecting me. Why?”

It appears I’m successful, his shoulders straightening ever so slightly as he turns, giving a quick nod to the woman behind me and we’re left alone.

He approaches with a cool swagger, coming to stand before the couch, towering above me. It’s an effort to reclaim power, a reminder. I swallow.

I stay silent.

He huffs, a mirthless laugh as he takes his seat, legs splayed wide with an arm draped along the back of the couch. I do my best to keep my gaze level, ignoring the tug of his blackened eye as he speaks, “Is that really all you came to ask? A rather long journey for that, don’t you think?”

I frown, “we both know nothing comes without a price, especially here.”

His eyes narrow, he shrugs, “I believe we have aligned interests,”

“Which are?”

“Zaun.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh? Pity,” he smirks, “I thought they taught you better up top.”

I narrow my eyes. “The undercity?”

“Well done,” he coos, voice mocking, as if indulging a child. “Now, why don’t you ask me what you’re really here for?”

“Access to land, long term,” I jump at the opportunity. “The land behind Chross’ factory to start with. Next week.”

“That can be arranged,” he leans forward plucking a lighter from the coffee table.

I swallow, “and the cost?”

He ignores me, fishing a cigar from his pocket. Elegant fingers light it, “depends entirely on your plans.”

I sigh, launching into yet another recap of my project. To his credit, he’s clever. Hitting me with questions along the way. Finally sated, he leans back.

“So?” I shift, wincing at the awkward squeak of the chair.

He sniffs out the cigar, eyes flicking to the ceiling, “call it a donation.”

I narrow my eyes.

He shrugs, “take, or don’t.”

“I’ll consider it.”

---

Eager for advice, and to bridge the gap that feels bigger with each day, I stop by the Hextech lab.

Two short knocks before entering, eyes scanning the room in search of a familiar mop of wavy hair. Jayce greets me, smiling warmly from his desk as he speaks my name, “are you here to check—”

“—Viktor?” I ask, any pretense of business slipping with the foolhardy question.

“Ah,” he smiles again, though it doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “he’s out.”

I frown. “I see… how’s progress?”

“It’s going well,” he hedges, eyebrows pinching as he regards me, “he has a habit of disappearing, you know.”

“It’s fine,” I flush, “I was hoping for his advice about my project.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. Jayce’s round eyes tell me he’s thoroughly unconvinced. “He’ll reach out soon.”

I shrug, skin feeling tight.

---

A few days later, I sigh in my lab, studying some more samples scooped form the lower regions of the river Pilt. More of those strange, bioluminescent creatures. A wide swath of different species, too. Diatoms and cladocerans and copepods. All changed. Stronger, even.

But quick to decay.

I hum, jotting down some notes to myself, pushing back the ever-present desire to lament. To follow that tug across the academy to Viktor’s own lab once more.

The picture of his amber eyes turn colder, more shrewd in my mind with each day. It’s just about the only thing that keeps me from letting that tug swallow me up.

Jayce’s ‘soon’ isn’t nearly soon enough.

The day before my deadline, I find myself at the entrance of the last drop. Sevika escorts me upstairs once more. This time, she stays.

“Right on time,” Silco sneers.

I tilt my head. I find it incredibly grating; how much this stranger appears to know about my life. My movements, my motivations. I bite back the urge to narrow my eyes at him as I take my seat.

“I’d like to take your help.” I swallow, “however, Chross’ men attacked me before. I’d like some assurances.”

He flips through his book—what seems to be a leger—unperturbed. “They’ve already been dealt with.”

My mouth pressed into a thin line. Convenient.

“I don’t want hand outs,” I urge.

He sighs, snapping the book shut. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he speaks, “how adept are you at teaching?”

I falter, frowning, “I’ve worked as a TA.”

The most dreadful quarter of my existence, admittedly.

He sighs again, eyes flicking to the ceiling, mulling it over. It’s the most hesitant I’ve seen him so far. “I have a daughter.”

Oh.

I nod. This, at least, is something I can understand. Something far more human than feels appropriate for this menace of a man. Somehow, it makes his prior words seem less like lies.

“She quite gifted with gadgetry. Though she could use more varied influence,” he says, voice still holding that careful veneer of disinterest, “take her on your research.”

He waves me off in a clear dismissal, looking through me to Sevika at the door. Time to go, then.

I nod to him, “My work starts tomorrow. Though, allow me some time before I meet your daughter, please.” Something about the way his mouth drops tells me a very select few people are bold enough to set terms with him. So, I tack on, “the next phase of my research will be rather boring at the start.”

He huffs, nodding. ---

My work, at least, kicks off without a hitch. Between both my benefactors, I have all the protection and funds I could possibly require. Over the first few weeks, I spend more time in Zaun than I do topside. Overseeing excavations, planting wetland species in the buffer zone between the factory and the river.

Eventually, with time, I learn what the factory is for—shimmer refinement—operated by a skeleton crew, clearly not Chross’ main line of business. It’s Sevika who clues me in on the purpose: pain relief, power, pleasure. A medicine in some hands, a bane in others.

“You really ought to ask the guy who made the stuff if you want to know more,” she finally says, seemingly tired of answering my endless questions.

And so I do.

There’s a cave, conveniently located off of the river, far from any of the sites Viktor and I attended previously. Tucked away in a protected little alcove. Idyllic, for Zaun.

I enter carefully, fiddling with the knife in my pocket as I look around. The cave mouth quickly opens into a lab—something out of a children’s novel. Perhaps a horror story is more apt, judging by the specimens encased in formaldehyde lining the shelves of the room.

“Excuse me?” I call out.

There’s a clatter from the other end of the room, followed by a head popping out from around the corner. His face is half covered by a cloth, with a port-wine stain of mottled skin covering the remaining half.

“Ah, the Marine Biologist. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I step closer, the weight of the blade still heavy in my fingers, “you’re Singed, I take it?”

He doesn’t reply, eyes focused on the workbench before him.

“I’m here about shimmer,” I try again, closing the gap.

His spindly fingers balance a pipette, taking a drop of the familiar incandescent liquid from a vial. “I’m afraid I’m not in the business of supplying it.”

I sigh, “not here for that.” I close the gap, standing beside him as he drops the liquid into a beaker. “I think it’s affecting the ecostystem.”

His reply is monotone, unperturbed, “that is likely.” He brings the beaker eye level, swirling the liquid within. It flares pink before neutralizing into a cool purple. “You work with my protégé.”

“Who?” My brows pinch, “Viktor?”

The words hang in the air between us, laden with unspoken meaning. I’m met with nothing but silence from the vexing, reticent man.

I sigh, knowing full well my next question is a reach given how taciturn he’s been up until this point, “the ingredients?”

His eyes finally slide towards me, before pointing to a basket of dully glowing flowers in the corner of the room. I walk towards it.

“You may take as many as you need,” he waves me off.

I reach in, carefully plucking two from the top. “Your price?”

“No need,” he turns his back towards me, returning to his tinkering, “they’re worthless, on their own.”

I grit my teeth, “thanks.”

A/N:

Writing this chapter was rouuuugh, y'all. And I'm still deeply unsure how I feel about it. It's been like pulling teeth over the past couple weeks, and I reached the point where I needed to full send or I'd abandon the fic entirely haha.

It's a weird world out there. Hope y'all are taking care of yourselves. As always thanks for the reblogs and likes and kind comments.

[squidsinashirt]

He should’ve known that response was coming, in hindsight. Peering around the glass to stare as the message read out above his watch, before his shoulders sank, his heart following with it. Rather glad he was alone.

‘Tell your brother.’

Which one?

Any one that wasn’t him, clearly.

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. This was work, after all. But it did, and Gordon couldn’t ignore it.

He was just the messenger. Hell, even the world’s most reclusive spaceman sat above him in consideration. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alan was next, given current predictions.

The back of his head met the coolness of the tile, and Gordon closed his eyes, suds slipping down his face as the water rinsed the last of the chlorine from his hair. There was a hundred questions he wanted to ask; some he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to hear the answer to. That she thought he was incompetent enough to not even be a consideration was bad enough on a professional level. The little voice in his head, however, whispered rather darkly that it ran deeper than that, and the idea of there being any truth to that was a painful spot Gordon wasn’t willing to pick at. Annoyingly.

He still couldn’t be annoyed at her. He could be hurt, a little confused, a little more disappointed, but not annoyed. Not at Penny.

At himself though? Sure.

Gordon shut off the shower, reaching for a clean towel to drape himself in, and stepped out. Moving to the mirror and sighing once more as his own brown eyes stared back at him, before he braced his hands against the cool marble of the countertop. Eyes dropping to re-read the hovering message before him, before he slipped his watch back onto his wrist. Making his way back into the quiet of his room, sinking into the welcome softness of his bed as he towelled his hair dry, suddenly aching muscles glad of the promise of rest. Still trying to piece together something to say in response that didn’t sound as pathetic as he feared it would.

Ultimately, what mattered was the success of the mission, as it always did. He knew that, and Penelope knew that. She knew this sort of thing inside and out, it was what she did best. She hadn’t brushed off his concerns either - she’d gone and opened that can of worms on little more than one message from him. A message based on his squid sense, and a bad day, for crying out loud.

Surely she couldn’t think him that much of an idiot if she was willing to clear her diary for the day on a hunch, and now go toe to toe with this Price guy, who there was clearly an entire dossier written about, for him.

No, not for him. For the truth. This was much bigger than him, and any middle of the night crises of confidence he fought with, and Penelope was clear as invested as he in finding out exactly what had happened. There was an island full of rubble, families had lost loved ones, and Fulcra’s operations continued as if nothing has occurred. They needed to get to the bottom of this, quickly.

Gordon needed answers, and Penelope wanted someone else to go. Then it made perfect sense to be a little more bold about his own chances in the gauntlet of being Lady Penelope’s plus one, right? That was what he told himself as he lifted his watch once more with a somewhat renewed confidence, brow knitting in something akin to concentration as he typed.

Tongue in cheek, quite literally.

COMMS BEGIN

I’m not sure if you choosing the Plus One makes me feel better or not…

Want me to spin the wheel of Tracys and see which one you get to be next in line to the tuxedo?

Or, y’know… ask someone that might have a vested interest in this already?

COMMS END

:COMMS BEGIN:

Lady P,

Sorry for the early morning comms, hope this doesn’t wake you too early - I make it just after 5 your time.

We’re just finishing up a mission in the Persian Gulf - a luxury hotel collapsed overnight, on an island just offshore Doha. Only built two years ago, whole place is pretty new and shiny.

Been a rough night, Pen - fifteen we were too late to help, including two kids. Just families on vacation...

Anyway, victims are saying they felt tremors, it certainly looks like a quake from the debris now the sun is up and J is absolutely confident it came from beneath the sea bed (absolutely being a rather irritated direct quote, so I’m not asking again).

But… this isn’t a quake hot zone. It doesn’t make any sense, and there haven’t been any aftershocks either while we’ve been working. Five can’t get a good read because of the debris and mineral interference underground. The whole place is on top of the enormous old oil fields, and it sends the scanners haywire.

The company that owns the hotel has set my squid sense off though. Name’s Fulcra, I’ve sent you the profile on them. Ran by a guy named Randall Price. He’s a venture capitalist from Houston originally, but the company’s HQ is a London address. That’s as far as I’ve managed to get.

They own a couple of the small artificial islands around here that are being used as tourist hotspots. Think luxury waterfront villas on stilts kinda stuff, the hotel that’s collapsed was the biggest. Nice place, high end, lots of good dive spots.

This area’s all under a World Heritage protected marine environment permit for a biosphere reserve. They’ve spent decades trying to replenish the mangroves and coastal vegetation after what the oil fields and production did to the waters here, the aquatic populations are only just starting to rise comfortably. I didn’t understand how they even got permission for this sort of work but…

They’ve got a giant platform further out in the Gulf that’s supposedly ‘cleaning the sea’ and helping to replenish the sea bed. Seems to be some sort of agreement that they can build these resorts, in exchange for what appears to be green work. I tried to get a proper look at the platform in Four, out of interest, but they’ve got laser nets up. I got an autoturret my way for trying to go any further in the exosuit…

I’d like to think they’re just really protecting that biosphere, but I don’t get a nice eco-friend impression.

My gut says I’m getting Hydrexler vibes, and you were right about that oily CEO last time. I’m not sure I want to be right, but I do want to know what’s going on here… and I thought you might too, as our resident top agent with a passion for all things Earth-saving.

So, I thought I’d hand it over to you, and let you do what you do best - cosying up to the billionaires and getting them to spill the tea.

Lemme know if you know or find anything on them. We’re going to be here another couple of hours, finishing up stabilising the debris field and having another run through, and then heading back. S managed to get the Price guy on comms briefly, but he wasn’t much for talking. Maybe you’ll have more luck.

G 🦑

:COMMS END:

FIRST DATE?

The flickering light and the soft buzz from her compact device caught her off-guard. Penelope, who had positioned herself in an armchair beside her tall windows after giving up on sleep half an hour earlier, sat herself up a little straighter. The blanket which she’d wrapped around herself was pulled tighter to her frame as her eyes read the message.

The hour might have been earlier and, on any other day, Penelope might very well have still been sleeping, but today was different. She rubbed her tired eyes as they scanned Gordon’s words. At first, she’d hoped it had been something akin to a social call. She rather enjoyed those, especially when they came from Gordon, but the more she read, the more Penelope realised it was anything but that.

Her interest peaked as she reached Gordon’s conspiracy.

Her mouth grew dry when she reached Gordon’s information.

The blanket was thrown off her body and Penelope stood. With her comms device still in hand, her eyes still darting from left to right as she continued her reading, she crossed her bedroom and gently tugged on the bell. 

Minutes passed before a very sleepy Parker knocked on her bedroom door. Penelope, having only just finished Gordon’s message, opened it.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Parker, but it seems we have a situation. I need you to cancel my schedule for today and then get me all we have on the company known as Fulcra. CEO is a man named Randall Price.”

“But, m’lady, that’s—”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, Parker. See if you can arrange a meeting of some kind, if that’s at all possible.”

Parker nodded, still more asleep than he was awake, before he trundled off down the hallway to make good of his ladyship’s requests.

Penelope returned to chair by the window and curled herself back up. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as she typed out her reply.

COMMS BEGIN

@squidsinashirt, Thank you for your concern — I shall look into this and get back to you when I

Penelope ceased her typing and sighed. She knew it wasn’t fair to lie to him, not after her sent her looking. A moment or two passed before Penelope deleted her previous sentence and began to re-type it. 

COMMS BEGIN

Gordon,

This company?

I shall look into this as you requested but, I must warn you, you may not like what I find. Randall Price is… let us say a man I am already familiar with, or rather his business is. What I can tell you is that, for the most part, Fulcra is celebrated as a rather clean company, but that doesn’t always mean much — you were right to mention Hydrexler. The Persian Gulf was supposed to remain a protected marine environment, at least that was how I understood it. I’ll ask some of my World Heritage connections what they know too, see if I can get a bigger picture for you.

Give me a couple of days. I’ll try and, what was it you said? Cosy up to the billionaire? Get him to spill the tea? Parker is going to try and get me an appointment but, if that fails, I do have an alternative plan.

Do try and get some rest once you’ve finished up. The mission in Doha sounds like it’s been a terribly distressing situation for all involved. You know I am always here if you need to talk about it. Any of it.

I’ll be in touch once I hear something.

Stay safe, 

Penny x

COMMS END

-------------------------------------

Once upon a time, names held weight. Penelope had thought that Scott’s name had simply been too tied up with International Rescue for Randall Price to give him the time of day… until she too was ushered away once the more difficult questions were asked. From her other sources, Penelope had heard only rave reviews of the company. Yet something felt… off.

It was just after dinner when Penelope began her second message to Gordon.

COMMS BEGIN

It's too clean. Not sure what’s going on but I definitely sense something. Plan B is in operation. Randall Price might not have wanted to speak to me today, but he did invite me to his Charity Ball this weekend — I’ll see if I can find out more then.

I’m hoping you returned home safe and sound and that you managed to have a good rest. I suppose it’s my turn to apologise if this message wakes you. 

Penny x

COMMS END

[wild-at-mind]

USians you will be distressed to know that in the UK far right people use Trump flags, MAGA hats and even confederate flags to signify their allegiances to each other.

[shadyhouse]

making a new post bc the other one is pretty bulky, im about to be severely overdrafted when i pay my rent in a few days and i really really really cant let that happen :( pls if you have anything to spare i'd appreciate it, im in the process of finding a new job because my current one refuses to give me hours. im transmasc and i dont have a car so finding a job has been difficult but im doing everything i can to make ends meet. even just spreading this around helps

pp: paypal.me/bewearrr

vnm: tobias_leviathan

thank you 🥺💕

90/450

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[spicehill]

'what they say about foxians' is merely a matter of survival, isn't it? a generational trauma of sorts, inherited and haunted skillsets, ways with words, refined and emphasized and practiced...

amber eyes stay as focused as they can manage, noting the flare of brilliant colors in the other man's eyes coming close again as head fights against the hold of his hand. though --- the hand trying to keep him at least somewhat upright on leather cushions trembles as he feels a hand rising up along his chest, then playing with the knot of a clasp that holds his ensemble of understated clothes together... another breath, measured and calming to try and keep head above water as he listens once more, despite the loosening of fabric around his collar.

the way aventurine speaks of transactions of the self, what's given to chase a dream... but it's a non-answer. removed of the actual story is the self, generalized to more of a concept interwoven with a set of values that do not belong to him.

but just as he hopes to respond, lips graze his own with an unnerving electricity behind them --- and the arm trying to support his weight betrays him, giving way for back to hit the couch in full as the hand in aventurine's hair pulls harder to try to keep him away, but also still trapped in place above him.

a shaky breath the next moment as he tries to regain composure --- an answer to the question, perhaps. "... no, I haven't; at least, not in the way you've portrayed it." a life of thanklessness stands in stark contrast to what sounds like an abstract tale of losses paying off; the most he's personally sacrificed, experienced great cost, was when what could be called ambitions ( but hopes, truly ) were surrendered to... seen as unsurmountable. "and despite all you claim to understand about business... I don't think you've actually answered my question, either. you've told me nothing concrete about yourself that would pay for the position you've now put me into."

smoke and mirrors

scarlet strings minievent

[blubble-lake]

it's been over 2 weeks and this thing (unfortunately) still has a grip on me

[colourfullanguages]

some days i feel like i was born to do great things, accomplish big stuff and other days i feel like i was just a big fish in a small pond and unfortunately here on out i'll just be a small fish in a big pond and other days i feel like i want to choose a normal life but the normal life was not meant for me because i was born to be outstanding but there are days when doing great things feel scary and i don't have the courage to pursue it so i feel i should just default to an ordinary path

[nomaishuttle]

im always like wistfully sighing one day i will live with somebody who loves me and we'll cook together and itll be so romantic and then i remember when i was a kid and my mom would force me to let my sibling help me bake and id get so mad that i considered fratricide

[hellokittyish]

★ thinking about nanami who, contrary to popular belief, is completely oblivious to just how big his dick is.

because this is a man who rarely ever watches porn due to him finding the performances highly overdramatized, so he hasn’t really had the chance to compare his size to other men. and while he’s by no means a virgin, he’s always assumed that the women who have told him he’s ‘big’ were just aiming to flatter him — his mother raised him to be humble, after all.

but it’s not until he gets you (the sweet girl he’s been seeing for the past few months) into his bed that it dawns on him that he might be a little… larger than average, to say the least.

“k-kento— ‘s not gonna fit,” you whine pitifully beneath him, fat tears beading along your lower lashes as you squirm against the mattress. “‘m sorry but... i-i don’t think i can take it all.”

and nanami can do nothing but gape at how giant his cock suddenly seems in comparison to your little fluttering hole, his angry reddened tip trying (and failing) to slowly push past the first ring of resistance inside your spongy walls.

“o-oh, sweetheart,” he rasps out, adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he swallows down the thick lump that seems to have arisen in his throat. “i’m sure we can make it fit, no? just… just try ‘n relax a little more for me.”

“i’ve been trying to relax this whole time,” you hiccup, trembling hands pawing at his bulky arms positioned either side of your head as he peers down at you sympathetically. “you’re just too b-big, ken.”

he exhales deeply, leaning down to press a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth as a form of apology for what he’s about to do— before swiftly using all of the strength in his lower body to thrust every inch of him inside in one go.

and you’re squealing, nails no doubt leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his muscular biceps as you thrash against the sheets, desperately trying to adjust to the feeling of being so completely and utterly full, your poor cunt practically being split in two to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“christ— ah, there we go,” he grunts, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his forehead as he forces himself to stay completely still above you, allowing you ample time to get as comfortable as possible. “see, darling? i told you we’d make it fit.”

but nanami can’t bear the idea of you struggling this much every time the two of you are intimate, so he comes to the conclusion that he’ll just have to make sure that by the end of the night, your insides are moulded to the exact shape of his cock.

that way it won’t be such a difficult fit next time, right?

[redvelvct]

in ref to last reblog we kinda need to be real here but. chill kill (the album) is honestly not completely up to red velvet's standards and a bit of a letdown given how long it took to get their full 3rd album🫣

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, dad bod, mating press, protected -> unprotected, size kink, bręeding, praise, mdni.

it’s something hot about how husband! nanami just isn’t aware of how big he really is.

he’s insanely thick - easily stretching you with only just a few vast inches inviting its way in between your slippery entrance. the rubbery tip of the condom nearly snags against your gripping insides as he moves, hovering his soft weight above you. heavy, rushed pants of breath drag out from each lung as he looks down at you lovingly. just a mere glimpse of you, and he’s already ready to propose to you all over again.

“f.. fuck, sweetheart. hold on t’ me.” he’d grunt with two beefy arms held against either side of you.

curled twines of blond hair paint a nice bushy portion of his chest like a canvas. it starts near his neck before trailing further down toward his plump abdomen. nanami’s tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, silently gasping at each veiny inch that disappears inside. “k- kento,” you moan, one of your legs hooking around his wide snapping waist. he’s hesitant before his hands pull your legs way up to your chest. “mmp- don’t stop, baby.”

“hah- promise,” he groans through clenched teeth, his jaw locking by the second. the stretch he creates was so good that it’s got nanami falling right into your chest. his body was practically akin to a pillow, and he’s squishing himself on top of you before your cunt squeezes around him. fuck- fuck- fuck- that same word chants in his empty brain, nearly slipping out a hoarse whimper at how slick you coated the entirety of his cock. “c’mon, sweetheart. open for me like ‘y always do. gooood, biiiig stretch for kento.”

but as he’s gradually bucking his unsteady hips into you while gently placing a hand on top of your tummy, the two of you are met with a loud abrupt ‘snaaap!’ sound, and nanami pauses.

literally - the condom pitifully snaps apart, ignoring gravity as the now ruined rubber tightens around his shaft. nanami’s panting in your neck as his entire body quivers over you before he mumbles out a raspy, “o.. oh.. shit.”

it’s rare for him to swear, but at that particular moment, you throbbed, impatiently chewing on the skin that lived on your bottom lip.

your bare heel rubs soothing circles around his tense back muscles as you suddenly meet his lustful gaze.

his eyes - they’re shining almost. the more you peer into his fawn, almond eyes, the more you got lost in his gentle, ardent stare.

“i- it’s okay,” you’d breathlessly mumble, feeling his dick retreat its way out of your sopping pussy. it’s a loud, sobbing ‘pshs’ sound that slops from your vocal pussy before you shakily whimper, “go raw, ken.”

“hah- dirty girl,” he’d groan, pressing three wet open-mouthed kisses against your temple. in immediate response, your body shudders underneath him as you hear as you feel him starting to shuffle.

with a single veiny hand, nanami snatches the snugly-fit condom off of his length before tossing it in the nearby trash bin. “ ‘m not sure if i’d last long…my lo- oh fuuuck.”

nanami’s dead silent.

shallow, shaky breath falls from his rose-colored lips as the v-shaped head of his blushing cock lightly taps against your slobbery cunt.

you’re so soaked, abundantly pouring from all sides as your legs remain prettily spread and folded. nanami himself couldn’t help but stare, openly gawking as he’s slowly creating a nasty full thrust.

just one-

a single thrust that’s making you both fall against each other at once. he’s laid right over your body, being careful not to crush you as he grunts at the occasional clenches of your cunt.

the best way to describe nanami was like a teddy bear, so soft ‘n round from all angles. with him having you in mating press, you’re feeling all of his weight plummet down onto you, each pound of his cock becoming deeper within every swallowing inch. it’s got you speechless, moaning continuously as a few strands of his chest hair collide against your skin.

“mmpf- s.. so big, ‘ken,” you’d moan, twisting your toes in anticipation at the raw friction.

he’s so big - even bigger without the rubber it seemed, and you gasped once you felt his soft foreskin slide its way inside. truth be told though, you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times he’s stuffed you full. your gummy convulsing walls merrily greeted nanami’s shaft as your arms wrapped around his rounded belly. “ugh- there, right fuckin’ thereee.”

“god- woman, you’re just.. huuh- askin’ for another baby,” nanami grumbles, blond brows creasing together as he tenderly rubs a wide palm in a circle around your tummy.

his dick’s thoroughly massaging through you perfectly, and he’s sucking his teeth at the natural feeling. your slickness coats him so good, and he’s still got you in the lewdest mating press with your knees shoved against your chest. “ ‘s that what you want, princess?” and as he speaks, his voice lowers, feeling your tummy anxiously tuck inward. “you’d look so pretty again all plump.”

with a look of meek, you cup his face, gently stroking a thumb over the crack of his parted, pouty lips. “mhm-” you’d nod, holding in a gasp once he presents your pussy with one vigorous thrust.

it’s sharp- and you whimper at how his cockhead slammed itself deep against your clit. as your thighs frantically shook, nanami holds them up before playfully tilting his head at your response.

“mhm?” he repeats your little mumble, a hiss nearly slipping through his clenched teeth as he pulls out before sloppily pulling back in.

the slimy squelches that followed were just the definition of wet. each dramatic-sounding squelch that yelped out between your legs had nanami on the verge of shooting blanks right then and there. not just there and there but inside you, too.

as dewdrops of sweat dribble from all sides of his head, nanami presses a sticky wet kiss against the crevice of your mouth. “use those pretty words, i wanna.. wanna hear my sloppy wife talk to me nice.”

“k— kentooo, please,” you’d whimper, writhing underneath his soft body. he’s pressed up against you, practically suffocating your body with his huggable warmth. each barreling inch he spent inside you had you drooling from the inside of your mouth. nanami hums, sneaking a kiss on your damp lips before feeling you claw a hand down his chiseled back. “hah- cum inside. f- fuck me.”

exactly at your sweet pleading words, you felt his dick throb inside of you. it’s more of a sporadic twitch, and it makes you let off a cute ‘ooooh!’

nanami slumps his head in between your sore jiggling breasts, sliding a tongue down the crack of your chest before groaning. “f.. fuck, when you ask me like that, can’t r- resist, honey,” and his voice dripped with such sensuous desire. nanami’s shaft greedily kisses its way against your pearled clit before his entire body erupts into vicious shakes.

he knew he wouldn’t last long at all - especially raw because once he’s starting to swell from the very tip, he’s gutturally groaning right between your tits. gluey golden strands of hair tickled against you as he’s cumming hard, whimpering into your chest.

nanami’s entire body quakes violently, and his thrusts switch from rhythmic to pathetically sloppy within seconds..

even still, you’re folded in such a pretty way, taking each slobbery drop that fills into your cunt deeply, and you moaned once his dripping tongue glides a path down toward your sensitive nipples. “mmph-” he’d grunt, muffling himself as he’s still dumping such a thick load.

nanami guides a hand down between your legs, smearing the back of his wedding ring against your flooding pussy. with a loud pop! your nipple wetly plops out between his lips and he holds still.

“take it, sweetheart. ‘s all for you,” nanami lowly whispers against your clammy chest, his heavy eyelids flapping shut. your warmth - it’s so balmy inside, and he’s already shuddering once his leaky tip sprinkles the final remnants of cum deep into your womb. it leaves a beautiful dry taste in his mouth, and nanami uses a thumb to spread a flap of your folds apart. “she’s s- so pretty.”

“f- fuck..” you’d suck in a airy moan, panting at the pitching faint spurts of wetness that echoes through your ears. gooey, thin torrents of cum run down the opening of your cunt as he pulls out, and you gasp once nanami suddenly flips you over.

now - you’re laid on your chest with your hips raised, ass arched up, and your neck most certainly raised.

“hah- forgive…me,” nanami throatily murmurs, using the back of his wedding ring once more to slither down your cream-coated pussy. his tone, it’s far lower this time—raspy with a bit of a smoky airiness to it.

oh- you were just an entire mess. he’s already licking his lips as he takes in the beauty of his wife’s backside, immediately feeling his sensitive dick twitch at the coarse, arching sight.

the way his cum just messily cascades down between your syrupy slit, splattering onto the silk white sheets in the process - he wanted more..

nanami hungrily rolls out his tongue before licking your pussy from top to bottom—shamelessly relishing in his bittersweet taste that soaks against his sizzling buds. the viscous mess glitters a sheeny filthy coat onto his pursed lips before he huffs, sitting back up.

with a soft little tap, you whine, feeling the familiar upturned curve of nanami’s hardened tip smack against your cum-slobbering entrance again and again..

“arch a bit more for me. atta girl, mhm- let’s.. hah- aim for triplets this time, my love..”

[readwritealldayallnight]

You had never seen him look so utterly human before

Laid up amongst the scratchy, thin sheets of the hospital bed, with only a plain surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face, everything else above Ghost’s shoulders exposed to your eyes for the first time, while his own eyes have been shut for nearly four days straight now

You had never seen your Lieutenant without the signature mask that haunts the dreams of even the deadliest foreign mercenaries, had never seen him look anything less than intimidating, commanding, powerful without so much as even trying to, his presence alone striking fear into those who’ve heard whispers of the fearsome Ghost

Now however, with an IV hooked up to his arm and a nurse that comes to check on his vitals periodically, it’s hard to picture him as such a gruesome soldier, rather than a simple man who bleeds like any other human

In spite of the evident vulnerable position he finds himself in, his pale skin appearing nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, there was no denying that Ghost remained someone to be feared

A particularly nasty blow to the head during a field op gone wrong had knocked the burly soldier out cold, and though doctors were optimistic he would make a full recovery, they couldn’t exactly tell the extent of the damage done until he woke up

You and the men that made up the remainder of the 141 had been taking turns remaining by his side, not wanting for Ghost to wake up alone, whenever that would be exactly

You wonder how he would feel about this, the fact that you are currently the one on shift for the unofficial rotation of visitors who’ve stuck by his bedside throughout his injury

You’re well aware of the fact that the Lieutenant doesn’t like you, has never liked you, and probably never will, though you’ve never been able to get a straight answer as to why

From the moment you’d met him, he’d been cold to you, distant, making no effort to get to know you nor welcome you to the team, opposite to the way the Sergeants and Captain had welcomed you with open arms and hearts

No matter how much you poked and prodded at them for an answer, some sort of inclination as to what you could possible have done wrong to have Ghost dislike you so much, the men always bit their tongues

You saw the way they exchanged knowing glances and sly smirks, believing they were being more cunning than they really were, insisting to you with carefully chosen words that it wasn’t something you should worry about too much, that the LT had a different way of expressing his feelings than most

“So long as he doesn’t wake up and want to ‘express his feelings’ by punching me in the face for being the first thing he opens his eyes to.” You thought to yourself, glancing up from your book at his still sleeping form, shaking your head at your silly thought

No, he’d never been particularly kind to you, but he’d also never gone out of his way to be cruel to you either you supposed

Perhaps he found you to be more of a nuisance than anything else, a pest he couldn’t seem to swat away hard enough, an annoying pimple he couldn’t quite pop

Your eyes scanned over his face once more, cursing whatever Gods might be listening that the man hiding beneath that Ghost facade had to be so … intriguing

You could see old scars running across his face, some of them peeking out from under the surgical mask while others ran across his brow, his crooked nose evident even under the fabric of the mask

He was handsome in his own, rugged way, a fact you were displeased to learn when you first saw him laying here, switching off with Soap who’d been sat at his side earlier

Ghost may not care for you, not that he had given you many reasons or chances to care for him, but you cared about your remaining members of the task force, and knew how important Ghost was to them, and so for the 141, you’d do your duty and care for a Ghost who apparently wanted no such love and tenderness from you

You looked the large man over, brows furrowing when your eyes landed on his neck, noting that the pillow supporting his head was getting a little flat

You stood from your chair, setting your book down, and approched him carefully, almost as though any sudden movements would somehow wake the comatose man from his slumber

As gently as you could, you attempted to adjust the pillow behind him to hopefully be more comfortable, quickly realizing just how heavy he was when he was nothing more than dead weight

You slowly slipped your hands behind his shoulders, pulling him forward as best as you could until you were able to adjust the pillow one handed

Slipping your hands back down his shoulders to ease him back into the bed, your palms naturally ending up sliding onto the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing against the hair at the base of his skull, an involuntary shiver running through you at what you realized too late was a bit of an intimate touch with a man who’d been touch starved for years

It was hard to say who was more stunned at first, with how quickly things transpired, when you suddenly felt a pair of strong hands reaching up to grip your wrists and hold them in place

You hadn’t even realized you had let out a gasp as your eyes flicked down and met none other than Ghost’s own wide open orbs only inches away from you, staring right at you as though he was seeing a ghost

Stunned into silence, worried that you truly were about to end up on the receiving end of Ghost’s anger for having invaded his space like that, you barely had enough time to process that he’d somehow woken from his coma when his grip on your wrists tightened further, and somehow, whether it was a trick of the light or you imagination, his gaze softened before his scratchy, out of use voice said:

“Love.”

Your ears were ringing, hardly taking notice of the way a flurry of alarms and bells had gone off as soon as Ghost had woken up, his heart rate soaring through the roof and alerting staff

Medical personnel rushed into the room before you could wrap your mind around any of what was happening, Ghost’s grip on your never loosening until the doctor finally approached you both, sensing the tension in the air

“Lieutenant Riley,” the man said, gently landing a hand in Ghost’s bicep to hopefully help him ease his strong grip on you. “Let her go.”

His grip on you disappeared instantly, as though your skin had suddenly burned him, but his eyes never wavered from your own, even as he began mumbling unintelligibly beneath his medical mask

“What was that?” The doctor asked, trying to bring calm back to the room and ease Ghost into a state where he could be properly examined

“My girl.” The Lieutenant’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the sterile room

“Pardon?”

“My girl.” Ghost repeated, never once breaking eye contact with your now widened eyes

“Do- do you know who this is, Lieutenant?” The doctor posed the question, slowly gesturing towards you with a confusion that was spreading amongst you all

“‘Course I do.” Ghost spoke with certainty. “That’s my love.”

Part two