#he can maybe injure her thigh and ?? her stomach | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lvlyghost · 1 year ago

Note

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 4 months ago

Text

that’s my man

Word Count - 7200

Summary: Cole loves to train, and it’s no secret that’s how he’s number three on the Grind ‘24 list. But it’s also no secret that in the summer he loves taking his girl with him to the gym. But what happens when the new check-in doesn’t get the memo that Cole is in fact taken.

Warnings: jealous girlfriend, easily embarrassed boy, talks of different kinks, VERY sub male, dom female, praising kink, thigh riding

Author's Note: I don’t know a lot about lifting, but I know enough to write this. Also if you're someone who goes to the gym regularly. They are doing a full-body day because you can fight me on it but it’s actually better as far as recovery time. As per usual, I was too lazy to do a full grammar edit, so sorry in advance. Anyway, thank you for reading as always.

Masterlist

One of your favorite things to do in the summer was go to the gym with your boyfriend. Honestly, you don’t know what it was that made it your favorite summer activity. Maybe it was because you knew Cole cheered you on like no other when you beat a PR. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the only humans who you truly trust as your spotter knowing that man will injure himself before anything happens to you. Maybe it was that somehow he always wears the same damn white snapback and tightest shorts he has. Maybe it was because you loved being able to tease him in between sets. Maybe it was the fact that you were able to just stare at him while his muscles tensed to lifting the heavy weights. If you were being honest with yourself it was probably a mixture of all the above that made you happily jump your ass in the car before him when he asked if you wanted to come.

This time was no different when Cole walked into the kitchen and hugged you from behind as he asked if you wanted to go to the gym with him. You happily agreed, especially since you couldn’t go the other day with him due to your work schedule. Quickly nodding your head yes, you ran upstairs to get some leggings on, crew socks because you liked lifting in socks, and a random Montreal crop top with 22 on the sleeve. Once you were done, you threw some vans on and went downstairs to meet Cole in the car. He already had the AC blasting and music on. As soon as you buckle your seatbelt, he is pulling off and handing you your water bottle he filled up. “Here you go Mamas” he shyly says, rarely does he call you by that name and whenever he does it makes himself blush. Deciding to reward him for the pet name you reach over and lightly kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, baby boy.” you can’t help your smile grow as his cheeks get even more red.

It’s like time escapes you and before you know it Cole’s parking the car. Both of you are shuffling out of the car. Cole waits for you at the back of the car and flexes his hand, you know he wants you to hold his hand but he won’t say it out loud. A large part of you loves how shy he still is even after almost a year together. Slowly you reach for his hand that isn’t holding your water bringing it to your lips and leaving a small kiss. “Happy baby?” you ask shyly, he didn’t have to answer you already knew the answer. As you watched his cheeks stay that light red color, and smile shyly down to you.

Once you're inside you hear someone call Cole’s name, you turn your head to see it’s a girl you don’t recognize behind the desk. Cole starts to walk over, pulling you automatically due to your interlocked fingers. “Oh hey Chesley, nice to see you again.” Cole starts to make small talk with the girl and you can’t help but notice how she stands dipping over the counter trying to put her breasts on display. As if that’s not already too forward, she lightly touches Cole's upper bicep as his arm rests on the counter.

“I’ve been great, I’m so glad to see you again… you know after the other day.” Her voice makes your stomach hurt.

“What was the other day?” you ask even though you know ignoring this girl was probably for the best. The little jealousy that started to brew in your gut couldn’t help but want answers.

“Oh you know when you were working the other day. That’s when I met Chesley and you know how the locker room door gets stuck sometimes y/n/n, well she didn’t know how to get it unstuck and she had to use the bathroom” you nodded your head yes but your eyes never left the girls as she wouldn’t stop staring at you “- and I was the only one here so I helped her.” Cole sounded like he had no idea what he just walked into and he probably didn’t. “Oh wait let me introduce you guys - Chesley this is my girlfriend Y/N, Y/N, Chesley.”

“Hi nice to meet you.” you say your other hand is going to wrap itself around Coles arm that was still holding your hand. Not caring if it came off bitchy when you didn’t extend your hand especially since she hasn’t stopped batting her eyelashes at Cole since you got here.

“Hi. oh Cole well if you need anything I’ll be here. I know last time you forgot your water.” The way she said it slipped like it was some secret between them. But it did cause your face to wrinkle in confusion because it didn’t make sense.

“Water? Baby you never forget your water.” you say turning to him.

“I know, but I was leaving as my mom was calling and I guess I got distracted.” His cheeks are still a soft pink from earlier in the parking. You couldn’t help but smirk at how easily embarrassed Cole gets sometimes. As you glance back to the girl, you see her smirking thinking she’s the reason for Cole’s blush, and something twists in your stomach.

“It’s okay because I let him drink from mine. Plus you earned it shoving that door open after your… Hard workout” As she reached up to touch his arm again. Cole must have finally realized what was happening and pulled away. He really isn’t big on physical touch from people he doesn’t know and the fact he pulled away makes you smirk.

“Well we're gonna go see ya” you don’t even pretend to be nice as you pull Cole away. You can feel her eyes following you to the turf as you put one earbud in, put on your playlist, and shove off your shoes.

“Hey mamas, do you want me to spot you first?” he asks as he sets his water down, as you shake your head no. Handing him the other earbud and he quickly puts it in his ear.

“It’s okay Cole you can go first today, I need to stretch anyway.” Cole can tell by your voice that something is wrong but decides not to push it. He walks over to the barbell that’s on the floor, adding the proper amount of weight while you finish your dynamic stretching. As you look up you can see Chesley starring at Cole while he sets the bar.

Possessive isn’t a word you would normally use to describe yourself but as you feel your jaw set with her watching your boyfriend shamefully as he bends down to make sure the weights are fully locked in. Something about this girl shamelessly staring at his thighs makes you want to claim Cole, mark him as yours even though she already knows he is. You glance over at Cole as he moves the bench to behind the bar, knowing that means he’s decided to start with hip thrusts. Cole starts his set of twelve reps, slowly raising his hips each time, you can’t help but let your mind wander as you finally start to make your way over to him. Once he’s done with his first set he sits up shoulders resting against the back of the bench, the bar rolling stopping barely mid thighs. You come up to him from behind, separating your legs so they’re on either side of him and sit down on the bench. Your hands remove his snapback teasingly put it on yourself. “Hey give it back.” he says in a fake annoyed voice. His head tilting back so he can see you with a pout on his lips. Both of you know however that his announce and pout are fake and that he likes when you wear his clothes even if it’s just a simple hat. Your fingers lightly scrap at his head, his body automatically relaxing under your touch. His hands move away from where they were resting on the bar, to moving to the sides of your calves pushing you closer to him as he sinks into your legs. “Feels good love.” softly closing eyes, letting himself get lost in your comfort for a few seconds. Although you love this little moment you're having, the jealousy in you, can’t help but glance up at Chesley, as she quickly averted her eyes as you make eye contact.

“Alright my time for my set.” you say as you remove your fingers from his hair and place his hat back to keep his hair out of his face. As you find both you moving around the gym, you still find the girl’s eyes following your boyfriend. Later when you were benching you could feel her eyes like a bad itch on your skin. Cole being your spotter could feel you start to slip as you were doing reps until failure.

Cole hand was right there ready to help you if you felt like you needed as you finished one last rep. But once he saw you second guess the last pushup he didn’t give you a choice. “I got you baby.” as he gently helped you lift the bar to lock it in the stand.

“I am proud of you know, you realize you just benched as much as Luke does. AND you got more reps in than him the other day!” with a small chuckle.

“Yeah well he’s barely been in the gym all summer so nothing to celebrate.” you mumble annoyed at yourself. As you watch your boyfriend bend his head over the bar to look at you, slightly frowning at your pout.

“Okay so he’s a lazy fucker we knew this. But do you want to hear the lecture about how insane it is that you're a girl and your muscle density isn’t-” you pull Cole down with a smile on your face and kiss him upside down.

“What’s that for?” he mumbles, not fully pulling away.

“To shut you up but also thank you.” you mumble as you pull away you see Cole’s cheeks bright red and as you sit up you see Chesley looking at you both from the check-in desk again.

This isn’t your proudest moment and you're not sure if it’s you being frustrated that your spotter actually had to rescue you or just Chesley staring all morning at your boyfriend. But you decide at that moment, to turn on the PDA even more which is wild because you and Cole never have this much PDA in general. It’s almost impossible to find pictures of you online together kissing or even cuddling because you both respect your privavy and like keeping intimate moments private. Slowly you started with little touches as Cole set the weights on the rack for himself. He was so focused on what he was doing barely even noticing at first. But as you glanced up you could tell she took notice and you couldn’t help the smirk on your lips.

Eventually, Cole did catch on to the fact that you would let your fingers ever so slightly graze his arm, or touch his thigh after a set. Everytime, he did you could feel him getting more shy and almost twitch away from your touch in shock. His cheeks looked like a lobster shade of red almost permanently from all the small touches you left behind.

Later as you were doing jump ups, making sure your ass was on full display for Cole. He got embarrassed when you put your ass practically in his face instead of easily going from the other side. “Sorry Coley” you whine out as you turn around and see the almost permanent blush on his face from today. Once you jump down from the box, take your hand and lightly rub it down his chest and slowly bite your lip trying to look innocent. His dick twitching in his compression shorts between all the touches and now you are looking at him with that look in your eyes.

“Hey are you okay, love. You’ve been off since we got here.” he asks suspiciously. The gulp he let out didn’t go past you. Part of you started to feel bad for doing this to your boyfriend all morning, but you also didn’t want to hear his reaction to your insecurities about the new girl.

“Yup peachy.” trying to make your voice a normal tone but failing miserably. He gives you that look that tells you he knows you're lying. But before he can open his mouth you sigh. “I might… be a little jealous.” you barely whisper as you hide your face with your hands and shove it into his shoulder. Naturally he wraps his arms around you, tightening his grip unconsciously as if it was the most natural thing in the world to hold you.

“Jealous of who?” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down to have a private moment despite being in a semi crowded gym. It wasn’t often you felt insecure or jealous and Cole knew that you probably didn’t want others to hear about you having an off day.As he looked down at you, finally you felt like showing yourself to him and you removed your hands from your face.

“The new girl, she won’t stop staring at you and yeah I know you're hot. But I’m literally right here! She could at least pretend to respect me.” With each word your voice raises to more of an annoyance.

Cole shyly smirks “ okay let her” as he dips his mouth to your ear. “She’s not the one who’s made me hard right now.” You tilt your head up to him and take your hand to caress his check.

“Oh yeah?” you can’t help but tease him a little.

His mouth finds your ear again, “ yeah you have me almost begging you in the middle of the fucking gym how badly I need you.” He doesn’t bother removing his face from the crock of your neck, pressing his hard on to your thigh.

“Oh yeah.” your hand goes to the nape of his neck pushing closer. You hear him make a sound of agreement. “What do you want me to do baby boy?” At this point you should probably stop considering you're in the middle of the gym but you wanna see how far Cole is willing to go before he whines to go somewhere else.

“I just need you please, you can use me however the fuck you want I don’t give a fuck. But if I could choose I’d have you ride me as you used my cock to get yourself off. When my mouth plays with your boobs and you play with my hair while you tell me how good of a boy I’m being for you mamas.” Cole usually isn’t so forward with what he needs especially in public and it makes you drip at the thought of claiming him.

“Imma grab my shoes okay baby. Can you be a good boy and go to the car and wait?” you can feel him shake his head yes. “Okay good I’ll drive us home baby. I know you don’t wanna get caught by one of the boys as I’m fucking the shit out of you in the car.” You can hear him grunt as he pulls away from you pulling down the ends of his shorts trying to hide his hard-on. He backs away and turns towards the wall where you discarded your slip-on vans earlier and your water bottle. By the time you turn away Cole is already gone and you can’t help but smirk as you know he’s probably already in the car waiting for you with the AC already blasting.

You quickly make your way out of the gym but can’t help but hear Chesley try to get your attention. “Oh Y/N you're gone so soon! Is Cole not feeling well? He usually spends hours here… with the boys.” Trying to control your breathing but honestly you wanted to clock this girl but knew that Cole loved this gym, you took another deep breath. “Guess you don’t have the stamina that he does.” Her voice sounding like the scratching of nails on a chalkboard, although you control yourself not to hit her, your mouth isn’t as easily convinced.

“Actually Sarah was it? We just decided to get some cardio done at home instead. Cole didn’t think the owners would like it if we fucked in the middle of the turf.” Your voice comes out so sweet and innocent pretending that you have no idea why Cole would see anything wrong. You smiled as her mouth fell open, “well see ya around” as you walked out of the gym and quickly made your way to the car. Opening the driver's door you let yourself get settled in the seat, purposely not looking in Cole’s direction. You grab your airpod case and put your airpod away realizing that Cole already put the other one away.

As you adjusted the seat and mirrors to be able to drive home you could feel Cole’s eyes burning into the side of your face. Finally you decide to give him a little attention, “thanks for listening so well baby.” as you take your right hand off the wheel and put it on his thigh slowly moving your hand up and down. All of the teasing must have gotten to Cole more than you thought because he softly buckled his hips trying to get you to put pressure where he needed it most. “And just when I compliment you for being a good listener you try to be a brat.” Your mouth making a ticking noise of disapproval as you turn onto the highway heading back to Cole’s place.

“Please, i’m sorry” you can hear the pleading in his voice even though your eyes are 0n the road. It kind of hurts your heart a little denying Cole when he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I know baby boy, it’s okay, I’m not mad” you say as your hand inches closer to where he needs it. Coming up on your exit, both of you realize you're only ten minutes away from his place. “What do you need?” you ask softly as your hand gently goes over his bulge and gives a light squeeze. His one hand was going to squeeze your wrist, the other that was leaning against the window flexing as he leaned his head back.

“I - I na need” you could tell Cole was getting overwhelmed and for once you were grateful you were close to home so he didn’t get too worked up before he could have his release.

“Do you want me to help you cum?” you ask, your hand still not removed from the bulge that as you glance over makes you squirm from how uncomfortable it looks like it is, Cole shakes his head no quickly.

“Nnn, no. I want you, I wanna taste you mamas.” His words have more of an effect on you than he even realizes. But sadly it logically doesn’t work if you're driving and Cole knows that too.

“Baby we're five minutes from home now okay and then you can have me I promise.” The hand that was on his bulge moved to his face and squeezed his cheek. The pout on his lips makes your knees feel weak. He shifts in his seat so that he can lean over so that his head is resting against your upper arm. Both of your hands now on the wheel for the first time this entire drive. It takes everything in you not to pull the car over and just take care of him right here but being so close to home it just doesn’t make sense.

“I know.” you hear Cole mumble, although you're not looking in his direction, you suspect that his eyes are closed and that he’s pouting. Removing your right hand from the wheel you find one of his and put it under your crop top. His head lifts up as he feels his hand move under your shirt.

“Mamas?" he asks in a questioning tone probably thinking about how obvious it looks to the people we pass as I turn into his neighborhood.

“It’s okay baby, you got tinted windows.” That's all it took for Cole to unbuckle his seatbelt so he could shift in his seat fully to face you. He dipped head under your crop top and you could feel him push up at your sports bra desperately as his mouth closed on your right boob and sucked. His right hand going across your chest to squeeze the other one. “Fuck bubs. Hmmm..” one hand busy turning on your street, while your other hand goes to press Cole’s head deeper into your chest. His mouth is swirling and sucking hard on your nipple now. Wanting him to know that he’s doing a job you let out a small moan. He moans in response with your nipple in his mouth, the feeling going straight to your core. “Coles were home” you whisper, quickly removing your hand to press the garage remote. Driving into the garage and parking. Cole still hasn’t moved from under your shirt but now that the car is parked at least you can let yourself get lost in the feeling.

Throwing your head back against the headrest and closing eyes. Your hand going under your shirt to pull at Cole’s hair, not sure where his hat disappeared to but grateful you were able to touch his hair finally. After a minute or so you became antsy to go inside. “Cole baby, it’s time to go inside.” you say in a semi-serious tone. All you hear from Cole is a grunt that you can assume means no as he squeezes your boob not his mouth harder. “Come on baby, we gotta go inside, you're acting like a brat bubs. Don’t you like being a good boy.” knowing exactly what to say for Cole to remove himself from under your shirt and start to move finally. As he pulls away, you catch him in a needy kiss, biting his lip by surprise easily taking control of the kiss. Deciding that you need to move away before you end up not leaving the car. Both of you rush out of the car, Cole running around the hood to meet you picking you up unexpectedly makes you chuckle as he sits on the hood of his car, quickly stepping between legs. He connects your lips again but quickly you take control of the kiss, Cole moaning in response. He pulls away after a minute to catch your breath, and he pulls on your shirt, refusing to use his words.

“Baby you know you have to use your words. What do you need bubs? You gotta tell me.” you say slowly encouraging Cole to use his words instead of pouting. He also knows when he uses his words 90 percent of the time he gets what he wants. But when he’s in this state of mind, of needing to be taken care of. He tends to struggle with using his voice, which actually turns you on even more but you will never admit that to him.

“Can I take it off mamas?” softly pulling at the fringe at the end of your shirt. He looks up in your eyes and you shake your head yes. He quickly grabs your shirt and rips it off the top of your head. Quickly making contact with your chest leaving soft wet kisses and soft bites everywhere but not hard enough to leave a mark. The feeling makes you lean your hands back to give him more access. “I wanna taste you.” he whimpers as he continues his attack on your chest slowly moving up to your neck.

Quickly you move your arms that were extended behind you to around his neck, crossing your legs behind him. “Take me upstairs, first baby boy.” you demand.

“Okay my love.” As he picks you up and turns you both so he can carry you up the few garage steps and into the house effortlessly. Both craving each other, you lean in and continue to deepen your previous kisses, quickly feeling more desire for eachother then before. Cole can’t stop whimpering as you pull at his small hairs at the back of head as he enters the bedroom. He softly places you on the bed, without breaking contact with your kiss. Both of you kick your shoes off as soon as you make contact with the bed. He slowly pulls away sitting up on his knees to catch his breath asking, “can I please eat you out now mamas.”

Cole usually doesn’t whine for this long, he also usually doesn’t have to wait this long for what he wants. As much as you want to to edge him on and push his limits. The idea of him sinking when he never has before makes you nervous. “Okay baby go ahead.” The smile on his face makes your stomach warm with anticipation. Lifting your hips, you help Cole take your leggings, underwear and socks off. Deciding to take your sports bra off as well.

“Wait bubs, you gotta take something off too” reaching forward you pull his shirt above his head. Slowly you scoot up on the bed to give him more room to lay down. Leaning against the headboard as Cole dips his head down giving you wet kisses, lightly nipping your soft skin on your stomach as he makes a trail to your pussy. Moving your legs to make more room for himself, keeping his hands on your thighs making sure they stay further apart to give him more access to your core. Slowly he dips his head down and looks up at you waiting for your direction. One of your hands is going to move the hair out of his face, “go ahead baby.”

That’s all it takes for him, to shove his mouth in your folds licking up and down as if his mouth had been in a drought for days and this was his first sight of water. He closed his eyes enjoying tasting you after begging for it for so long. His hands pressing down on your thighs pushing you closer to you. The hand that wasn’t playing with his hair, going to your boob to play with your nipple. “bubs feels good, always such a good boy for me.” you softly coo your encouraging words to your boyfriend. He decides to put your attention on your clit, moaning as he hears your breath catch in your mouth. The sensation going straight to your core, feeling yourself being worked up. Deciding that if you were gonna cum off of his mouth you needed a new angle. Pushing his face away, he got the message and pulled away, not without a small pout on his lips.

“Lay down on your back.” your demanding tone leaving no room for argument. Quickly he laid down beside you, his head resting against the pillows. His leg twitching in nervousness not going past you, as you smirk down at him. Sitting on your knees beside him your hand goes to lightly go over his bulge in shorts. Knowing that it was mean but not caring as the idea came to you. “Bubs you're wearing too many clothes, I’m gonna take your shorts off.” Your fingers moving up to his lower stomach, pushing down in the start of his v-line making him whine a little in response. Then returning your hand to his bulge and giving a light squeeze, Cole bulks his hips in response not caring if he got punished for it. “Babyboy wait, then once you're undressed, I am gonna sit on your face and use your mouth to get myself off.” As you slowly start to pull at his shorts and boxers he lifts his hips automatically to help you. His brows frown, wanting to know what happens next.

Barely over a whisper he asks “ then what?”

“I’m gonna tease you, and suck you off until you're begging for me to ride you and let you cum inside me.” Lightly take your pointer finger and trace the vein that’s so visible on his dick. “Do you think you can handle that bubs?” you ask as you start to sit, getting ready to swing your leg over his shoulder.

“Ahmm.. yeah mamas”

“Good boy.” Finally, swinging your leg, before you lower yourself all the way down you ask “remember the sign if you need a break right.” making direct eye contact with his hazel-gray eyes. He shakes his head and with that you sit down, your hands resting on his chest for stability. Slowly you start grinding on his face. Cole’s hands go to the back of your thighs, kneading the flush there slowly creeping up to your ass, pushing you even closer to him. Quickly you find your pace, rolling your hands as Cole’s long tongue goes in and out of your core. The pleasure slowly starts to build, you increase the speed of hips rolling, basically just grinding on his face.

“Yeah right there baby. Don’t stop.” you encourage him. Your nails starting to dig into Cole’s chest, the little bit of pain Cole felt going straight to his dick. His hands are scratching down the back of your thighs. Starting to feel the familiar coil your stomach straightens to tighten. “Fuck I’m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop.” His nose starts to nudge at your clit, as Cole pushes you down making you sit completely on him. That being the final act being enough for the tight warm feeling your stomach to explode. “FUCK fuck I’m coming Cole. fuck” repeating it like a prayer, Cole only mildly slowing down his actions licking up all your juices as you work yourself through your orgasm. Finally, parting from his mouth you crawl down to his boxers.

“Did I make you feel good?” he shyly asks. God how you loved this man, and how he always needed to be reassured that he made you feel good.

“You did so good baby” you softly tell him, as you straddle him. His hands go to your hips pulling you closer as you bend down so your chest is flesh with him. Starting at his most sensitive spot on his neck, immediately getting his breath to catch in his throat. Smirking as you do kitten licks, finally putting your mouth on the spot and sucking making sure to leave a bruise. “Gotta make sure I mark you so that girl knows you're taken.” The jealous feelings from earlier today slowly rising in your chest again.

He squeezes his hands on the flesh of your hips at your words. “Mark me everywhere, cause you're the only one who I ever want to see me like this for the rest of time.” His cheeks immediately became bright red, you know that he didn’t mean to confess so much and it was in the heat of the moment. But you can’t help the butterflies form in your stomach. Kissing his cheek giving him nonverbal comfort for his confession.

Moving on you make your way down his chest, leaving hickies on the center of his chest. Licking down each of his abs, up and down and up again. Then softly biting each ab, probably leaving bite marks, Cole doesn’t seem to care as his moans grow into groans at the pleasure. “Ppp ple- please mamas.” almost as if he’s crying out.

Glancing up at him, you see how overworked he’s getting. “I taught you better than that bubs, use your words.” Your mouth doesn’t leave his lower stomach as you make eye contact with him through your lashes.

Cole takes a few seconds to collect himself as his hands up and down your shoulder blades, something you know he does when he’s feeling a lot of things and needs to ground himself. “Mamas it hurts.” he whines out taking another ragged breath. “Can you please help me cum.” He begs and you swear you could never say no to him when he asks so politely. You shake your head yes, and you kiss down the side of his v-line. Quickly making your way down, you leave little love bites and kitten licks up both of his thighs alternating between the two. Moving his legs so bent and open more giving you more room to down properly between them. Cole is a whimpering, moaning mess at this point. Each sound from his loops turning you on more and more. Finally making it his almost red tip, softly kissing and licking it between the slit. Cole automatically bulking his hips. Taking your hands you push down on each of his hips so he can’t move them any more. His heads going to your hair and you know that it’s going to be a matted mess but the end of this.

Taking your tongue, you start at the base and lick down the same vein you were teasing earlier. Then going back to kiss each of his balls which you know he would describe as ‘blue balls’ if you asked him. “Fuck mamas, feels so good” his eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure your finally giving him as your mouth puts the tip in your mouth. Softly sucking, slowly taking more and more until your softly choking. Cole usually isn’t this vocal in bed but you're loving how much he always moans and grunts when you take him in your mouth. His fingers threaded in your hair, as you moved the pace of your mouth. Cole never dares to push your mouth down, scared that he might accidentally hurt you since he knows he’s bigger than most. “Augh I- I am close” he whispers and he starts moving his hips unconsciously. Deciding to quicken your pace to help him cum faster, within minutes he’s crying out in pleasure and curse words as he shoots his cum into you. Continuing to suck until he comes all the way down, and tries to wingle out of your grasp scared over getting overstimulated. Finally you pop yourself off of him, a huge smile on your face as you look up on Cole as he looks properly fucked out, that glow on his skin as he pulls you up to his face. Softly he brings you into a kiss “Thank you mamas.” he whispers once he pulls away for air.

Kissing his neck softly, as he arms tighten around you. Sitting up stranding is lower stomach, you have a devilish smirk on your mouth. “no love I don’t think I can” Cole says knowing where your brain is going without you even saying it.

“Oh I think you can, but if you insist I know how to give you some rest while I still get what I want.” your voice is cheekily teasing as you pull Cole to sit, sitting fully in his lap.

“What?” he softly asks his forehead resting on your shoulder.

“I'd rather show you.” as you move your leg so you're straddling just his right thigh. Taking your left hand resting it on his cheek to turn his head in your direction. Moving your head to crain of your neck, as you sit fully on his thigh grinding down. Bending down slowly whispering in his ear “what if I just use you again to get off, it wouldn’t be the first time I use your thigh.” His hands tightening on your hips, his grip so tight you would be shocked if you didn’t have little bruises on them later. He hums in response as you softly kiss the hickies you gave him earlier in the crook of his neck as you continue to softly grind on his thigh. “What do you think, you wanna watch me use you as I use you to get off. I’ll let you play with my boobs. While I use you to get off, I’m not evil bubs.” Softly moving down to the spot between his collarbone and neck biting hard as he groans in his pleasure.

“Fuck. Please” he mumbles as he softly puts his left boob in his mouth tightening his grip on your left hip. That’s all it took for you to roll your hips at a faster rate, alternating between rolls and purely grinding down on him. Breathing between both of you becoming uneven again, as you glance down to softly tease Cole’s cock as it’s already getting hard again. Cole softly bites down on your nipple, removing his mouth to hiss as you continue to softly tease him. “Do you want me to stop, I don’t know if I can get off watching you hard on. I'd rather be riding you.” letting you confess out quickly, your intrusive thoughts taking over as you slip off his thigh fully straddling him again teasing him with your hole.

“Yeah I need you mamas please.” as he rests his forehead. “Wanna feel your warmth mamas.” You softly kiss his pouty lips, as your core clench at his words, pulling away from kiss whispering yes. Sitting down on him getting used to him, throwing your head back in your mouth at finally feeling full. Cole starts making little kisses on your chest and down the valley on your breasts as you start to bounce softly on his dick. “I wanna make you feel good please.” as he looks up at you silently asking if he can continue his attack on your breasts.

“Go ahead baby boy.” that's all it took for him to put your nipple in your mouth, his hand kneading your other one, flicking and pinching the hard nipple. His hand on your hip shows the first sign of dominance from him today, by helping you keep an even pace. All that can be heard is your soft moans and skin slapping. Cole takes the hand that was kneading your boob to your ass kneading the flush until you're sure it’s bright red. His mouth going to your other boob deciding it needs attention. “Ugh ugh Cole fuck, you feel so good. You always fill me so well.” you voice is low, filled with your lust for the man you love. Your hand slips between the two of you to give your clit attention, rubbing small harder than normal circles on it. Your other hand moves to his hair, threading your fingers through his dirty blonde hair pulling at the roots. Cole’s mouth opened slightly at the pressure and groaned.

“Fuck bubs. You feel so fucking good, swear your dick was built for me.” His hand on your hip helps you fasten the pace. His hips help meet your thrusts, making him hit your g-spot with every thrust. All you can do is moan as you feel your entire body on cloud 9 from the pleasure you're feeling. “Augh augh fuck baby, your always so good for me.” you slur out due to the pleasure you feel from the start of your lower stomach tightening.

Cole removes his head from your breast to ask “mamas i- i am gonna cum.”

“No” you demand. “Wait for me. I’mm close wait for me. Will let go together bubs.” leaning your head back as Cole leaves wet kisses down your collarbone, quickly removing the hand that was on your ass and lightly slapping it. “FUCK.FUCK. YES YES YES” you scream. Cole going back and slapping your ass a few more times, you can feel yourself about to let go. “Let go baby, it’s okay.”

That’s all it took for Cole to lean back and moan in pleasure as he shot his cum filling deep in your pussy and you let go. Both not stopping your thrusts until you come completely now. Cole just holds you for the first time today, kissing down the top of your shoulder while you catch your breath. “I love when you use my body.” he softly admits.

“Oh yeah” your head softly setting into his neck. Although you can’t see him you can feel him shake his head. His fingers lightly ghosting up and down your back as he leans back so he’s laying down still on top of him.

“You're the only one who I’ve ever let dominate me.” he admits, your head lifting up in shock.

“What?” The confusion is clear in your voice.

“You heard me mamas. You're the only one I feel safe enough to give that type of control to.” He admits his cheeks become a light pink as he lets his words sink.

“Thank you baby. I love you.” as you leave soft kisses all over his face. Slowly you lift your hips to remove yourself, but his hands stop your hips.

“No, we stay like this. I like being close to you.” Turning your bodies so you're both on your sides as he looks directly into your eyes waiting for a response.

“Okay” you lightly let out, shifting again so you're on your back, Cole’s full body weight on you, as he settles between you. As your legs come up behind his back and hold him there. His face hiding in your breasts, softly kissing the valley of your breasts as he lets out a light thanks closing his eyes. He looks so comfortable you can’t help closing your eyes, your hands playing with his hair. Sleep almost grasps your consciousness. Cole's voice brings you out of sleepiness for a moment.

“Mamas.” in a questioning tone to see if you're still awake.

“Hmmm” still not bothering to open your eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I like when you get possessive over me.” His tone is as if he’s listing a well known fact, as he snuggles deeper into you as you can feel him pulling a blanket over the both of you. The laugh that escapes your mouth is contagious as you feel Cole’s chest rumble above you.

“Okay baby I’ll keep that in mind, let’s get some sleep.” you let out, little did you know Cole was already letting out little snores before you could finish your sentence.

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bennysblabbering · 3 months ago

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How they act when they have a crush on you

ft. Namami, Choso, Shoko, Gojo

g/n reader

Nanami:

-Absolutely would never confess first. He'd never want to make you uncomfortable if you didn't reciprocate the feelings. He appreciates the friendship you already have and would rather have that than nothing.

-Even so, he can't help but smile a little more when you're around. Considering he's not the most smiley man in the world, the way his demeanor changes around you is more evident than he realizes.

-He definitely touches you more often than with others; he just can't resist. Nothing too much of course- small little touches on your back or shoulder, a squeeze of your hand, maybe even a hug before parting. Small gestures of appreciation are okay, right?

-So after you kiss him on the cheek as a thank you for saving you at the last moment on a mission, his face is redder than you've ever seen it. And that little giggle you respond with after noticing? He hasn't felt his heart flutter like that in years.

-Maybe....maybe there is a chance with you after all?

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Choso:

-Doesn't even know what a crush is.

-He's completely oblivious to his own feelings. He thinks he might be sick. Why does his stomach feel so weak? Why are his hands so sweaty? But...it only happens around you. Is he allergic to you? Can you be allergic to a person?

-When you brush hands accidentally, he gets so dizzy he has to close his eyes for a moment to keep his composure.

-Eventually he asks Shoko about it. Maybe it has something to do with him being half curse. Maybe your technique makes curses feel sick.

-Shoko laughs at him and has to explain what crushes are, and that if he likes you that much he should try telling you or making a move.

-He'll definitely need to study up on this a bit more to figure out what he should do...

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Shoko:

-Represses it represses it represses it

-God dammit. There's no way she has a childish little crush at her age. There's no fucking way. Nope.

-Usually drinking makes her forget things, so it annoys her that she thinks about you more when she's tipsy. How soft your lips look...how you'd feel while kissing her...running her fingers through your hair...

-Get your shit together, Shoko. There's no way they'd go for someone like you, she thinks.

-When you come in injured from a mission and you need her to use her RCT on you by touching you, she blinks for a moment and mentally short circuits before nodding and yelling at herself to mentally separate this stupid little crush from her job.

-Even still, she trembles a little as her hands so gently massage your back and shoulders, moving over to your arms, and then your thighs...fuck. Fuck she can't think straight.

-What the hell is she supposed to do when someone as perfect and gorgeous as you is around?

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Gojo:

-He realized pretty early on what his feelings are. Even if you don't feel the same way, he thinks it's fun to flirt with you. Little do you know, it's 100% genuine.

-Calls you "cutie pie" a lot.

-Everyone else can tell just how much he likes you by the way he grins like an idiot and always specifically chooses to sit next to you when at meetings. You, however, are completely oblivious. He acts silly around everyone, it's not a crush!

-Eventually he builds up the courage to put an arm around you when sitting on a couch together, and you can feel his heartbeat. Does it always beat that fast? Damn, he's like a hummingbird.

-He thinks he's really slick at hiding it, but he really isn't. He acts a giddy little teenager. But there's noooooo way you'd be able to tell.

-He hopes. Fingers crossed.

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author-morgan · 9 months ago

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Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders and high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory.

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there.

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg.

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling.

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown.

You swallow the knot in your throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl.

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches.

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg.

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft.

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead.

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps.

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose.

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it.

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival.

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all.

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found.

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood.

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would.

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog.

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked.

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you.

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason.

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A FEW MONTHS pass and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight.

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company.

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe.

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him��the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full.

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

[Game of Thrones taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @Idkjj04 / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @nyotamalfoy / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Sandor Clegane #The Hound #Sandor Clegane x Reader #Sandor x Reader #The Hound x Reader #Sandor Clegane Imagine #Sandor Fanfiction #Sandor Clegane Fanfiction #Game of Thrones #Game of Thrones Fanfiction #ASOIAF #ASOIAF Fanfiction #my writing #i really wanted to rework this previous one-shot (posted to AO3 and Wattpad) I had with my current writing style #and thus we have Sandor being a big hard man but also soft and squishy on the inside

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nethhiri · 20 days ago

Text

Part 5

Warnings: Sex (inappropriate use of scythes), murder, blood play, the usual

Your breath caught in your throat and he looked at you expectantly. You were still shocked that he had spoken at all. Were you imagining it?

"K-Kamazo."

He buried his face in your hair and groaned, "Good girl."

You shivered at the praise. You had done well to take care of him and remain by his side instead of taking the opportunity to flee. The reward was finally getting to hear his voice. That's how you associated it anyway.

The man, Kamazo, continued to knead the fleshier parts of you, your thigh, your hip, your breasts. He tried to knead your stomach, too, but there wasn't much there yet. He seemed to let out a semi-disappointed huff before nuzzling back into your neck. Whenever you were snuggled up to him, he tended to rest his hand on your stomach. Sometimes he rested his head on your tummy, also. You thought maybe he had a bit of a thing for tummies, and other soft parts. His snores gradually manifested as you lay with him. You felt more comfortable if he fell asleep first, nervous about what he might do while you slept.

The next day, Kamazo decided it was best to move again. The next place was basically the same deal as the previous, obviously used as a brothel by most. Kamazo didn't like to go out in the daytime, preferring to move by night. You didn't really know who or what he was hiding from. Someone was helping him hide, as he seemed to have a special relationship with some of the inn owners, never having to pay them. They probably worked for the same people that the man did. You were still unclear on what he actually did when he left you alone, other than kill people. Was he killing people because he had to in order to do his job or was that his job? Was it for fun?

For the next few days, you were, again, remanded to the room. Again, with nothing to do. He hadn't spoken again either. The next time he tried to leave, you tugged on his sleeve ever so lightly, staring up at him with pleading eyes. It felt strange to talk to him when he didn't speak, so you had kept silent. Kamazo paused, considering you. He moved to the side, allowing you to go through the doorway first. You honestly didn't expect him to concede that easily. As you walked out of the inn, lecherous gazes followed. You startled slightly as Kamazo put a possessive hand on your shoulder. It was enough to stop most, but one particularly drunk man paid it no mind, walking right up to you.

"Who do you belong to, little whore? I wouldn't mind a turn next, if you wouldn't mind telling me who owns you. Just like I like them, scrawny and pathetic looking," the man said, reaching out to touch your hair.

Kamazo grabbed the man's wrist faster than you could see, narrowing his eyes in disgust. "This one... is mine."

"I take it you're her master, eh? How much? I can pay well. I can even take her off your hands for good."

You heard a splintering crack and the man was brought to his knees screaming in pain.

Kamazo released the man's wrist, now broken and bruised. "Only mine." His eyes slid to yours, as if to say "Isn't that right?".

You subtly nodded as your cheeks heated up, completely flustered by his words. You avoided looking at the injured man, likely to vomit if you stared at his twisted, deformed wrist any longer. Kamazo continued to guide you along with his hand on your shoulder. No one else bothered you after that. His grip loosened little by little as you walked on, hand eventually falling to his side. You were distracted by all the lights, sounds, and smells of the city. You didn't properly get to experience it the last time you were there. Every so often you lingered around one of the food stalls, trying to imagine what these curious looking foods would taste like. Sometimes you paused to look at some of the things vendors were selling, dazzled by the brilliant colors and skillful creation of the little knick knacks. You suddenly remembered that Kamazo probably had a job to do and you were holding him up. Your eyes searched for him in a panic, afraid you might be angering him by holding him up. But when your eyes found him, he was simply watching you, lazily walking along. You realized he was following you, no longer leading you anywhere in particular.

Heat rushed to your cheeks again, embarrassed that you were so interested in these stupid little things. He probably thought you were pathetic, just like the man from earlier had said. A grown adult woman shouldn't be intrigued by something so childish. You had never seen anything like them and were amazed that someone had made these intricate crafts and sculptures. Bashfully, you returned to Kamazo's side. He hadn't done or said anything, yet you still felt guilty for straying, especially since you should be on your best behavior for being allowed out. You didn't want to mess it up, or he might not let you tag along again. Your eyes flicked up at him periodically, discreetly trying to see if there was any annoyance on his face. On the last glance, your eyes accidentally locked with his, and you quickly looked away.

The man, Kamazo, paused at one of the stalls and handed you some kind of meat on a stick. At first, you took dainty bites, but the hunger took over and you were ripping big chunks out of it soon enough. It was delicious. How long had you been missing out on how good food could really be? You walked and ate, noticing you were headed away from the center of town, out towards one of the neighboring offshoots. Kamazo guided you once again, steering you towards one of the alleys. What was he doing? Maybe he only let you come because his plan was to kill you. He sensed your unease and gave you a single reassuring pat on the shoulder he held. He led you to a random barrel, one of many in the alley. Unceremoniously, he lifted the lid, picked you up, and plopped you into it. Kamazo grabbed your hand and put something into it. Then he brought his finger to his lips and nodded to the thing in your hand. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Cautiously, you looked at the thing in your hand.

It was a small, light object. An acorn? Not quite. It didn't have a stem, but it did have a tail. It was wooden, painted gray and pink. It was... a mouse? It was a tiny, wooden mouse. You looked at Kamazo, who repeated the gesture, and shut the lid gently, leaving you in darkness. You strained to look through a crack in the wooden barrel, but he was already gone. You held the tiny figurine in the palm of your hand. He wanted you to be quiet as a mouse, that much was clear. But what brought tears to your eyes was the fact that no one had ever paid that much attention to you. When you had stopped to peer at the various things stalls had to offer, this particular figure had caught your attention. It was the smallest figure on the table, hidden by so many other bigger, brighter ones. Maybe you felt a kindred spirit in it, but you had been drawn to it. Kamazo must have been watching you. He wasn't only watching you, though. He was paying attention to everything you did. And even if it was out of suspicion or wariness, it still made you feel special, not even special, just human. Where everyone up to this point in your life saw you as dirt, he saw you as human.

Kamazo was gone for a long time. You dozed on and off while you waited for him, readjusting your position in the cramped barrel periodically, the little wooden mouse tucked safely away in your clothing. You were startled awake by being lifted out of the barrel and thrown over the shoulder of the man. He was a little rough in his handling of you. He smelled like sweat and blood, and it was clear why. His clothes were damp and stained. At first you thought his wound reopened, but it was fine. It wasn't his own blood that was splattered across him. His breathing was heavy but not in a way that suggested exhaustion.

Kamazo brought you to a seemingly abandoned portion of town. He was rough in setting you down, practically vaulting you from his shoulder. Buildings were in disrepair and not a soul was present in the streets. You looked around and back at him, confused about why you were there. He had a scythe in each hand and his grip was shifting on them both. You could see dark red stains coating hm even in the moon light. His expression made you uneasy. There was a hunger behind it, something that wasn't really him, something darker. You were right. Maybe he was really leading you out here to kill you. But why would he when he fed you and gave you a gift? You didn't understand. You were questioning whether you thought he would really hurt you or not when you felt a sting on your cheek. He hadn't moved, or at least you didn't see it. Your fingers touched your cheek and pulled away covered in scarlet blood. Your heartbeat pounded and flew into your throat and your legs felt like they were frozen. He could have decapitated you if he wanted to, or spilled your guts into the dirt, but he hadn't. He wanted to play with his prey.

He took a step toward you and you bolted in the opposite direction, heading towards one of the buildings, thinking you could hide. You couldn't even feel your legs moving. Your body was running on autopilot, pulling from survival instinct. He wasn't chasing you yet, but you heard his eerie laugh echo louder and louder, and heard the metallic drag of his scythes against each other. Why now? Why now was he choosing to hurt you? You didn't have time to think about it. All you thought about was getting somewhere safe. You ran around the back of a building, away from his line of sight, and went inside a different one. Quickly, you searched for a refuge, and found one in a small closet. You put your hand over your mouth to silence your loud breathing.

You thought, perhaps naively, that he was warming up to you, or possibly the other way around. You were wrong for not running away sooner. You were shaking with fear. Your mouth ran dry and tears wouldn't even show themselves, for fear of being caught. There was the slightest creak of wood. That was the only sound you heard before the door in front of you splintered to pieces. Without thinking, you dove under him, through his legs, and ran as fast as you could. This time you could hear him behind you. He seemed to get within grabbing distance and then lag, toying with you. At any second he could grab you, but it never came. You kept running and running, never far enough ahead of him to run into a new hiding spot. You could feel the wind from his blades right behind you. If you slowed down, he would render you into ribbons. Your throat and lungs burned with exertion. Finally, you turned down an alley and had just enough time to see an open window to dive through. You thought you had escaped when a hand closed around your ankle, jerking you back into the alleyway. On the way out, you hit your head firmly on the side of the window, dazing you.

Your body went limp and your head swam. You were being maneuvered like a doll into place, bent over an old crate. After all the running, you were too tired to put up much of a fight. You doubted you would even have the energy to walk. A cool, metal line was pressed into the back of your neck, the dull edge of Kamazo's scythe. The chilled wind hit your backside as fabric was pushed up onto your lower back. Your entire body tensed as Kamazo's hand groped your ass. It sounded sick, yet you were glad it was him and not some other stranger.

Kamazo spit on your bared pussy. Something cylindrical was pressed into your folds. It was cool and smooth. Kamazo's hand grabbed your hip and pulled you against it, rubbing your clit against its firm surface as it slid between your lips. You soon realized it was his other scythe. It was braced between his shoulder and the crate while your weight kept it in place. His other scythe was still being threatening pressed against the back of your neck so that you would stay still. You heard his heavy breaths as he continued to drag your folds over the shaft of his weapon. Its pressure against your clit was unrelenting. Your body was reacting naturally to the sensations. You felt the handle become slicker as you were forcefully ground against it. The pressure in your lower stomach was building shamefully quickly. The friction felt unbelievably good, especially since you had been worked up a few days back and never met your release. You whined and squirmed, unwilling to give in like this, even if your body wanted to. Your head was clearing and although you were out of physical fight, you still had some mental fight left, or you thought you did.

Kamazo laughed behind you, the signature laugh of the cursed fruit. He stilled your hips, creating that same disappointing feeling you had when you were left unfinished before. Before you realized you were doing it, you were moving your hips on your own, desperate to get that friction back. How sad that you gave in that quickly, reduced to an animal in heat. If he was going to kill you anyway, what would be the harm in getting yourself off one more time? Right? Did you hit your head that hard? Was it only lust? Kamazo sucked in a breath and groaned as he watched you. Even if he had planned on killing you, how could he not want to keep such a cute, weak, compliant thing?

He helped you out, pushing the shaft harder against you and supporting your hips. Once he felt the rhythm you had worked into, he helped you move as well. Your whimpers were tired and weak. The feeling of the scythe's handle sliding against you was driving you wild. Your cunt clenched onto nothing as it begged to be filled. Maybe you would beg for that, too. You were kidding yourself if you claimed to have dignity. You turned your head as much as you could so you could look a him, hoping your eyes were enough to tell him what you wanted. You couldn't say it out loud.

Kamazo leaned down, drawing his tongue across the wound he made on your cheek. He licked the blood slowly from your skin, growling an approval. The scythe against the back of your neck disappeared and was replaced with his hand gripping it. His tongue continued up your cheek to your ear and sucked at the lobe. His breath tickled the skin of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Another laugh from him made you shiver. It was uncomfortable hearing it that closely, and yet it was turning you on. Maybe you liked the danger, or maybe it was the power he had over you. Either way, the was a fire burning in your core and you were close to releasing it.

His grip tightened around your neck briefly before sliding to your hair and pulling it to the side, forcing your head to turn further so that he could see your face. Your gaze was completely locked on to his. You couldn't look away from him. It was hard to visualize him fully from this angle, but you could see the way he looked down at you, like you were his prize, his toy. He didn't look at you like you were nothing. He looked at you like a possession. He owned you. It was clear now if it wasn't before. If he wanted to play these games with you, you would let him, no, you would happily play along, just to be looked at like you were something.

The sounds that escaped your mouth grew louder even through your exhaustion, to the point where Kamazo covered your mouth with his hand. All your squealing was muffled by his massive hand that reeked of blood. You were so close to the edge, he could probably feel the muscles of your legs twitch as he supported your hips. Grinding against the pole of his scythe while he watched you wantonly chase after your release was humiliating, yet it finally pushed you to your climax. Kamazo removed his hand to hear you cry out and you couldn't help but whine his name when your eyes rolled back. Waves of pleasure and tingling warmth flooded your body from your core to your fingertips. Your entire body went limp as you gave in to the orgasm.

You were only vaguely aware of Kamazo shifting behind you, too overwhelmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm to care what he was doing. Now there was something else cylindrical sliding between your folds, but it was his own shaft this time and not his weapon's. You expected that he might warm you up with his fingers, but he had other thoughts. His tip pressed into your entrance, making your toes curl in anticipation. You started to regret your eagerness and haste to have him inside you when he pressed further inside. You were plenty wet and willing from cumming, yet his size was larger than anything you had had before and there was a burning stretch to emphasize that. You squirmed and mewled at the discomfort, prompting Kamazo to push two fingers into your mouth as a gag. Your hands were clenched into fists. He pushed further inside, letting his own moans fall from his lips. You could feel him barely restrain his instinct to thrust right away, pulling out just a little bit only to sink back in.

You were stuffed full as he bottomed out. There were only a few seconds spent letting you accommodate to his size, which you were grateful for, though you could have used a minute or two longer. Stuffing your mouth with his fingers was swiftly forgotten as he grabbed your hips with both hands in a bruising grip and roughly fucked into you. He fucked you fast and hard, clearly having lost any patience he had watching you cum on his scythe. It stung at first and quickly converted into pleasure as his cock bullied places you didn't even know you had. He was lost focusing on his own release, yet he was inadvertently pushing you towards another of your own. Every pump of his hips was tightening the coil in your abdomen again and you found yourself meeting his hips with your own.

"P-please. More," you pleaded, so close to another climax.

Kamazo answered with a laugh, though it was interrupted by pants and grunts.

A string of curses fell from your mouth, nearing your end. "I'm- I'm-."

The sentence couldn't be finished, cut off by your moans as you came. This time your cunt had something to clench down on, pulling moans from Kamazo also. Your walls fluttered around him and the inside of your thighs became wet, however it was unclear whose fluids they were wet with because as you came, Kamazo shot his own load inside you. His hips stuttered and his balls tightened, body folding over yours in the throes of his own climax. He had meant to finish on your back, the grip of your pussy being too irresistible to contend with, and instead painted your walls with his seed.

He rested his forehead against your back while he caught his breath, his hands rubbing your hips to soothe where he had no doubt left bruises. The comforting gesture was unexpected to say the least, especially since you assumed he was just going to kill you afterward anyway. Several minutes went by with only the sound of panting taking up the night. Kamazo laughed and pulled out, straightening out his clothing. Then he did the same for you and helped you to your feet, catching you as your knees buckled. Your legs were shaking from the combination of running and holding you up against the crate for so long. He gave you a moment to steady yourself. You tried walking a few steps without much success. Your legs were like jelly, your cunt was a little sore, and you were trying not to let all the cum run down your legs.

Without protest from you, Kamazo scooped you up bridal style and headed in the direction of the inn. Your eyes held a lot of questions as you gazed at him. That dark look had disappeared from his face. You still weren't sure what he planned for you. Every time you thought he would kill you, he didn't, and every time you thought he might have a soft spot, he did something frightening. Kamazo glanced down at you and ran his thumb over your cheek. He acted like he was going to lick it off, but put it to your lips instead. It had a smear of your blood on it. Shyly, you flicked your tongue out and cleaned it from his thumb, eyes averting from his own.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Your eyebrows furrowed together. It was unsettling how perceptive he was, like he knew what you were thinking. To your disappointment, he did not offer any elaboration.

After several minutes you worked up enough courage to ask, "Why?"

Kamazo didn't answer, though he let out another laugh, one that sounded sad.

Tag List: @nocturnalrorobin @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @fendifendi @eustasscapitankid @iggy5055 @hannahbarberra162 @mapachito

#one piece #massacre soldier killer #x reader #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #hitokiri kamazo #hitokiri kamazo x reader #kamazo #kamazo x reader

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ak319 · 14 days ago

Note

I absolutely love ur platonic yandere Arthur fic!!

Also I wanted to ask what would happen when a dangerous situation arose in the camp and reader got caught in the middle and gotten shot or had an injury because of it.

💌 Tysm for reading and the ask! This one surely has the potential to be fluff!

The fire crackled softly as you sipped your (tea/coffee), lost in thought. It was around 6 p.m., and Arthur, Dutch, and a few others had gone out on a heist. Though you dreaded the nature of their work, you still found yourself hoping everything went smoothly, if only to keep them safe. You hated the thought of praying for your brother's return at the expense of others’ losses, yet a part of you couldn’t help but wish that the innocent came away unscathed.

With most of the gang out, the camp was quieter than usual, leaving just you, Pearson, Hosea, Annabelle, and John by the fire. But the unexpected arrival of shadowy figures made your stomach twist, the O' Driscoll boys. Tensions with them had been escalating, and now they stood at the edge of the camp, their expressions dark and unyielding.

Annabelle gripped your arm, pulling you close. “Stay by me,” she whispered, as Hosea and Pearson stepped forward, attempting to keep the peace. John joined them, his hand twitching near his belt, and you grimaced, knowing his quick temper could easily escalate things.

“(Y/N), get to your tent!” Annabelle hissed urgently, her grip tightening on your arm. Her voice was low, almost a growl. You both being still unnoticed by the men feet away in the dark.

“What? I’m not leaving you here alone-”

“I can handle myself. You’re not ready for this, but here, take this,” she said, pressing a revolver into your hands. “Just in case.”

You hesitated, then ducked back toward your tent, heart pounding. Once inside, you doused the lantern and crouched in the shadows, revolver aimed at the tent’s entrance. Every muffled insult and tense laugh outside made your pulse race as you waited, breath held, bracing for whatever might come.

Then, gunshots rang out, mingling with the frantic neighs of horses. Shit. Shit. The situation had escalated. Agony twisted through you, both mentally and physically, as you sat there in the pitch dark, clueless about what was unfolding outside. Your lips moved in silent prayers, hoping for everyone’s safety and Arthur’s swift return.

The tent flap flew open, and Annabelle’s distinct shout of protest echoed outside. You recoiled as a man stepped in, his eyes flashing with surprise when they landed on you. Before he could react, you squeezed the trigger without hesitation. The bullet struck his thigh, and he doubled over with a furious growl of pain.

"AGH! You bitch!" He lunged forward, and the man’s weight crashed onto you, knocking the air from your lungs. "Little rat," he snarled through the pain, his hands gripping your wrists with bruising force, forcing the revolver from your fingers. Panic clawed at you as you struggled beneath him, desperate to twist free. You kicked hard, aiming for his injured thigh, and he grunted, momentarily loosening his grip and punching your face twice in return.

"You got some nerve...maybe we can just take you with us."

Taking advantage of his distraction, you managed to wrestle one hand free and clawed at his face, your nails digging into his cheek. He cursed, reeling back, but his fist connected sharply with your ribs, sending a fiery shock of pain through your side. You gasped, the sound cut short as he pressed down harder, his hand fumbling for the revolver between you.

You thrashed, trying to pry the gun from his grip, both of you wrestling for control. Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the revolver, and you tugged with all your might. But then, with a deafening crack, the gun went off, and pain seared through your shoulder as the bullet tore into you.

The shock overtook you first, numbness washing over your arm before the agony settled in, hot and blinding. The world spun as you gasped, fighting to stay conscious, but the weight of him bore down, and the pain was almost unbearable. Then a second shot resounded but this one targeted the man, killing him and his body instantly falling over, half of his body still on you.

"HEY! Oh, God! Ms. ANNABELLE! (Y/N) has been shot!" John shouted as he crouched beside you and soon Annabelle entered, the silence outside indicated that maybe it had ended, but you didn't have the strength to ask, your mind focused on the pain and the trauma of what had just occurred, making you lose your senses. Dimly, you heard Annabelle’s frantic voice somewhere outside the tent, yelling for help, but the darkness started to close in, dragging you under.

⋆⋆⋆

When Arthur returned to camp along with Dutch, Charles and Sean, he didn't even imagine that his day would end like this. That he would hear about an attack on the camp and that too when they weren't here, when he wasn't here. The happiness that had enveloped him due to the successful heist had diminished in a flick of a wrist, and on top of that, he got informed of what had happened with…you.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he watched you lying there, fragile and bruised beneath Annabelle’s watchful gaze. The fury rising within him was unlike anything he’d felt before, a white-hot rage that blazed through every fibre of his being. It was one thing for these men to skirmish with him and the gang, to take potshots or swipe supplies. But this… this was different. They’d targeted the heart of his camp. They’d come after you, knowing full well you were defenseless. And that, he swore, would be the last mistake they'd ever make.

"She's…fine. She will be. I wanted to take her to the clinic but decided against it as it still might be unsafe out there so, I treated her here…"

He barely heard Annabelle’s voice as she spoke, her words filtering in slowly through the storm in his mind. Each shallow breath you took sounded louder to him than the gunfire he’d just come from. His fists balled tightly, his nails biting into his palms as his focus honed to a single thought, revenge.

Arthur spun around, his boots thudding heavily on the ground as he headed for the stables. He was blind to the concerned glances cast his way, blind to the way Dutch and Hosea turned in alarm as he tore through the camp with a single, furious purpose.

“Arthur! Where the hell you off to now?!” Dutch’s voice broke through the clamor of his rage, but Arthur didn’t slow down.

"Going to settle the score." He’d take every one of those bastards down, one by one if he had to. They’d pay for what they’d done, for the way they’d left you, his only real family, his anchor, his one solace in a life torn apart by violence. They attacked his fucking honour.

Arthur mounted his horse and gave Dutch a final look over his shoulder, his eyes fierce and dark with purpose. Without another word, he dug his heels in, spurring his horse into a gallop as he disappeared into the night, bound for blood.

Dutch watched him go, an uneasy grimace crossing his face. “Charles, go after him. Make sure he don’t do something stupid.”

Charles nodded grimly and saddled up. But even he knew there’d be no talking Arthur down tonight.

⋆⋆⋆

After wiping out the small hideout , which didn't take too long to find anyway. He came back and since then, he remained by your side, dismissing Annabelle.

Arthur sat close, his presence solid and grounding as if he could shield you from anything else that might harm you. His eyes, though softened now, held the shadows of all he’d gone through, the remnants of his own silent terror. He looked down at your hand, opening it with a gentleness that almost felt out of place.

It took him so much to bury the fear, of nearly losing you.

The one whose mischievous giggles annoyed him when you stole and hid his hat.

The one he showed his sketches to.

The one who tended to his wounds.

The only one who could bring that hint of his mother’s cooking.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling a small box from his pocket. “A gift.”

You blinked, lifting your gaze from your lap, a glint of curiosity breaking through your daze. He opened the box to reveal a simple yet precious pearl set, mirroring something he saw in you. But there was no escaping the knowledge of its likely origin, and you felt an old, familiar discomfort creeping up.

Before you could protest, he placed the box firmly in your hand, fingers closing over it in a silent insistence.

“It’s…I-”

“Shush. It’s yours.” He didn’t let you finish. It was the same line he always used, the one that seemed to erase the shadows of guilt whenever he brought you something from the spoils of his risky life, whether it be fruits, snacks or clothes.

“T-thank you,” you whispered, his rare smile easing some of the ache.

“I… I’m just so glad you’re safe,” he said, his voice rough as he squeezed your hand as if steadying himself as much as you. “I don’t even want to think…”

“This was bound to happen someday,” you managed to croak out, your voice scratchy yet resigned.

“No! No, it wasn't!” he argued, the tension in his voice unmistakable as he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his hand holding you steady. “I feel like… hell, like I let you down, and that just… just eats at me. I’m sorry, Chumchum." He knew that nickname annoyed you, but this time, it made you crack a smile. His grip tightened, and he leaned in, a promise in his silence, vowing to keep you safe at any cost.

“Not… your fault,” you murmured, voice faint but steady. “I’m… fine now.” Arthur nodded, a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you in a gentle, side hug and placed a soft kiss on top of your head, careful to not cause you pain at the same time, holding you close as to make himself believe that you were here, safe and in the shelter of his arms. The warmth of his shoulder offered you a comfort you didn’t realize you’d been aching for, and before you knew it, you were crying softly, letting the weight of everything slip away against him. At that moment, he felt like a mixture of all the care you’d ever known, both fierce and gentle. Parental even.

"Don't worry, I fuckin took care of those bastards, did worse than what they did to you, won't even think of coming here ever again. Assholes." He was trying to comfort you in his own way, and somehow, this time, it worked.

For days afterwards, he hovered like a mother hen, fussing over every detail of your recovery. He made sure you rested, brought meals to your cot to feed you, and sat nearby for quiet company, even engaging in lighthearted bickering. And when he noticed the tension, took you for walks or even rides to town, be it the theatre or the circus. Whatever you wanted.

It felt so warm, like a blanket you hadn’t known you’d been missing until it was wrapped around you again. You saw how much he tried, how fiercely he watched over you, going out of his way to keep you steady. And in a way, you felt proud of him, too. You knew that, beneath the hardened shell of a man shaped by gunpowder and grit, he was still your brother.

(AN: Kay fun fact, so in English, Chum is like a petname, but in my language, Chumchum is the name of a sweet/dessert, lol.)

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hello! I’m usually a silent reader but OMG the zombie au 😭😭 this series hits me right in the heart, but honestly everything you post is amazing!! You’re such a talented writer that your words create feelings, not just images, and they’re the most comforting, relatable, and heart wrenching all at once. No pressure, but I would love to see more of r’s recovery from her cuts! Maybe something happens when the survivors are moving that causes Steve to be extra worried? Thanks SO much either way!!

thank you so much 😭 I hope this is okay!! sry it took me ages. steve zombie au —steve looks after you again !!

You haven't been able to tell Steve why you're covered practically head to toe in little cuts beyond what you remember. Days now since the attack on The College, you vaguely remember an impact, which might explain your poor memory. Someone or something had hit you down, and when you woke it was in a pool of crushed glass, darkness like velvet enveloping the sky.

"I don't know how you did it," he says, sitting between your legs, unperturbed by your state of undress.

You're wearing a pair of mens boxers as shorts to grant him access to your sliced thighs without feeling naked. The worst stretches across your left thigh, stitched closed and weeping miserably. It's a horror —the cut isn't bad but the infection is, and if it doesn't get better, there's going to be a problem.

"Desperate to get back to you," you say. You're not lying, but you say it like a joke.

Steve laughs and rubs your one unscathed knee gently.

"My poor love," he says under his breath, focusing on your stitches. He cleans around them with a damp strip of cloth poorly shorn.

He moves up with a new strip to clean the top ones. You could do it yourself, but his fussing is nice. Relaxed against a pile of bed rolls, your arms crossed to avoid touching your stomach, which is also blanketed in cuts, you wince as Steve grows closer.

"Can we take a break?" you ask.

"Yeah." He puts down the bowl of linen strips and screws the lid back on the isopropyl. "Sorry, honey. I know it sucks. You've dealt with it all so well–"

"Steve, you say this to me with a sprained knee."

"It's not less true," he says, easing down with a boyish groan beside you.

He turns to you as you turn to him, actual dirt on his cheek, stubbly and waxy in the dusk. You rub at the spot of dirt unhappily. He lets you touch him without complaint.

"Sorry I'm a mess."

"As long as you come back to me," he says. "I don't really care how much of a mess you are."

"Don't, baby." You rub your face into his shoulder, feeling the muscle of his bicep under your palm. You don't want him to be nice to you like that, not while your skin is stinging like this and you're still feeling hopelessly terrified of the uncertain future again.

"I gotta. I'm playing the romantic, doting love interest in our book."

"What book?"

"One I'm gonna write. Me and you and Robin at the end of the world," Steve says, dropping his head on yours.

"Who's gonna read the book?" you ask quietly.

"Everyone. When the world gets back on its feet again and the next generation wants to know what it was like, they'll have a great answer. Boy falls in love with girl destined to be constantly injured and reluctantly taken care of."

"Ah, but I'm not reluctant," you say.

"I can do your other leg?"

"No," you whine.

"That's reluctance."

You sit together for a while.

"You have to let me finish," he says firmly.

"I know… just. I love you," you say quietly. It's hard to explain it, but sitting with him as you are in the corner of a crowded room, it doesn't matter where you are, because you're with him. All these cuts and bruises don't mean a thing.

"I love you, too." He wraps his arm around your shoulders. You wish you could see his face, but this is nice.

"Do you ever worry we say it too much?"

"No." He turns his face into the top of your head. "This is the right amount. But you can definitely tell me again, if you're worried."

You thumb along a scabbed cut. "I love you. Thanks for taking care of me."

"You're welcome. And you can make it up to me. I want a neck massage, you know, where you dig into my literal bones and–" he imitates a cracking sound.

"I don't know why you like it so much."

"Cos it's you doing it. Deal?"

You sigh. Somehow, you feel as though you might have taken the short end of the stick. "Deal."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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persefolli · 2 years ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐎𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @talokan34, @myheartfollower, @laylasbunbunny, @destinyl, @deadgirl02

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“We can have her take the team east next time, maybe the ground will be better.” Jake looked at the table pointing at a map. The three of you had just led a successful battle against the RDA, picking up more medical supplies and equipment that the Omaticaya could use.

You stood outside of the tree, wiping your face clear of tears. One glance at your thigh, and you winced seeing the large bruise that had formed. You had been shot, not by a normal gun, but a tracker, and it was only now affecting you.

“If you are hit with this, you are marked for death!” You remember Jake yelling.

Telling them would only lead to more trouble, maybe even anger. You couldn't stomach both your lovers being angry, nor blaming you for the battle that just occurred. Jake had already given you a lecture earlier about your performance with the sky team, and you could only take so much.

The only option was to leave. Get far away from hometree and the forest to make sure no more Omaticaya were injured. Jake had made his amends with Eywa and the people, now it was your turn.

You silently walked into the room, smelling the fresh aroma of stew that was cooking. As much as you would’ve liked to sit and eat with your lovers for the last time, you couldn’t. You avoided eye contact with the both of them, hoping they wouldn't notice you.

“Hey babe how ya feelin?” Jake greeted. But you ignored him, walking right past him and climbing up a few branches to get to your hammock. Jake looked at Tonowari, and he shrugged. “Well dinner is ready…if you…” He trailed off knowing that you weren’t gonna turn around.

“She may be tired.” Tonowari suggested. Jake nodded. It was a hard day for the three of you, and he was being a hardass earlier. Normally, he would pester you, but this time he knew it would be best to leave you until morning. A good night's sleep could fix anything.

You laid in your hammock with your back towards the other empty ones, eyes wide open, waiting on the two of them to come along. Hours passed before Tonowari bed himself, then soon after Jake came along. You listened to their soft shuffles and their breathing patterns as they attempted to get comfortable without waking you.

More time passed and you finally heard snoring, meaning that they were asleep. You climbed out of your hammock and snuck downstairs, grabbing a small satchel and packing knives, food, and medical supplies you would need. You bunched up a lot of blankets and placed them into your hammock, hoping it would give you more running time. You cried as you packed up your bag, knowing that this is how you would leave them. And if they did see you again, you would be long gone.

You looked around one more time, at the home you created with your two lovers, and sighed.

One last thing.

You grabbed a spare sheet of paper and wrote on it.

Protect the People.

It didn't take much to sneak from the home tree and get through the village unnoticed. The hour was late, and it was rare for any threats, human or creature to come around at this time. You made your way to the nearby mountain where the Ikrans rested when they wanted to be alone. You spotted yours, laying on a rock and waiting as if she was expecting you.

“We gotta go sweets.” You ran your hand along her snout.

Climbing on, you connected your tail to your Ikran and hooted, flying away and leaving your home behind.

---

Tonowari stirred awake, shooting straight from his hammock having had a dream concerning you. He looked over at your sleeping figure, immediately sighing seeing that you were safe and sound near them. But something was off. He sat still, attempting to focus his eyes so he could see your shoulders rise as you slept, but you didn't move. He climbed out his hammock and ran over to yours, pulling back the large blanket and seeing a bundle of others falling to the ground.

“Jake!” He yelled.

Jake jerked from his hammock and groaned. He looked over at his friend, before trailing his eyes to the ground where the bundle of blankets rested. “Y/n!” He called out, climbing out the hammock and walking downstairs. He'd hope to see you in the kitchen making food, but the room was almost cleaned out of your belongings. Jake now woke up, realizing the severity of the situation.

“Wari, where is she?!”

“I don't know.” He came walking down the stairs, equally shocked at the empty room.

Jake spotted the white folded paper on the table, quickly rushing over and picking it up. “Protect the people?” He muttered.

Tonowari began suiting up, throwing his belt around his waist and grabbing his own satchel. “I'm going!” He began walking out the room, leaving Jake behind.

---

The sun had begun to rise, and your thigh was killing you. Every once in a while a sharp pain would pulse throughout your leg, causing you and your Ikran to jerk to the side, screaming out loud. The pain became too much, and you had to land.

“I'm okay. I'm okay.” You reassured yourself. You scooted against the tree and took a look at your thigh, seeing the skin was now raised and the bruising had begun to spread. “No!” You slammed your head against the tree bark, knowing what you had to do.

“Look away.” You hissed at your Ikran.

You grabbed your satchel and dug through it until you found a knife, a circular one used for wood carving. You poked your finger at the tip, drawing a bit of blood from the sharpness. You gulped, and took the handle of your satchel, biting down on the leather band and clenching. A fear tears slipped from your eyes. You were scared, afraid of the pain, the infection, or death that would come after.

Your hands shook as you took the blade in your hand, inching it closer to your thigh. “Come on.” You coaxed yourself. “Come on!” You sucked in a breath and plunged the knife into your thigh, screaming as you pushed the blade deep into your flesh. Blood began spurting out, leaking down the tree branch you sat on. “Fuck!” You gritted, finally hitting the metal object with the tip of the blade. “A little more. A little more.” You coaxed yourself. Here comes the worst part.

You twisted the knife, hooking the blade into your muscle surrounding the object, and pulled outwards, slicing your leg even more. You screamed out loud, dropping the satchel and clenching in shock. Your leg throbbed, and your hand began to slip from the handle of the knife. Your wound stretched the more you pulled the knife. “EYWA HELP ME, Help me!” You screamed once more before the knife and pill-like object left your leg.

You dropped the knife immediately, looking at the tracker with hazy eyes as you began to lose consciousness. You raised your hand, seeing that it was no longer blue as blood coated your hand and forearm. You blinked once. Twice. Gone.

---

Jake's eyes searched frantically, looking all through the forest for you. They passed through territories of different clans and regions looking for you.

“I think we're close.” Tonowari called out.

Jake nodded, feeling you, and smelling you getting closer. “Dive!” He yelled out, immediately banking downwards to get a better sense of where you were. Tonowari dived as well, dropping below the tree line to get closer to the ground. “Jake!” He yelled.

Jake flew to his friend, seeing that he had landed and perched his Ikran. “I smell her. But I also smell blood.”

Jake's face went pale and he nodded.

“Don't panic. It might not be hers.” Tonowari attempted to stay optimistic.

The two of them suited up, grabbing their bows and spears and began walking through the forest. “Y/n!” They both called out, hoping they would hear you somehow. In the distance they heard a screeching. Your Ikran.

They began running forward, not caring whether or not they left each other behind or not. They finally broke into an opening, where your Ikran sat perched on a rock, screaming up into the air. It spotted the two na’vi, and nodded its head over.

“No.”

The sight was gorey, you slumped over on a tree branch unconscious with blood everywhere. Tonowari dropped his spear and ran over, snatching you up and holding you in his arms. “Hey! Hey! Get up! Hey!”

You heard the muffled sounds of their yelling, but couldn't find the strength to get up.

“Move! Move!” You heard Jake shuffling around. “Stay with us, you hear me? Don't you fucking dare!”

---

Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw nothing but the sky, with trees surrounding you. Slowly, your hand trailed down to your thigh, where you hissed feeling a large gauze in place of your wound. “We stitched you up.” You heard a familiar voice. Your eyes snapped to the side and you saw Tonowari, sitting right next to you with his hand wrapped in yours.

“Oh Y/n.” He pulled you up, and startled you with a passionate kiss. You said nothing, but kissed him back, running your spare hand up his arm. “Do you know how badly you scared us!” He scolded.

You looked to the other side and saw Jake holding the tracker in his hand, inspecting it closely as it beeped in his hand. His eyes trailed to look at you, wrinkles dissipating as his expression softened. He threw the tracker down and stepped on it, breaking the item as he walked over to you.

“How did you find me?”

Jake grabbed his tail and held it up, “We are bonded for life, we will always find you.”

You sighed, feeling the tensity.

“Why did you leave?” He asked.

“To protect you guys, and the people.” You admitted. “I wasn't going to be the reason everyone got killed.”

“That's our job!” Tonowari hissed. “We protect you! We protect the people! Not abandon them when needed most.”

“I was shot!” You yelled back. “I was hit with a tracker two missions ago.” You silently said. The two men fell silent as you began crying. “I didn't think…I didn't think it meant anything until you said that the other clan got attacked, then the two of you….” You looked at their scar filled arms and choked. “I'm the only explanation for the latest attack. I had to leave before they found us for real.”

Jake wiped the tears from your face and muttered. “It's not your fault. It's not on you sweetheart. Look at me.” He pulled you to face him instead of Tonowari. “I betrayed the RDA over a decade ago. Whatever they wanted, it was me, even without the tracker, they would've come.”

Tonowari ran his hand along your forehead. “The issue comes from you running away. Have we neglected you so that you ran to the forest and nearly killed yourself?” He huffed.

You shook your head. “No…no Wari the two of you….I just didn't want you two to be angry.”

“Angry.” Jake scoffed. “You could've marched in the village with hundreds of RDA soldiers behind you and we would still be deeply in love with you.”

You looked at Tonowari who nodded, holding back tears of his own. “I would rather deal with you working for the enemy than find you in the forest half dead like this.” Tonowari said.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize sweetheart.” Tonowari pulled you into his chest and rocked you, placing a kiss on your head.

“You lost a lot of blood but we stitched you up as best as we can.” Jake said. “We're gonna get you home, get you fixed right on up.”

You sniffled and nodded, turning back so you could lay flat on the ground. “You're okay Y/n.” Jake placed his hand on your stomach.

“You'll be just alright.”

#persefolli #persefolliwrites #angst #avatar the way of water #atwow #jake sully #tonowari #avatar #avatar2 #jake sully x reader #tonowari x reader #tonowari x reader x jake #hurt/comfort #jake angst #tonowari angst

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queentheweeb · 11 months ago

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Male Ronal X Fem Metkayina Reader

A/N: This takes place directly after Avatar 1, so Ronal is male and is Olo'eyktan who has yet to pick his Tsahik

Ronal= Ron'ek

Tonowari= Toni'va

Part 2, Final

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

You were sitting on your Tsurak and scratching your head, thinking to yourself about the people of the forest. You were glad that they were able to defeat the sky people. Ron'ek's father, the leader of the Metkayina, went to help Toruk Makto and was injured, losing an arm, which he thinks was worth it.

"Me losing an arm means nothing. My people and all of the forest Na'vi were saved."

He never had any ill will towards Jake because he chose to betray his whole species to be here and protect a home that hated him at first. He would forever have your respect as well. That was a few months ago, and thankfully, Ron'ek didn't push; well, that's because he didn't have time. With his father's sudden retirement, he was now the Olo'eyktan at the age of 23, and he didn't have a mate, no one to want to call his Tsahik. However, everyone seemed to think that Toni'va was the best candidate and that he would choose her. She was perfect in every sense of the way. She was tall, thin, beautiful, a great warrior, and extremely popular, which made her arrogant and believed many were beneath her. The two of you used to be friends until she got popular, and it all got to her head; now you were her enemy. You didn't have time for her and her gang of friends, so you kept to yourself.

"Those nets aren't going to weave themselves." You side-eyed the mess out of Toni'va; she was so confident that she was going to be Tsahik that she was already acting like it; it didn't help that everyone listened to her as well. How fucking annoying. You liked that English cuss word you heard Jake and the sky people use. It describes an intense feeling of annoyance, disgust, wonder, or surprise,,, and she was intensely annoying you.

"She is thick all over, so I expect her to be slow." They all giggled before disappearing to do whatever. You pulled on your ear since the sounds they made made it hurt, and you shook your head because it felt like it reverberated through your kuru. You glanced down at your body before rolling your eyes. You liked to eat, and besides, you weren't weak, far from it. Your body is strong, allowing you to be the best hunter. Personally, you believed you were better than Toni'va, and you had curves too...you just had big everything, stomach rolls when you sat, thighs spreading, and needing more support for your chest. You weren't slim, but you were beautiful and strong.

"She's so annoying." You turned to your best friend/tsumke, who never switched up on you smiling at her.

"She is, but it's okay. Maybe when she and Ro'nek finally mate, she will stop being like that...or get worse. Only Eywa will know." The idea of her being with Ro'nek made your stomach twist and turn, making you nauseous. He deserved better; he can do better.

"I pray to Eywa three times a day that he wakes up and chooses someone else. Everyone is so confident it's her, and watch it be someone we don't expect." You had to agree with her, everyone always spoke but, him. He would always change the conversation, avoid the questions, and avoid being alone with her. You noticed all this, but it seemed no one else did, or they were delusional. Probably both. Probably thought he was being mysterious or something else. How naive of them.

"Speaking of him, here he comes back from a hunt. Grab a net and start weaving." She did as instructed, the two of you picking up the pace of the weaving while having an idle conversation. From the corner of your eye, you saw Toni'va approaching him, so you lost interest. It shouldn't bother you that she's talking to him, but...you did kind of like him a little more than you're supposed to but never entertained it since he had too many suitors and you weren't at the top. You're allowed to dream, though.

"How was the hunt, Olo'eyktan?" Her voice was sickly sweet it had you cringing a bit, her voice was naturally not that high-pitched. It wasn't deep but, it wasn't grating either, how could anyone stand to listen to her?

"It was good, thanks for asking. The jewelers need help. Go collect jewels, and Toni'va, go help collect herbs with the collectors." You saw her head nod, and all of them disappeared, giggling to themselves. He didn't even smile or smirk at them! He had a straight face! It's been a long time since you've seen him smile, a twitch of the lips, a small grin, but the full-blown smile you remember from childhood? Yeah, it's been a long time. You continued to weave feeling eyes burning into you, you looked forward seeing no one, and then turned your head to the left locking eyes with Ron'ek who didn't look away at being caught. You startled, blinking at him as he just...stared.

"What's he looking at..." Your friend was not his biggest fan, and you said nothing as you stared at each other. After a few seconds, you gave him a half-smile, returning to your work. If you would've looked at him a little longer, you would've caught his smirk, but he left the two of you alone to do whatever he needed to do. "That was weird."

"He is weird, isn't he?" It came out much fonder than you intended, but all was well. You don't hate him, never did, you liked the man.

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

You were going to lose your mind; you were. Toni'va was insufferable on this hunting trip, all of you were hunting an Akula and she kept spraying water in your face, getting in front of you, and tapping your Tsurak to make you fall and swerve. You already got hissed at, and you were close to just going back and handling the Olo'eyktan's wrath or whatever he was going to say. You always wondered why he never reprimanded her or said anything to her. Did he even notice her? He must not watch her if he doesn't notice what she does.

"Be still!" All of you stopped moving at his command, and you needed to breathe and focus on hunting Nalutsa since it was easier and more abundant than Akula. Letting Toni'va ruin your concentration wasn't going to help anyone here. It was silent as you and the others watched for his command and did as instructed. He wanted you with him for whatever reason, and you refused to look at Toni'va, who was glaring at you. When you got next to him, he gave you an unreadable expression, reminding you that even as children, he was always closed off.

"What do you need me to do?" He glanced over your face, searching for...something.

"Follow my lead." You nodded, and just as instructed, you were right behind him, weaving along the coral reef, and in the distance, you saw your prey. You watched his eyes and head, noticing the shift, and followed along. All of you knew what to do already, so it wasn't long before the Nalutsa was slaughtered, and all of you hooked the beast onto your Tsuraks to bring it to the cooks. You would help since that was sometimes part of your job or if you wanted to. Once everyone was hooked up, he led everyone, and both you and Toni'va were up in the front. She was side-eyeing you before turning to Ron'ek, speaking sickly sweet to him. There goes your ears.

"So...what did you think of our performance today?" You knew she was asking about herself without saying it. You missed the old Toni'va, she was so much more genuine, unless this was the real her and you were blind to it before.

"Everyone did well." Nothing else was said, and you saw she was disappointed, but what did she expect? He couldn't individually compliment everyone. "Good job today, Y/N." You glanced at him in shock, but he looked forward, so you did that as well.

"Thank you." Now you knew Toni'va was praying that you get eaten by an Akula. That serves her right to treat you the way she does. The rest of the ride back to the island was silent, and once you landed, you set to work untying the Nalutsa. As expected, Toni'va disappeared and would appear when it was time to cook. She wouldn't get her hands dirty with the raw meat, and sometimes, you wondered why you did it. Just as you were about to get the cutting, a hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you mid-swing. You jumped, turning around only to see Ron'ek in your personal space looking down at you. Curse his height.

"You don't have to cut the Nalutsa. Go get cleaned and help out the cooks." You blinked and thanked Eywa that you didn't have to cut up the animal because you really didn't want to. You smiled at him in relief.

"Thank you for that, Ron'ek; I'll see you at dinner." Before he can say anything else, you put your knife back and go back to your Marui, where you realize halfway walking that you addressed him as Ron'ek instead of Olo'eyktan, and he didn't correct you. What was going on, and why was your heart racing? Unbeknownst to you, Ron'ek's best friend was teasing him.

"Took you long enough to start making moves on her...even though I doubt she knows you are." Ron'ek side-eyed his best friend and huffed.

"It's hard, especially since everyone thinks I'm going to be with Toni'va." He thought Toni'va was a nice woman who worked hard when needed, but she was far from his type. He doesn't know how to tell her he's not interested without there being a crowd and her making a scene. She always had a crush on him and made it painfully obvious, but she was cruel, jealous, arrogant, and hard to please. All those qualities were something he didn't want in a Tsahik.

"For starters, you can tell her you're not interested and start pursuing who you actually want...which happens to be Y/N." Ron'ek couldn't deny it and wouldn't deny it with his best friend. He was the only one on the island who knew he wanted Y/N, but it was hard when he couldn't get time with her.

"I'm going to make time to spend with Y/N. She's worth it to me." He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was going to find a way to get to Y/N, court her, and have her as his mate and Tsahik.

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

Let me know what you guys think about this so far! I will be making a part 2

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #na'vi reader #atwow #metkayina reader #ronal x reader #ronal avatar #ronal x you #ronal x fem reader #atwow fanfiction

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daddyy333 · 2 years ago

Text

It’s gonna be okay | Dean Winchester x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 1.0k

warnings: blood, almost fatal wounds, passing out, ?

summary: [requested] Lol idk how to request but can you do a Sam or dean Winchester where him and reader get attacked and dean/sam is bleeding out and reader crawls to him and just stays with him but he’s worried about her too. This request sucks oml I hope you understand what I’m saying lmao

It was just supposed to be a “killing time” sort of mission. You’d hit a dead end on the stuff with the darkness, and it was driving everyone insane but especially Dean. So you found a case that seemed like a werewolf case, so you figured you two could be there and do what you needed to in a day or two and be back to the bunker in no time. You just needed to get out and do something before you both lost your shit.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. It was a hellhound case. Ramsey, you know, the one who listens to Lucifer and Lucifer only. You and Dean were trying to find her with the help of Gwen, who Ramsey was after because she hit her with an ax when Ramsey killed her boyfriend, Marcus.

You were starting to get distracted since it was taking so long, and at the moment you were currently making fun of Dean with the glasses on. “Oh I look funny? Yours are literally hot pink heart glasses I don’t think this even a competition” he said and you giggled.

You heard a twig snap and you both turned your heads to where the sound came from, but you didn’t see anything. You sighed, shaking your head. “This is getting really fucking boring” you groaned and Dean sighed.

He looked behind him, Gwen was looking around at the forest a few feet away. “I know, babe. I’m sure the bitch will come out soon though” he said and kissed your head, intertwining your hands.

You shook your head and said “what if we were wrong? What if Ramsey gave up and- aaahhh!” You felt something sharp on your thigh and then got dragged to the ground. You gasped as you looked and saw Ramsey through your glasses, getting ready to jump on you again.

“Dean!” You screamed. She jumped on you again and scratched your stomach a little before Dean hit her. She growled and jumped on him and scratched him up bad. You screamed, trying to get to him but she had injured you just enough that it slowed you down.

Gwen suddenly managed to chop her head off, even though she didn’t have any glasses and couldn’t see her. You could hear Deans groans and whimpers, and you started to cry even more.

“Dean- baby, it’s okay. Hey, don’t worry you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay” you said and crawled over to him, caressing his face. He grunted, and you looked down at the blood soaking his shirt.

You whimpered, lifting it up to see how severe it was. “No, no no no- god- shit” you murmured. You noticed Dean get louder, he was looking at his wounds and it was making him scared. “Hey, hey don’t look at it. You’re fine, Dean it’s just some scratches” you said, chin trembling.

You grunted, your own wounds being quite painful as well but you ignored it. “H-How bad is it?…uhh! Fuck, tell me the truth, baby” he said and you cupped his cheek.

You sniffled and wiped his tears away, grabbing his hand as you said “it uhm- fuck, it’s bad, Dean. But you’re not dying today, I’m not letting you die, okay?” He shuddered, squeezing your hand. You whimpered, feeling light headed because of your blood loss.

“Gwen…call Sam” you said, whimpering with every breath you took. Dean grunted and said “a-are you okay? How b-bad are you hurt?” “I’m- I’m fine, Dean it’s nothing” you said and coughed a little, realizing that maybe it was that bad since you just coughed blood into your hand.

His eyes widened and he said “babe- y/n you can be saved. Please, get out of here, get help” “no, I’m not- ahh! Oww- fuck I’m not leaving you!” You said, burying your head into his chest as you panted, your fingertips losing feeling and your stomach and leg throbbing.

Dean placed a hand on your head, caressing it softly. “Try to- to breathe baby…it’s gonna be okay- hey! Hey, sit up!” He said as you started to let up on the amount of pressure you applied to his stomach and almost completely stopped squeezing his hand.

You grunted, sitting up and squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to stay awake. “Ohh! Fuck- Dean, I’m not- I’m gonna p-pass out” you said and he sniffled. You coughed up more blood before you leaned against his chest again, panting hard and even wheezing.

“No- nonono…don’t- stay awake,” he said, starting to feel lightheaded himself. “I love you…” You whispered before you slowly let go of his hand and your other hand went limp as well, falling to your side and causing more blood to fish out of him.

He gasped, wheezing just like you were a moment ago. “No- no! Fuck- y/n, please wake up. Babe….shit- babe I’m right here, god- don’t die….baby” he said and whimpered, tears flowing like crazy.

He let out a sob as he said “I love you, baby…I love you so much…oh god- fuck I love you so much babygirl” He placed his other hand on your waist, caressing it softly.

“I love you…I lo- I-I- I lo- mnh” he said before he too lost consciousness, praying to every god he knew that Sam would make it to you guys in time.

A few hours later, you woke up on the ground in the library. You gasped, rolling to your side and coughing hard. You groaned, breathing a little shaky as you looked around. Sam was standing over you, covered in blood and Cas was next to Dean with his fingers on his head.

Your eyes widened and you looked down, your shirt was still destroyed because of yours and Dean’s blood but when you lifted your shirt up there was nothing there. You sighed relievingly and laid back down, scoffing slightly.

Dean woke up and you instantly sat up, cupping his cheek and trying to calm him down. “Hey, hey it’s okay. We’re okay. We’re at the bunker now, we’re safe. I told you you would be okay” you said and chuckled, happy tears filling your eyes.

He pulled you into his lap, kissing your head and rubbing your back. You sniffled, crying happy tears. You really didn’t think you two would make it out alive. “I’m right here, babygirl. Don’t worry, we’re safe” he mumbled into your neck.

Taglist: @mirrorballslut

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Maya Hawke

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot

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overobsessivewhumper · 1 year ago

Text

Whumpcember 2023: Day 5: Impaled

@whumpcember

Content warning: Blood, Impalement

Read on Ao3

Astarion is badly injured, but with Karlachs still out of control heart, she can do nothing but watch as he suffers.

Work Text:

Karlach felt like she was going to be sick. How could she have let something like this happen?

It had only took one moment for them to get separated from Shadowheart and Lae'zel. She obviously hadn't minded being alone with Astarion, even if it was in the middle of the barren wastes of the Shadow cursed lands. She had briefly spared a worried taught to the fact that the other two might actually kill each other, but she had quickly dismissed it.

Together with Astarion, they had quickly planned a route back to the Last Light Inn and had set off on it. She doesn't remember what they had been talking about now, only that she greatly enjoyed the conversation.

Maybe that's why neither of them noticed the ambush.

Karlach is sure one of the others had told her the name of the plant monsters twisted by the Shadow-Curse, probably Halsin or Gale, but she could not give less of a fuck to try and remember what they're called.

Not now, not when Astarion is half sitting, half laying at her feet, bleeding, piece of wood so thick she guesses she could only about wrap her hand around it sticking out of his stomach.

And she can do nothing to help him. Not without burning him.

That's why they set out into the Shadow-Cursed-Lands that morning in the first place, to find Infernal Iron to hopefully cool down her out of control heart.

Crouching down next to Astarion, ignoring the way her own body aches, Karlach cringes as she gets a better look at the state Astarion is in.

The jagged piece of wood sticking out of his left side tore right through his armour, leaving an equally jagged hole in the leather, and surely his skin too. His armour is dark, of drow making, but she could see the blood running across it from the wound all too clearly from the way the liquid glints in the unnatural pale blue light of the Shadow-Cursed-Lands. His jaw is clenched, eyebrows furrowed, but somehow, he's still trying to throw her a alluring smile.

Normally a look like that would make Karlach feel a whole host of ways.

Now, pained as it was, it just made her feel sad.

“Please, please tell me you have health potions on you.” Karlach says, trying to let the rising panic spill into her words.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing, darling.” Karlach had feared he'd say something like that. Astarion shifts to sit up better, a pained hiss leaves his mouth despite the way he clenches his teeth, eyes pressed shut tightly, brows drawn together.

There were many times Karlach had wanted desperately to touch Astarion.

When he'd propositioned her at the tiefling party, every time she wanted to kiss that smug grin he had after battle or cracking a lock off his face, when they sat around the fire at camp close enough for her to have simply reached over and wrapped her arm around him. Hells, every single night she wished she could spend it with him pressed tightly to her chest.

She'd never wanted to be able to touch him more then now. If she could only pick him up, they'd be back at the inn in no time. It's now like he's heavy. But no, she couldn't even hold his hand without making things so much worse. Astarion starts moving again, clearly trying to stand up. And I can do nothing but watch, Karlach thinks.

“Shit fangs, you're loosing so much blood.”Karlach swallows thickly as she watches a fresh rivulet of it run out of the wounds and across Astarions thigh. Astarion laughs, and action he clearly regrets immediately as he stops and clutches the wound in his stomach by wrapping his hand around the piece of wood.

“I'm a vampire, Karlach. Bleeding out won't kill me.”

“You can still die from an injury that bad!” Karlach says, barely quieter than yelling. She hates the way her voice cracks. Loosing her cool now is not an option. Astarion makes it to his feet, immediately stumbling and having to lean against a tree. He's breathing heavily and doubled over. Karlach thinks he might be sick.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Karlach hurries to get up too and stands next to him, hand hovering just shy of touching his shoulder. He nods. Karlach isn't sure she believes him.

After what feels like ages, Astarion starts walking, and Karlach feels a bit sick herself.

He sways with every step he takes. Going by the limp he's got going, there's also something very clearly wrong with his leg. It hurts Karlachs heart watching him like this. But the worst of it is without a doubt the noises he makes.

It's the kind of thing Astarion is good at, something Karlach had already sworn she'd make Cazador pay for. Despite Astarions clear skill in the territory, the dead silence of the Shadow-Cursed-Lands is near continuously pierced by hisses and groans. Occasionally he even makes noises that are just barely not screams. Those chill Karlach to the bone.

When Astarion almost stumbles every other step, Karlach almost grabs him every time. She can't even steady him for fear fear of hurting him worse.

Karlach has to force herself to look away from Astarion to make sure they're still going the right way. Thankfully, the dome encasing the Last Light inn is already in sight, and slowly but steadily growing closer.

“Look Astarion! I can see the inn from here.” He doesn't look, too focused on watching the floor in front of him. Karlach hadn't expected him to look, but his lack of answer beside a weak nod unnerve her. Astarion is nothing if not talkative, him not speaking sat wrong with Karlach.

A few steps later, Astarion falls to his knees.

“Shit.” Karlach mutters to herself, dropping down next to him as well, bruised knees be damned. His eyes are half closed as he looks in her direction. They're unfocused and his expression looks distant. Karlach can't be sure Astarion can see her at all.

“Astarion!” Karlach exclaims, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Please get back up. You have to get up Astarion!” Desperation and panic lace her every word.

This seems to snap Astarion out of it, and he struggles to get back to his feet. He's fatigued, it's painfully obvious from the way he moves.

“If I do pass out, you'll have to carry me back.” His vice is breathy and tight. It's clear he has to force himself to speak at all.

“I can't carry you back, I'll burn you!” Karlach says, sounding angrier than intended.

“Well I'd rather you burn me than leave me out here!” Astarion hisses back. Karlachs stomach drops. Does he really think she'd do that?

“I'd never leave you behind Astarion, especially not when you're like this.” Karlach tries her best to keep her voice calm and level. Astarion nods.

They're only around a 150 meters away from the dome when Astarion makes good on what he said and finally passes out. He does so so fast Karlach doesn't even have the time to want to try and steady him out of instinct. At least he has to good foresight to not fall forwards, instead landing on his uninjured side.

Fear grips Karlachs heart as Astarion refuses to wake back up again no matter how loud she gets. Nobody at the Inn could hear her calling for help from here, she's sure of it. And there's no way she'd leaving Astarion alone.

That really only leaves her with one option: Touching him.

Sure, she could find a way to drag him without touching him if she had the time, but she doesn't. And dragging him across such uneven ground in this state sounds dangerous.

“I'm so sorry Astarion.” Karlach says and scoops him up, one arm in the crook of his knees, the other across his back. She takes care to try and hold him as far away from his chest as she can. Karlach as fast as she safely can towards the bridge leading to the inn. For a moment, a traitorous little part of her almost feels joy at finally, finally getting to hold Astarion, at the way his unnaturally cool skin feels against hers.

It is almost immediately squashed an replaced by guilt as the smell of burning flesh hits her.

As soon as she crosses the threshold of the dome, Karlach puts Astarion down, apologizing once more as she does so, and begins yelling for Shadowheart or Halsin or anyone that can help.

Thankfully, Halsin appears fast, and Shadowheart follows shortly after. Karlach is predominantly focused on Astarion, but she does notice that Shadowheart looks rather beat up herself. Karlach tries to explain what happened, but it doesn't come out very coherent.

The two healers move quickly. They move Astarion into the inn, where it's cleaner. Karlach follows closely behind. They end up having to pull the piece of wood out before removing Astarions armour. Luckily, healing magic doesn't rely on them seeing what the injury looks like.

When the armour and shirt come off and Karlach catches sight of the ugly burn across Astarions back, she has to leave the room. Gods she hates how even when trying to help she causes damage.

The next time she sees Astarion is when he's been moved back to the camp and into his own tent. What Shadowheart and Halsin couldn't heal has been bandaged. Astarion looks almost peaceful now.

Karlach sits next to where he rests, making sure not to set anything on fire, and keeps watch of him. It's all she can do without hurting Astarion, so she's dedicated to at least do that well.

When he wakes up, Karlach apologizes a third time. Astarion waves it off.

“Once I get this engine of mine fixed, I'm hugging you so tightly. That's a threat and a promise.” Karlach states. Astarion laughs quietly, but says nothing. It's obvious he's still hurting but trying to hide it.

Karlach gets it. After all, they both come from places where showing weakness was not an option. Karlach sighs.

When Astarion settles to trance, Karlach doesn't even try to sleep. She'll keep watch just a little while longer, just to make sure. Just to make sure Astarion can rest easy.

#whumpcember2023 #bg3 #astarion/karlach #astarion ancunin #karlach #blood

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secretsolarsystem · 2 years ago

Note

19 or 20-year-old Obi distraught from a vision Qui-Gon made him ignore that resulted in Obi being injured meets Lord (during Order 66) Vader.

soooo he doesn't really get injured but (spoiler) he gets kinda umm kidnapped?? so hopefully that's cool <33 I also made this spicy and we have @kyberkenobi to thank for that so GO THANK HER RN!!!!! THANK U MADISON <3

here is your 2.8k canon-divergent, raised a Sith!Vader, padawan to master!Obi-Wan, NSFW!!! masturbation (not underage!!!), vision-enemies/lovers to real life enemies/lovers?? and dyad????? my friend!!

–

The first time it happens – or maybe, the only time it really happens, Obi-Wan is alone. He’s alone, he’s in his bed, and he’s trailing his hand down his chest and down his stomach, all the way to his waistband.

Once he reaches it, he trails his fingers through his newly growing happy trail, pinching the hairs and tugging just to make himself hiss. Obi-Wan likes to tease himself because it makes him take his time; he’s quite revered by the Order for his patience, and he finds this act to be no exception for one of his best qualities.

Though tonight, he’s just a little too impatient. Maybe it’s because he’s riled up from sparring with the other padawans; maybe it’s because more than a few of those padawans gave him looks suggesting they, too, were riled up; or maybe it’s just because he’s an nineteen-year-old human. At the moment, Obi-Wan doesn’t care what the cause of him shoving down his underwear quickly is – all he cares about is wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Obi-Wan lets out a long sigh, simply holding his cock for a moment. He rocks his hips in small circles, closing his eyes and sinking into the feeling. He remembers one padawan in particular, how she’d been panting after their first round, how her still-growing chest was heaving. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand around himself now, once, and then he lets go so he can spit into his palm. Getting a hand on himself again, he recalls how she’d looked up at him at the end of their third round, cheeks red and pupils blown and lips wet and parted around heavy breaths.

She’d won twice already, signaling the end of their sparring session, but still, she’d squirmed under Obi-Wan’s body and breathed, “Best three out of five?”

Obi-Wan hums out yes now, as he had then, though now he says it as he finally starts stroking his cock. He sets a steady pace, making sure to keep the pressure of his grip light. He may be eager, but he doesn’t want to come yet, not until he gets through the images of their sparring and into the ones he knows will push him over the edge.

The other padawan got her third win during their fourth round, both of them agreeing without hesitation to move onto hand-to-hand. When she’d won, she’d had Obi-Wan’s front pressed to the floor, her hips on his lower back and one arm wrapped around his shoulders, her breathing hot and loud in his ear. “I loved you on top,” she’d muttered, “but you’re lovely here, too.”

Biting his lip around a groan, Obi-Wan’s hand speeds up and he trails his other one down to his thigh, gripping it tightly with his fingers just to hold onto something. As they often do when he’s run out of whatever’s immediately made him horny, Obi-Wan’s thoughts turn to his time on Mandalore, to his time with Satine. All he really has to do is think of her biting words and how she’s shoved him against the wall when he’d returned them, about how she’d wanted him to shut up so she bit and kissed his lips until they were humping against each other, groaning ‘I can’t stand you’ and ‘don’t stop, don’t you dare stop’ into each other’s mouths.

Already feeling himself near the edge, Obi-Wan tightens his grip and keeps his fast, steady pace while the hand on his thigh presses bruises into his skin. He’s panting, he’s biting his tongue against moans, his whole body is rolling into the tightness of his own hand. He’s on the edge, the precipice, he can feel the warm start to spill over into his gut, and then-

And then the vision changes, sharply, so suddenly he doesn’t have time to even realize it and stop jacking himself off. It’s while he’s taking himself to the edge that he sees the padawan from his earlier fantasies again, though now her eyes are closed as she lays lifeless on the ground. It’s not just her, though; the whole Temple seems to be riddled by Jedi bodies, ‘sabers dropped from still hands and the marks of blaster bolts everywhere.

Obi-Wan gasps, the vision gruesome and horrifying, but it’s when the vision of a tall man appears, the shadows of his cheekbones made severe by the light of his red blade and his golden eyes boring into Obi-Wan’s that Obi-Wan’s hand finally stops because he’s coming, he’s gasping and he’s crying and he’s moaning as he spills onto his hand and his stomach and even up to his chest. His toes are curled and his back is arched because he’s come the hardest he’s ever come while he’d looked into the eyes of a mass murderer, of a Sith.

He needs to tell Master Qui-Gon. He needs to tell the Council. He needs- He needs to clean his come off of himself.

–

Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon, and it hadn’t gone well, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. He’d told Obi-Wan that the future is always shifting and changing, and that the Sith hadn’t been around for centuries. “It’s highly unlikely to come to fruition,” he’d said, “and even if it is on the horizon, trust that we will be well prepared to avoid that fate.”

“But Master, if we are to be prepared, shouldn’t the Council know about it?” Obi-Wan had pressed. He could still feel those golden eyes boring down into his very soul, they’d seemed so real, so inevitable. He couldn’t deny how even know they sent a horrified shiver down his spine, though he absolutely denied with every fiber of his being the way they sent heat to his gut.

“Padawan, what were you doing when you had this vision?” Qui-Gon asked, arms crossed. Obi-Wan blushed furiously, eyes glued to the floor. “Were you in a calm state that could allow the Force to speak clearly to you? Or were your emotions heightened, making the Force have to use more aggression to get to you?” Obi-Wan knew his silence would give Qui-Gon his answer, so he didn’t say a word. (Thank the Force; what if Qui-Gon followed up by asking exactly what he’d been doing?) “I think it best if we leave this be, Obi-Wan. No need to fuss over something that most likely will not occur.”

So Obi-Wan listened to his master, as a good apprentice should. He didn’t fuss over the vision, nor did he share it with anyone else. It was something he locked away to himself, for himself. As much as he wish he didn’t, he revisited it often, especially when he was doing what he’d been doing when it first came to him. He couldn’t tell if the vision was expanding upon itself each time or if he was the one adding to it, but he couldn’t be bothered to dissect it, not when Qui-Gon had told him not to and not when he was writing atop his sheets.

Nowadays he didn’t have to think of other padawans or people he’d seen on the HoloNet or even Satine; all he needed were those golden eyes and severe facial features and he was coming all over himself with a cry stifled by biting the inside of his cheek so hard he’d bleed.

Once, he’d been face down on the bed, hips swaying above his knees with his ass up in the air. His spit-slick fingers were thrusting in and out of his hole, and he was too tight and they were too dry, but he was whimpering and drooling onto his pillow nonetheless. He managed to wiggle them in deep enough and angle them just so, so he was brushing over his prostate as he saw the figure swing his ‘saber with such graceful force and a sharp smile filled with satisfaction. It had Obi-Wan shaking, and just as he felt that heat start to spill over, the vision showed him the Sith’s pink, plush lips forming the words, “Did you like that, Master?” and Obi-Wan’s cry was lost to the pillow now bit between his teeth as he spilled onto the sheets below him.

As he laid there, sweaty and. panting and hating himself, he wondered why the vision only came to him when he was getting himself off. Was the first one the only true vision, and his subconscious now connected it to the action? If it was real, did it have something to do with it? If it wasn’t, what did that say of Obi-Wan, who was getting off to a Sith who might kill his family?

And what did it mean that now that vision called him Master?

–

When the vision came to fruition, Obi-Wan had been in the middle of discussing strategy with Cody and a few other men early in the morning, all of them having powered through the night with no sleep. He was still in his clothes from yesterday, and he knew his hair was a mess from how often he tugged at it throughout the meeting.

Times were strange and they were hard. The war was unforgiving, and Obi-Wan feared there would be no end to it. All he had to comfort him were the pieces of Temple life he could take with him, the bond he felt with the 212th, the Force, and the vision he still kept all to himself.

As he waited for Cody to come back from grabbing caf and tea for everyone, Obi-Wan felt a horrible, sharp shift in the Force. He heard Cody’s voice, suddenly sounding impossibly far away and much too close for comfort responding to a staticky voice with “Yes, my Lord,” and without looking up, he knew every man’s blaster was trained on him.

With a great pain in his heart but no hesitation, Obi-Wan grabbed and ignited his ‘saber, going into a defensive stance. As he looked around at his men, at his brothers, he immediately noticed that while they all aimed their blasters directly at him, none of them were pulling their triggers.

“Cody-” he began, hoping there was room for explanation and diffusion before whatever heartbreaking battle was about to break out.

“General Kenobi,” Cody cut him off, and though Obi-Wan had heard him say those exact words hundreds of times, they were now said with no warmth, no respect. “You are under arrest by order of the Galactic Empire. Surrender willingly and quietly, or we will be forced to bring you in unconscious.”

Not wavering in his stance, Obi-Wan asked, “Bring me in where, Commander?”

Clicking his teeth, Cody sighed. “He didn’t choose quietly,” he mumbled, and then Obi-Wan heard a blaster go off, and then everything was black.

–

Blinking his eyes open, Obi-Wan was immediately aware of his body: his head hurt, his body ached, he was sitting on a chair, his ankles were tied to the legs, his wrists tied together behind his back, and around his neck was a Force-inhibitor. Two clones stood guard in front of him, and the second he opened his eyes and groaned in discomfort, one of them glanced back at him and then promptly left the room.

Shortly after, the clone came back, and Obi-Wan’s heart began to race impossibly fast even as it fell to his stomach. Because there, following behind the clone, was the man, the Sith, from Obi-Wan’s most twisted dreams – no, visions. This confirmed this.

It all made sense in that exact moment: the Sith had something to do with his men turning against him. The others must have done the same; Obi-Wan could only wonder how many of his fellow Jedi were dead, now.

“All of them,” the Sith spoke, his voice less hard now, in person. Obi-Wan drank in the sight of his face, identical to the one he’d imagined kissing and fucking for years, now. Obi-Wan had always assumed he’d been older than himself, but he supposed his younger self was having visions of the man as he currently stood before him: sharp cheekbones; golden curls, golden eyes; pink, pink lips. He was gorgeous, and at least a decade younger than Obi-Wan now.

“You can hear my thoughts,” Obi-Wan said, more confirmation than a question.

The Sith smiled. “I’ve always been in your head, haven’t I?” When Obi-Wan simply blinked at him, the Sith’s smile grew. “It’s okay, you’ve been in mine, too.”

Obi-Wan hummed at this, genuinely intrigued. There was no bond between them, seeing as this was their first ever meeting, but clearly they were linked in some way.

“The Force has chosen us, has made us Her dyad,” the Sith explained, golden eyes sparkling. “And my master is not happy about that at all. He says it makes me weak.”

Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan considered what to ask first: What did he mean by them being ‘chosen’ and ‘made’ into a ‘dyad’? Who was his master? Why was he unhappy about it? What was the Sith to do about his master’s unhappiness? (Why had Obi-Wan gotten used to being the Sith’s master, and why did it anger him to hear him refer to another as such?)

“We are two halves of the same whole, two beings intertwined in all ways – well, nearly all ways, but the dreams help with that, don’t they?” the Sith began to answer, smiling sharply at Obi-Wan. It made Obi-Wan wonder what the Sith’s dreams were like; Obi-Wan gotten off to visions of the Sith’s carnage, but never of them being intimate in any way. The dreams never showed him that, but it sounded like they did for the Sith. “And as we are such, you can stop calling me ‘the Sith,’” the Sith groused. “My name is Vader.”

“Vader,” Obi-Wan said aloud, both of them shivering from it. Vader stalked forward and the two clones gave him ample room to do so. When he reached Obi-Wan’s still seated form, Vader swung a leg over Obi-Wan’s own, straddling him as his hands came up to toy with the collar around his throat.

“My master,” Vader went on with answering Obi-Wan’s unspoken questions, smile on his lips, “is a powerful man – the emperor, in fact.” That alone raised a million questions for Obi-Wan, but he held his thoughts and listened. “He’s not a fan of sharing, and is displeased at the idea of anyone else having any sort of sway or hold on me. Which you do, of course.”

Obi-Wan ignored the way heat immediately pooled in his gut, but Vader did not, if the way he scooted himself even closer and smiled wider was any indication.

“What am I to do about it? Well, kill you, of course,” Vader finally answered. Then, he leaned down, mouth right next to Obi-Wan’s ear. “But how am I to kill you, Obi-Wan? You’re my other half. You and I were made for each other.”

Obi-Wan bit back a groan, mind reeling at the thought of being made for this man and this man being made for him. It was impossible, how right it all felt. “So, the question remains: what are you to do?” he managed to ask after swallowing down his arousal.

Sitting back up, Vader smiled down at him. “We are going to kill him.”

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan responded simply with: “‘We’?”

Nodding, Vader said, “Yes, Master. We.”

Kark, there was that word, Master, falling from his lips while he sat on his lap and was real.

There were only two ways to go about this, at the current moment. One was to not believe a word out of Vader’s perfect mouth, and assume he was being led to his master as a trap. Being led to the emperor would give Obi-Wan a (probably very slim) chance at fighting and defeating him, and trying to fix the wreckage of the Republic he was sure to find.

The other was to believe Vader, and believe the idea of them being inextricably linked by the Force itself. This would require him to also believe that Vader would take him to his master not to be killed, but to kill his master, together.

Either way, it seemed he could get to this so-called emperor with a fighting chance.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Vader giggling above him. “I’d go with the second one,” he advised, tilting his head. “I know you can’t sense it right now because of the collar, but I’m telling the truth.”

“Why don’t you take this collar off of me and let me see for myself?” Obi-Wan retorted.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Master?” Vader said, hooking his fingers underneath the collar so it pulled tight against Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan sucked in a gasp, both instinctively and at the feel of it choking him just the slightest.

Vader’s eyes darkened, and his tongue darted out to wet his plump lips, an action Obi-Wan couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention. “Oh, did you like that, Master?”

Force, Vader was literally a dream come true. Though, it would probably be more accurate to say he was a nightmare come true, but either way, he was real and true and in some way, shape, or form, he was Obi-Wan’s.

Around them, the Force sang.

prompted fic collection on ao3

#hmmm. this will be fine and good. probably #ask #prompt #my writing #obikin

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