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mephisto-reporting · 2 months ago

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Don’t Die on Me

About: You’re hurt—badly—wounded while shielding him from danger. As he rushes to your side, there’s a shift in his demeanor; he seems different, more vulnerable beneath his usual bravado. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Angst, injuries, mentions of blood.

SYLUS

The sounds of gunfire had finally faded into silence, leaving only the shallow, ragged pull of your breath and the press of Sylus’s hand against your side, trying to stanch the bleeding. You had been hit during the ambush, shielding him from a blast intended for his head—an instinct you couldn't explain, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Sylus's expression was a mask of controlled fury, his jaw clenched as he knelt beside you, his usual cocky, unyielding demeanor giving way to something sharper, darker, and far more personal. He applied pressure to the wound with a fierce intensity, almost as if he could hold you together through sheer force of will alone. His fingers, usually steady and sure, shook faintly against your skin.

“You’re a damn fool,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger and something else—something deeper. “I didn’t need saving. Have you forgotten that I can heal quickly!?.”

You managed a small, pained smile. “Maybe I did it for the fun of watching you panic for once.”

His hand gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face to meet his intense, searching stare. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you, kitten?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was laced with something raw, something unsteady.

“I thought… I had it under control.” you mumbled, trying for a smile, though even you knew how weak you sounded.

“Under control?” His laugh was short and sharp, a bitter edge in it. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sylus hissed through gritted teeth, his usual cool facade crumbling. He never panicked—not him, not the man who’d handed you a gun to his own heart just to see if you’d pull the trigger. But right now, he was faltering, his steps uneven as he pulled you closer. His hand, normally so sure, so controlling, was shaking against your side. “You think I wanted you to jump in front of me like that? What were you thinking?”

You tried to catch your breath, his words slipping past you in a haze. You knew the risks of sticking by Sylus, knew that you’d inevitably end up in danger—but you couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. “Had to protect you,” you whispered, voice barely a thread. “I couldn’t... let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something far softer, something unspoken. “Protect me..?” he repeated, his voice lower, and you could feel the barely-contained fury laced with worry beneath it. He was trying to keep his grip on his composure, but his eyes betrayed him. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he traced the edge of your cheek, the words slipping through clenched teeth. “You’re an idiot, Sweetie. A reckless, stubborn, damnably frustrating idiot.”

His expression twisted, the frustration in his eyes unmistakable, but there was something else too—something vulnerable, barely concealed beneath his usual scowl. You’d seen it before in the softer moments, those times when his hand would linger just a moment too long, or his voice would drop to that rare, gentle murmur. But this was different, more unguarded.

“Sylus…” you whispered, but he cut you off, pressing a hand to your wound. You stifled a gasp as his fingers met the raw injury, his jaw tightening in response, an unexpected flash of helplessness slipping through his mask.

“Quiet,” he muttered, his voice almost breaking. “You don’t get to talk right now.” He ripped off a piece of his sleeve, wrapping it tightly around your shoulder, though his touch was uncharacteristically tender. “This isn’t part of the plan, sweetie. You’re supposed to stay in one piece, just like I ordered.” The usual bite in his voice softened, desperation pooling in his dark gaze.

You chuckled weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but the pain pulled a groan from your lips instead. His expression grew even more intense, the hardness in his eyes melting into a quiet sort of anguish.

“Stop laughing. Stop… smiling like that.” His voice was fraying, edges cracking, a wavering panic he seemed unable to fully control. “You… you have no idea how hard it is not to tear this entire place apart for hurting you.”

The statement caught you off guard, and it must’ve shown in your expression because he let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that he’d never let you see before. It was strange to see him so unguarded, the man who played god in the N109 Zone suddenly grappling with the possibility of losing you.

The corner of his mouth twisted, and he tried for his usual smirk, but it faltered. “What would I do without you, hmm? My little hunter, so brave and foolish…” His words softened, and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, holding you securely against him as he continued on, urgency in every step. “You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

You managed to laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “Then… don’t let go,” you whispered. “Sylus…” Your voice was weak, your head spinning, but you reached up, brushing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw. His expression softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer.

“You’re… more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” he whispered, his voice breaking the slightest bit, but he forced a smirk, trying to hold onto his usual bravado.

“Guess I… picked it up from you,” you murmured, your vision growing hazy, but the warmth of his hand grounding you.

His grip tightened, and his lips brushed your temple, an unspoken promise lingering in the gesture. For once, Sylus seemed stripped of his dominance, his bravado washed away by the raw fear of watching you slip away. His hands shook as he held you, his mask cracking with every ragged breath you took. The man who’d taunted and tested you now held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable.

“Hold on, Sweetie… just a little longer.” he said fiercely, and in his voice, you heard something you never expected from him—fear. “I won’t let anything or anyone take you from me.”

XAVIER

Xavier’s arm is tight around you, steady even as he fights his own injuries. The blood trails hot down your side, and you can barely see it through the blurred edges of your vision, a dark stain spreading across your suit. Xavier’s face, usually a mask of quiet calm, is set hard with a sharpness that you rarely see. Xavier's hands, usually steady and almost uncaring, were shaking as he tried to press down on the wound at your side. You'd taken the hit for him, jumping between him and that blasted Wanderer with a split-second of hesitation—or none at all. He hadn’t expected it. Neither had you.

Blood soaked through his fingers as he crouched beside you, his face tight with a look you’d never seen. Fear, maybe—though he wouldn’t admit it.

"Why... did you do that?" His voice was low, but it felt like he was questioning the universe itself. His usually calm tone was laced with an edge that made you dizzy or maybe it was the blood loss, hard to tell.

“Instinct…?” you murmured, managing a weak smirk despite the pain slicing through you. “I know, I was a bit reckless.”

“Reckless isn’t... you bleeding out on this floor,” he muttered, pressing harder against the wound, a little too hard, but you didn’t have the strength to complain. “You should have left me to handle it.” His gaze softened when you winced, and he pulled his hand back, immediately brushing away the edge of guilt. Yet the blood still glistened darkly on his fingertips, his gloves, on the floor where you lay.

“It would’ve been worse if it got you,” you mutter, trying to summon even a hint of humor, though the attempt falls flat against the pain.

Xavier doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at you, and the deep space void reflected in his eyes almost draws you in. That familiar aloofness fades, and for a brief moment, his concern seeps through, raw and achingly close. He shifts his weight to press you more securely against him, his free hand gently adjusting the strap of your gear as if every second counts in keeping you here, anchored.

“Look,” you managed, reaching up, even if it took everything in you to keep your voice steady, “you’d do the same for me.”

Xavier’s mouth set in a thin line. You’d hit a nerve, that much was clear. Despite the unspoken rule between you two—the sidelong glances, the unsaid things—he wouldn’t entertain the possibility that he would have let you get injured in this manner on his watch.

“You don’t know what I’d do,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper. His words held a weight you hadn’t expected, making you look at him closely even as the edges of your vision began to fade. “And you won’t have to, because I'm getting you out of here.”

He hoisted you up, careful, gentle, though he flinched when you sucked in a breath from the pain. He started forward, one arm cradling you as he moved you through the wreckage of the battle toward the shelter of the shuttle. It was strange, seeing Xavier so unguarded, every step almost too fast as though he feared stopping would break you.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, voice low. You feel his breath, close enough to count heartbeats, to wonder if his pulse is racing like yours. The space between you feels impossibly small, and the silence stretches, vulnerable, bare.

You manage a faint smile, fingers brushing his, a silent reassurance even as the sharp ache of your wounds thrums persistently in your bones. “You know, if I’d known I’d end up leaning on you like this, I’d have come up with something... cleverer to say.”

To your surprise, he huffs a small laugh, his gaze softening. “You always talk,” he murmurs, with a hint of that familiar, boyish charm, though it’s laced with worry now. “Save your strength. I’ll get us out of here.”

You felt yourself drifting, and his voice brought you back.

“Hey,” he said, tightening his hold. “Stay awake. I can’t have you falling asleep on me now—I'm the one who does that, remember?”

His humor was strained, like he was grasping at something familiar to keep himself steady. You let out a soft chuckle, the sound weaker than you meant it to be. “Guess we’re trading roles today.”

There was a moment, somewhere between one step and the next, where he stopped. He looked down at you, his gaze intense. For once, his expression was completely open—his worry and something warmer simmering just beneath.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “Not here. Not now. Not ever.”

You felt a wave of heat rise within, one that made the pain more bearable, somehow grounding. Before you could respond, he resumed his pace, carrying you as if you were the most precious thing in the galaxy.

The world swayed, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, but you forced yourself to focus on him, on the boyish charm that hid beneath his cool exterior. “Xavier,” you rasped, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

“Just keep looking at me,” he replied, his voice steady. “We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

In the quiet of the shuttle, as he set you down and the medics began patching you up, you felt his hand graze your cheek, lingering just a little too long. You dared to meet his gaze, and for once, Xavier’s eyes didn’t look away. They softened, and the smallest hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Next time,” he said, voice warm with unspoken promise, “let me protect you.”

RAFAYEL

The harsh winds of the remote village howled around you as Rafayel’s face loomed over you, more serious than you’d ever seen it. You hadn’t intended for things to get this bad, but the ambush from the Wanderer had been swift and brutal, and you’d thrown yourself between its claws and Rafayel without a second thought. A mistake, maybe—though you could hardly think of it as a mistake, even now, lying on the cold, unforgiving ground with blood soaking your side.

“Damn it, stop being so heavy,” Rafayel muttered, though his voice trembled, barely hiding the edge of panic. You glanced up, expecting his usual smirk, his smug teasing, something bratty, but his face was blank—frustrated, pale, and determined in a way you’d never seen.

“S-sorry to inconvenience you,” you managed through the haze of pain, trying to keep it light. “But I think I lost quite a bit of blood back there.”

Rafayel’s usual smug charm was gone. His carefree expression had twisted into something you couldn’t place—anger, worry, a flicker of panic as he knelt down beside you. He pressed his hands over the wound, and though it was uncharacteristic, there was no teasing, no insults, just an almost frightening intensity. “You… Why did you do that?” he demanded, his voice low and jagged, as though the question alone might tear him apart. “Do you think I’m some helpless damsel? You could have been killed.”

Your breath hitched, and you were grateful that it could just as easily be the pain causing it. Still, you shrugged, or tried to, but your body had other ideas, and you stumbled. Rafayel caught you, his arm firm around your waist as he steadied you. You managed a weak smirk, though the effort cost you. “Guess… I wanted to make myself useful as a bodyguard, for once,” you rasped, feeling the humor fall flat even as you said it.

“Useful?” His eyes, normally filled with a cocky gleam, were sharp with frustration. “Throwing yourself in harm’s way is your idea of useful?” He gave a dry, humorless laugh, his hands applying pressure that made you wince, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You’re dumber than I thought. The one time I actually need you to stay out of my way, and you—” He broke off, swallowing hard, his fingers trembling ever so slightly against you.

“Don’t… act like you care now, Rafayel,” you murmured, half-teasing, though the words came out weaker than you meant.

His face twisted, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected—hurt, genuine and raw, like you’d struck a nerve. “Idiot,” he whispered, and his tone was so low it was almost drowned out by the wind. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get… what?” You were slipping a little, your vision swimming, but you caught his gaze, and for the first time, you saw past his bratty facade to something deeper. He took a breath, his jaw set in determination, and then he did something you never expected: he carefully scooped you into his arms, his hold gentle yet fiercely protective.

“Stay awake, all right? I can’t have you passing out on me,” he ordered, though his voice had lost its usual bite. His words were soft, desperate, as he moved through the bleak landscape, carrying you with a carefulness that belied everything he usually projected. For a long moment, you stared at him, the pain numbing under the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t the bratty, arrogant god who’d dragged you into mess after mess. This was someone else—someone who, behind the charm and teasing, was scared. For you.

"Idiot," he muttered, his words a tangled mess of relief and frustration. “Why would you do that?” He repeated.

And you almost laughed, wincing through the pain, because wasn’t it obvious?

“Because… I care,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper. It was the closest you’d come to admitting the truth—to saying what had long hovered between the two of you, unspoken, stubbornly denied.

"Just shut up for once,” he whispered, his voice strained, almost a plea. “You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like.” His arms tightened around you, as if holding you close could somehow protect you from the damage already done. “You… throwing yourself in front of me like that—do you have any idea how reckless that was? I didn’t need you to… risk yourself.”

“Couldn’t let the prince of the art world get scratched up… on my watch,” you said, trying to maintain your humor.

Rafayel glanced down, his usual piercing eyes softening, his expression raw. “If you’d died, I wouldn’t…” He paused, his gaze slipping away, the words seemingly caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” he finished, barely audible.

You managed to brush a finger along his wrist, grounding yourself, anchoring him to you. “You’ll… still have the sea. And everyone to charm.”

For once, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked down at you, and his eyes were so intense, so filled with something you’d never seen before. “None of that matters,” he murmured, his voice raw. He shifted, his hand grazing your cheek, lingering there for a moment too long. “Stay awake,” he commanded, a note of urgency threading through his tone. “You can’t just pass out on me. Not like this.”

You blinked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the clouds casting a warm glow around his figure. “Not… gonna pass out,” you whispered, though it felt like a lie even to your own ears. You could see the worry etched across his handsome face, something raw and unfiltered. “You need me for your—”

“Stop it!” he snapped, but there was no bite in his voice, only a desperate plea. “You don’t get to joke around right now. Not when you’re bleeding out.”

“Rafayel…” you began, but he cut you off, a flicker of his old bravado returning.

“Save your strength,” he snapped, though the edge was softened by concern. “I’ll get you out of here, but you have to stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you managed to murmur, your vision dimming as the waves of unconsciousness tugged at the edges of your mind. “Not without you.”

“Good,” he replied, and his voice was fierce and unyielding. “Stay alive,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, eyes dark with something he couldn’t bring himself to name. “For me.”

ZAYNE

The world felt hazy around you, pain ebbing in and out of your awareness as Zayne held you steady, his hands pressing firmly yet gently against the wound on your side. Blood smeared across his fingertips, but he kept his touch steady, calculating, his focus a perfect picture of surgical precision.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice level, his eyes fixed on you with a fierce intensity. “I need you to keep talking. Tell me if you’re feeling dizzy or lightheaded, alright?”

You managed a faint smile, ignoring the way your own breaths came shallow and broken. “You’re… really good at this,” you tried to joke, but Zayne only shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. “You should become a doctor...”

“Don’t push yourself to talk. You’ve taken a nasty hit here.” His voice was calm, almost clinical, but you could see the strain in his jaw, the telltale flicker of worry in his eyes. His hands, however, were as steady as ever, working methodically as he inspected the wound, gauging the damage with the supplies he always seemed to have at hand.

“Think of it this way," he continued softly, his calm tone soothing despite the urgency of the situation. "The wound isn’t too bad—lucky hit. If we keep steady pressure on it, there shouldn’t be significant blood loss. You’ll be fine. But you have to focus on breathing for me, alright?”

He was explaining everything, his voice filling the air like a familiar, grounding hum. His hands, wrapped around the fabric of his jacket pressed to your side, were warm, almost protective. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingertips, but he moved with absolute control, unwilling to show even a hint of panic. His gaze flicked up to yours for a moment, his expression softening despite the tension in his features.

“I warned you about being reckless,” he muttered, his tone more of a gentle chide than anything else. “But it’s not the first time, is it?” The slight quirk of his lips, a half-hearted attempt at a smile, almost made you forget the pain. Almost.

“Couldn’t let you get hurt,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“Hold still,” he ordered softly, his voice low and steady as he worked to stop the bleeding. His fingers were meticulous, his hands steady, despite the fear you could feel radiating from him. He couldn’t afford to let it show, so he did what he knew best: he relied on the calm, clinical precision that had carried him through countless surgeries. "The wound's not fatal, but you’re going to need stitches. I’d say you’ve torn through the muscle here by… at least an inch or two.” He let out a breath through gritted teeth, looking pointedly into your eyes. “I can’t believe you tried to shield me from that Wanderer."

Despite his calm, you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that betrayed itself in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands lingered just a moment too long against your skin, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

As he applied pressure to your wound, his tone softened, more to himself than to you. “You’re lucky you didn’t rupture an artery,” he said, hands deftly inspecting the injury with precise, practiced movements. “If this were any worse… I’d be looking at a very different situation right now.” His voice wavered on that last note, but his hands stayed steady, not allowing a single tremor to betray him.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m going to make sure of that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze holding an intensity that went beyond the practiced care of a surgeon. “You’re not allowed to play the hero, you know?. And if you’re trying to impress me… then I’d say you’re not required to be reckless for it.”

“Zayne…” you murmured, feeling the darkness pressing in at the edges of your vision.

“Keep those eyes open,” he whispered, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. “Stay with me. I’ll… I’ll get you out of here. But I need you to focus.” His thumb gently stroked your temple, his touch tender yet steady as he leaned close, his forehead resting lightly against yours, just for a second, as if grounding himself, too.

You managed a faint smile. “Didn’t know you were the boss of me, doc.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t look up. “Believe it or not, I have plenty of experience bossing you around.” He kept talking, his voice low and clinical, grounding you in the familiar, steady cadence

“You always said I was a terrible listener.” Your voice softened as you felt his hand linger, his thumb grazing your skin in a gesture far more affectionate than necessary.

“This isn’t funny.” He met your gaze then, a look so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. “Breathe,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady, despite the chaos swirling around you.

You could see the fear lurking in his dark eyes, a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. But it didn’t matter; his touch was methodical, reassuring, his fingers steady as they pressed against the injury.

“Zayne… the others—”

“Forget them.” His voice was firm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of panic as they darted around the shop, assessing the situation even as he tended to you. “I need you to focus on me. You’re the priority right now.”

You could feel the warmth of his hand against your side, but it was not enough to push away the chill creeping into your bones. “But—”

“Enough.” He pressed down harder, and you gasped, but he didn’t relent, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “You can’t help anyone if you bleed out here. So please, stay with me.”

The adrenaline coursing through your veins faltered, and all you could think about was how you had protected him—how you had jumped in front of the danger without a second thought. The sight of him, typically unflappable, now uncharacteristically tense, pulled at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to form the words.

He shook his head, an intensity burning in his gaze. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to apologize. Not when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out for me.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering. “I’m not letting you leave me. You hear me? We still have so much left to do together.”

You could feel the world slipping away, darkness creeping into your vision, but his voice anchored you. “Hey… Don’t let go.” he murmured, using the nickname he reserved for the most intimate moments. “I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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gojonanami · 7 months ago

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“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.

warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man

w/c: 1,184

“I’m home!”

You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.

Now where was your home?

“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.

You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.

You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.

But even so, you know he needed more.

As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“

“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”

He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.

“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”

He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.

“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.

“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.

“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”

But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“

“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“

“But—“

“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.

“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.

“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”

“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.

“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.

He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”

“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.

“Promise.”

Bonus:

Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”

“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.

“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”

“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.

“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.

“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.

“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.

If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.

Your husband.

“Let’s see, hm?”

a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.

taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains

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gofishygo · 3 months ago

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no but what if reader sacrifices themself for soap in the tunnel... (implied ghoap, ghoap x reader; mcd, reader has very low self esteem, reader probably has depression, mw3 spoilers)

you know how important he is to ghost. everybody does- it's hard to not notice that they are practically symbiotic- feeding off of each other's laughs, near inseparable. you never see one without the other.

and compared to him, you are nothing more than a burden to the team, you figure. you do not carry soap's explosive force, the intensity in his eyes, nor do you have half of ghost's expertise in sniping, do not carry any of his mystique. you dont- you dont deserve a second glance, much less any of their kindness. your fascination, you like to call it, towards johnny and ghost, it should be hidden under your tongue, clandestine and invisible.

nobody gets a say in how quickly you are to establish yourself as the wallflower of the 1-4-1. and by the time of mw3, nobody gets to intercept how you manage to run solo in a team, no matter how much they try to reach out. they have each other. why would they ever need you?

so in that clammy, chilling tunnel, your reactions to such an ambush are second nature- you shut down the moment johnny's shoulder is shot. tackling the enemy- the movement is so instantaneous and blurry that you do not realise that said enemy is makarov himself-onto the asphalt and plunging your knife in and out of him until the muzzle of a gun presses against your head and it's bullet lodges into the back of your brain. you die instantly, silently, not hearing how johnny screams your name instead of your callsign, how simon, for the first time, seems uncoordinated, desperate like a dog as he fumbles to revive you. you had never thought that they cared, never believed they would look at you with reprocipricated admiration. and moments before you die, you realise that you will never know how much of a presence you were in their lives, and you close your eyes knowing that they will be okay together. but you arent around long enough to see how they crumble, and you die with the belief that in this world, you are none other than a replacement. you never seem to stay around long enough to see how simon, johnny, love you.

and you never will.

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lyculuscaelus · 2 months ago

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So that’s why there’s the tune of Not Sorry For Loving You in every line sung by Odysseus in this part—

So, uh, wild and sad. but "600 men strike" with the Odyssey in mind and instead of Odysseus hurting Poseidon, it's Calypso hurting Odysseus. Unwilling lover beside lover all too will weeping sweet life away?

[Calypso] All of the pain that I've been through

[Odysseus] Stop!

[Calypso] Haven't I suffered enough?

[Odysseus] Stop!

[this is technically Poseidon's line but it fits Odysseus with Calypso] You didn't stop when I begged youTold me to close my heart

Like?? um... it fits what was happening on Ogygia if you flip it. Calypso simply felt entitled, and did think she didn't deserve to have her "lover" taken away so the whole "all the pain" I've been through.

#this is so fitting #and he couldn’t get it out while he was on Ogygia so he was dropping all these lines at Poseidon’s face???#like it’s been seven years on Ogygia and it’s adding fuel for his rage for sure #I do feel like the sa element is present…at least it’s kinda implied #like that part from “so if I pushed you” to “and if I ambushed you”?#so this is very fitting alright #epic the musical #epic odysseus #epic the vengeance saga #tw sa

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just-aake · 13 days ago

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Endearing Entanglements

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You give Natasha a visit in Norway and remind her she has more friends to call on for help.

Warnings: fluff, implied sexual themes

Words: 1300

Pulling up to the safehouse, Natasha’s eyes narrow as she catches a faint trail of smoke curling from the trailer’s ventilation.

Instinct kicking in, she turns off the engine and quickly reaches for the gun stashed in the glove compartment.

She’s still on the run, and Rick isn’t due to check in for another week, which means the sign of someone else being here is a red flag she can’t ignore.

Sliding out of the car, Natasha moves silently. As she approaches the door, her grip on the weapon tightens as she takes a steadying breath.

With a practiced calm, she swings open the door, stepping inside swiftly with her gun raised. Her eyes dart across the room, scanning for any immediate threats.

But instead of chaos or an ambush, she’s met with the quiet, domestic sound of sizzling food.

Your back is to her, the scent of spices mingling in the air as you casually tend to whatever is cooking on the stove.

You don’t even flinch at her dramatic entrance.

“You should go freshen up, love. Dinner will be ready in ten,” you say, your tone easy and unbothered, not even sparing a glance in her direction, as though she hadn’t just stormed in with a weapon aimed at your head.

Natasha freezes, her suspicion warring with confusion. She sweeps her gaze around the small trailer once more, confirming that you’re alone, before finally lowering her gun with a disbelieving huff.

Her tension melts into exasperation as she holsters her weapon and crosses her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

You chuckle softly, finally turning to face her. The spatula in your hand gestures toward the small, cluttered living space.

“I came by to drop off your package,” you reply, your tone light but with a teasing edge.

Natasha’s eyes flick to the black case sitting on the rickety table. She knows without opening it what’s inside—customized weapons and gadgets uniquely gathered and prepared for her.

Like you’ve done countless times before for her.

“I didn’t order anything,” she says skeptically.

“Hmm, you’re right. You didn’t,” you say with an exaggerated nod. “You called Mason instead. And he got you this…quaint little setup.”

The lights flicker as if on cue, emphasizing your skepticism about the condition of the safe house.

Natasha catches the faint jealous pout in your tone and sighs, moving closer until she’s leaning against the counter beside you.

“It’s nothing personal,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “I just needed something quick and discreet.”

Your lips twitch into a slight smirk as you turn to her. Without warning, you tug her closer, capturing her lips in a kiss.

You nip at her bottom lip in reprimand before pulling back, your eyes glinting with amusement.

“Love, isn’t that how most of our…entanglements end up?”

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, her smirk matching yours. Her hands find your waist, pulling you in closer.

“How much longer did you say dinner would take?”

Your grin widens as you turn off the stove, tilting your head closer to hers.

“All done,” you whisper against her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Leaning back against the wall of the trailer, Natasha sits on the bed, a now reheated plate of food in her hands. She eats quietly, her mind half on the simple meal you had prepared and half on the intimate moments you and she shared earlier.

The room is still, save for the occasional flicker of the dim overhead light and the low murmur of your voice.

At the edge of the bed, you handle a phone call that interrupted your dinner with her.

“No worries, love, I can get it to you by then,” you say smoothly, your voice oozing charm as you multitask, the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder while you pull on your pants.

Natasha’s brow arches slightly at your casual use of the term of endearment. Setting her plate aside, she moves toward you.

“Have I ever let you down?” you continue your conversation nonchalantly, though, the slight tilt of your head indicates you notice her movement behind you.

Wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, she leans into you, her warmth pressing against your back. Without a word, she begins trailing soft, deliberate kisses along your bare shoulder, her lips lingering just enough to send a message.

For a split second, your voice falters, the smooth flow of your words disrupted. You clear your throat, attempting to maintain composure.

“I—I gotta go,” you murmur into the phone, your tone edged with faint exasperation as Natasha’s kisses continue. “Mmhmm, I’ll call back later with the details.”

You end the call quickly, sliding the phone onto the table before turning to face her.

Your expression is a blend of amusement and mock disapproval as you take her in. “Really?”

Natasha shrugs innocently, feigning ignorance as she murmurs against your shoulder, “I thought I was ‘love.’”

Your lips curl into a smirk, your brow quirking as you tilt your head to meet her gaze.

“Oh, are we making certain things between us exclusive now?” you reply, your tone light but carrying a playful challenge.

Natasha huffs a small laugh and rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring your question as she leans back on her elbows, watching you with a small smile as you finish getting dressed.

After zipping up your jacket, you lean over the bed, running your hand along her bare legs before resting it on her thigh.

“I do have other clients besides you, you know,” you say, rubbing your hand in small circles before pinching her skin lightly, “Just like how you have other contractors.”

Natasha slaps your hand away with a scoff.

“Rick’s just a friend,” she says reassuringly.

You hum thoughtfully, your smirk widening.

“And you’re the only client I ever end up in bed with.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, unable to hide the flicker of satisfaction at your reassuring words.

Grinning, you pick up the black case from the table and set it on the bed.

“So…I guess that means we’ve come to an understanding.”

But Natasha’s smile fades as she pushes the case back toward you.

“I can’t take that.”

“If it’s about payment, I can give you a discount this time,” you offer, your tone playful. “Considering your…circumstances.”

“It’s not that.” Natasha shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the bed. There’s a moment of hesitation, a rare crack in her usual composure. Finally, she murmurs softly, “I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

Your expression softens, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. You step closer, catching her chin lightly with your fingers, tilting her face up until her eyes meet yours.

“That’s sweet, love,” you say gently, your voice warm but unwavering. “But unfortunately for you, you’re my favorite client. That means your problems? They matter to me, too.”

Her lips part slightly, a breath catching as the weight of your words settles in.

You smile, a slow and reassuring curve of your lips, at the sight of the Black Widow so caught off guard by the care laced in your voice and tap her nose playfully in goodbye.

Before she can respond, you turn on your heel, heading toward the door.

Pausing in the archway, you glance over your shoulder, your silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from outside.

“Oh, and,” you add, your voice carrying a casual charm that hides just how much you mean it, “whenever you want an upgrade from this charming little safehouse, you know how to contact me.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as you lock eyes with her one last time.

“Always looking forward to your call, love.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Natasha sitting there, a small, fond smile on her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a little cute fluff before I get back into my series. thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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sunderwight · 1 year ago

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Liushen AU where SY transmigrates into SJ's older brother, and subsequently nopes them right out of the slavery backstory by using his general knowledge of the story and actually being an adult in a kid's body to just leave (basically) with SJ and YQ.

SY carts them both up to Cang Qiong for the next sect trials. It's actually not all that hard, the trickiest part is getting enough to eat and finding safe places to sleep between leaving the slavers and taking the trials (SY manages just barely, with considerable help from his new little brothers.) Nobody bothers to go after them because it's before Qiu Jianluo and this style of human traffickers mostly operate by virtue of their merchandise having nowhere else to go. Chasing down runaways is an expense not worth indulging, given that most of them either come straight back or die of exposure.

Anyway, they take the trials, and as expected YQY gets chosen to become a personal disciple for the sect leader, and SJ gets chosen by the Qing Jing Peak Lord, but also as (kind of) expected (by SY alone) nobody wants SY. He's older the Yue Qi, so too old, and unlike YQ and SJ his cultivation potential isn't striking enough to make any exceptions for him.

SY, however, can't leave it at that. He's spent more than five minutes with the street kid codependency gang, so he's gotten attached to both of them. And he knows what will happen if they're left to their own devices and The Plot proceeds accordingly. (Also, they keep threatening to not stay at the sect if SY doesn't stay too, for some reason.) So with a heavy heart and internal candle lit for himself, SY heads to Bai Zhan Peak. Which is the only peak that accepts disciples by way of them turning up and refusing to leave.

SY's not much of a fighter. He actually really hates the atmosphere on BZP, he's not bad at physical cultivation (his health's pretty good in this life, ironic considering how much worse his situation was) but the random ambushes and survival-of-the-fittest stuff is just not his brand. But that's okay, because it turns out that BZP actually DESPERATELY needs disciples on the actual peak who are interested in things other than fighting and cultivating their own strength. Stuff like, filling out requisition requests for An Ding every time things break, apologizing to An Ding every time things break again, organizing schedules, browbeating senior disciples into actually teaching, educating disciples on virtually any artistic or social skill, hosting lectures on how to beat vicious beasts without just overpowering them, and etc.

Okay so some of this stuff isn't and has never actually been on Bai Zhan's curriculum but Shen Yuan is going to make this place tolerable. And stop these children from needlessly getting acid burns or lyme disease or scurvy or whatever. He keeps internally chewing out Airplane for designing a sect system that means there are a lot of largely unsupervised 12-year-olds running around the wilderness on a mountain picking fights all the time. (When he actually meets Shang Qinghua and figures him out he switches to doing it in person, of course, in twice-monthly bitching sessions that look a lot like budding friendship.)

Of course one of the worst offenders is the Liu kid, who SY would suspect was actually raised by wolves if he didn't know for a fact that Liu Qingge has a younger sister, and also the kinds of nice clothing and letters from home that strongly imply not only does he have a family, but that the family is pretty well-off. Liu Qingge is at first deeply offended by SY being a BZP disciple. He rarely fights anyone, and uses tricks and evasion tactics whenever a fight can't be avoided. And he does other annoying stuff, like pestering him about meals and baths and lecturing him on identifying dangerous plants and the early signs of qi deviation. This is not what their peak is about! He should get with the program already! Just fight stuff until you're too tired to keep fighting stuff!

Also SY's younger brother, SJ, is pure evil (at least according to baby Liu Qingge) even though his other younger brother (?) is cool and nice.

Anyway, Liu Qingge stops complaining about SY after their first mission together, where Liu Qingge doesn't lose a fight but does get into a kind of pyrrhic victory situation where he's really badly hurt, and it's SY who helps him win (correctly identifying the monster and then pointing out its weakness) and takes care of him afterwards and gets him safely back to Cang Qiong. SY expresses surprise at LQG actually being polite to him, and LQG realizes that he's been a colossal ass if people think he wouldn't be grateful to someone who saved his life, so the usual Liushen dynamic proceeds from there. Liu Qingge starts bringing SY fans he leaves behind and hunts down animals that are supposed to be useful for bolstering weak cultivation, SY invites LQG to tea and keeps the critters as pets, etc etc.

SY doesn't get the Head Disciple position, because that's only acquired via beating the current peak lord in combat and lol no. Also he's not interested in stealing it from Liu Qingge, to whom it rightfully belongs (in his mind). But that's fine, because Liu Qingge takes the position when the next generation ascends and then he lets SY exclusively handle all the peak duties SY actually likes (mainly teaching). It's perfect -- Liu Qingge gets to focus on his War God antics and occasional administration/meetings without having to deal with students his has no patience for, but the disciples of BZP don't get neglected because SY is actually teaching and organizing classes and student care. BZP hasn't enjoyed a golden age like this since it was founded!

Things are pretty good overall, but Shen Yuan knows that it's only a matter of time before The Plot shows up, and so he can't rest completely easily.

Meanwhile, the will-they-or-won't-they bets on Liushen have been going strong for a while now. The thing is, most of their martial siblings are convinced that these two are already "together", and just being circumspect about it. Those who know SY well (like SJ, YQY, and SQH) know better but think that SY's romantic obtuseness is to blame, whereas those who know LQG well (LMY, WQW, and MQF) are pretty sure that it's actually LQG's obtuseness that's the problem. Of course it's actually both of them, so efforts to "fix" matters by getting through one of their thick skulls inevitably run afoul of the other's.

An additional complication is of course: SJ doesn't like LQG (mutual), and now that he's the leader of his own peak, he wants to poach SY to come and live there. Not only so he can have one of the 2 people he trusts actually close at hand, but also because SJ also hates actually teaching the atrocious little brats on his peak, and would like to have SY come and do it for him. YQY is still a total pushover for him too, and is also now the sect leader, so YQY agrees that SY can change peaks if SY and LQG both agree to it.

Liu Qingge, of course, is a no, but he's a variable "no". He's not going to hold Shen Yuan against his will or anything.

As for Shen Yuan, it's... complicated. He doesn't really like BZP, but it's gotten a lot better than it was at the start. These days he's actually pretty proud of his accomplishments, and it's more comfortable, but it's still a rough and rowdy place with fewer creature comforts, libraries, or other appealing points than QJP. Also, if he goes to Qing Jing to teach, he can personally ensure that SJ doesn't go around persecuting any of his students!

But... SJ never lived with the Qiu family in this AU, and even though SY's not totally clear on what the PIDW backstory for SJ was, he knows he's a better guy now than the scum villain in the book was. He has a reputation for making cutting remarks, not for being an abusive snake or a lecher. SY's honestly less worried about him doing anything bad at all, and there are other people on QJP who can teach. It might even be good for SJ to promote more people to fill out a social circle he can rely on! That guy needs more friends, seriously.

And QJP really doesn't need more layabout literary intellectual types who get into pointless arguments, which is all SY would be if he went there. Just yet another nerdy scholar for the rich kids with middling cultivation that the peak favors to ignore. At least on BZP he's filling a gap.

SY is clearly torn, and the fact that SY's considering it has LQG upset, and LQG doesn't handle being upset very well, so of course they have an argument about it. SY storms off to cool his head and LQG is like, this is it, he's gone to Qing Jing Peak, I've drive him off by being too aggressive and he's probably remembering all those times I told him he didn't belong here and oh no what have I done maybe if I build him a heated bath and get him books he will come back???

Turns out that SY just went to An Ding to vent at SQH while SQH was like "I think you would have fewer problems if you and Liu Qingge just got married and my disciples could call you Shigu to your face instead of behind your back" and SY threw melon seeds at him and sulked on his fainting couch (which is always cold for some reason...)

Thus begins the Liushen Divorce Arc where SY tries to be anywhere but BZP or QJP, Liu Qingge tries to figure out what thing he can punch to fix this not-punchable problem, SJ is like "I don't see what the big deal is they should break up Liu Qingge is awful and I want my brother to teach my classes for me" like the spoiled youngest sibling he's finally allowed to be, YQY is trying to moderate this Hades vs Demeter situation and is all "well maybe SY could spend half the year on QJP and half on BZP?", and Liu Mingyan is going "I know my brother if this doesn't work out he is going to die single and pining like an idiot" and so keeps conscripting other disciples to y'know, lock SY and LQG into storage closets together (ineffective: LQG can punch through walls) or at least get them in the same room (underestimating SY's willingness to yeet himself out of windows to avoid awkward social interactions.)

By the time Luo Binghe joins the sect (as a Qiong Ding disciple), the drama is in full swing and is the main topic of gossip across most of the peaks.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #liushen #long post #sy doesn't even realize lbh has already arrived until someone mentions 'luo-shidi' on qiong ding in passing #he nearly has a heart attack #why isn't this kid on qing jing peak?!#(why would he be on QJP now though? SJ's not gonna want him not even to pathologically torment and he's promising enough for QDP)#SY: well I guess... that settles that? not enough reason to move to QJP if luo binghe isn't even there. everything can stop being weird now #LQG: then we shall have a spring wedding #I like to think the changes to the world are so substantial that the setting just shifts to a less angsty action/adventure story #now the cang qiong crowd are the colorful side characters instead of complicit in lbh's many torments

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ramp-it-up · 4 months ago

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Mood

Summary: You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of hurt, ambush, implied assualt. Angsty, moody Steve, Steve with the urge to kill for you, possessive Steve, Steve pining for reader, idiots in love, Dom Steve, fuck buddies to relationship, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, dirty talk, edging (but not quite), begging, body worship, nipple play, raw p in v, female receiving oral, emotional sex.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the fic Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. I was in a mood when I wrote it, so here we are.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

After you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, Steve Rogers steamed as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He wanted to be in there with you, but decided to give you some space, and give him some time to cool down.

The fact that you were standing at the visitor’s entrance, in your hospital gown and combat boots as he drove up to sit with you, was the latest thing to get him riled up.

When he saw you, he parked in the fire lane and got out of his car, hands on his hips as he questioned you.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

He eyed the bandage on your forehead and the one on your cheek, fingers trembling as he brushed his thumb over your bruised face.

The rage had not subsided for him over the past three days.

Even after he and Sam beat the medivac to the scene and transported you to the best ER in the area.

Even after he was assured that you were ok by the doctors at the hospital.

Even after you protested that he was overreacting when he set up a security detail at your door headed by Sam.

Even after he’d found who did this to you and… well, seeing you bruised countenance again reignited his emotions.

He wondered how you got around Sam who was posted up. But then, your cunning and skill was a big part of how he felt about you. So was your kindness, intelligence, and beauty.

But you didn’t know exactly how Steve felt about you. And perhaps he didn’t either. Until you were ambushed on a routine training mission with your troops.

You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders as Steve shook his head.

“I’m fine, Captain. I want to go home. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. And on the training mission for 10 days before that. I was due to be discharged in the morning anyway.”

You looked up at Steve. He couldn’t resist those eyes.

“I want to rot on my couch, sleep in my own bed.”

Steve grunted his assent, although the thin line of his lips indicated his displeasure with you.

“How’s your head feel?”

You met his eyes and focused, if only to prove how healthy you were.

“I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.”

Steve stared at you, wanting to just take you into his arms, but not doing it. Then, he stared around the parking lot, scanning the perimeter for anyone watching.

“Get in.”

He moved next to you and picked up the plastic bag that had your belongings in it, and put his hand on your back to guide you toward the sportscar.

“But my ride...”

Steve looked down at you as his jaw clenched, the blue fire in his eyes threatening to burn you.

“Get in before I take you over to that bench and spank the hell out of you, Lieutenant.”

You swallowed a gasp and grew warm at the threat.

“Yes Sir.”

You climbed into the passenger seat and sat back as Steve buckled you in, then waved at Sam, who’d come running out of the hospital just as Steve drove away.

You were along for the ride of this mood of your superior, friend, and fuck buddy Captain America, Steve Rogers.

—-

You stood before Steve, wrapped up in your soft, fluffy white robe that he had put into the dryer to warm up and left on the hook on the door of the shower. It was such a sweet gesture that contrasted his cold, harsh demeanor on the way to your place.

You felt as if you were about to be punished, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. And just a little bit spooked. But that last part was lessened, because Steve was with you here in your quarters. You looked at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Steve stalked toward you, and you noticed that he was barefoot, which seemed to indicate that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. You smiled as you dragged your weary eyes up to his face. You decided to go for it.

“Are you staying?”

Steve grunted at you again.

“Just try and get me to leave you alone.”

His deep bass rumbled through you, and you whimpered, despite the fact that he wasn’t even touching you. Something seemed off as he moved toward you, pulling you closer by the tie on your robe.

“I’ve been riding on the edge of insanity ever since that day.”

Steve’s hand was in your hair, gently massaging the exposed scalp between your braids as his eyes took careful stock of your face.

You were shook.

“I’m okay, Steve.”

“I’ve got to see for myself.”

All he wanted to do was to take inventory of you, his rough fingers moving over every inch of your naked body to make sure that every bit of you was okay. He’d almost lost you and was experiencing an almost feral urge to consume you. You could feel the guilt radiating off him.

“Steve. No one could have known. Shit, I’m head of intelligence and I didn’t know.…”

Steve put his finger to his lips, and then yours. He gently stroked your cheek as he kissed you tenderly, carefully.

“Why do you always taste so good? Like you smell. Like sweet coconut…”

He leaned in to kiss you again, groaning as every gentle stroke of his tongue was met with a bolder one of yours. The passion increased until he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. You could tell that he was holding back.

What was wrong with him?

“I know that no one could have known that the mission was a trap. But I feel like I should have.”

His hands moved from your neck, to your torso, down your belly, to the juncture of your thighs. He was sitting on your bed as you stood before him, warmed by the shower, but goosebumps raised on your flesh and your nipples formed into tight peaks as he examined you.

“I’ve never felt the urge to kill as much as I did when I tracked them down. It only took a day and a half to find them, and then a day and a half to get close enough to… “

Steve stopped short of revealing what happened to the people who hurt you and just looked into your eyes. The fury you saw as he looked up at you was chilling, yet arousing. You wanted to ask what he did to them, but you couldn’t. You just looked at his hands to find evidence that you knew wouldn’t be there because of his super soldier healing.

“Steve?”

He didn’t respond to you, just continued to stare at your most intimate parts.

“Captain-”

He looked up at you then.

“What I said at the hospital earlier. I-I have a serious desire to give you a good and proper spanking for almost losing your life, although it wasn’t your fault.”

You started to laugh, but he was serious. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

“I can’t give you up. I can’t.”

You shook your head.

“Steve, I’m fine-”

He pulled you to him by your thighs, his large hands grabbing you, gently but firmly, and bringing your crotch close to his mouth. He looked back up at you.

“I know we’ve never talked about this, but…You are my anchor.”

You ran your hands through his hair as his breath tickled your clit.

“I had the barest control while Sam and I were flying to get you, and only a small bit more when I learned you were okay. And now I have to verify that you are ‘fine,’ as you say. I need to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own hands, taste it ….”

The unspoken part of that statement caused you to shudder as he went back to examining you, His hands moving down your legs, while listening for any sounds of discomfort from you as his skin slid along yours with a gentle but firm pressure, then standing up and depositing you on the bed as he examined you to the soles of your feet.

He placed one of your feet on his pelvis, next to what you’d discovered was his rock hard cock housed in his jeans, and one foot in his hand, beginning to massage it. Steve knew how a sensual foot massage made you wet. He grunted in response to your whimpers, but only turned you over as he examined the back of you.

Steve palmed the globes of your ass and pulled them apart, and you could feel his eyes at the crease of you for a full minute. Then, his palms slid upwards to your spine, smoothing over each vertebrae as he moved up to the back of your neck.

He was on the bed now, between your legs, and pulled your hips up to meet him as he gently circled your neck with his fingers, bringing you up slightly as his other hand rolled and pinched your stiff nipples.

“How do you feel?”

His gruff whisper, full of need and at the shell of your ear elicited a groan and caused you to roll your hips on his rock-hard erection.

“Steve.. I… Please!”

You incoherently pleaded for more as you moved against the stiff fabric of his jeans, making a mess there. Steve looked down and rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing your ass as his palm itched to smack it.

“Mmmmmm. You have no idea how much I want to give you this cock. But you need rest.”

You reached back and slapped your own ass, pulling on your asscheek to enable him to push deeper between your legs to feel how wet you were.

“We also need to talk…”

Steve shuddered at the sensation of you rutting against him, and with every gasp and moan from you his control was dwindling.

“I need it Sir. Please, Captain…”

“Fuck. Maybe just one orgasm. Then you can rest.”

You leaned down to give him that arch and he licked his lips. His cock was in full control of him now.

“Best idea ever, Captain.”

His hand moved to your core, and his fingers were instantly soaked with your arousal.

“Jesus. Looks so good.”

Steve’s dick throbbed and he gritted his teeth against the wave of lust, yet he stood up and took off his own clothes. He watched your empty pussy clench around air and he had to taste it. The minute his lips were wrapped around your clit from behind was the moment you started keening for him.

“God, yes….right… fucking…right there!”

Steve carefully inserted a finger into your cunt as he suckled your clit, trying to be gentle. You bit your lip as he pulled off and started to withdraw his finger slowly.

“So soft for me. But so tight.”

He watched your face as he added another digit, causing your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to hinge open as you worked your hips on his hand for some relief.

Your eyes popped open and you blinked rapidly, but he didn’t speed up to the insistence of your hips. When he curved his fingers and found that bundle of nerves inside, pressing gently, you broke apart as he stroked over and over again.

"I–God. I'm going…"

You bowed your body, and Steve watched in awe while your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“Oh yeah. This was what I needed to see. Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his thumb over your clit to extend your orgasm. You open and completely out of control, with no thought of hurt or danger, was the sight that he loved.

And he wanted to make you do it again and again.

“Jesus, you are beautiful. I want to...”

He was fisting his cock and watching your wet, creamy folds as he squeezed your ass for a better view.

“Want more. Please!”

“Hmmph,” He grunted. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned over again and presented yourself to him, giving him a view of your fingers working your clit and sliding inside yourself.

“Fuck me, Captain. Please…”

Steve actually whimpered. His cock was drawn to you magnetically.

“Are you sure…?”

“Need it.”

Steve cupped your ass harder and guided his cock to your slick, heated cunt and groaned.

“Oh shit. You fucking own me.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and then you looked over your shoulder, locking onto his gaze. You relaxed, causing Steve to sink deeper inside you. You both hissed and Steve’s eyes closed.

“I’m never leaving. Could stay inside you forever. Wanna see that beautiful face.”

Steve grabbed your leg and shifted you down and around, maneuvering you onto your back. His eyes raked up and down your form as his hands found your hips and drew you closer to him and his cock deep inside you again. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss as you arched your chest against his.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name a chanted mantra between kisses. With each slide and retreat of his stiff cock in your slick channel, both of your groans got louder. Steve’s gaze occasionally dipped to where you were joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You arched your back again, and he dipped his head to draw one of your nipples into his mouth.

"I. Yes. Harder. Oh God. Oh my God."

Against your nipple he muttered, "Let me hear you. So good.”

But he didn’t fuck you harder like you asked. Your response was to tug on his hair, and Steve chuckled around the flesh of your breast.

“I love the sounds you make.”

You moaned loudly, very wet now and very frustrated. The sound of the slick squelching of your act was such sinful music. Steve groaned, his jaw ticked tight from holding back.

“Please!”

But Steve just continued at the same languid pace.

“Later, when you’ve rested, I have plans for these babies,” Steve flattened his tongue and licked around both areolas.

“Gonna lick, bite, kiss, fuck them. Be rough.”

You shuddered as he leaned up and blew on them, causing your nipples to draw up into hard peaks again and your pussy to shudder around him. Steve leaned up and stared at your breasts as they bounced with each thrust and he shook his head as his pace faltered. You clenched around him again and he spoke, his voice broken.

“I know you’re close. Feel so good around me.”

Steve looked into your eyes as he snapped his hips, and your mouth went wide again as he worked his hand between you and found your sensitive clit.

Your eyes crossed as your slick walls clamped around his cock and milked him.

"That's it. Cum for me. I'm so addicted to the sight."

With three more pumps, Steve was coming apart, his control falling away. Another orgasm rolled through you and you tightened around him once more, causing a groan from Steve as you rode out the wave.

“Holy fuck.”

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he continued to thumb your clit. Good Lord, it was impossible to think at all when he did that. You were a whimpering mess as you begged him again.

“Please Captain. Give me your cum, Sir. Cum inside me.”

Steve buried his head in your shoulder as he sped up incrementally, his cursing muffled against your skin. You rolled your hips to meet him, making him groan again. You turned your head to bite, then whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum on your thick cock again. Just fuck me. A little harder. Just three more pumps and I’m there. Pretty please, Sir.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as Steve finally let go and gave you three hard, deep pumps, but as you predicted, he could not stop there.

Steve cursed and fucked you hard, stroking at the devil’s pace for at least a dozen more times, roaring as you stiffened and clamped down on his cock as you came.

“G-g-g-geeez! Fuck!”

Steve was a drooling, practically sobbing mess as the forcefull spray of his cum shot against your cervix, so much so that it leaked out almost immediately. Steve stopped and watched the sight, gasping, mouth open. Then, he looked back up at you.

“Everything about you, about us is so damn perfect. Especially this. We almost lost it. I love you, Libby.”

Your heart surged with emotion, finally understanding what had gotten into him.

“I love you too, Steve.”

You smiled and wiped the tears that were forming at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he softened inside you.

“Shhhhh. Steve. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s take this one day at a time. Right now, we both need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Steve nodded and sank down into your arms as you held onto your super soldier and rocked both of you to sleep.

——

If you liked it, hit Reblog! 😊

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weepingchronicles · 30 days ago

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Could you do a yandere Caitlyn kiramman from arcane x fem reader?

thank you for your request! sorry if this is ooc, i feel that i am not that good at writing for caitlyn but i tried. </3 also!! no s2 spoilers :)

content warnings: controlling and obsessive behavior, little bit of infantilizing, forced drugging, implied kidnapping.

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Whether you were from Zaun or Piltover treats you with kindness. If you're from Piltover she thinks of you as an equal and might admire you to some degree if you are talented. If you're from the undercity she might have some reservations about you at first but as she gets to know you better she puts those thoughts aside and begins to see you as an equal and friend. For this though let's just assume you both are co-workers!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think Caitlyn is so focused and goal-driven she will have difficulty realizing she likes you more than just a comrade or friend. It will start with longing glances, she spaces out just staring at you without even realizing she is missing orders from her superior. When others ask Cait what she thinks of you, she gets a bit distracted.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"She's an excellent friend and partner. .! I could not imagine anyone else replacing her. I find her very admirable, her strength and her clever nature. The way she holds her gun, when she forgets a loose button on top of her uniform, the way her eyes widen when she-" and on and on and on. . .

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It actually takes someone else to point out her obvious crush on you for her to realize. She is completely flabbergasted and in denial at first, "What! No way- what are you talking about? Yes, she is my friend but also my co-worker! That'd be completely unprofessional!"

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But then she can't stop overanalyzing all her interactions with you. Whenever you enter a room her heart sinks to her stomach. God forbid you actually go beside her, her brain completely malfunctions in a way she has never experienced before. You're just so talented.. and beautiful. No! She just really, really, really admires you. It's not an actual crush..! Right?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn had never really experienced romantic feelings for someone before, she has been so focused on her goals and proving herself she never had the time to. Of course, there was many people offering their hand for her but it was always met with a firm but polite 'no.'

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She hated all the male suitors her parents tried to coerce her into meeting at least, to see if it's a match. To please her parents she would but every single one was awful. They saw her only as an object, a pretty thing to marry and show off as a trophy. A tool for power, not in the least caring for her dreams and aspirations.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But you, you were so different. You were kind and actually cared for her opinions even if she tended to push the boundaries of her actual duties. You never gave up on her even when it felt like the world did.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Welp, she couldn't deny it anymore, she in fact had a big fat crush on you. What to do next? Oh, pretend everything is normal and hopefully it goes away.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But it doesn't. In fact it gets even worse the more she tries to conceal it. Stumbling over words like a blabbering fool as you attempt to talk to her, her co-workers laugh at her making her even more flushed!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It wasn't until one day her obsession with you truly began. It was one of Jinx's ambushes again and there were explosions, it wasn't good. It was very bad. Most of her peers had died unexpectedly, not even getting a chance to fight back. Caitlyn herself got injured but all she could think about was you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It took about an hour of searching the premises before she finally found you, stuck and unconscious under a pile of rubble. You looked bad, it struck a fear in Caitlyn, seeing you like that, she never wished to feel it again. She carried you herself to get some help despite limping and bleeding from her own wounds.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Luckily you got help in immediate time and you came to in a hospital bed, Caitlyn herself passed out in a chair beside you with her head in your lap. You could see the dark bags under her eyes, you figured she must've not been getting enough sleep. Has she been with you the entire time you've been out of commission?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 During your healing process which would be a long while, Caitlyn took a rare deprive from her work, also recovering her lesser injuries. She spent most of her time beside you, making sure you ate, bringing you things to keep you entertained like books, helping you stand to the bathroom for goodness sake. It still couldn't keep her entirely out of her work though, in fact it made her even more determined to find this 'Jinx' and get justice for you and her friends, of course. She was almost obsessed with the case and capturing Jinx, and it all stemmed from her growing protection over you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn struggled to sleep, having nightmares of the explosion and you, your bloody body now mangled and unrealistically morphed into something terrifying. She'd wake up in fright, only to find herself sleeping on your lap with you sleeping sound. She'd brush back your hair, vowing to never let you get hurt like that again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 All of this came to a climax when you were finally well enough to be released from the hospital. You were a bit rusty but you were antsy to get back to work, you felt so useless being trapped in a hospital bed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn, however, was not ready for you to leave and go back to action. You were still so weak, what if something happens and you aren't able to react quickly enough? What if you die?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Cait could not stand for it and so she pleaded for you to reconsider, just a month or a week more! But you were adamant about heading back, no matter what Caitlyn said. So she gave in but she was not going to let you get hurt under her watch.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She was like a shadow you could never get rid of. Always hovering around you and staring at you with those crystal blue eyes warily, waiting almost so she can step in and help you. Even if you were put in different groups, she'd stray just so she can make sure you're okay. Need some water? Oh, careful there's a rock there! Are you okay? Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You could not handle it anymore, it felt not only suffocating but demeaning with the way she treated and looked at you as though you were glass.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You snapped, yelling at her to leave you alone and that you're an adult, you are capable of defending yourself. After snapping you felt a bit guilty seeing her face. She looked completely shocked and almost like a kicked over puppy, those big blue eyes looking sad now. Caitlyn could only watch in silence as you walked away from her, trying to calm down. And for once, she did not follow.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 A couple days passed with no progress on the Jinx case and it seemed that Cait had finally gotten the hint and left you alone. You felt almost bad, when you were near she'd glance at you and quickly look away as if hurt. You didn't want to stop being friends, just that it was getting to a point of controlling behavior.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You took it upon yourself to visit the Kiramman household, wanting to apologize and become friends again. You did miss her, you both had especially gotten close after spending so much time healing. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much that she didn't trust you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn looked shocked when you showed up on her doorstep but let you in nonetheless, pretending everything was normal. She offered you tea and you agreed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Sitting both down, you finally let it out that you reacted too harshly that day and that you wanted to continue being friends. That you missed her.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Taking a deep exhale after saying all of that, you waited for her reaction. Cait was serene and hard to read, not responding right away instead taking her teacup and sipping on her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "Please have some of your tea, it is imported from Ionia."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You stare at her a bit, is that all she had to say? Not even an acknowledgement or, hell, even a refusal to forgive you? You sigh and drink the tea anyways and she begins to actually speak.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"You see, over the last couple of days, no, months that I have been by your side whilst you heal has made me have a realization." She glances up at you from her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "I love you." All thoughts disappear from your head the moment those words are uttered, so calmly as well. "And when you love something, you protect it. Your outburst at me the other day made me truly realize this, what you're doing to yourself- it's a cry for help. You are not fit to be an enforcer, it is too dangerous and with Jinx still out there.. I am afraid I can't let you leave again." Wait, what?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Just as she finishes speaking your vision begins to spin. You start seeing two Caitlyn's instead of one, the teacup in your hands wobbles and breaks in shards on the ground. Caitlyn tuts and stands up, grabbing your shoulders gently and laying you back down onto the couch before you could fall.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "There we go. I'm sorry it had to be this way but don't worry, I will find Jinx and make her pay for doing this to you. Just rest, my dear."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Even then, Caitlyn stays by your side while gently caressing your cheek. Your vision fades and you fall asleep.

a/n: guys.. i may have went a bit overboard with writing this but it was more fun that i had thought! i hope i did yan caitlyn justice! <3 also this is kind of foreshadowing a little bit of s2 cait?? but in a alternative universe. also see how caitlyn's suitors just thought of her as an object and now she is doing the same thing to reader unintentionally.. parallels!!

#yandere #yandere headcanons #arcane #yandere drabble #yandere hcs #yandere caitlyn #yandere caitlyn kiramman #yandere arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #yan caitlyn #yan caitlyn x reader #yandere caitlyn x reader #fem reader #wlw writing

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)

“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…

TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence

Tags: @223princess

[Part I]

Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.

You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.

Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.

Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.

And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.

Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.

Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.

Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

#konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #konig smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod smut #yandere #yandere smut #yandere x reader #call of duty smut

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