#into the holster and belt you go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gravegoer · 26 days ago

Note

i humbly suggest pirate sevika in small letters

thank you for your service

Sail the Seven Seas ☠︎︎

i had this in the works ! you read my mind, we have cowboy sevika, but we absolutely need pirate sevika, i did a little "how you met" before the hcs ! also ill greatfully take any other requests for pirate sevika i love her sm (i hope you appreciate the pirate hat i edited on her lol)

She found you when her crew was raiding a ship, you were kept prisoner in the dark dungeons below deck after the pirates robbed a bar.

Sevika was inclined to leave you there, as she was in a rush. But your pleading eyes convinced her.

She told you to back up and pulled the flimsy metal door right off the hinges. Your only experience with pirates was your former kidnappers.

They were ruthless and had not a care in the world. They were greedy enough to pat you down even though you cried and insisted you had no form of money on you other than the jewelry they had ripped from your limbs.

But after she ripped the door off, she simply walked away, not sparing you a second glance. She set you free, but now what? Were you supposed to swim to land?

You hesitated before running up the old wooden stairs, the faint moonlight beamed on your face. It smelled fresh on deck, no longer having the musky odor of mold and wood filling your nose.

You were also greeted with the sight of the woman that freed you, her back facing you and pointing to crew members, yelling orders. She must be the captain, signified by her detailed hat and especially the way the crew listened to her.

People scurried under her gaze almost cowardly. Boxes were being hauled onto a much bigger ship (which you assumed was hers) over a wooden plank.

She was tall and obviously built. You could tell even though she was adorned with many layers, straps, and belts accentuated her curves and edges. She had a metal prosthetic that looked dangerous. Not only that, but a gun and two swords hung from her waist.

You approached her timidly, the floorboards squeaking under your bare feet. When you sat a hand on her arm, urging her to turn around, she put a larger hand on the hilt of her sword defensively and spun to face you.

At just the force of it, you stumbled back. She was strong. Your eyes widened at her hands, hovering over the holster of her weapon. She spoke, "What are you trying to do?"

Her voice was gruff and demanding, leaving no room for questions. "I don't have anywhere to go," you stated honestly.

"And what do you expect me to do about that."

Although she put on the front of a rough demeanor, her eyes scanned your frame in curiosity. Worn clothes hung from your body, hair a mess, and despite it all, you were quite pretty.

She knew she couldn't take you on a ship with a bunch of men. In her eyes, it was almost as dangerous as leaving you on the ship to fend for yourself.

Almost.

She took you onto her ship with the promise that at the next stop they had, she would drop you off there. Whether or not you knew where you were.

Having no better option, you opted to go with her. She didn't shackle you up or restrain you, knowing you could do little to no harm to her or her crew.

She refused to put you in the berth with other pirates. It was stuffy and cramped, and all in all, no place for you.

So you had a room next to her (and an odd blue haired girl). She said it was fine because it's temporary anyway.

She gave you some clothes that fit, and a pair of shoes to put on your feet. And the room was more than you could ask for. It was spacious and contained a lavish bed.

You assumed it was someone else's room previously as it was already decorated. (Plus, she told you not to meddle in any of the stuff)

Sevika didnt expect you to do anything, thinking you werent fit to operate on a ship so, you were not asked to do any work. In all your boredom you found yourself roaming around the ship, looking at the stuff that was collected in each corner. Some trinkets, belts, broken weapons, etc.

Sevika watched you closely, making sure you didn't have any ulterior motives. Eventually, she realized that you were nothing but curious.

Then she watched you closely to make sure you didn't fall overboard.

At meals, you stuck close by her side, not really knowing anyone on board yet. She gave you things off her plate, saying you looked starved. And you didn't complain. You weren't really fed in the dungeons.

She started to show you around the deck, answering your questions about the sea and her ship. When you started to ask too many questions, she sighed and shook her head, wandering off to attend to her duties.

She was truly a mystery to you, not being able to read her gaze or body language. But what you did know is that she was a ruthless captian. Always having something for her crew to do and ordering them around with her loud, booming voice.

She was intimidating in theory, yes. But towards you, she seemed a bit more.. lenient?

Nontheless, in a few days, you finally arrived at their next destination, and you stepped off the ship with everyone. Taking in the way the ground felt against your feet, no longer swaying from side to side.

You had no idea where you were, and even though it didn't seem like a bad place, you couldn't just start anew again. I mean, how were you supposed to rebuild your whole life?

Sevika sensed your anxiety as you wandered through the streets with her crew. She saw your eyes flick side to side, looking at the buildings and people.

She might regret it, but she couldn't just leave you here.

You were growing more worried by the hour, and when night fell and everyone started back to the docks, you felt lost. You stayed behind, watching them load back onto the ship when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "You coming?"

Looking up, you locked eyes with Sevika, her brow was cocked and her lips slightly upturned. "You're letting me stay?" You questioned, in shock.

"Well, the ship is leaving soon, so only if you can make it." She teased.

You hugged her tight, wrapping your arms around her large frame. Her eyes widened in shock, not returning the hug before you ran off to the ship.

HC time !!

Now that you were deemed officially a part of the crew you had work to do, scrubbing the deck was a daily task. Even though other crew members seemed to dread it, you enjoyed smelling the fresh ocean air and feeling the wind on your back.

Sometimes you could feel Sevika's eyes on you as you cleaned, she sat at the helm, supposedly watching everyone. But when you turned around you would lock eyes with her and she would smirk.

When she sent the crew out on missions you grew to never be afraid, picking up on how to use weapons easily and fight alongside other people.

She almost admired this about you, it was like you were a natural. Like you belonged on her ship.

You didn't know what was on her mind most of the time. She was always closed off and didn't converse with anyone on ship except for Jinx, who was obviously closer to her than the rest of the crew.

But one fateful night you ran into her when you couldn't seem to get to sleep

You approached the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight reflect off the waves, and the clouds move with the wind. It was quite beautiful at night even though there wasn't much to look at other than water.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you put a hand to your holster but spun around to see Sevika. Seeing her in this light reminded you of the day you met her, but now you were in front of her, compared to the day she found you.

"Up so late?" She questioned, her voice indicated she had waken up recently.

"Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep," You let your guard down again and leaned against the wood, hand cradling your face as you stared back into the sea.

"Y'know.. I didn't think you had it in you." She commented.

"Had what in me?" You chuckled, "The guts to be a pirate?"

You talked for a long while after that, the sun hit the horizon by the time you said your goodbyes. You had a feeling that Sevika wouldn't be a mystery to you for much longer.

Eventually, she would come around to teach you how to fight properly, as you mostly fought based off of what you saw others do. She held your body close to hers, helping you mimic her movements. Feeling the buckles of her belts on your back, the coldness of her metal arm on your waist.

As a matter of fact she taught you a lot of things, like how to steer the ship: putting her hands over yours, pointing in the direction of where to go. Teasing you when your hands got tired, and taking over for you, letting you stand between her and the wheel.

She joined you in the crows nest, sitting beside you on the railing with a hand on your back, making sure you didn't fall. She would direct your telescope to look at nearby land or into the horizon.

You had a lot of talks up there.

Sometimes, the crew wondered what was going on between you two, as you were practically always together. (She denies all allegations.. for now)

She taught you how to wield a sword and fought with you for fun. Letting you win from time-to-time, you knew she let you. I mean, there's no way you'd be able to pin Sevika to the wooden deck without a struggle.

You would catch her sleeping on the helm, her feet kicked up on a chair and her hat on her face. As punishment, you would take her hat and keep it until morning. Then, prancing around the next day with it on, commanding the crew jokingly, pretending to be her.

When she finally caught you, she would sweep you up and take the hat right off your head, chuckling at your mischievousness. Sometimes, she would let you wear her hat, only if you promised not to lose it.

After particularly stressful missions, the crew would throw a small party for their winnings, needing time to wind down. You grew accustomed to the crew, even making a few friends with unlikely people.

You and Jinx drank a bit together and danced around on the table, singing sea shanties loudly. But eventually, Sevika would catch you all. And make you clean up. (But not before having a drink herself)

And it was almost a nightly routine to go up to the deck and talk once everyone was asleep, gazing into the moon with her. It felt natural. You felt like you belonged.

God i love her, i dream about her I swear. I love pirates... and I love sevika, pls send in more pirate sevika asks i wanna do a siren one too ngl maybe how Sevika isnt drawn in by your siren call because the captain is a woman AUGHHHHH

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sunflowerwinds · 2 months ago

Text

nobody but you | v.a

summary: you lost everyone close to you, including your best friend (and childhood crush) when you were fourteen years old and had to grow up on your own. seven years later, a ghost reappears, igniting those same feelings from all those years ago to come bubbling back up. bed-confessions lead to what you’ve wanted for years.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: reader is described to wear skirts and have longer curly hair, reader’s nickname is star, mature language, mentions of vi and reader being each other’s first kiss, caitlyn being a third wheel (i’m so sorry :/), mature content: dry humping & hickies (vi!receiving)

a/n: …. hey. arcane is a new fixation and i HAD to write for her. inbox is open for more vi ideas! (modern or not) <33 4 DAYS until arcane🙂‍↕️!!!

That night that the explosion happened, you were a wreck. You had lost so many people that you held near to your heart; Vander, Claggor, Mylo, and Vi. As much as you hated to admit to yourself but losing her had the most impact on you.

Her body wasn’t found so everyone, including yourself, assumed that she was dead.

Powder, god, you couldn’t get to her before Silco did. When you arrived at the aftermath of the scene, she was gone and all that was left was a piece of a bomb that was undeniably Powder’s creation. Guilt settled within you at the rumors that spread of who Powder had become; Jinx.

It took years for you to become somewhat okay, falling into a new routine. With Silco running Zaun and dowsing the streets with shimmer, you had to watch people you knew become addicted and lose their minds over it.

You were alone.

It was a last resort but you took up a job at The Last Drop; as a barkeep. It was shitty pay but at least you had enough for food. It, of course, was nothing like when Vander owned the place. There was no family feeling or sense of comfort and unity.

You had accepted from that point on that this is how things were going to be. You live in the space above Benzo’s souvenir shop, making it your own home. Since his death, the space had been unoccupied. You took it upon yourself to make it yours.

It was decorated with remembrance of your late friends and knick-knacks you’ve collected from around the Lanes.

You had gotten off of your afternoon shift at the Last Drop, making your way back to the broken-down place you called home. You were ready to sit back and make dinner for yourself, sitting with your thoughts and silence. However as you approached the door to the shop, a weird sense settled into your gut.

The front door was open ever so slightly, barely noticeable at first glance. You usually would’ve dismissed it as a mistake on your part.

But this incident mixed with the weird feeling in your gut told you that this wasn’t just forgetting to close the door all the way. You hovered your hand over your leather holster that held your coins and a few ninja stars that you had been holding on to since you could hold one.

It was also helpful to hold up your extra layer of skirt.

Carefully, you peeked into the shop to see if you could see something or someone inside. From the small crevice, your sight was limited so you couldn’t confirm anything just yet. Lifting your left boot, you push the door open with the toe of your foot. You look into the shaded areas of the building, waiting for some form of movement.

Once you carefully step into the abandoned shop, you reach behind you to grab the doorknob to shut it closed. Your eyes flicker around the room, squinting in concentration as you continue to walk across the wooden floors.

A second passes and that’s when you hear a creak come from behind you. Reacting quickly, you grab a ninja star from the pocket of your belt and launch it into the darkness. The sound of the blade splitting into the wood and a grunt relax your worries somewhat.

Reaching for another star, you raise a hand to turn on the light to see who exactly made their way into the shop. Your face hardened as you lifted your arm once more, preparing to defend yourself.

The intruder stood against the shut door, eyes locked on the weapon in your hand.

“Star?”

They question you, stepping forward into the light.

You grip onto the ninja star tighter, confused as to how they know who you are. You suck in a deep breath, tilting your head as the strangers' features reveal themselves in the light. You squint for a moment before letting out a soft gasp, letting the bladed weapon slip from your fingers and onto the ground.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Were you hallucinating? Have you finally reached your breaking point?

The hair, the bandaged arms, the same slope of her nose.

“Vi?” You breathe out, your eyes welling up with tears.

The pink-haired girl nodded, letting out a shaky breath herself. She took a few more careful steps towards you. You take the same amount of steps to meet her in the middle, throwing your arms around her neck with desperation. You let out a sob as you bury your face into the crook of her neck.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me,” her voice was gentle in your ear, one of her bandaged palms cradling the back of your head while the other held you close by your torso.

Your eyes squint shut as you take in the fact that this is really happening. Vi was here; alive and so different. You pull away from her now-inked neck, brows furrowed from the questions rattling through your head.

“You… Where have you been?” You ask her softly.

“I got arrested and I’ve been in Stillwater since that night,” she explained carefully, one of her palms cradling your elbow.

“How are you here now? How did you get out?” Your eyes flicker to the ink on her cheek and the nose ring.

“I got released earlier today. I—I just had to see you. To make sure you were even…” Vi trailed off as she brushed a flyaway out of your face so she could really look at you.

The way you looked both so different and the same; how much you still look like that same girl that used to cut your fingers on your ninja stars. She remembers how you would try to hide the little slits on the tips of your fingers from her until you would physically wince from the cuts, forcing Vi to tend to the wounds.

You, unknowingly, did the same.

Too distracted just like how you would be all those years ago. Two teenage girls just trying to survive every day, secretly meeting up on the rooftops to snuggle dangerously close when everyone was asleep.

“When you said we were making a quick stop, I did assume it would be quick,” a posh English accent emerges from behind Vi, causing you to pull away from her comforting touch.

Vi let out a sigh before turning her head to peer at the tall woman standing in the doorway. You immediately recognize the attire underneath the small coat she was wearing and raise your hand to aim a ninja star at her. She was an enforcer.

Vi had an enforcer… get her out of prison?

“Who are you?” You snip, eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” The dark blue-haired woman quipped back.

You hold back the scoff bubbling in your throat before Vi reaches forward to gently push your hand down. You hesitantly did so, still gripping onto the weapon between your fingers.

“I was thinking that maybe we could lay low here for a bit. Get some rest,” Vi attempts to ease your obvious tense figure.

“We?” You glance over at the woman watching her face soften.

“Yes. Just until tomorrow. Then we’ll be out of your hair to go to Babette’s.”

Voice still calm and gentle, Vi explained the situation at the moment. It turns out the tall woman’s name is Caitlyn, they’re looking for Powder Jinx because they believe she’s involved with an explosion that happened in Piltover.

You could see the desperation in Vi’s eyes when talking about her sister and your heart broke for her.

“Okay. I’m up top so,” you nod towards the door more into the shop that leads upstairs.

“Lead the way, Star,” Vi grinned, shoving her bandaged hands into her pockets.

You look over at Caitlyn who is standing right behind Vi, towering a bit over you both. You lead the pair to your living space, flicking on the light to reveal the new made up home. Vi whistled as she walked around the familiar space now made into more than just an attic.

“You did all of this?” She questioned with a smile as she walked over to the shelf of books and trinkets.

“Uh, yeah,” you feel a bit vulnerable knowing that both a stranger and past best friend who you thought was dead are in your home. “No rent, no roommates, just me.”

Your childhood friend traces the hanging lights from your ceiling, grinning for a moment when they make a soft twinkling noise. Being as nosy as she was, she made her way over to where you slept. Her eyes locked on the beaten-down table next to your table, focusing on the small ceramic bowl full of trinkets.

“Shit, you kept this?” Vi grabbed an item off the bedside table that was next to your bed that made your eyes widen with embarrassment.

It was a star ring that Vi had gotten (swiped from an antique shop) when you were thirteen. That day she gave it to you was also the day you brought up the idea of being each other’s first kiss to get it out of the way. Dating wasn’t a worry but you both agreed that you might as well ‘prepare for that day when you’d need to.’

It wasn’t the most amazing kiss, of course as you were preteens but you still became flustered the second you two made eye contact as you pulled away. You remember twiddling with the star ring after and how much you felt so cared for by someone.

“Oh yeah. It was to remember you by,” you sheepishly reply.

Vi hummed at your response, her smile creeping onto her lips as she set it down.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but is there someplace where I can rest?” Caitlyn questioned from behind you, seeming to be standing carefully near the door.

You glance over at Vi who had laid back on your bed, shutting her eyes with a sigh. One of her bandaged arms draped over her lower stomach while the other rested above her head on your flattened pillows.

“You can rest over here.”

You motioned for the tall woman to follow you. You walk around the wall, pushing back a curtain to a secret space where you usually allow some acquaintances from work or people in need to sleep, turning to Caitlyn with a friendlier grin.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn called after you as she sucked in a deep breath, looking around the small room. “For allowing me in your home.

“Thanks for bringing her back to me,” you nod.

Caitlyn nods in return, a small smile on her lips as she lowers herself on the dingy mattress.

“I know it’s not the ivory walls you’re used to but make yourself at home,” you notice the small, barely noticeable gap in between her front teeth as she smiles at you.

“It’s lovely,” her posh accent makes you chuckle.

You simply shake your head and shut the curtain to give Caitlyn some privacy. You recollect yourself as you think about Vi who is currently lying down on your bed. Vi perked up as she heard footsteps walking towards the bed, making eye contact with you as you rounded the bed to the other side.

“Hi,” you mutter as you lower yourself down on the opposite side of the bed, knee first.

“Hi,” Vi replied, her lips twitching into a small smile.

You can’t even hide the smitten smile on your face as you lay yourself down next to her, back on the mattress as well. Your palms rest above your navel as you try to act as normal as possible.

A tense silence filled the open room; the both of you not knowing what to say to one another. You could hear the shouting and loud music of the streets coming from your open window but all you could focus on was your own nervous breathing.

“I thought about you every day,” Vi’s the first to break the silence. “Every fucking day there, I thought about what it would be like coming back to you. I hoped you’d be here, Star. I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone too.” Vi admitted as she shook her head, snuggling into your bed.

Your eyes bore into her side profile, admiring the slope of her nose and the ink etched into her cheek. You turn the rest of your body to match your head.

“You would’ve been okay,” you joke, weakly chuckling.

Vi blinks and looks over at you with a soft and meaningful gaze. She’s silent for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts before she speaks.

“Do you remember when we would go up to the roof of the Last Drop and talk about what we would do if we ever got out of here?” Vi questions gently, facing you so that you are face to face.

“Yeah,” you mutter, not knowing where she was going with it.

“Every scenario we talked about whether it was taking over the streets or getting bucket loads of cash to build a new life there, I never imagined what it would be like without you by my side. You were always… right here.” Vi breathed out, her gaze avoiding your own. “Now that I know what it’s like to have that reality, I don’t want it to happen ever again.”

“Vi,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

Her eyes carefully lifted to meet yours, pupils dilated with vulnerability.

“I was so… scared you were gone too,” Vi whispered, hesitantly reaching for you but her hand retracted quickly.

You took the reins and carefully hooked your finger onto one of hers, sighing in relief at the touch. Vi stared at the courteous touch and wrapped her palm over your own, running her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you remember what happened after you gave me that ring?” You ask softly, using your free hand to brush a piece of her hair out of her face.

Vi wasn’t stupid. She knew you meant that kiss that put a pep in her step for a few weeks after; the girl that she had been crushing over since before she could remember. Not wanting to confront it head-on, she quickly stumbled out a little joke.

“I think I thought about doing that for months. Mylo wouldn’t stop giving me shit for it every time you came around, blowing kisses at me when you had your back turned.” Vi chuckled as she shook her head.

You smile at the mention of Mylo, not doubting it for a second. You, in a similar fashion, turned to Ekko for your little crush on Vi.

“You know, come to think of it,” you pretend to recall, “I remember you asking me an important question too.”

Vi wanted to punch herself in the jaw as you brought up another rather embarrassing moment. She could see it now; two teens sitting on a rooftop, shoulder to shoulder after sharing a quick peck and avoiding each other’s eyeline.

“We could be each other’s… back up when we get older, you know.” A fidgety thirteen-year-old Vi had proposed.

You remember glancing down at bright-colored streets and clouds that intoxicated the air of Zaun. Vi glanced over at you to see if you had even heard her as you had gone completely silent.

“Back up?” You questioned, your voice still going through the ups of puberty.

“Yeah, well, when we’re old, like, forty or something and have no one else, we could be each other’s.”

Vi didn’t really explain what that meant at the time but you agreed with ease. You knew how much you would do for Vi; maybe it was a little obsessive and unhealthy but she had a grip on you that you hoped never left.

Neither of you were near forty yet but there was a sliver of hope you could enact that pact today.

Something took over you after that confession and you scoot your body closer to hers. You reach your hand up to brush your hair out of her face, cupping the side of her face. Vi held onto your wrist as you began to lean into her.

Before you could even comprehend it, Vi pressed her lips to yours. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, releasing her face in shock. Her hand was still gripping onto your wrist as her lips moved against your own.

After the initial surprise of the kiss, you follow her rhythm. You place your hand back onto her cheek as you suck in a deep breath, letting yourself enjoy what you have been craving to redo after seven years.

The soft smack of your kisses and you and Violet humming against each other's lips silently drove you insane.

“I missed you so much,” Vi mutters against your lips.

You sigh at the confession, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Never thought I'd get to do this,” you confess. “To be with you like this, Vi.”

Vi’s palms move down your body, rubbing down your sides carefully like you were going to disappear at any moment. Years of confinement and getting into fights with inmates led her to this very moment; the only person in her life that was really here for her.

“And now that you are doing it?” Vi questions, her big rounded eyes boring into your own.

“I don’t want it to stop.”

Vi beams at that and you dive back into her lips, humming against the gentle touch of her lips. This second time around was more hungry, eager for one another. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of her bandaged arms wrapped around your waist as you kissed like you needed her; craved her.

Oh, how needy you were at that moment: selfishly grabbing onto her like she could disappear at any moment. She wasn’t; at least you hoped not.

“I still can’t believe you’re really here,” you sighed out, tears welling up in your eyes.

Vi immediately notices your mood drop and shakes her head, leaning in to kiss your cheek and placing a few more gentle touches on your neck and jaw.

“I’m here. Right here, sweetheart,” she murmured against your skin as she continued to carefully kiss your skin.

You suck in a deep breath as you cup either side of her face to pull her away from your flustered skin. Vi’s chest was heaving up and down from her own hunger for you becoming overwhelming.

“I want to make you feel good, Vi,” you admit, whispering just below normal speaking volume.

Vi stares and blinks, her breathing slowing down.

“Me?” She questions as if she misheard you.

“Yes, you. Please.”

You couldn’t even feel an ounce of embarrassment from your begging as you meant it more than anything. Vi, with not much more needed convincing, nodded frantically as she allowed you to take the reigns.

You pull away to sit upright and straddle her lap, your skirt lifting up your legs to rest on the highest part of your thigh. Vi’s eyes widened for a second at your position in your lap, her bandaged hands resting on the flat pillows as she stared up at your figure. Her eyes were rounded with admiration and lust.

“Is this okay?” You question, tucking some of your hair behind your ears.

“Yes. Yes, you’re… good.” Vi reassures you as you smittenly smile down at her.

She matches your smile as you lean down to reattach your lips, placing your hands on her collarbone. Vi’s hands grip gently at your upper thighs, frantically pulling you in closer to her. The strap of your shirt was slipping down your shoulder, resting on your triceps.

You allow yourself to be there in the moment with her. You had the tendency to think about the worst outcomes of every situation but right now as Vi’s palms move more up to your hips, you just feel her.

Not afraid, not depressed; just her.

Her touch was electric on your skin. Vi sits upright from her laid-back position, humming as you run one of your hands up the back of her head into her hair. Feeling her body running hot, she removes her hands from your body to shrug off her red jacket from her body.

You pull away to help her remove the jacket, throwing it to the side and hearing it hit the ground. You look down at her now-revealed arms and eyebrows raise up at the sight of her toned upper body.

You were gawking; you knew you were.

“What were you doing in there?” You shamelessly ran your hands down her firm biceps.

Vi lets you feel her up, watching your hungry eyes follow your hands on her body. She doesn’t answer your question but she does place her palms back at their rightful place on your hips.

You snap out of your daze as her hands squeeze your hips. Your cheeks lit aflame before focusing on the task at hand. Did you 100% know what you were doing? No, but you figured if you just do what you do to yourself to her, it was bound to make her feel good.

So you slowly began to grind your hips down onto her own. Vi sucks in a sharp breath at the unfamiliar feeling, letting out a shaky breath.

That only fueled your keep your hips moving against her. Vi’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, tilting her head back to huff out a soft moan. You let out your own noise at the feeling, leaning forward to attach your lips to the length of your neck.

Vi moaned your name at the feeling of you kissing the sensitive spot on her neck. Her grip only becomes tighter on your waist as you begin to suck and lick, creating a dark spot on her pale skin. You pull away after a few seconds to brush your finger over the mark, feeling disgustingly proud of yourself.

“What are you doing to me?” Vi whispered, groaning under her breath.

“I could say the same,” you quip with a cheeky smile, grinding down hard once.

The motion tugs out a moan from the both of you. The thinnest layer of sweat began to form on your neck and crevice of your hip and legs. Vi leans forward, panting into the crook of your neck. She attempts to hide her needy whimpers against your skin but you can’t miss the desperate sounds.

You were growing wetter by the second, aching to get her off.

“Vi—“ You gasp as her palms rest on your hips, helping you grind down onto her clothed crotch.

Your hands rest on the broad on her shoulders, feeling over the tight muscle. She was panting softly as she took in the sound of you asking for her; needing her like this. Her blue eyes admire the way your jaw was left open as you pant and whimper from the friction.

“So beautiful, sweetheart,” she praises, a low moan leaving her own hips.

You almost shake your head at her words but you knew it would be a huge mistake to do so. You allow yourself to take in the words, not wanting to seem like you didn’t believe her. She drew the beautiful inside to the surface with ease.

Your hips stuttered, wondering if you were going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be the first time as you’ve shamefully done the same to your mattress.

“You’re perfect,” you tell her honestly, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

Vi wanted to tell you you were far from correct but you were persistent on the fact.

“You are. You are, Vi,” you cup her face as you weakly grind your crotch on hers.

Vi nods to show you she is listening, one of the few whimpers she’s made throughout the night bubbling in her throat. You place a few kisses over her face before placing the final one on her awaiting lips.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna—“

“Me too. Cum for me, please,” you encourage the pink-haired girl.

You watch as her muscles tighten, a vein popping out of the side of her neck. It beautifully highlighted the mark you’ve made on her.

With your grinds becoming sloppier and weaker, Vi assisted you by practically doing all the work. Your hips and inner thighs were growing more and more tired out by the second. Your will to make sure Vi came was the only thing keeping you going.

Your mouths were hovering over one another, whining and moaning onto each other’s lips. Your core tightened as you felt your orgasm approaching. Vi’s whispers of praise only drew you closer.

“Just like that,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Vi whines right back, kissing right above your chest near your collarbone.

You nod with a whimper, muttering ‘please’ and ‘right there’. The mix of your panting and hot moans drove you both to cumming against one another.

You were shaking at that point, arms now wrapping around her neck for stabilization. Vi, mimicking you, wrapped her arms around your torso, burying her face into your chest as she tried to catch her breath.

Your hair was now frizzy, your whole body aflame from the orgasm that tore through you. Vi’s lips were dragging on your heated skin causing you to shut your eyes as you, too, attempted to calm down.

The two of you sat there, matching each other's breathing patterns as you both came down from your highs. Your eyes before you knew it grew heavy with exhaustion. Vi noticed how slumped you were and cradled your body to maneuver you to lay back down. Your arms were still locked around her neck, refusing to let her go.

“Are you okay?” Vi asks after a few minutes of silence, licking her swollen lips.

You chuckle softly at her question, resting your forehead on her shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m perfect.” You mutter before placing a loving kiss to her bare shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Vi nods at your words, rubbing her hands down your back. She traces the length of your spine, lulling you into the sleep that your body was asking for.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up before I leave.” Vi encourages when she notices you fighting your tired eyes.

Your heart sank at the word ‘leave’, brows knitting with betrayal. Your exhaustion left your body for a moment at her words.

“Leave?” You delicately whisper.

“No, no, not for good. I’m not doing that to you again,” Vi was quick to reassure your worries. “I just—I have to find Powder. I don’t know how long it will take but I will be back for you.”

You swallow your doubts that Vi will be able to change Jinx back into the girl she once was. You knew you wouldn’t be able to convince Vi into staying, especially with Caitlyn tagging along with her.

“Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you again,” you cup her face, running your thumb over the ink on her cheek. “You’re my backup, remember?”

Vi manages to chuckle at your words, shaking her head.

“I never should’ve asked you that. You were never going to be just a backup, Star,” Vi told you softly. “You were always going to be first for me.”

Your eyes rounded with admiration at her confession.

“We were kids when you asked me that, Vi. I’m glad you did. I’ve never wanted anyone but you,” you tell her with a smitten grin on your lips.

Vi presses a deep kiss onto your awaiting lips, nearing knocking your teeth against one another from her own smile. You lazily kissed her back until you physically couldn’t anymore. Sleep overtook you as you rested your head on her bicep that was acting as your pillow for the night. You felt one last kiss on your temple before you knocked out.

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of the bed shifting next to you. You slowly peek through squinted eyes to see Vi’s blurred figure sitting on the opposite side of the bed, quietly speaking with Caitlyn’s undeniable taller figure.

“I’m just pointing out how you completely disregarded the fact that I was in the room opposite of you. I had a curtain as a door,” Caitlyn quietly scolds the pink haired girl.

You try not to show any reaction but you were embarrassed that you had completely forgotten about Caitlyn resting just 10-15 feet away from you two.

“I’m not sorry for what I did but sorry you heard,” Vi snips, no doubt in your mind with raised brows.

Caitlyn sighed rather loudly before shaking her head, holding her hand up to Vi.

“Let’s just… get going, please. We haven’t got much time.”

Silence from Vi.

“Okay. Just give me two minutes. You can wait outside the door.”

You quickly shut your eyes and pretend to sleep once again, listening for the receding footsteps. Vi spoke with care as she gently tapped your shoulder.

“Star, sweetheart?” She hummed, brushing your flyaways from your face.

“Hmmm?” You open your eyes, stretching one of your arms up.

“Hey. I’m gonna head out, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Vi traces the apple of your cheeks as she talks to you.

“Be careful. I mean it, Vi.”

The blue eyed girl nods at you, giving you one last meaningful kiss onto your lips.

“I will. In fact,” Vi pulls away to reach by the bedside table, grabbing the star ring she gave you. She slid it onto her middle finger, showing you the jewelry. “I’ll be back to give you this. It’ll be my good luck charm.”

There was a beat of silence before you let out a soft laugh at her ridiculousness. You adored her more than anything and anyone.

“I’ll be waiting, Violet.”

TAGLIST: @kylorey25 @evermorewest @breezy-sapphic @auraclus @ichig0nn4 @thesevi0lentdelights @vincinnamontoast @onesockcat @sc0ttstre3ted @seolarsistem @kissyslut @pinkdaisys4u

#wlw #sapphic #vi arcane #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #no y/n #vi x reader #arcane show #arcane #vi fanfic #vi smut

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gghostwriter · 2 months ago

Text

Level-One Intruder

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 1.8k a/n: I'm a liar. I said I was going to post once I get over this flu but I couldn't help myself, not at all. I just really really wanted to share this cute cute fic I wrote with you all. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The brown tweed coat on Spencer’s shoulders threaten to droop down his arms as he wrangled his keys to unlock his apartment door.

There was little light on the hallway, something that could be attributed to the late hour of twelve midnight. Muffled noises could be heard from next door—a new tenant must have moved in while he was away.

The FBI agent could feel himself coming apart at the seams from the lack of proper sleep. The latest case took eight long grueling days to solve and the team had to make do with what the small town could offer as arrangements.

His back felt stiff from curling on the squeaky sofa bed, trying his best to make himself comfortable and now, all he wanted to do was decompress with a totem of a book and sleep like the dead until his alarm clock rang for the next day.

Dropping his satchel on the ground, silently assuring himself to get the laundry going the next day, a tiny scuffle echoed through his heavily darkened apartment.

Spencer tensed, unsure if his overtly exhausted mind conjured up the noise or if someone else found their way into his haven while it was otherwise unoccupied.

Another sound confirmed the reality causing him to draw his gun from his holster, ends pointing down, as he slowly made his way around the sofa to the first bedroom, minding his steps to avoid the sections with creaking floorboards.

He rounded the corner, eyes straining to adjust to the minimal light the outposts provide him—and nothing.

The room was stale from lack of use and everything looked to be in the right place. The stripped spare bed looked untouched and all the windows were sealed shut. Exactly how he left it.

Another noise caught his attention.

Spencer tightened his hold on the gun and tiptoe’d to the next room—the bathroom and in there, the first real evidence was uncovered.

His eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle as he took in the unspooled tissue roll hanging from its holder. The unused sheets of paper now sat on the green titled floor, no doubt flooded with organisms and bacteria that the naked eye couldn’t see.

He shuddered from the thought.

Quickly moving on, he shuffled his way to the open kitchen. Right away he spotted something amiss—rather a few items amiss.

First, the lower cabinet was ajar. It was where Spencer stored his cleaning supplies and it was rarely opened as it was.

Second, his favorite Star Trek mug that he left out to dry near the sink was now precariously near the edge, threatening to break into a thousand pieces.

And lastly, the empty plastic bag of bread on the counter that he was sure had two more slices before he went away for the case.

There was an intruder and it seemed like he was hungry.

Weapon still in his hands, he slowly he crept his towards the slightly opened mahogany door of the main bedroom. He took a deep breath before rounding up to the room, pistol pointing forward to the unsuspecting guest.

Except there was no one.

“That’s strange,” he muttered to himself, holstering back the revolver to his belt and to his surprise, someone answered or rather, meow-ed back. A fluffy orange cat with a collar on his neck.

The agent smiled. “You must be my intruder—”

Meow.

“—Now, who are you and how did you get in here?”

The cat was silent, content with rubbing his body on his black pant legs, leaving behind stray hairs that Spencer would have to lint away before laundry.

He bent down to see if there was any information hanging from the cat’s green collar.

“Mr. Chewie. Is that your name?”

Feline eyes stared into his and blinked once.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe you could understand me but actually according to studies, cats lack the cognitive skills to interpret human language so I still don’t know why I’m explaining that to you.”

Meow.

“Nope, I’m sure you’re just responding to the fact that I am talking to you and my rambling is clearly brought by my lack of proper sleep—” a knock on his front door interrupted his musings. “—one second,” he called out, swiftly unbuckling his holster belt and placing it on top of the dresser. There was no need to frighten the knocking neighbor with a gun.

Spencer turned back to the cat inquisitively sitting next to his feet. “Don’t move.”

As he made his way back to the entrance, opening lights as he went, he could hear the click clack of the feline’s claws against the wooden floorboards. It clearly didn’t take his order to consideration.

Spencer swung the door open as the stranger was poised for a mid-knock.

“Uh—hi,” the woman breathed out.

“Hi,” Spencer drawled out in reply. “Can I help you?”

You rocked on your heels, fingers pulling down the ends of your oversized sweater as if it could lessen your state of undress. Spencer didn’t judge, it was early into the morning after all, nor did he stare long at your navy blue shorts and pink fluffy socks adorning your feet.

“I’m your new neighbor and it’s not really the time to introduce myself but by any chance is there—”

“An adorable intruder in my apartment?”

You nod, sweetly smiling. The glint in your eyes filled with apologies.

“Yes actually, I was trying to ask him where he came from but I don’t actually speak cat and neither does he understand human.”

You laugh sheepishly, fingers gently rubbing at the side of your neck. “I’m so sorry. I hope he didn’t make a mess or bother you at all. I left my fire escape window open for a little bit to let the breeze in and he must have explored out while I wasn’t looking. So sorry again, let me just get him out of the way—”

A rustle from behind made him turn, not before he caught your eyes widening to the scene inside his apartment. Your cat kneading on his brown throw blanket before settling on the sofa.

“Mr. Chewie, what are you doing?” You squeaked out.

Spencer laughed at the outrageous tone coating your voice. It reminded him of Garcia swatting the other agents away from her tech equipments.

The cat answered back with a meow.

“No, mister. You cannot sleep here, this isn’t our home! It belongs to this lovely gentleman over here—” you flashed Spencer a smile. “Now, please get your butt off the sofa and back to our apartment.”

The feline seemingly rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

“Huh,” Spencer observed. “The studies might be wrong after all. I think he understands you.”

You laughed, shoulders shaking from the absurdity of his comment. “Mr. Chewie might be special or at least that’s what every pet owner believe to be. I never introduced myself have I? I’m Y/N. I moved next door a couple of nights ago.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he replied back.

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh, is that why I haven’t seen you around, Doctor? Busy saving lives?”

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. In a way, you weren’t wrong per se. His title did let people assume his career to be in the medical industry instead of having three PhD’s under his belt. The former was more plausible given how young he looked.

The sound of a door opening and closing at the end of the hall caught both your attention. Your eyes flashed back to his, twinkling. “So, Doctor. Will it be alright if I step inside and grabbed my cat?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh—yeah, yeah. Sure, come right in.”

You sheepishly smiled before entering his sanctuary. Eyes soaking in any piece of information that represented who he was.

Spencer felt your warmth as you passed his body. The smell of warm cookies wafting to his nose, dissipating the anxiety that threatened to creep up his spine from letting a stranger into his home.

“Nice apartment,” you complimented. “There seems to be a lot of books.”

He tucks his hands inside his pant pockets. “I like to read.”

“Me too. It’s a great hobby to pass the time.”

You sweetly smiled before swiftly scooping up the lounging cat in your arms with little protest. “Again, I’m so sorry if he disturbed you in any way and please, let me know if he made a mess. I’d like to make it up to you—as a thank you and apology, I mean.”

“It’s no problem,” Spencer watched your cheeks match the color of your socks under the fluorescent light. It suited you, he thought. “Actually, can I just ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why is he—” his calloused hands reaching to pet the orange feline nestled on your chest. “—named Mr. Chewie?”

You giggled, the sound similar to wind chimes being rustled by a gentle breeze. It settled the ache caused by his lack of proper rest. It was fascinating, intriguing, and a little bit frightening if he had to be honest.

“Well, I actually named him after Star Wars, Chewbacca, because of how fluffy he is and the name just shortened itself once I found out how perpetually famished he is.”

“He’s named well,” Spencer surmised, the empty plastic of bread flashing in his mind.

“Well, I shouldn’t be bothering you any longer,” you slowly backed away from his space. “Thank you, Doctor, and have a good night.”

With a sleepy smile on his face, Spencer watched you push open your apartment door. “Good night.”

You flashed your saccharine smile one last time before closing it behind you, leaving him feeling light and bemused for the first time in a long while.

And as he woke up to the gentle streams of the sun on his face, feeling well rested and ready to tackle the paperwork on his desk, the emotion still lingered causing the corners of his mouth to rise up into a soft smile. An after effect of your encounter that he didn’t mind experiencing.

It was a certain type of high.

It was something bright and puzzling.

A note and a batch of cookies taped to his door caught his eye as he exited the apartment. The treats were in this clear, non-labelled package. Handmade then, Spencer noted.

His smile stretched his warming cheeks wide as he took in the scripted letters written on the pink post it that reminded him of your blush and your fluffy socks.

See you around, Doctor!

Have a great day saving lives!

- Your Nurse neighbor & Mr. Chewie xx

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #dr Spencer Reid imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert

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ceilidho · 2 months ago

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 18) tw: minor character death, injuries, and misogynistic language

masterlist

He’s far off still, the smoking gun held tight in his hand and aimed up at the sky. A warning shot.

At first, you don’t quite believe it. He appears like a mirage in the distance after wandering through the desert for days, on the brink of starvation. Like a trick of the eye. You squint against the light, sure that you’ve mistaken the familiar felt pinch front hat and the speckled Appaloosa he sits astride for someone else, a stranger come to save you instead of the man you’ve been desperately pining for since Graves stole you from your home.

But the longer you stare at the man coming towards you, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face save for the grim set of his mouth, the harder it is to deny that it really is John.

Your chest is fit to burst. Heart pumping wildly against your ribcage. The sight of him is revelatory—a burning bush, a stream of light through storm clouds, St Elmo’s fire. The euphoric high is almost overwhelming.

“Son of a bitch,” Graves hisses beneath his breath, hand reaching for the revolver on his belt.

John is quicker though, firing off another round, this time at the ground between them, alarming Graves enough to make his arm jerk away from his side. Even you yelp. The gunfire cuts your swell of adulation short, bringing you back flush to the surface of the real world again. Graves’ horse scrambles back a few steps, nearly rearing up before Graves gets control of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now—” Graves booms, right in your ear, so loud that you wince, curling into yourself.

The gelding chuffs at John’s approach, unsettled. Graves digs his spurs into the horse’s side when it takes a few nervous steps back, making it whinny in pain. You’d tell him off, but you’ve learned by now to hold your tongue around Graves. He only knows how to impose his authority through pain.

“Easy, alright—” Graves calls out, holding out the hand not tangled in the reins to show that it’s empty, the revolver still sheathed in its holster. “No one’s gonna do anything stupid.”

The horse John sits astride is the one he never dared to train you on. The one you know would buck you straight off if you tried to hoist yourself up on its saddle. He’s bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and broodsome aura like its owner, and he doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

When it breathes out, you imagine its breath should smell sulfuric. Fire and brimstone.

Closer to you now, you can see his eyes under the brim of his hat. He glowers at Graves, the same look you’ve seen only once before, staring through the window of the general store at the scowl carved into his face when he dragged a man across town, but intensified. Not so much as a glimmer of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. Just cold rage.

The lines in his face are deep from lack of sleep, dark troughs under his eyes. Shoulders stiff; every muscle of his tensed, poised to react. You wonder how long after Graves took you John realized and followed the two of you in pursuit.

“I’m gonna say this once and you best not try my patience: let the lady go.”

The sound of his voice rumbles through you, making the hair on your arms raise. Seldom have you heard him use that tone of voice, more man than sheriff.

Graves’ hand tightens on the reins, knuckles going white. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he has the same obsequious look on his face as he did back in town, indignation relegated to his extremities. You can see it in the tensed muscle of his forearms.

“Now Sheriff, you may have the run of this county, but I’ve got the power of the law on my side. The state of New York has issued a warrant for this woman’s arrest.” Graves’ smarmy evocation to the legality of his actions rankles you. He acts like the whole situation is out of his control, that he takes no joy in your apprehension. Simply a matter of duty.

Not that it seems to make a difference. Even you could tell Graves that.

“I won’t ask again.” John’s voice is threaded with fury, angrier than you’ve ever heard him speak.

And true to his words, he doesn’t. The silence stretches between the two men, fraught with tension. Graves is a rigid line at your back.

He’s the first to break the silence; the first to give. “At least let me show you the warrant, Sheriff,” Graves implores. “I ain’t just some vagrant that’s come and taken the sheriff’s wife without cause—and I assure you, there is cause.”

John doesn’t say a word, blue eyes still severe. Colder than the waters of Cocytus.

Graves must take his silence as permission because he reaches a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to John at first, perhaps expecting the man to come close enough to take it from his hand, but John doesn’t even glance at the hand offering him the arrest warrant, eyes still locked on Graves.

“See now, I’ll even read it out—” he says, clearing his throat and half turning the paper back to him. “‘Whereas it has been represented to Government that—’”

“Give the letter to my wife,” John cuts him off, gesturing towards the warrant in Graves’ hand with his gun. “She’ll deliver it to me once you’ve handed her over.”

The interruption stuns Graves into silence, the warrant still held in his outstretched arm. He must not be accustomed to men deferring to women instead of him, much less a criminal like you. Your stomach cramps with nerves. The blow to his ego worries you more than John getting his hands on the arrest warrant. His behavior up to this point has been predictable—violent, but unsurprising. You aren’t interested in finding out if losing his temper changes that.

John’s eyes flick to yours. The first time he’s really looked at you since arriving unannounced, just a quick glance over you to ensure that you’re well. He must not like what he sees because the skin around his eyes tightens.

The moment of inattention is all Graves needs, eyes trained on it like a hunting dog. John’s eyes barely twitch away to meet yours and Graves draws his gun, his aim wild when he shoots.

You don’t see what he hits, but the gunfire drives John’s horse into a panic, throwing its head back and rearing up onto its hind legs. Graves fires again and the ground between you explodes, dirt and debris erupting into the air. The horse roars, the sound deep and throaty.

Graves grabs you by the back of your dress, forcing your back to arch and shoulders to pull back, using you, for all intents and purposes, as a meat shield. You can hear John try to take control of his horse, but it’s near mindless with fear, braying and bucking when Graves fires again, white smoke billowing from the muzzle. Panic seizes you by the throat when John’s horse bucks him right off, bellowing a curse when his body slams to the ground.

A scream bursts from your throat, but Graves holds you in place before you can slide off the saddle, spitting a tense shut the fuck up into your ear before digging his heel into his horse’s flank and steering him around, beating a hasty retreat. His horse moves in a wide arc until his body is turned back in the direction that Graves was originally heading.

You struggle against him until the horse moves at a speed too dangerous to chance falling from its back. It covers ground fast, moving at a breakneck speed.

“Stop—let me down!” you scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The howling wind carries your voice away.

The violent toing and froing makes it impossible to cast a backward glance and see if John is in pursuit. All of your senses narrow down to what’s in front of you; from the saddle horn digging into your stomach and the air whipping past your face to the feeling of Graves’ breath wafting over the back of your neck as he pants.

A booming crack fills the air and you scream, fear soaring to an unfathomable height.

Graves grunts and tenses behind you, his hands spasming around the reins and letting go involuntarily. Then you feel the body behind you slump to the side, his weight almost unbalancing you until he falls off the horse altogether, feet slipping out of the stirrups.

The blood in your ears masks the sound of his body hitting the ground. Your head whips around to follow the trajectory of Graves’ body, but a wave of vertigo slams into you, a head on collision that forces you to dig your fingers into the horse’s mane and turn your body back around.

The horse barely notices the body slipping off its back though, tunnel vision on the road ahead. Legs pumping furiously beneath it, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. You’d have thought the horse would’ve slowed up with the sudden unburdening of the other person astride it, but if anything, it picks up speed.

You can’t calm down enough to catch your breath; it gallops ahead of you as well, your vision growing spotty with the short, jagged breaths you take in. Lungs collapsing under the weight of your chest. Eyes squinted against the piercing wind. Sunspots brighter than light itself.

Your instinct is to make yourself small; shield yourself from the impending pain. That inescapable reality rushes towards you as quickly as you race towards it. You’re going to fall. It’s almost certain. You whimper when a particularly rough stride makes you slip an inch to the right, your fingers gripping into the horse’s mane ever tighter, desperate to keep yourself astride.

Someone’s voice breaks through the noise and you open your eyes.

In your fearstruck state, you almost don’t recognize the man riding beside you and keeping pace until he says your name—your real name—and you snap back to yourself. No time to contemplate your name in his mouth though, no time for anything except keeping from slipping into total panic.

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the clamor of hooves.

You peel your face from the horse’s mane to meet his eyes. The parallel of a memory from long ago. It flashes before your eyes and you remember yourself. Numb hands fisted in the horse’s mane unclench.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, and this time you comprehend. It’s the same as the time before.

Summoning every ounce of courage in your bones, you tighten your thighs and belly to lift yourself up, gathering and bridging the reins in your manacled hands. Half halt, release, and half halt again.

“Good—now circle!” John’s voice booms in your ear and through your blood.

You flinch when you try to steer your horse into a wide, sweeping turn and he resists at first, but on your second try, he follows your pull, his strides gradually slowing, easing up. When your horse finally comes to a standstill, walking its last few strides before coming to a stop, you sit with that bubble of tension until it bursts. Under your thighs, you can feel your horse’s ribs expand and contract with its labored breath.

The world blurs for a moment. The adrenaline flooding your body dissipates more with every breath you take, but the crash is just as intense as the rise. You can feel the shakes that wrack your body in a way that your mind can’t quite yet take in, still outside of itself. The first thing you truly register is your husband suddenly at your side, coaxing you down from the horse, your handcuffed hands braced on his chest as he helps you down and then holding on to him when your knees nearly buckle under you.

“Thank Christ,” he growls, pulling you into his chest.

The smell of tobacco and cloves is woven into the fabric of his shirt and you breathe it in zealously because it’s his. The reassurance that your husband has you, that he’s with you now, and the bad is over, nearly bowls you over. Makes you shake all the harder.

When you finally pull your face away from John’s chest, he cups your cheek with a gunpowder dusted hand, tilting your head up so he can press his lips to your forehead. Your gaze flits up and you stare at him with bleary eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks at you. Messy hair and a fleeting breath that quivers out, breaks to pieces, illuminates the sky when you glance over his head and it’s so blue that you could swim in it.

John frowns when you accidentally roll your shoulder back and wince. “You’re hurt.”

There’s no use in lying when he'll find out the truth soon enough, so you just nod.

“His doing, was it?” he assumes more than asks, inspecting you closely now and noting all the fresh abrasions immediately visible to his eyes.

Most of your injuries are surface level, more than apparent to him after a quick perusal. A split lip and plenty of scrapes just beginning to scab. You’re too tired to recount the events of the day before though, so you just shrug. Then hiss, the pain so intense that your bones go cold for a split second.

His forehead pinches with his frown, ghosting his hand over your shoulder as if to hold it in place. “I’ll look at it later, okay, darlin’?”

Every inch of you aches. You wish it could just be over now and you could be back in your bed by sundown, but you know the way home will be just as long. No rest unless you want the journey to be twice as long. The exhaustion alone might have you keel over before night falls.

Then someone coughs and drags you back into the real world.

You follow the sound with your eyes until they land on its cause. The crumpled form of the bounty hunter that dragged you out of town lies a quarter mile back. It’s difficult to make out the state of him from so far away, but you can tell it isn’t pretty, mangled and bloody from the fall he took off the horse.

“Oh God…” you murmur, eyes widening when the man twitches against the grass.

John’s hand falls away from your cheek. His anger is so palpable that you can feel it fill him back up, blue eyes going steely and jaw tightening as he stares at the man that tried to take you from him.

“Stay here,” your husband growls, hand reaching down to draw his pistol again.

John leaves you by the horses some distance away as he makes his way over to Graves’ prone form. Blood seeps from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, saturating his shirt and wetting the dirt beneath him, and even from where you stand, you can see the odd angle of his ankle from where he hit the ground.

With no small amount of effort, Graves props himself up on his good arm, the other hanging limp against the ground. Even the sight makes you wince, bile churning in your stomach. He has to be in tremendous pain. Even John limps a little as he approaches the other man, hip likely sore from his own fall.

Against your better judgment, and your husband’s command, you take a step towards them. And then another.

You have no reason other than the sinking feeling in your belly. If it were you with the gun, things would be different, you think. You’d do it again, without a second thought. Anything to keep Graves from opening his mouth.

The gun in John’s hand makes clear his intentions in no uncertain terms. Out on the plains in the middle of nowhere, even taking pity on the man and bringing Graves to the nearest town might not be enough. It’s a rough world out there. Tougher still with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle.

More to the matter, John’s face says it all, jaw clenched and lips drawn into a tight line.

“It doesn’t have to go this way, sheriff,” Graves wheezes when the other man draws close enough to hear.

“You know I haven’t got a choice now,” John says, gazing up at the sky for a moment before looking back down at the man on the ground. “Not after you laid a hand on my wife.”

Despite the distance, Graves’ voice carries when he speaks. “You think you know that bitch? You don’t know this woman from Eve. What makes you think she won’t butcher you like she did that man back east?”

So casually he says it that you almost miss it. And then you don’t. The words pour over you like a sudden rain and you are back in that room, dread so potent that it chars the flesh, leaving cratered, necrotic holes wherever it touches. The worst moment of your life.

And Graves says it like a sin of your own making, like it was something you wanted, not a moment in your life haunting you from beyond the grave.

Your heart stops when your husband looks over at you assessingly. The truth lours over the two of you now, out in the open at last. All those months of hiding it, squandered in a moment by an injured man’s words. All you can do is stare helplessly at the man outlined by the blue sky, the horizon forever etching him into your memory. It’s the first time since you stumbled into the sheriff’s office all those months ago that you haven’t wanted him to think that you weren’t the woman that was supposed to be his wife.

“Shoulda listened to me, sheriff,” Graves laughs, his voice pained and raspy. “That Jezebel needs to answer for what she did.”

You can see it in his eyes that he believes Graves. And why wouldn’t he? The man has committed no crime; spoken not a lie to this point.

John looks at you in such a strange way though. There’s no surprise there; just a glint in his eye meant only for you. A glint that says darlin’, this ain’t nothin’ new; you never could’ve fooled me.

He knew your name after all. And you wonder how long he’s known. If he found out sometime in those first days or somewhere down the line or if the arrest warrant fell across his desk in recent days and he knew it would come to this, someone hunting you down across state lines to bring you back. If he knew he’d always have to come after you and rescue you from the jaws of death.

Everything comes all at once, each moment flashing across your mind barely long enough to leave an impression. Everything is proven immaterial in seconds.

There’s so much between the two of you. History, obligation, duty. Tenderness shouldn’t even be the half of it, and yet it bears down twice as hard. It’s the only thing that matters when you look at him—not the thought of being dragged back east and forced to stand trial, not the injustice of being made to atone for protecting yourself against a worse fate, but the thought of being taken away from him, of never seeing him again.

You can feel that worry evaporate the longer you hold his gaze. There’s something intentional there, something he is saying without words.

These days, you do not think to tremble when his hands are on your lips. You tilt your head instead, wait for him to make his next move. Your trust, implicit, underlying everything. Knowing he’ll break the bread and feed you from his hands if need be.

Though you can’t unhinge your jaw enough to ask him to promise that he’ll keep you, his eyes say that it’s a foregone conclusion. How could he ever let you go? You’re everything he’s ever wanted, the only thing even duty could never take from him.

John looks back down at the man lying at his feet. “Couldn’t help runnin’ your mouth, now could you?”

Graves opens his mouth, but John doesn’t wait for a response. He pulls the trigger.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #john price/reader #price/reader #john price x reader #john price x you #price x you

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machveil · 1 month ago

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CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

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shotmrmiller · 2 months ago

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kinktober: gunplay (ghoap x reader) cw: the tiniest of dub-con if you squint 1.8k of this foolishness and im pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere but in my defense, guns don't interest me

When you wake, you notice that Ghost isn’t in the tent. His bedroll neatly rolled up and put away in its usual spot and by the looks of things, he's been gone for quite some time. You sit up, the morning light filtering through the tent's fabric— the soft, diffused glow creating gentle shadows on the ground.

Outside, the air is crisp and sweet, dew still fresh on the grass, damp beneath your bare feet. Soap's lone mare is tied to the hitching post, tail flicking lazily as she eats off the hay net.

The campsite is quiet except for the chirping of birds and Soap's deep, growling snores coming from behind you. Ghost isn't here. Ghost isn't here. The thought bounces around in your skull, heart loud in your ears as the realization begins to sink in.

You could get away, slip away unnoticed from these two who've kept you as their reluctant companion since they wrangled you up in a rowdy saloon a couple of towns back with your hand deep in someone else's pocket. "Behave and we won't give ya up for the meager bounty yer worth." Or worse. The three of you knew no one would miss you, no family or friends to claim the body if you ended up face down on a riverbank.

It’s now or never. Freedom stands in front of you in a glossy, white coat and a braided mane, but being Soap’s horse, even approaching her will be a gamble. You'll just have to risk getting bucked off and trampled on.

When you go back inside to gather the few belongings you've got, you spot Soap's gun belt in all its worn leather glory lying in a tangled heap in the corner, revolvers still snug in their holsters. He must've gotten in late from town, the reward for the bounty he turned in last night traded in for hooch.

A mistake. His costly mistake. And a chance to ride his mare relatively unharmed. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around the handle, the ingrained symbol digging into your palm as you tighten your grip. You may not be a gunslinger with the fastest draw in the West, but you do know what end to point at someone.

But Soap's a bounty hunter and a damn good one. His reflexes are fast— faster than they should be with his dense, muscular build. You've seen him close gaps with an unnatural speed that’s left even the toughest men reeling. He's a relentless force of pursuit when he wants to be and keeping him at a distance is a losing game, especially when you've no prior experience using a gun. Your only option is to corner him, limit his options. Every man bends the knee to power, and right now, you've got it in your clammy hand.

You straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side of his lower ribs, and press the barrel onto the left side of his jaw. Incredible, not even a hitch in his breathing, as if you're not sitting on him with your full weight. Fisting the front of his union shirt, you tug, the sharp, sudden sting of his chest hair being pulled taut waking him out of his deep sleep.

His bleary eyes snap open, blinking away any traces of sleep within moments, the new day's light catching the edges of his irises, making them gleam with an almost otherworldly brightness as they sweep the tent for any real danger.

Your breathing turns ragged once they land on you, satisfied, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of teeth. Dread claws at your gut, your nerves rattled, but you meet his gaze head-on. There is no room for hesitation, for doubt, not when the man you've got pinned with his own weapon is more touched in the head than Ghost is.

"I ken I'm handsome but all ye ‘ad t'do was ask, hen. I'm achin' fer the hair o' the hound if ye got any, though." His tone gives away nothing, his body completely lax. Even the rise and fall of his chest is steady, slow. You know better than to believe he isn't waiting on you to make the next move to retaliate, so you don't move. Neither of you do.

"You'll take me to town and you'll leave me there. Compared to the other folk you rope up and dump at the Sheriff's feet, I'm worth nothing." You'll make yourself scarce, move to a different state, maybe. A new life, a decent one. Honest work.

His smile widens, the puckered scar on his chin stretching. "Didnae think to take my girl? She's righ' there, saddle 'n all." Soap must think you daft.

"I want to disappear without drawing a target on my head large enough for you to see from across state lines." He would've hunted you down for sport, at that point. Soap blinks once, thrice, and then you have a solid weight pushing on your back, sudden and unexpected, forcing your upper body forward, your shoulders hunching in reflex.

The very familiar scent of earth and mildly ripe sweat sends a shiver licking up your spine, locking every notch firmly into place. Why you hadn't heard him arrive at camp or open the flaps to the tent is now irrelevant. Ghost is here now and you've nowhere to run, definitely not with Soap grabbing onto the soft of your waist, tethers made of human flesh and bone.

The weathered leather of his glove feels unexpectedly soft as his fingers curl around your trembling hand. "If you're gonna threaten ‘im, ya gotta do it proper," he mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, rolling rumble, the kind he takes when calming his panicked horse.

"Easy now, settle down, loosen your arm a little." It does nothing to soothe you, Ghost looming larger than the gun in your grip, making it feel almost insignificant— a mere prop in the face of his overwhelming presence and the voice in your head screams at you to bare your neck, submit, and hope he goes for your jugular quickly, death seemingly a better choice than whatever game he’s making you play. "Open up, Johnny."

He does so readily, a transparent string of saliva stretching between his top and bottom teeth. Ghost's denim-clad thighs bracket yours as he settles comfortably behind you, his barrel chest engulfing the entirety of your back with space to spare.

Soap lies there with his tongue out like a dog on a hot, summer's day, mouth open wide enough for you to see the ridges and grooves of his molars. Ghost forcibly moves your hand, metal scraping against Soap's stubble with a coarse, gritty sound.

“Lie still Johnny, ya hear?” his pointer finger hovering over the trigger. The lump that’s risen to your throat makes breathing hard, each swallow a struggle. You never intended to fire a shot, just hoped the threat of life and death would be enough to make things go your way.

“W-wait,” you gurgle out but Ghost’s hand only tightens around yours.

“Can’t get cold feet now, sweet’eart, not when Soap’s southern blood is pumpin’ ‘cause a you.” His-? You take notice of it then, the rigid swelling between your legs, pushing up into your center. As if to drive the point home, Soap bucks his hips while pulling you down, making the inseam of your pants brush against your pearl.

“Oh-,” he does it again, and again, the leaden lump of dread that had once anchored itself in your belly begins to melt away, becoming an insistent ache that quickens your heartbeat and warms your veins, a mellow heat radiating from your core outward.

And then two things happen at once.

Soap takes the pistol’s barrel into his mouth, slightly pursing his lips as he creates a seal around it, and his cheeks gently hollow as he bobs his head forward and back, and Ghost slowly weaves his unoccupied hand south, under your jeans and underwear, the roughened tips of his fingers quickly finding what you’ve been forced to neglect for months.

Soap grunts, a gravelly resonant sound— rich and full— when you dig your nails into the meat of his chest as Ghost jerks erratic little circles on your puffy clit, sending shockwaves through your stomach, each wave headier than the last.

“Can’t let ‘im ‘ave all the fun, eh?” The pressure on your waist is enough to ache, your flesh already throbbing beneath Soap’s hands, and the closer you get to the precipice, the harder they squeeze.

Metal clacks against tooth every time your body tenses, muscles constrict, unable to keep your arm steady even with Ghost’s iron grip over your own. Soap’s a slobbering mess, spit dribbling down his chin, pistol glossy with it as he sucks on it as if it were a man’s cock instead.

(Maybe he wants it to be.)

A couple of hiccups claw up your throat as the sticky, wet sounds of Soap’s mouth get drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears as you teeter on the sharpened edge, Ghost’s pace on you turning frantic, almost violent, and—

“Keep those pretty eyes on Johnny, he’s been dreamin’ of lookin’ at ya in the face while you come.”

Ghost tossing the gun aside, metal skidding across the floor, and you’re coming apart with Soap’s tongue in your mouth, swallowing your every gasp and moan.

It tastes like the lubricant he uses to clean his gun. Metallic. Tangy. Slightly acrid.

You’re barely able to draw in a breath when Ghost is already tugging your pants off, waistband coming to settle snugly right below your arse, exposing only what he needs, a couple of fingers gliding along your folds, curling right at your entrance.

But he doesn’t do what you expect; for him to sink into cunt, fill it to the brim, distended until you’ve got tears clumping your eyelashes and blood on your tongue.

(It’s been a very long time since you’ve last laid with a man, and not one has ever been as big as he in stature.)

Instead, he takes Soap’s bare length in one giant paw, using your creamy slick for better friction, and ruts his own heavy cock against it until they’re both spurting the warm spend Ghost crams into your needy hole with two fingers.

“‘M not fuckin’ you, not after your stupid little stunt,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather, and you’re not sure if laughing will stop the hysterical sob about to slither past your trembling lips.

Soap stares up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, content, satiated unlike you, and pinches your cheek with his fingers. “Next time ye want tae threaten a person—,” his voice peters off, and you can feel Ghost wiping his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching for Soap’s pistol and pressing a button, the cylinder dropping open.

Empty. Every single chamber is hollow, like the empty sockets of a honeycomb. “Make sure it’s loaded, sweet’eart.”

Un. fucking. Believable.

#i tried so i get a golden star for my weak efforts #twas supposed to be but a drabble #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #cod smut #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish x reader

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finniestoncrane · 9 months ago

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Ain't So Bad

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k i want this man to do horrible things to me, i want him to tell me he'll make sure i'm ok when i know full well he's the most dangerous thing around, he's driving me INSANE anyway i'll have a softer thing for him soon!! 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon/noncon, restraints, use of 'no' but reader is quick to do as told, restraints, slight threat, gun mention, hair pulling

The sun had thankfully almost set, the long shadows cast by it a welcome relief, though it did mean that night was coming, along with the threats that were its constant companion. But you always assumed you were safe, travelling with your own companion. Especially when that companion was Cooper Howard. Charming, despite his foul attitude that put most people off. Handsome, at least to you, and much to the disappointment of the more ‘reserved’ folks you came across out in the wasteland. And you felt lucky, most of the time, to consider him yours. But you suspected that, while he kept the danger away, that there was a reason for that.

Even predators had something they were afraid of. There was always a greater evil.

And as the darkness fell, his silhouette lit only by the small fire in the corner of the roofless room, you began to realise that Cooper was a lot more dangerous than you had let yourself come to terms with.

“Cooper, wait… we’re not safe enough, I don’t…”

You trailed off, aware that your words were falling on deaf ears as Cooper dragged his dry lips across your cheek, grazing his teeth against the skin as you felt him pushing you backwards, your spine straightening against the crumbling wall behind you.

“It ain’t so bad out here… certainly won’t be when you see what I’ve got in store for you.”

“Please, Cooper… no, Coop, I can’t-”

Interrupted by your own sharp inhale, you held the breath as you watched Cooper’s eyes settled on yours, your hands above you head against the wall, his hands tight around your wrists, preventing you from holding him back any further.

“I’m here to keep you safe, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”

His words meant very little against what you knew was lurking out there, and your nerves pushed your protests out of your clamping throat.

“But Cooper, you know I get scared… I don’t want to do this, not here.”

“Well too bad, missy…”

He lifted your hands and slammed them back down again, watching as you winced at the dull pain.

“… it ain’t like there’s a nice place I can take a girl like you for something like this…”

Cooper’s grip loosened, one of his hands leaving yours as he fumbled with the belt on his pants. You could have easily pulled away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t be sure why, and you chose not to linger on that thought, luckily distracted from it as Cooper’s unbuckled belt clanged, his eyes back towards you.

“…Now, are you going to be a good girl and take it?”

The free hand now drifted to his hip, pushing back his long coat, his palm lazily resting on the holstered gun by his side before he continued speaking. Slowly, clearly, in a low, guttural tone.

“Or am I gonna have to be a bad man and take. It.”

His stare penetrated you, like he could see through your skull to the wall you were trapped against. Your chest seemed to stay completely still despite the deep breaths you took. When you tried to speak, your tongue stayed flat, your lips trembling, nothing but a squeak of air managing to pass between you.

“I asked you a question.”

All you offered was a stuttered mumble and a sheepish nod of your head, a smile offered to you by Cooper as he kicked your legs apart with his muddy boot. Two gloved fingers teased at the front of your pants, pulling them away from skin before sinking below the waistband and brushing against your thickened lips. Excitement, adrenaline, fear. All of it passed over you in a heartbeat, your heart fluttering as he removed his hands from you. Bringing the fingers to his lips, he bit down on the leather with his yellowed teeth, tearing off the glove and tossing it to the ground. His fingers were back down quickly, spreading apart your folds. His uncovered fingers delved inside of you, only briefly, before he withdrew that small modicum of pleasure from the otherwise intense and nerve-wracking situation.

As he separated himself from you, your back arched involuntarily away from the wall, your body betraying your protests as you ached for more of his touch.

“My, my… you sure were fussing a lot for someone who is clearly enjoying themselves…”

Bringing his two fingers up, he spread them apart, watching carefully as your slick stretched in long strands between them.

“Bend over.”

“Cooper, wait, please, I-”

Gripping your waist, Cooper knocked you off balance and let you fall to the floor, a cloud of dust rising up around you.

“I done enough waitin’, darlin’.”

As you struggled to get onto all fours, you felt yourself knocked once more, cheek slamming to the ground as your arms were pulled up behind your back. You could feel the rope tightening around your skin, your wrists bound together and stuck against your spine.

“Now listen, you just lie there…”

He leaned down, whispering into your ear, his hot breath tingling you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“… and try to keep quiet.”

Behind you, Cooper fell to his knees, pulling down his own pants before turning his attention to yours, uncovering just enough of you that he knew he could slip himself between your thighs and into your wet, warm cunt without leaving either of you too vulnerable to any surprise guests.

Once his other glove was off, you could feel his palm sliding up your back, cracked nails scratching at the nape of your neck before his fingers gripped your hair. Your back contorted as he lifted your face from the ground, positioning you perfectly for his curved cock, lubed with his own drool which he let drip down from his lips in a long, lewd strand, to slide inside of you with little mercy. He pounded into you once, setting the tone for the rest of the encounter you had to endure.

But he hadn’t lied.

“Just a little longer, darlin’, we’ll have you back on two legs… just hng gimme… ah… fuck, that’s it…”

His brutal pace, the way he was so desperately trying to get to the conclusion, the relief, the pain of the stretch, the heat in your own chest that made you moan in response to the way his cock pulsed within your walls.

But he was true to his word.

Because while one hand was tugging at the hair, fingernails scratching your scalp, his hips bucking into your body, knocking you forward and into the ground, his other hand clutched the shotgun, finger teasing the trigger, tempted to send shots into the air at his climax, but ready to defend you both against anyone, or anything, that threatened to interrupt him.

“See, darlin’… not so bad after all.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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xoluvx · 2 months ago

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cowgirl; b.eilish

[▸] cowgirl by nicki minaj smut

"save a horse. ride a cowgirl, right?" you whispered in her ear, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. the cup in your hand was empty, but your craving for her was filled to the brim. you needed her. you needed her bad.

when she sauntered into the party with that costume, you hadn't expected to have such a visceral reaction. your eyes locked on the cute strawberry blonde cowgirl. tracking her like a predator did its prey. you just knew you had to have her.

with a few drinks in your system, you found your bodies orbiting around each other until you were innocently conversing. teasingly complimenting her costume. boldly wrapping an arm around her shoulder whispering such daring things that had her blushing.

she'd let the words sink in as she bit her lip curling her arm around your waist. her fingers bunched the fabric of your costume causing the dress to ride up. you felt a breeze brush along the back of your thighs and shivered leaning closer to her.

she'd taken off her cowgirl hat, placing it on your head to which you'd scrunched your nose and giggled. the act so minuscule yet so meaningful. she was flirting back.

it'd felt like an eternity. sexual tension building over an insane amount of torturous hours. it all amounted to your bodies stumbling into her room. her cowgirl hat still on your head. her hands gripping your hips. your arms wrapped around her neck. kissing hungrily and desperately. when her thigh brushed between your legs, you moaned clinging to the collar of her shirt.

"is that your gun or are you just happy to see me?" you teased in a hushed voice, but breathing heavily from the heated make out session you'd just endured. billie smiled and cupped your face bringing you in for another kiss as your hand traveled down to her holster. your fingers wrapped around the pistol's handle pulling it out as you backed away from the kiss with a devious smile.

you ran the muzzle along her cheek. the cold metal sent shivers down her spine. she absentmindedly opened her mouth. the pistol so phallic as her plump lips parted. you were amazed. so enamored you wanted to devour her. you wanted to ride 'til you couldn't feel your legs. 'til the only name you remembered was hers.

right now you were enjoying stripping away every little piece of the costume she'd so meticulously picked out.

you let go of the fake pistol and it fell on the floor with a loud thud as you reached for the collar of her shirt pulling her in for another kiss. it was sloppy, desperate, and hot as your tongues tussled. her fingers gripped your ass pulling you closer until your chests were rising and falling in sync.

you worked the buttons of her blouse. whimpering when you struggled to undo them. sensing your frustration, she replaced your fingers with hers pulling harshly on the fabric until you heard the thread rip; buttons popping off the shirt. you gasped with amazement and your mouth hung open as you made eye contact. a devilish look plastered on her face.

though she'd been of assistance, she was still letting you take control. you eagerly hooked your thumbs in her holster. it hung low on her hips. you had to have been a complete fool to not think that was the hottest thing ever. her slim waist and big tits in a pretty lacy bra. her leg between your thighs. your hips swaying as you pulled her closer by her belt loops. it was all so fucking hot.

your fingers fumbled with the buckle of her holster and she came to your rescue once again. fingers working it quickly letting it fall on the floor near the fake pistol. your fingers busied themselves with her belt. so many fucking layers for such an impatient person like yourself. you'd wanted to take your time, but as you were nearing her naked frame you were eager for more.

when the belt came undone, your fingers shakily unbuttoned her pants. lips connecting with hers just for the sake of touching. she cupped your face as your lips hung open and her tongue roamed every corner of your mouth. you tugged on her pants, coming down with them until you were on your knees.

you looked up at her doe-eyed, fingers hooking in her thong pulling them down her legs. your mouth hung open. practically drooling. she peeled off her shirt letting it fall with the rest of her costume before reaching around her back to unhook her bra. when her breasts broke free a small gasp escaped your lips and you tugged at her thong almost tripping her.

she ordered you to get up as she completely broke free of her costume before disappearing for a few seconds. when she returned, the strap hung from her body and her natural hair cascaded down her shoulders. you fisted the fabric of your dress feeling very much overdressed and underfucked.

"strip," billie instructed motioning to your clothes. you tugged at the zipper on the side of your body letting the dress fall and pool at your feet. the only thing that clung to your body was your underwear, but those too were instructed to be removed by billie who was now sitting at the edge of the bed. you reached for the cowgirl hat you were still wearing, but she held her hand up.

"keep it on," she commanded in a raspy voice.

"and show me how you ride," she teased motioning towards her lap as your eyelids fluttered, completely stunned. she was in total control, yet made you feel like you were the one calling the shots. you approached her slowly. knees sinking into the mattress at either side of her body.

she held the fake dick as you slid onto it. face contorting with pleasure as she stretched you so deliciously. your lips parted as you looked into her eyes. pussy swallowing her whole as you planted your ass on her lap. cock erect against your cervix. you sat for a few seconds adjusting.

when you started swaying your body, billie snarled and leaned back placing a hand behind her head to admire the view. she watched the way you moved so seductively. selfishly swaying for your pleasure. she placed one hand on your hip. it lived there and burned from the touch of your scorching skin as you moved back and forth in an enchanting dance.

you leaned forward placing your hands under her breasts as you lifted your ass each time you swayed. the new movement hit a place so yummy you were biting your lip so hard you were on the verge of drawing blood. you were practically bouncing on her cock and she grunted each time your ass landed on her lap until you were a whimpering mess. you hung your head low as your nails dug into her skin.

her hands cupped your ass. they moved with the beat of your bounces until you were sitting up again. lips parted beautifully as the softest yet sexiest sounds escaped your body. you rutted your hips against hers, her cock rubbing so gloriously on your cervix.

you were so fucking close you could hardly keep your eyes open. when you tossed your head back in pleasure the cowgirl hat nearly slid off. you placed a hand on top of your head holding the hat in place before looking down at her.

her eyes were wild. she was biting her lip. she looked flushed. cheeks pink as her hair tangled under the weight of your heaving bodies. you clung to the cowgirl hat swaying faster. bouncing harder. moaning louder. maintaining eye contact with billie who had since captured a picture of the scene in her mind to store for later.

just pretty girl riding her into oblivion.

diaween 2024 🧡

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish smut #diaween 2024

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symbiomancy · 2 months ago

Text

be aware wolf —werewolf

—summary: you venture into the woods to hunt for werewolves | 1.5k | AO3 | monster masterlist

—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, p in v sex, knotting, creampie, stomach bulge, mounting, outdoor sex, implied voyeurism

It’s a simple cycle. Enter the woods. Keep the local werewolf population under control. Retrieve any animal carcasses you come across in the woods. Make pelts out of said carcasses. Keep them or sell them. Receive payment from the town for your hard work. Pack your things and find the next town with a werewolf problem.

There are quite a few steps, but it’s a simple, straightforward cycle.

You sling your shotgun onto your back and place a hand onto the handgun at your hip. Your other hand rests on the belt of silver bullets around your hips. The ground is dry and this place hasn’t seen rain in weeks. There are no tracks to go off so you settle for scouting tufts of fur.

Something catches in the corner of your eye as you step around a grand oak.

You whip your head to the side and meet the pair of yellow eyes from the distance. It’s late August, and the blessing of the summer solstice only lasts so long. The sun is long gone and the full moon has crested. Darkness creeps around you, the tall trees shielding you from the moon’s glow. A cool breeze caresses your bare arms. You can just about make out the creature’s outline in the shadows. It’s large, maybe about 6 feet tall.

Slowly, you slip the shotgun from your shoulder and raise the barrel in the wolf’s direction. You whistle.

“Here boy,” you call. The pair of eyes blink at you languidly. “C’mere. I got treats for ya.” Indeed, you do; an opened pack of beef jerky in your back pocket. “C’mon, I have a whole pack of you to hunt tonight and I like to be efficient with my time.”

The werewolf rises onto its hind legs. Oh, great, you think, there’s different species in the same genus for these fucks. Perhaps 8 feet tall is more accurate.

You adjust your hold and cock the shotgun.

The werewolf is gone in a blink.

Your pulse picks up and you whirl on your heel, shotgun still raised. These things are fast, always are but they’re also big. How hard is it to shoot one?

The sound of a branch breaking has you whirling around, finger on the trigger to take the shot —

A claw strikes out at you and catches on your belt, ripping it like it’s paper. Your belt and the bullets in their holster disappear from your waist, your pants ripped and a superficial gash in your hip. You lose your footing on a protruding root and fall onto your back, barely keeping your head from slamming against a thick root.

The werewolf drops onto all fours legs, standing over you, its front paws planted on either side of your head. Its warm breath fans against your face, your arms. Its teeth are bared. Saliva dribbles from its maw.

You spare a glance away from its face to assess your situation — maybe there’s a way to roll out from underneath it and scramble towards your shotgun, wherever it landed. Instead, you find yourself staring at its bulbous member, fully erect. It’s long and thick, precum glistening on its tip. You look away, heat flooding to your cheeks and cunt. In your defense, it looked at you first.

You slowly draw your foot back and strike out, hit the beast’s hind leg. It howls in pain and you scramble out from underneath it, roll onto your stomach and stumble upright. Your shotgun is just a few steps to the right.

A heavy weight slams into you from behind and sends you onto the ground. Your jaw collides with the ground and your teeth snap together. You groan, rest your weight on one elbow and place your free hand against your jaw, pressing against the sore muscles. Hot breath fans the back of your exposed neck and something heavy and slick presses against the flesh of your hip. U kick again and scramble forward, your gun just about in reach. Claws swipe at ur body, snag on your shirt and tatter ur barely intact pants.

The cool night air hits your throbbing cunt. You try to ignore it, want to ignore it so bad, to finish the job and go take care of yourself — the werewolf shoves its fanged snout against the back of your neck. You still, heart leaping in your chest. Its heavy member rests on the swell of your ass, hips rocking back and forth, shallow thrusts as if it’s looking for a warm hole. Your pussy clenches at the thought.

It finds that warm hole, pressing its cock against your entrance, just barely breaching it, and you groan. It’s not going to fit but damned if the beast won’t try to make it fit. Maybe it will fit. The wolf grabs your waist — fuck, it’s hand is big enough to nearly wrap around your entire torso — and jerks its hips forward. You gasp as it pushes in all at once, filling you so completely, so deliciously that you nearly see stars. It’s so big and thick, you swear you can feel every vein and ridge of it.

The wolf snarls, beads of saliva dripping onto the back of your neck and thrusts forward shallowly. You struggle onto your knees. It pulls out shallowly and thrusts back in until the bulb at the bottom of its shaft nudges against your pussy.

Heat pools in your stomach as the werewolf drags its cock in and out of your hot cunt. The ridges and veins of his cock feel like bliss, have you gasping for air. Its furry hips connect with yours, the sound of your bodies colliding muffled by his coat. But you’re so wet, every thrust into your sopping cunt is nothing but a wet squelch. It thrusts in without resistance, going in all the way and pulling out with ease. It pushes so deep into you, drags against your walls like nobody ever has. Your thighs are wet, almost shaking at the strain of holding yourself up on all fours.

Your hand slips out from underneath you and your shoulder collides with the ground. The werewolf presses forward — it mounts you, places a clawed hand next to your head for balance and drives in with newfound vigor. The tip of its cock hit so deep in you that you nearly see stars, try to blabber something, something incoherent between ‘no’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please please please please’. The wolf pistons in and out of our shopping cunt. Its tongue lolls out of its mouth, slobbers onto the back of your neck. The bulb at his crotch nudges against our opening with every thrust and dives slightly in each time. It’s wide and big and you gasp a pitiful sound when it slips into you with a painful stretch. It’s too much and too little at the same time. You try to clench around it.

The werewolf pauses and you want to cry out, beg it to keep going, to bully its way into your pussy until you can take its knot. You’re so full, so full, this thing is everywhere, in your pussy, in your guts, in the back of your throat. All you can manage is a pitiful croak before the beast is back on you again, resting its weight on your back. It picks up the pace, ruthlessly pistoning into you, bullying your throbbing, leaking pussy, rutting his bulb against it, almost stuffing it inside. It places one large clawed hand onto your thigh and pulls it to the side like that will give it more room. Perhaps it does but the stretch of your cunt and your thighs is too overwhelming to not focus on.

You press back against him as much as u can from your contorted position, meet his hips with urs in a frantic attempt to get your release. Your chest heaves as you attempt to match his pace, pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You’re babbling now, you absolutely are, begging for it to push you over the edge and stuff you full. It speeds up as if it understands you, pressing its weight on top you. Your cheek scrapes against the ground and in the corner of your eye, you can make out the bulge in your stomach as the werewolf thrusts in. It’s too much, too good, too deep, rubbing against that spot, knocking the breath from your lungs with every thrust.

You come with a wail, pussy throbbing and clenching around its cock, sucking it back in to keep it there. The wolf howls, head thrown back and buries its knot inside you. Its cock spasms and spills into you. Rope after rope of hot cum coasts your insides until you’re full, and then some. You feel it slide down your thighs, dribble from your pussy. You try to adjust yourself to get a look and clench involuntarily around the beast when you spot the shape of his cock protruding from your stomach.

The cool night air feels pleasant against your heated skin.

You look away from the unholy sight buried in your guts and let your eyes unfocus to bask in your post-orgasmic bliss.

One, two, three, four —

There are at least four pairs of yellow eyes observing you from the darkness.

note: I'm open to hearing about dead batteries!! be as graphic or non-graphic as you'd like:)

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#monster x reader #monster x human #teratophillia #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #werewolf x you #werewolf smut #monster fucker #monster x you #monster boyfriend #monster imagine

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