#its so good its so good its so good damn it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sitepathos · 2 days ago

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 12: The Fight (Warning: this chapter will feature blood and violence. Proceed at your own risk)

“Look at all this,” you whisper as you take in the sights of the Strip, all the various casinos and hotels lighting up the night sky. “I returned to Nevada four years ago and I’ve never been here before. What the hell was I thinking?”

(You were trying to set up your new life, which was the responsible thing to do back then. But, we agree, coming here sooner would not have been unwelcome. This city seems to be a source of endless entertainment.)

You had finished the DLC for Salvage Rights earlier today and to celebrate both its release and its positive reception, you decided to treat yourself by going to Sin City and indulging in its various casinos and restaurants; you have the knowledge and experience of countless gamblers from Gotham, so you should be able to play blackjack and poker with the best of them.

You thought you were prepared to handle and glitz and glamor Vegas has to offer, but seeing it with your own eyes has left you speechless. The lights have you mesmerized and you’re loving it! Everywhere you look, there’s something beckoning you, like a moth to a flame and right now, you don’t care if you get burned.

“Hey, look over there,” you say, stopping to look at something above you in the distance.

The sight is a towering building proudly bearing the name “Caesar’s Palace” in lights. During your brief research for your trip to the Strip, you read Caesar’s Palace is one of the most popular casinos in the city and is also a popular destination for dining.

(You did say you wanted the “full Vegas experience.” Going to one of the largest establishments in the city would be a step in the right direction.)

When you first thought of this little excursion, you wanted to have fun, but didn’t want to get trapped in the larger ones and lose all the money you brought in with you, instead opting to stay in the smaller casinos. “Keep it simple, keep it safe,” you said a few hours ago.

Now, the lights of the massive casino before you has ensnared you and is luring you towards it like an angler fish does with its prey.

“Ave, true to Caesar,” you say as you begin the trek towards the towering monolith.

If the outside was mesmerizing, then the inside is absolutely enthralling! As expected of a place named after a Greek emperor, the interior looks like a palace plucked from the Greek Empire, complete with marble and gold, making you feel like royalty.

(We take it we are going to play here?)

“Damn right,” you say as you enter the casino part of the resort, taking in the seemingly endless rows to slot machines, card tables, and other various gambling set ups.

As you look at each slot machine and table, you’re flooded with information from the Megamycete’s archives on what you want to see when playing slot machines and when is the best time to stand when playing blackjack. While Gotham doesn’t have shit on Vegas, it did have a passable gambling scene, which attracted many expert gamblers to that City of the Damned.

With your newfound knowledge in hand, you exchange the thousand bucks you brought with you for chips and make your way to a roulette table with only one other person.

“Good evening, sir,” the dealer greets you as you situate yourself of the other side of the table, away from the other player. “Will you be joining us?”

“Deal me in,” you respond, pushing a few chips on the table to test the waters. You may know the basics from playing Fallout New Vegas, but this is real life with real money being risked and this time you don’t have a maxed out Luck stat to cheat the system with.

A few hands in and you can say for sure you love gambling. Sure, you’ve lost a few rounds, ruining a couple hot streaks, but right now, you have more money than you came in with.

“Fifteen, odd, black,” the dealer says when the ball finally stops spinning before giving you the pot, much to your delight.

“Goddamn it,” the other man exclaims, shoving himself away from the table and storming off, hopefully towards the exit as tonight has not been his night.

“I apologize for that display,” the deal says as he readies the spinner for the next round. “Will you be playing another round?”

“Definitely,” you respond, sliding three-hundred dollars worth of chips onto red.

“Have room for one more,” a masculine voice rings out next to you.

You tense up when the voice registers in your head and you look to your right to see Bruce fucking Wayne, looking down at you with that fake ass smile he gives the idiots of Gotham. Your anger only intensifies when he places a thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot.

What the hell is he doing here?

(How dare he,) the Megamycete practically growls. (This is a night meant for you to enjoy yourself and he intrudes upon it, and in your city no less.)

“Welcome, Mr. Wayne,” the dealer says as he spins the spinner after the bastard places his bet.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says to you, his focus on you and not the spinner. “I have to say, I don’t peg you as the gambling type.”

You say nothing, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction, and focus on the game.

“It’s a very dangerous habit if you’re not careful,” he chides you as the baller begins to slow down. “And coming to a place like Vegas? It’s not safe for someone like you. You should be back home, where you belong.”

You know the “home” he’s referring to isn’t your house in Goodsprings, but Wayne Manor in Gotham and it’s taking all your willpower not to pimp smack the shit out of him right now. This was meant to be a night for you to have fun in Vegas and you’re not gonna let him ruin that like he did the night you won your award.

“Gotham has plenty of high-end casinos where you can play all the games you want. I could take you to each of them and make sure you get the VIP treatment.”

“Vegas is far safer than Gotham,” you retort. “Here, the biggest threat you face is losing your money when you don’t know when to quit. In Gotham, you have nut jobs running around killing people on a nightly basis and the biggest nut job of them all beating the crap out of them.” You give him a mocking look, knowing something that would get under his skin. “No one in their right mind would live in that cesspit of a city. If you ask me, that place should be nuked to hell.”

While he manages to hide it well, you can see just the faintest of winces and you let your smirk show. For whatever reason, he thinks Gotham is the best place on the planet and is worth protecting. You learned about Gotham’s seedy history from its early days as a colony established in 1635 and you can say for certain that area is cursed. If you had your way, a giant wall would be built around Gotham and everyone inside would be left to kill each other and rot in that cursed city, especially the Waynes.

“Gotham has its flaws, sure,” he responds. “But I’m able to look past its dark side and see a bright future for both the city and everyone that calls it home. As you know, Wayne Enterprises has been the vanguard of breathing new life into the city.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I heard WE’s stock has practically become worthless in the last few days. Rumor has it all major stockholders are demanding for you to step down as CEO.”

“I’ve been in tight spots before and I’ve always come out on top. This will be no different. I’m sure things will turn back around in no time.”

“Six, even, black,” the dealer announces, bringing you back to the game. “Congratulations, Mister Wayne.”

You roll your eyes as the pot goes to the son of a bitch. You mentally shake your head and place your chips on the table for the next round.

“Maybe you should step down,” you say as the dealer begins the round. “I was stuck in that manor of yours for over a decade and I know it’s a mess. You should really get your house in order before you go around ‘fixing’ Gotham.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my family,” he growls. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

“No one’s buying that story anymore, Mister Wayne. I take it you haven’t read Lois Lane’s latest article?”

“Of course I have,” he says, glaring at you and it makes you want to laugh knowing how you’re testing his limits. “How could you say those things about your family?”

“You’re not my family,” you snap. “You all made it quite clear I wasn’t a part of it over and over. The only family I’ve ever had was Momma and she was taken from me.”

The anger in his eyes fade and he was silent for a moment. “I know we made mistakes during your time with us and we’re sorry about that.”

“It’s too little, too late, Mister Wayne.”

“Twenty-four, even, black,” the dealer states, clearly more interested in your conversation than the game.

You can’t help but smile as the chips make their way back to you and you place a bet of five-hundred for the next round. Of course, Bruce doesn’t go way and instead places another bet.

“Please, Y/N, come home,” he pleads as the spinner is spun. “We all miss you. Especially Alfred.”

“He’s welcome to visit me whenever he wants. The rest of you can go to hell.”

“Like it or not, they’re your siblings, Y/N,” he growls, getting closer to you. “And I’m your father. You will show them, and me, the respect that entails.”

“Respect is earned, not given,” you retort, getting close and looking up at him. He may terrify Gotham’s criminally insane, but you know you’re better than him in every way, so you’re not scared. “And don’t get it mixed up, you’re a sperm donor, not my father. God knows you never acted like it.” You lean close so that your face is mere inches away from his. “If you want, we can take this outside, Mister Wayne. Just remember what happened last time things got physical between us.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” the dealer says. “Let’s keep this friendly. We’re all here to have fun, right?”

(Listen to him, Y/N. Do not let him ruin your first trip to Vegas. There will be plenty of time to put him in his place after we have had our fun.)

You continue to stare at him and direct all your anger and hatred towards him until he finally concedes and backs off and you do the same, just in time for the ball to finally stop.

“Nineteen, odd, red,” the dealer says as he slides the chips to you.

“I just want to make things right,” he says as he places his bet. “I know I treated you wrong and I want to fix that. So we can be father and son.”

You roll your eyes at the pathetic words and even more pathetic look as you place your bet and the deal begins the round. “You’re not sorry, Mister Wayne, you just feel guilty. Whatever conscious you have in your twisted little soul is making you feel bad and you can’t stand it, so that’s why you’re humiliating yourself trying to earn something I can never and will never give you: my forgiveness.”

He winces enough for both you and the dealer to see, but you find yourself taking no joy in fracturing his mask. This was supposed to be a night of fun and games, but he had to come all the way from Gotham and ruin it. It’s actually made you despise him even more, a task you thought impossible until now.

“Twelve, even, red,” the dealer states as he slides the chips towards Bruce.

It’s then you notice that you and him have almost the same amount of chips and the sight of it ignites an inferno of competition, which fuels your desire to assert your superiority over this pathetic creature before you.

(We are with you,) the Megamycete states firmly. (Show this interloper his place!)

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says as you place all your chips on red, your mother’s favorite color, glaring at him as you do. It’s then he does the same thing, but places his chips on black, the color of the Bat.

How predictable.

With both your bets placed, the dealer spins the roulette, signaling the final round between you two. When that little ball stops spinning, one of you will take all and the other will lose all.

“Please, there must be something I can give you to show you I’m sincere. And you of all people should price is no object for me. Just name it and it’s yours.”

(How pathetic! He thinks all those years of abuse and neglect can be erased by buying you some insignificant trinket? Does he think you some whore that can be bought? Show him how wrong he is, Y/N!)

“You want to know what I want, Mister Wayne,” you ask, malice dripping with your every word, as the ball begins to slow down and clatter around. “I want you to know that I hate you more than anything else on this world; I want it to rattle around in your head for the rest of your life, from when you’re around your collection of misfits to when you lay your head down at night, that there’s no word or phrase in any language that has ever existed or ever will exist on this planet that can fully express how much animosity and hatred I have for you.”

It’s then that you get in his personal space has he had done with you earlier and use the mold so you can stretch your body ever so slightly so your face is almost touching him and stare into those eyes you’ve come to despise so much and they stare back at you, full of hurt and shock.

In the background, you can hear the ball beginning to slow down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the game. Right now, all that matters is conveying just how much you hate Bruce Wayne.

“I want you to grow old and die knowing that, in the end, I was the one that rejected you.”

His response? Nothing but the widening of his eyes and stepping back, as if you had struck him.

“Seven, odd, red,” the dealer says, obviously shocked at what you just said.

You say nothing as you gather your chips and walk away, leaving Bruce Wayne behind to reflect on your words.

As you walk, you notice your heart is beating enough to burst out for your chest and your face is molten hot, even without touching it. In the moment, you had no idea how your words affected you as much as they apparently did that bastard.

(Perhaps we should return home,) the Megamycete suggests. (The night has been ruined and you need to rest after that interaction. We can always return another night for entertainment.)

As much as you hate to admit it, it’s right; after that display, you’re not in the mood to see what else you can get up to in your first night in Vegas. Being around him has brought back much of the anger you thought you had finally buried after moving back to Goodsprings and getting your life together and it’s killed any desire for gambling, dining, and everything in between.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice sounding weak even to you. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly cash in your chips and pocket the check the cashier gives you before making your way towards the exit. From there, you walk around until you find an alleyway tucked into an isolated and desolate part of the city to sprout mold armor and wings before taking off into the night sky.

“You know, the city looks even more breathtaking from up here,” you remark as you enter the vast expanse of the Mojave.

(Indeed. Maybe when we return, we will earn enough money from playing games that we can stay in the highest level of the tallest hotel of the city and see it again.)

“Yeah,” you respond with a throaty chuckle. “That’d be nice.”

You look down at the desert beneath you when you feel something hit your wings, slicing through and severing them, leaving you to fall to the ground. You shout as you harden your armor just in time as you impact with the sand, creating a deep crater.

(Are you alright,) it asks as you climb your way out.

“Yeah,” you respond with a groan. “What the hell happened?”

You get your answer once you make your way to the top and see Bruce, donned in his Batman gear, looking down at you.

“Are you alright,” he asks, as if he wasn’t the cause of the incident.

You dismiss your mold helm and look at him square in his eye slits, taking a deep breath and exhaling before saying, ever so calmly, “I’m going to kill you now.”

And with your intentions declared, you summon a new pair of wings and launch yourself towards the bastard and before he can react, you grab him by the face with one hand and propel the both of you backwards, using to wings to fly as you forcibly shove his head into the sand and push him forward, creating a trail in your wake.

His hands fly to yours and attempt to free himself from your grasp, but you don’t give him the chance and throw him towards a nearby rock formation as hard as you can.

He can only flail around like a rag doll as he flies through the air and lands on the rock formation with a satisfying crash, sending debris and sand flying in all directions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep him down as he’s quickly back on his feet. He reaches into his utility belt and throws a batarang at you and you respond by creating a similar object out of mold and send it flying towards it, the two of them hitting each other and falling to the ground.

Of course, he’s quick to act and before you can see it, he’s thrown something at you and you’re trapped in some kind of cable.

“What the hell,” you exclaim as you try to break free of the wire, but find yourself unable to.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says as he closes the gap between the two of you. “But you’re coming home and I’m gonna find a way to get rid of this thing inside you.”

You’re already pissed, but the way he says something so batshit crazy with a tone similar to one that you’d use to calm a startled animal enrages you even more.

How he can still be so determined to drag you back to Gotham when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate him and his family after everything they’ve done to you is nothing short of astounding.

(He seeks to separate us,) the Megamycete practically hisses. (Do not let him! Kill him, Y/N! Kill him!)

Your rage towards the man before you explodes like a blast furnace and you reduce your body to a murder of crows and fly towards Bruce at top speed.

He raises his arms to protect his face and you use your mold hardened beaks and talons to slice into his suit, leaving at least two dozen bloody cuts all over his body.

(Good! Hurt him even more! Bleed him dry!)

Your murder of crows fly around him, forcing him into a defensive posture, and you gather them all so you can reform into your armored form right behind him. He realizes what’s happened, but he can only turn around to face you when you grab his wrist as hard as you can, and wave him around in the air and slam him into the rock below you over and over, taking pleasure in the sounds of rock breaking with every hit.

It’s then you slam him into the rock and summon a mold sword. When he looks up at you and realizes what’s about to happen, he raises his hand just in time for your sword to go through his hand and the tip of your sword pierce the hardened Bat symbol on his chest; you know the symbol is the strongest part of his suit so it can protect whatever he has beating in his chest, but you’re determined, so it begins to crack and crumble as you drive the sword deeper in.

He tries to say something, but the damage you’ve done to him takes its toll as he can only gurgle something as blood begins to seep from the corner of his mouth.

You dismiss your helm as you lean down towards him, a vicious, bloodthirsty grin etched across your face, and the sword goes down just a little more.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we,” you mock, grabbing his cowl, ignoring the shock the suit gives you in response. “I want to see the life fade from your eyes!”

And with that declaration, you rip the cowl off him, exposing his face, marred with bloody cuts and bruises, before you.

When you look into his eyes, you can see past the look of struggle is fear and terror.

(He knows this is the end! Finish him! Put an end to the Bat!)

“Goodbye, Mister Wayne!”

Just then, you see something fly past you and it’s then you realize the arm holding your sword has been sliced through. Bruce takes advantage of the situation and kicks you a few feet away from him and he backflips so he can put even more distance between the two of you.

You quickly collect yourself to see the source of the disruption: Dick and Cass, donned in their vigilante gear.

“You ok, B,” Dick asks as Bruce joins them.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out. “What are you doing here?”

“Alfred told us you were coming here and we knew something like this was going to happen. We all wanted to come, but we knew we couldn’t all leave Gotham, so we drew straws.”

The way he sounds so joyful pisses you off even more. How dare he! You were so close to putting an end to him and Dick had to come and ruin it!

(You should rip his limbs off! Strip him of his wings and cast him into the dam!)

Cass looks at you and you instantly know she’s analyzing you, determining possible strengths and weaknesses. When she sees that you’re missing a limb, her eyes widen.

“Oh,” Dick exclaims when he follows her gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby bird! I didn’t mean to do that! I just wanted to get you off of Bruce!”

You look down to find the severed appendage lying near your foot and go to pick it pick it up. While Dick is spouting endless apologies and pleas for you to stay calm, you merely place the limb where it once was and it begins to stitch itself back together. Once your arm is reattached, you fix your gaze back to them to find that they’re starring at you in shock at what just happened.

“Oh,” Dick manages to spit out after a few seconds of silence.

“This is between me and him,” you say as you take a few steps towards them. “Fuck off.”

“You need to stop this, baby bird,” Dick retorts. “We’re family, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“You’re kidding, right,” you say with a mocking chuckle. “You people are constantly fighting with one another! If you’re not giving each other black eyes, you’re either breaking bones or slitting throats! You’re all a bunch of emotionally constipated psychopaths who belong in padded cells with the rest of Arkham’s lunatics! And I want nothing to do with any of you! So, for the last time, leave me the fuck alone!”

The only answer you get is the three of them getting into combat postures, indicating they’re ready to go on the attack.

“I give you the chance to walk away, and this is the thanks I get,” you sigh.

From the bottom of your feet, you command two mold tendrils to burrow into the sand below and snake their way over to them and once in place, you order them to burst out from beneath them; such a tactic would spell the end for normal people, but the Waynes are anything but normal, so they somehow knew you were up to something and scatter just as the tendrils emerge.

Still, you put them on the defense by ordering the tendrils to lash out at them, separating them from one another and forcing them to put all their focus on the tendrils while Bruce and Dick are dodging the lashing tendrils, you make your way to the nearest vigilante: Cass.

Just as you near her, she turns around and counters the slash of your mold sword with a blade of her own. You quickly realize that the few dozen people that possess any type of sword fighting prowess pale in comparison to Cass’ and decide to swap to hand-to-hand combat by punching her in gut when your blades were clashed together, sending her flying several feet.

She quickly recovers by the time you close the gap and she not only evades most of your punches, but she manages to give you a few.

What the hell, she shouldn’t be winning.

(Her fighting style is more advanced than anything we possess in our archives,) the Megamycete responds, sounding shameful. (We are unable to find a successful counter to her assault.)

Of course, it makes sense now! While Gotham may have attracted a few dozen experts in fighting over the centuries, Bruce has been trained by masters in every form of combat, including Ra’s Al Ghul, whose lifespan makes the Megamycete seem infantile in comparison. And he’s no doubt taught all of them his fighting style.

Just then, you feel something hit your back and explode, sending you flying. When you recover, you see Bruce and Dick have cut your tendrils and are now heading towards Cass to reinforce her.

(Their armories also seem to be more than we can handle,) it says as it repairs the damage done to your armor. (We have hardened your armor as much as we can, but it seems their tools will be able to penetrate our defenses.)

Shit, so that leaves you vulnerable to their fighting styles and their gadgets.

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself as you ready yourself. “We’ll just have to rely on the one thing none of them have ever had: powers.”

You repeat what you had done before and disperse your body into a murder of crows and send them flying around the Bats, causing them to huddle together and raise their arms in an attempt to protect themselves. You have enough crows continue to fly around them to keep them distracted while the rest of them form together to form your body, but with the addition of four, oversized spider-like legs extruding from your back.

You allow yourself to fall to the ground, the legs pointed down to form four very sharp stabbing implements. They look up just in time to see what’s about to happen, so they force their way through the swarm just as you land where they once stood. The remaining crows reintegrate into your body as you make your way towards them, jabbing your spider limbs in an attempt to stab any of them.

Dick and Cass have narrow frames, so they’re harder to hit, but Bruce’s more bulkier body makes him a more feasible target, so you shift your focus to him. After a few failed slashes, you manage to land a decent hit that causes him to fail onto his back. He tries to reach for his utility belt, but you use two of your limbs to pierce his shoulders and he lets out a pained yell s he struggles in vain to free himself from beneath you.

He looks up at you, a painful expression etched on his face, while you summon two small tendrils from your back, ready to deal the final blow.

“If I can’t rip out your non-existent heart, I’ll just have to settle for your head!”

But, just as you’re about to make good on your declaration, you feel something attach itself onto your back, throwing you off balance.

“Y/N, don’t,” a voice says from behind and it’s then you realize it’s not something on your back, but someone.

Specifically, Dick.

“Get off me, circus freak,” you snarl as you begin to struggle with him.

Deeming Dick the bigger threat, you shift your focus from Bruce to shaking off the acrobat any way you can, flailing around and reaching out to grab him so you can finally finish him off; while you want to kill Bruce more than anything right now, you want him to suffer before you shed his blood.

Making him watch as you rip his golden child’s head off while he’s powerless to stop it? Yes, that’ll do the trick.

It’s then you feel something at your spider feet and when you manage to look down while holding Dick at bay to see Cass, batarang in hand, cutting the feet pinning Bruce to the desert floor in an attempt to free him.

(She attempts to free the bastard,) the Megamycete hisses. (Kill her! Kill her now!)

But in typical fashion, Dick butts in where he’s not wanted and hurls himself towards you, latching onto your upper body, forcing you to brace your back spider legs to prevent you from tumbling down.

You watch in pure frustration as Cass slices off the parts of your legs pinning Bruce down and before you can react, the two of them hurl themselves onto you, joining Dick in trying to wrestle you to the ground.

You grab Dick with one hand and Cass with the other and just as you ready to summon a tendril to deal with Bruce and stabs you with some type of syringe, making you howl in pain at the sensation; instead of injecting you with something, you feel your blood being drained from you.

“Enough,” you hiss, hurling the two smaller vigilantes as far as you can before grabbing Bruce by both his shoulders and pulling him up so that the two of you are eye-to-eye.

It’s at this point your rage reaches its apex; this was suppose to be a night of fun out on the Strip, but the man before you not only had to ruin it by showing up, but now he’s come full circle on his batshit craziness by blasting you out of the sky and try to apprehend you like you’re one of the crazies from Arkham.

And to make matters worse, he had to bring two of his children, Dick being one of them! While you will always hate Bruce with every fiber of your being and Damian being an extremely close second, you’ve always had a strong resentment towards the eldest Wayne son. While the bastard will always say he loves all his children equally (minus you, of course), you know Dick will always be number one in Bruce’s heart due to him being the first child and being a capable Gotham socialite and vigilante.

And to add insult to injury, everyone always says Dick is everything an eldest brother should be: reliable, responsible, and doting. For years, you could nothing but cry as you saw him going out of his way to help and hang out with the other Wayne children, no matter how loudly they tried to reject it. Watching such the love and affection you craved be handed out so willingly and carefree to anyone but you made you think you would never be loved by anyone other than your deceased Momma.

You let out an inhuman howl in Bruce’s face as you shove your head into his right shoulder and latch onto it with your teeth with enough force to rival a hydraulic press. He lets out a pained yell and attempts to pull you off by your hair, but you apply more force until you eventually pierce through the armor, followed by the skin, then the muscle, and finally bone.

You pull your head back, bits of bone and flesh dangling from your teeth. You look to see his right arm practically dangling from just the barest of flesh and blood oozing from it like a waterfall. You shift your gaze from your handiwork to Bruce’s face to see the most delicious expression of pain etched on it and his complexion is pale and clammy.

At this point, you’re a crazed animal, chomping at the bit to go in for the kill on the wounded prey before you and rip it apart until it’s unrecognizable.

(Yes,) the Megamycete roars, its voice a symphony of bloodthirsty cheers. (Do it! Exact your vengeance upon him!)

Before you do anything, you feel something hit your back and explode, but unlike the first one, this one sends some sort of freezing gases scattering across your body, sending feelings of burning as your armor and spider legs rapidly freeze.

You howl in pain as you drop Bruce so you can slap at the affected areas, trying to find some way to relieve yourself of the freezing feeling.

(Hurts,) the Megamycete hisses. (Hurts!)

You rid yourself of your armor and spider legs by ripping it off your body, the frozen mold constructs shattering upon impact with the ground.

It’s then you realize you’re exposed and quickly turn around, ready to defend yourself when you see the three of them flying away on the Batwing at top speed. You could go after them, but after the fight with the Bats and their freezing grenade, you can only fall to your knees, trying to catch your breath.

(We had no idea we possessed such a vulnerability to the cold,) the Megamycete says, its voice sounding weak. (The winters of Gotham drove us to a state of near hibernation, but this is the first time we have ever had a reaction like that.)

“And now you know,” you manage to gasp out. “And so do they.”

You can only watch as the vehicle flies away as fast as it can, carrying three of the Bats away where they will no doubt share what’s happened here with the others, which will no doubt lead to even more encounters like this in the future.

“Shit.”

In the Batwing, Bruce knows Dick is talking to hi, his words quick and high pitched as he tries to dress his wound, but right now, he can’t bring himself to take his focus off the syringe filled with your blood.

When he set out for Vegas, he was determined to find a way to provoke you into showing him your powers and obtain a blood sample so he could perform more tests, but he didn’t think he’d discover a major weakness in your defenses.

While he hated to see the cryo grenade caused you so much pain, he can’t help but rejoice at the knowledge that there’s a crack in your armor and if he approaches it at the right angle, he can have you home far sooner than he anticipated.

And when you’re back home, he can find a way to get that damn thing out of you and return you to normal. And when that’s done, he can begin to make things right with you.

He grips the syringe harder, seeing the key to making his daily whole once again within your blood.

Tag List: @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @lilyalone @thickasthievingtoads @creativechaosx @randomlyappearingartist @ferchu0406 @kik1010 @butterflycardigann @1-800-crazy

#from gold to mold #yandere batfamily #male reader #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #batman #dc x male reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere damian wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown

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bacchuschucklefuck · 1 day ago

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way late for lny but hey the brain makes the connection when it does. aka caducean/asclepian

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #year of da snake babeyyy I spent the entirety of this latest lny out of my Mind #so just now I regained sentience and did. this #tbh just really wanna draw some aminals. sonic ole reliable there #okay so tracking the threads in this one.... costumes are việt phục fusion (as is my trade by now)#sonic gets a nhật bình (outer coat) and a severely shortened ngũ thân (shirt)#shadow gets a normal ngũ thân and a nón thúng (headwear)!#this is honestly all from a single thought I had a few days ago looking at shadows jet boots. I thought the upturned nose kinda has #a hanfu turn to it. and then here we are today #sonic's snakes are modeled after the southern black racer (coluber constrictor priapus)#and shadow's snake is supposed to be a central american milksnake (lampropeltis polyzona)#these are all like babynames dot net obvious ass choices lol but listen if they fit they fit #shadow's milksnake especially. cmon how can I not choose it with that coloring #anyways with that caption u probably know why sonic gets two snakes and shadow gets one. and also sonic gets the wings motif #shadow is! actually designed after a real historical viet medicine man from the 1700s #(ignore the fact that the ngũ thân would not be in fashion until the late 1700s-1800s Im just less into the giao lĩnh's collar shape!!!#my house!! its my damn house)#if u ask me why Im linking greek mythos imageries and việt phục presentation in this one I also say it's my damn house. I do what I want #other misc details: sonic's coat fastener has team sonic+amy's colors on the ribbon #shadow's mala has one clear resin bead with a dandelion bloom inside. the string decoration is in the shape of dandelion leaves #sonic's eye color leans into jade and shadow's eye color leans into amber because I'm a fucking genius and I'm good at everything #okay thats it I sleep now. and then I job some more. gnight lads happy extremely belated luner new year!!

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badbihsemiluvr · 3 days ago

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SMILE, YOUR ☆N CAMERA.

kang noeul x fem reader

!! cw/tw !! 18+ smut, d! dom noeul, s! sub reader, strap on usage (r! receiving), ass slapping, degrading, breeding kink?, noeul refers to get strap as her dick, noeul takes photos and videos of you during sex, catching noeul masturbating to your videos, you ask noel to call u mommy, noeul suggests uploading the vids to of.

overview: your north korean girlfriend, kang noeul has always been rough with you in bed, the two of you were quite the opposite of vanilla. noeul enjoyed seeing you at her mercy so much so, that one day she suggests recording having sex with you. thinking it’s just another one of noeuls kinks, you soon find out the real reasoning behind the videos.

!! an !! finalllyy, i wrote a noeul ff!! i’ve been addicted to reading all the dom noeul fics on tumblr lately so i thought i’d make one myself ^_^ enjoy sluts.

tears rolled down your soft cheeks as noeuls cock pounded in and out of your bent over pussy repeatedly. “this feels so good, don’t stop.” you manage to moan out, in the midst of being completely destroyed by noeul.

all of a sudden, noeuls motions abruptly stop and you whine desperately on edge “what the fuck, baby why’d you stop?” noeul pulls her strap out of your tight pussy, that was on the verge of cumming. “flip over.” noeul demands under her breath, her voice low and husky, full of lust.

you follow noeuls orders immediately, laying down on the bed, turning your body to face hers. “now what?” you ask confusedly, wondering why your girlfriend stopped mid fuck. “i have an idea.” noeul exclaims, a devilish smirk forming on her lips. you were used to noeuls wild suggestions during sex, at this point nothing was too crazy for you.

“and what idea is that?” you whisper, raising an eyebrow, pulling noeul in closer her face only inches away from yours. “let’s make a movie.” noeul whispers in your ear. you are slightly taken aback by her suggestion, but it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.

noeul would send nudes often, and so would you, but she’s never asked to record during sex. “why do you wanna record, baby?” you question noeuls motives.

“its really none of your damn business. but if you must know, i want a video of me absolutely fucking the shit out of you, for memories.” noeul exclaims sarcastically, acting like you were invading her privacy by asking why.

“memories, suree.” you say, pulling her into a deep, and passionate kiss. which noeul shortly breaks away from to set up her phone on a tripod. “wow you were prepared for this moment.” you say sarcastically. noeul shakes her head at your remark and finishes setting her phone up on the tripod. she steps behind the camera and asks you “ready to make an award winning film” jokingly. you nod your head and she presses the record button.

waisting no time, noeul jumps back on the bed, hungrily making out with you like you were her last meal. her strap hit your stomach as her body grinded against yours, desperately. noeuls hands explored every line and curve of your body as she began sucking on your neck.

soft moans and curses escaped your lips as the feeling of noeuls soft lips wrapped around and bit at your skin. her kisses trailed down your body, she started making her mark on your breasts. slowly filling her mouth with them, you squirm at the feeling of noeuls tounge swirling on your nipples. “fuck noeul.” you hiss.

as noeul sucked on your breasts, her rough slender fingers make their way down to your sopping cunt. she couldn’t help herself but tease you. her fingers traced up and down your folds, leaving you a needy mess. “n-noeul, pretty please.” you beg. noeul slaps your ass sharply at your lack of words. she didn’t like when you didn’t specify exactly what you needed in the moment.

“pretty please what? your gonna have to be more specific slut.” noeul exclaims. she gets up momentarily to grab the camera off of the tripod to get a closer look at your dripping pussy.

“please fuck me noeul.” you say, your voice shaky and desperate. “so pathetic, already out of breath, and look how wet you are.” noeul exclaims as she points the camera directly at your pussy, slapping it. you flinch at noeuls abrupt actions.

with one hand she holds the camera, and with the other she positions her strap at your entrance. you moan as noeul abruptly stuffs her cock into your pussy. “you don’t get time to adjust to my dick, since your hole is already so fucking stretched out.” noeul says.

you moan as noeul starts thrusting her cock in and out of your wet cunt. her motions start off steady, since she’s holding the camera to record, there’s only so much she can do at this point.

you moan loudly at the feeling of noeuls cock deep inside you, hitting all the right spots. noeul is clearly enjoying your loudness. she speeds up her thrusts the louder you get. she holds your hips with her free hand to keep you steady.

“look at my baby, keep making those pretty faces for the camera.” noeul exclaims devilishly as she pounds into your cervix. you arch your back at noeuls words, feeling like a total slut in this moment.

you put on a show for the camera, and you didn’t care, it just turned you on even more. noeul panned the camera to your tits bouncing up and down as she continued beating up your pussy like she hated you. “you know i wish i could breed you, and make you completely mine.” noeul exclaims. you nod, biting your lip at noeuls remark.

it feels like your in heaven, heat in your body grows as noeuls pace gets deeper and messier. she slows down and speeds back up, which is driving you absolutely crazy. she slaps your ass when you zone out, making you alert again. you bite your lip, and stare into the camera. your eyes pan over to noeuls face, her eyes staring into the camera, black with lust. god, this woman was going to be the death of you.

“your such a natural at this doll, your a born pornstar.” noeul mutters as you scream out her name, fingers intertwining with the sheets. barely able to control yourself anymore. your legs start shaking profusely and you say “n-noeul i’m getting close.”

“god already, why don’t we make this a double feature then?” noeul says into the camera. she continues to drill her cock into your pussy, her free hand now pinching your clit.

she zooms in on the sight of your puffy, wet cunt, absolutely destroyed by her cock. you scream loudly at her touch, tears rolling down your face. noeul hums at the sight of you so weak. she zooms back out to get a full view of you.

you feel yourself loosing all control over your body in this moment. your back arches, tears continuously rolling down your checks, and you feel the heat in your stomach snap. you release all over noeuls cock. she zooms into the sight your face as you cum. and she keeps pounding in and out of you, helping your orgasm last longer than ever.

she eventually pulls out, your juices dripping down her plastic cock. she demands you suck it, and you comply. your mouth fills with her cock, noeul grabs your messy hair in one hand, and zooms into you sucking her dick with the other.

noeul grins with pride as you choke on her dick, she pushes your head down further and further the more you gag. she pulls your hair slightly, signaling you to get up. your mouth releases from her cock, and you stare into the camera, licking your big pouty lips, covered in your own cum.

noeul flips the camera to face both of you and says jokingly “hopefully we go viral!!” then presses her finger against the stop button.

noeul acted so tough and emotionless during sex, but the second it was over she really did care for you. she asked if you were alright, and tucked you into bed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

a few days pass by since you and noeuls little film making session. the idea of the video turned you on every time you would think about it. but it also scared you in the slightest bit?

you thought about all the possibilities, of breaking up with noeul. then where would the video go? would she keep it, or even worse upload it online? but for the most part you just forgot about the video in general, until today.

you were coming home from work early, which was a very rare occasion for you, considering your boss was very strict. noeul assumed you would be gone for a while, she didn’t think you’d be home this early.

your hands shuffle through your purse, looking for your apartment key. you finally find the key and unlock the door gently, assuming noeul would be sleeping or relaxing at this time of day. but oh, you were so wrong.

you were greeted home by the sounds of your girlfriends loud moans filling the whole apartment. you didn’t even know she could moan that loud, noeul was so stubborn that she never let herself be fully submissive around you.

a wave of shock and realization rush through your body, hearing noeuls lewd sounds. you remembered the video from a few days ago, and instantly realize noeuls reasoning for recording. she recorded you so she could secretly masturbate to it while you weren’t home. no wonder she was so fucking blunt and dismissive when you asked why she wanted to record.

you didn’t know what to do in this moment, but walk in the bedroom and catch noeul in the act. the idea of that turned you on so bad, so you went ahead and busted into the bedroom. you stand at the bedroom entrance, wide eyed at the sight of your girlfriend completely naked spread out on the bed, her fingers stuffed up her pussy, and the sex tape playing on the flat screen tv.

the second you barged in the room, noeul quickly grabbed the nearby covers to hide her completely bare, sweaty body. her messy black hair stuck to her forehead, it looked like she had been going at it for a while. “y/n!! it’s not what it looks like..” noeul mutters under her breath with a slight guilt in her voice.

“it’s okay baby, you don’t have to be ashamed of what you were doing.” you say assuring her it’s not that big of a deal. noeul looks at you with a mix of guilt and desire displayed on her face. “i, i just get so needy when your gone. i miss you, every part of you.” she utters seriously, like she’s confessing to a crime or something.

you take your heels off, and sit down on the bed beside noeul, placing your hand on her thigh under the covers, gently rubbing circles. “you missed mommy, huh?” you say mindlessly, passion taking over. noeul had never called you that, nor did she plan to.

noeul raised her eyebrow at the sudden use of the pet name, taken aback. she hesitantly nods while bitting her lip. she then hovers her body on top of yours to take back her dominance after this weak moment of being caught in the act.

“let’s see who you call mommy now.” she says, hovering her naked body over yours, leaving you practically trapped. she tugs on the collar of your work shirt and starts to slowly unbutton it, leaving you in just your bra, mini skirt, and tights.

“how about we make another movie, and this time we’ll upload it to only fans for everyone to see.” noeul says as she sucks on your neck, you moan at the sensation of her lips wrapped around your sensitive skin. “even that boss of yours who sent you home early, that motherfucker.” noeul mutters lustfully under her shaky breath.

“i’m gonna fuck you so dumb, this won’t ever happen again.” noeul says, a evil grin forming on her lips as she grabs the strap from the nightstand. you knew catching noeul in the act was a huge mistake when you couldn’t walk the next day . . . .

#squid game #fanfic #kang noeul #no eul x reader #guard 011 #squid game fanfic #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #lgbtq #wlw love #wlw community #wlw fanfic #fanfiction #wlw dom/sub

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doctorhypetrain · 2 days ago

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Yes!!!! All of this!!!! Also the logic of punishing caitlyn is so flawed. People want to argue when it comes to jinx silco the chem barons etc saying that Cait is evil for violence against those literal murderers. But then as soon as Cait survives they do a full 180 and cry for punitive justice. If killing Cait is “right” then her campaign to kill Jinx is as well. Thats the problem with this type of retribution based thinking and arcane addresses it directly. “Who decides who gets a second chance?” Well damn if that isnt the question of the century. Idk if i have the right answer but I do know that punishing Cait any further is not going to accomplish anything and by letting her live and learn, which she clearly wants to do, she has the ability to be a massive force for good. Its the middle of the night so I’m not being as eloquent as I want but yeah lay off my girl Cait yall are morons and if you believe in punitive justice for Cait you are just virtue signaling your fake progressive ideals

"Clearly, Caitlyn Kiramman Should’ve Known Better at 23: A Masterclass in Ignoring Trauma and Believing War Criminals"

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Recently I made the mistake of delving into the comments of an otherwise excellent post regarding Caitlyn Kiramman and the aftermath of her time as "dictator", specifically in terms of were there enough consequences? did she do enough to make it right? should more have been done to her? that sort of thing. In the festering cesspool of those comments, I saw a variation of the following statement:

"if we were doing things based on what was fair and just, Caitlyn should have been executed on behalf of the two cities for peace"

It was more crude but you get the point. This person alleged that Caitlyn deserved death for what happened during those few months. Before we move forward lets review what we know about all of this. I have quite recently covered a lot of Caitlyn's arc so I'm not doing a deep dive here. Just enough to address this particular bit of idiocy.

How It Starts:

Like I said we aren't doing a deep dive here, so just for a quick reminder as to where twenty-three year old Caitlyn is mentally at this point(regardless of fault or nuance, just the facts):

Has been almost killed by Jinx three times

Almost killed by Sheriff of Piltover

Abducted naked from her childhood home, forced to dress in Enforcer uniform, bound, gagged, and forced to attend Jinx's tea party where Jinx tries to get Vi to murder Caitlyn

Violently knocked out

Shows Jinx mercy at Vi's request

Jinx kills her mother

Trying to become head of house Kiramman

Undercity attacks the memorial

Survives strike team operations

Brutal fight with Sevika

Vi stops her from shooting again

Very emotional split from Vi after hitting her and leaving her alone

So, with all of that under consideration, a Noxian warlord in her fifties who has commanded troops on various continents across Runeterra, calls her up and says trust me, i have your back, we will get justice for your mother. And Caitlyn folds... Le Gasp?!

Guys I know this is a little more snarky than my usual approach, but this really is just not that complicated. This is not even subtle. We literally see the flash back of Ambessa orchestrating the memorial attack to get us to this point. Caitlyn is an open wound mentally and emotionally, she never stood a chance. Lets take a moment to review some important points here by the way:

Ambessa came to Piltover for Hex-Tech. She doesn't hide this from Mel and is quite clear in her goals.

"If there is a chance hextech can be weaponized, we must have it". Mel responds "Piltover isn't your testing ground... I can't believe you'd start a war just to cover your ass" And Ambessa responds "i would set the world ablaze to protect our family". And the conversation ends with Ambessa ordering her daughter to "let the war unfold".

2. She executes her plan to make Caitlyn her scape-goat in front of:

Councilor Salo

Councilor Shoola

Large group of enforcers

Group of twenty plus people who make up as Ambessa states "every house and family with a modicum of influence"

Not a single, solitary person says a word when Ambessa brings a twenty-three year old grieving young woman with, if we're being generous two months of combat experience though probably less, and says She is in charge now! They let Caitlyn be walked right into the jaws of the wolf herself.

The Great And Terrible Rule Of Caitlyn The Creepy! WHAHAHAHA!:

What she gives her okay on:

Occupation of Zaun

Lawful (under martial law not normal law) arrests of those who cause problems

Yep... there it is folks. There is the great list of terrible crimes against humanity committed by the she-devil of Piltover herself. Checkpoints and arrests. Which by the way I am not justifying. People being arrested subjects them to Ambessa's brutality once they are inside. And as we clearly see Rictus uses the right to arrest to brutalize a Jinxer, and to break up the rally. And Caitlyn absolutely shares some portion of the blame for that. But um.. the way people reacted I was really expecting more public hangings and and labor camps.

**Not really a good place to put this but just fyi, despotic mad-women don't usually have to get up early to please a craftsman guild over supply complaints... just saying..."

"But OP! Sexy Zangief was beating people up and breaking up peaceful rallies!"

Well fortunately we talk about that!

"Was it for my encouragement that your man Rictus was instigating violence?"

How does Ambessa respond? Not with anger, or rage. First with guilt "You don't trust me", then with approval when Caitlyn responds the blade cuts both ways "fearless child, you never shy",

Ambessa is a master manipulator. Caitlyn is and was grieving her mother, and her whirlwind extremely intense romantic relationship with Vi. She had a gargantuan hole in her heart and a woman with decades leading and commanding soldiers and learning strategy slid right in. Recall that in bed with Maddie Caitlyn almost is defending Ambessa, talking about learning so much from her and the lives Ambessa saved with her assistance getting control of Zaun, so they could hunt for Jinx. Caitlyn has legitimately come to care for Ambessa at least on some level. I even believe that on some level Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn.

2. "Arrests require cause"

When Ambessa is suggesting someone in Zaun knows where Jinx is, this is how Caitlyn responds. Not with orders to start dragging people out into the street. Not executing children in the street or burning down buildings. And when Ambessa tries to justify it "What greater cause is there than returning peace to the city?" Caitlyn responds:

3. "Why is peace always the justification for violence".. (Note Ambessa laying comforting hand on Caitlyn's shoulder during conversation)

Ambessa gives her this speech: "we've lost so many.. the anger, the sorrow.. it's tiring. Gods, I know it's tiring.. But you will never rest knowing that she's out there. Or maybe I underestimated you. Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow.. the decision is yours commander.."

"I know you are so tired, I know you are exhausted. I know you want this to be over. But you can't feel safe with her out there. I know you can't. Unless of course you can do what even I can't. Forgive your mothers FUCKING MURDERER. But ya know, up to you"-

If you truly cannot see the insidiousness of how Caitlyn is being twisted and manipulated, I envy you the charmed life you have lead. But be weary my friend, "you're off the edge of the map, here there be monsters." (POC 1)

"But OP! Ambessa was experimenting with Hex-Tech and committing brutal interrogations!"

I will admit the show does not explicitly state that Caitlyn did not know about this. Explicitly. However, given our context clues I feel quite confidant suggesting she did not:

See literally everything she said above

Every time we see them doing this she is not present

It seems like they are in some deep and away part of the prison when they are doing this

In private after the failed hex-tech experiment, Ambessa laments that they didn't secure the scientists before seizing control of Piltover. She is openly discussing that they are the actual ruling power. I seriously doubt she would be doing that anywhere Caitlyn may come knocking.

She Could Have Stopped At Any Time! Maddie Even Say So:

You mean that Maddie? The Noxian spy who keeps an eye on Caitlyn from her fucking bed, taking advantage of Caitlyn's grief and guilt over how things ended with Vi? Caitlyn is reminded she has a choice twice. The first time by the spy in her bed, and the second time by Ambessa herself. Her loyalty is being tested. Not her conscious. Ambessa literally put eyes and ears in her bed, and some of yall wanna argue Caitlyn wasn't being controlled. Ambessa assumed the role of Caitlyn's mother, and had her spy take on the role of Vi. And I will say this. Sure. Caitlyn could have gone to Ambessa and called it all off. No more war, no more martial law, the council is in charge again so no more imprisonment and hex-tech experiments. And maybe.. just maybe Ambessa would have row-row-row your boated her homicidal ass home. I rather doubt it. I suspect that conversation would have ended with Caitlyn getting this treatment:

We have been over this already but for a reminder:

Ambessa came here for hex-tech to fight the blackrose. She instigated the memorial attack for her cause.

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family"

As we will come to see later, her last living child begs her to stop the bloodshed, even offering to go back with her, and all Ambessa can see is weakness.

Other indicators of how she is doing with everything:

"I never expected this to go on so long.. I thought.. I don't know what I thought.."

"Up again?" Maddie tells us Caitlyn hasn't been sleeping

Forbids the use of the cells Vi was kept in

REWIND BACK TO HELLFIRE:

I recently just did an in-depth doc on the strike team, the use of the grey, and what all of this means in story. So I will keep this brief here. but I do want to discuss it as "SHE WAS GASSING KIDS!" is still being vomited up by every double-digit iq booger eater with a keyboard.

Ambessa orchestrated the memorial attack to force Piltover retaliation

The strike team is an alternative to a full-scale invasion by Piltover.

They are hunting dangerous drug lords, destroying shimmer, and hunting Jinx. All three seem fairly reasonable. The issue is not if they are doing something wrong, it's the reason Caitlyn has them doing it. All you have to do is refer to the handy dandy song lyrics they use as Arcane always does to understand this:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began And I ain't afraid to lose a life or ten If it means that I get to win in the end (woo) So I'ma do this on my own, step into the danger zone Pull the pin and watch it blow" (Hellfire Fever 333)

4. Using a crowd dispersal agent that incapacitates bad guys with no documented fatal effects (see multiple characters exposed who are all alive and seemingly well, those images of the people with health issues were from the unfiltered, unaltered smog the Undercity used to live with)to hunt a target who likes to blow shit up seems fair. Also the fact that it knocks people out means they don't have to kill them.

Caitlyn's Remorse And Attempts To Make Things Right:

Literally starts a war with Ambessa to save Vander

Saves a hurt Vi with Jinx's back exposed to her when she is armed

Takes care of injured Vi in her own bed and postpones any judgement of Jinx until Vi wakes

"I Know!"

"We can't erase our mistakes.. none of us"- Equates herself with Jinx

"No amount of good deed can undo our crimes"- Equates herself with Jinx

"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer.."

Tender moment showing IMMENSE regret during she and Vi's big scene.

The Cost:

One statement I saw opined that there is a difference between remorse and punishment, and that Caitlyn should have been punished. That giving up her seat and losing an eye hardly qualified. Well! Boy oh boy do I have good news for you. Let's take a gander at the physical "not punishment" she acquires willingly leading from the front lines against Ambessa:

Cracked in the head with rifle stock, twice: Skull fractures anyone? how about a lovely concussion?

Stabbed in the stomach: Internal bleeding, bile leaks, intestinal obstruction due to scar tissue adhesions, bowel perforation, the list goes on.

Kicked in the midsection while still stabbed: potential to drive knife deeper lacerating organs and such, just massive pain, potential catastrophic bleeding if a blood vessel was hit, potential rupturing of stomach, kidneys or liver releasing harmful fluids into abdominal cavity, potential for long term chronic pain or permanent organ damage

Leg sweep by Ambessa driving Caitlyn's head into the ground: potential tbi, brain hemorrhage, or further skull fracture, potential vertebral fractures, potential long term cognitive impairment or loss of motor control if spine is damaged

Kicked again: We covered this. Knife is still there.

Ankle pinned/Leg kick/backhand: All sorts of fun things happening to ligaments and tendons. Potential permanent disability. Potential concussion and bruising as well as a whole host of lacerations.

Headbutt with War mask on: Concussion, skull fracture, brain bleed

KICKED OFF OF HER FEET

Pulls knife out of her own body: Potential fatal bleeding, massive pain, possible peritonitis and respiratory distress depending on what all was damaged during the fight with the knife still in her body.

Sacrifices her own eye

Now lets take a quick look at some reasonable assertions for the mental "not punishment" she will likely suffer from after all of this:

Massive potential for PTSD just from the wounds alone

Losing an eye impacts her shooting which is a huge part of who she is and a link to her mother

A woman she shared a bed with levelled a rifle at her neck and pulled the trigger. Caitlyn thought she was going to die.. that doesn't just go away..

look at her face...

She is twenty four people....

4. Guilt over death toll of war

5. Guilt over Vi's possible death from downward spiral

6. Guilt over Vi's possible death from explosion in commune all born from Noxian;s arriving there

7. Guilt over everything done to the Undercity

8. Guilt over perversion of her families ventilation system

9. The fact that from season 1 Act 2 til now, she only ages a year and probably not even a whole one. Refer to my list in the beginning. She has not a single fucking second to breathe or heal from any of that shit

RESTITUTION:

So aside from willingly leading the battle that most of the undercity walked away from until Jinx shows up and almost dying for it, how does Caitlyn start to make things right you may ask? (because it is a start, for those who don't get that. This is the beginning of a story not an end). For the first time in what we understand to be the history of the twin cities, Zaun has a seat at the table. People are REALLLLYYYYY underselling this. I guess because they wanted a whole political treaty signed and to watch Caitlyn get shame-nunned through the street or something. IDK. But what I do know, is that Caitlyn gave away the ancestral seat of house Kiramman, and all the power and authority that came with it, and it now belongs to someone from the undercity. An equal voice. And it's just the beginning. It's not perfect. It's not all wrapped up in a big shiny bow, it feels real. Change isn't instant. It never has been and it never will be, and if you need that to feel fulfilled I understand, but this show was never going to be that for you.

Caitlyn Should Be Executed?:

So back to the original statement. Caitlyn should be executed in the name of peace between the cities. Well, I'll say this. if you see a 24 year old woman who inside of a year had her entire reality imploded, fell prey to the manipulations of a violent war monger close to 30 years her senior if not more, yet found her way back to herself and shed her own blood as a war hero TO SAVE HUMANITY, and your answer is she should be executed. Sure! So long as you admit you have the humanity of a toaster oven you fucking idiot.

To those of you who have continued to read, and share your thoughts, and been open to kind debate and discourse in good faith. You all mean the world to me. As I have said many times, opening myself up to this community has really happed my "real" life in a lot of ways and I love getting on here to appreciate and celebrate this story with all of you. That being said, this particular issue is so god damn irritating to me I am done being nice about it. Have a wonderful day!

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theorist-fox · 2 days ago

Text

Humvee

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposted on AO3.

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Word count: 6.8k (damn)

Summary: You do your best to heal, while Simon follows his own path—until life, in its strange way, brings you back together, with Simon stepping right back in.

18+

CW: fluff, banter, smut (fingering, p in v, car sex). you go on a bad date and simon saves you from it. he's a bit of a cunt but like in a good way.

I said I'd update on Sunday but you're getting it on Saturday!!! Though it's Sunday on this part of the globe, so...

Masterlist 🦊 | Series Masterlist 🦊

"If they ever give ya any grief, you know who to call."

Simon's words have never echoed so fiercely in your head as they do now.

The dress is uncomfortable. The shoes are uncomfortable. The air… is uncomfortable.

The dinner isn’t even that great. Or—well, it is. The restaurant has its perks: the wine is a deep red Shiraz, dry and with that slight bitter aftertaste that just enough balances the salt of your fillet mignon. Rare. Side baked potatoes with a crisp crust that still sizzles with warm olive oil.

It looks great.

Would taste great too, you reckon. Thing is, you’ve been playing with your food ever since the waiter brought it to the table.

You don’t think you’ve spoken a single word, if not your name, ever since you sat down. Mouth latched onto that crystal wine glass that could never be too full.

Fuck dating.

He looked oh, so nice leaning against the bar counter last week.

Leather jacket and a tight-fitting black t-shirt underneath, a softer tummy of a man who likes to train and eat. Big arms, broad shoulders. Thighs looked awfully soft in those blue jeans.

Mediterranean features. A strong nose, high cheekbones. Perhaps Italian origins, you thought, or maybe Spain? Greece?

Olive skin and thick brown curls, messy in that calculated way that only pretends to be tousled. You call it the sex hair. But it’s fake, so it would be like—the fake sex hair.

You love the fake sex hair. Or maybe you don’t. But on him, it looks unbelievably nice.

His eyes have this hazelnut hue, mottled with gold and green speckles. Long, thick lashes, dark like his hair.

Fuck, he looks like a Greek god.

And when he winked at you from the other side of the pub, lifting his glass of whatever he was drinking your way, you thought yourself so very fortunate.

Small blessings.

If only you’d known where those plump lips and feline brown eyes would lead you.

The entrée was accompanied by his favourite way to clean the leather of his sofa. Then he switched the topic to hair gel, because somehow the same company that makes the polish for his stupid couch also makes his stupid hair gel.

And now he’s telling you how much he benches. You should’ve known, to be honest, that somehow the chat would’ve swerved to his herculean strength and raw masculinity.

He oozes testosterone from every pore, reeks of pheromones, and—judging by his character—you wouldn’t rule out the possibility that he’s splurged on one of those dodgy "scientific" perfumes supposedly designed to make women swoon at his feet.

He’s saying how you’d never have to fear a thing if he was in the house, since you’d have him by your side. The urge to roll your eyes is incommensurable: you hide behind your wine glass, taking a generous gulp of Shiraz that’s drying out your tongue.

He’s eating with his mouth open. Chewing loudly. Loud enough to give you PTSD. Fucking hell, why do the handsome ones always have to act like they never set foot outside the house?

He has a pittie, he says.

Your ears perk.

Okay, pitties are nice. Lovely dogs with their big, smiling mouths always drooling for cuddles. You find their awkward stance tenderly charming—wide front legs and wagging tail. Plus, him having a dog means he can take care of fragile things, that he can be sweet and nice and reliable.

It’s a boy.

You smile.

He says he’s trained him to fight. Defend the household and whatnot.

It falters.

Says you could take him for a run if you fancy it. That he would give you (and he makes those awful hand quotations with his fingers) “scary dog privileges.”

You drink.

Scary dog privileges. You’re fighting a scoff so loud the sous chef would hear it from the kitchens.

You have SAS training privileges.

You have gun privileges.

You have scary dog privileges. You are the scary dog.

One glance at his neck, another at the table, and you've already calculated ten different ways to end his life in under a minute—one of which involves a thumbtack pinning the fake flowers to the polyester cube in the centrepiece vase.

You imperceptibly shiver. Shake your thoughts away.

He’s still rambling about his dog and his gym sessions and how he goes for runs every morning, every night, every moment of the bleeding day. Does he work? Have hobbies that don’t include a pissing contest with other men at the gym? Fuck’s sake, that thumbtack is starting to look incredibly inviting—

“So what do you do?” You blurt out.

It comes out so awkwardly that you can only fix it with a nervous laugh. One of those that make you look cute and shy, not weird and spacey.

He seems startled by it. Follows up with an awkward laugh of his own. Ugh. Okay, it’s okay. Maybe he’s nervous too. That can be cute.

“I’m military.”

You blink.

Oh.

Unexpected.

You hadn’t considered that. Granted, he has the stance, the body. He keeps his neck taut and straight, which is something you recognise you do yourself: hard to shake off habits from early training in Pirbright.

Truthfully, you had excluded partners from your same field of work. Didn’t go particularly smoothly last time you tried.

You’d like to come home to normalcy and averageness and homecooked meals and that dog he’s going on and on about, not to more military-related drama and paperwork scattered on the kitchen table.

But this can be nice, you muse.

Maybe straying from the plan you’ve laid out for your date could lead to some unexpected surprises. Maybe you could find a common ground, some shared experiences to discuss.

Anything to divert the topic from how he removes stains from his carpeted floors.

You straighten your spine, smoothing down the creases of your dress even if they’re hidden under the tablecloth.

With your elbow resting on the table, you subtly press your arms together, accentuating your neckline. You tilt your head slightly, chin nestled in your palm and lashes fluttering away.

He sports a smug smile, perhaps recognising the reaction his job must have sparked in many more women before you.

You let it slide.

“What branch?” You ask, trying to sound as naïve as you can.

Men in the military often have great success when it comes to dating. Women in the military, not so much—something about them being stronger than their male counterparts in a relationship seems to unsettle their egos, unchub their cocks.

Which is why you’re pretending you know shite about the topic—you’re just there to look pretty, for now.

“Oh, well,” his voice drops down an octave, and he leans a little closer to the table. The front of his crisp white shirt dips into the sauce covering his pasta.

You try not to stare at the oil stain too much.

He reaches out with his hand, toying with a ring on your finger. Looks around like he’s making sure no one else is listening, and then he smiles at you knowingly.

“It’s classified.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Alright, this date is botched. Tits up. Fuck him and his beautiful eyes and perfect bone structure. He could have been the love of your life. You would’ve made perfectly beautiful babies with beautiful Mediterranean genes.

You feign surprise. You feign interest.

The least you can do is have fun.

“Oh really?” You open your mouth in a shocked oval. “And—and what is it that you do?”

He leans back in his chair, self-assured. Charming smile. Know-it-all attitude.

“You know,” he shrugs, like it’s something so common and nonchalant. “Missions, deployments. All secret, though. Can’t share, unfortunately.”

He gives you a wink.

“Not even with a pretty girl like you.”

Yuck. Ew. Ugh.

You giggle, crystalline and shy, fingers to your mouth and all.

“Are you like—” You bite your lip, “—like James Bond?”

His chuckle is low, like he wants to show how much of that testosterone is actually brewing in his balls.

“Of sorts.”

“Wow.” You say breathily. “It must be dangerous.”

“It is,” he replies, cocking a confident brow. “Not a thing for girls like you.”

Dickhead.

You smile. Taut. Someone else would’ve noticed how strained it is. Not him though, no. Too self-absorbed to catch onto it. Wouldn’t see how obvious he’s being if it slapped him in the face.

“Hear me out,” he says after a while. “One minute bathroom break, and then I’ll tell you what you want to know, yeah?”

Which is nothing, but you nod anyway.

“Or, well—” he adds, standing up and setting the napkin on the table. “—What I can tell you.”

With a wink, he leaves for the loo.

You deflate. Rub your fingers on your forehead because that man just gave you a migraine.

You pluck your phone from your handbag and thumb through the screen to contact backup.

You think of Johnny, but you two bicker too much, and the possibility of him shooting back with one of your misfortunes is impossibly high. You’d like to keep your failing dates as quiet as possible.

Kyle would be the perfect choice, but he’s not nearby—a trip to somewhere warmer with his partner now that he’s on leave.

Price is not even an option. Who would call their boss to give them a lift out of a bad date?

Which leaves Simon. You know you have to call Simon, as much as you don’t want him to witness the absolute devastation that is your current love life. Granted, you know he would help without a peep—but still, there’s that bit of pride left untouched by the ruin that’s been your "relationship" that you’d like to keep intact.

But grief’s been given. Plenty of it. And, as he said, you know who to call.

With a surrendering sigh, you stuff your pride in a pocket and zip it shut.

As soon as your text goes through, you can’t even blink that three dots are already dancing at his corner of the screen.

Your eyes roll so far back you take a peek at your brain.

The sarcasm is so tangible you almost taste it on your tongue.

Hopefully your reply will manage to convey the urgency of your tone. The absolute sizzling hatred in your eyes.

And then you wait for Mr. Classified to come back from the loo while eating a baked potato or two, even if now they’re awfully cold. Still crunchy and wonderful, though. The restaurant is stellar; it's a shame to have wasted the opportunity with such a painfully obnoxious sod.

When he comes back, he sits all grand at the table. He fixed his hair, you notice. Tried to clean the oil stain on his shirt and only managed to enlarge it—you can tell even if he’s buttoned up his dress jacket.

He tells you he’s a captain.

Yeah. Sure. Go big or go home, mh?

Recounts very generic war stories, one of which really does sound like the plot of a videogame you played with Kyle.

Your back’s to the door, so when he stumbles on his words and his eyes go wide out of the blue, you have no clue what’s got him so rattled.

That is, until you turn and look over your shoulder.

The biggest bloke’s standing at the entrance, seemingly instructing one of the waiters, who looks like he’s lost a few years off his life from how pale he’s gone.

Man dressed in black, helmet with night goggles on.

Show off.

The full shebang: tac vest layered above the bulletproof one, M4 hanging low on his front with clasps, a gun holstered on his hip. The radio pokes from one of the front pockets on his chest.

He has the goddamn skull mask on, for fuck’s sake.

Your eyes widen briefly, and then you fight tooth and nail to stifle a laugh. You wonder what Mr. “I’m military but it’s classified” thinks about “people actually in the classified part of the military”.

You turn to him. Man is shell-shocked.

You snort.

Simon points at you, and the waiter nods vigorously before scurrying over to your table.

He leans down to your level, cheeks so red they look purple, sweat on his forehead, huffing and puffing like he’s run a marathon.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to interrupt, but—” A heaving breath through his stutter. “Your presence seems to be required at-at-at the Hereford SAS headquarters.”

He lowers his voice, then. “Something about the p-passing of an officer, uhm—your husband.”

You choke. Slam a hand on your chest. Mr. Classified seems concerned and has his hands hovering your way but never touching you in the slightest.

Helpful.

“The what?” You hiss, looking behind you at Simon with straight-up murder in your eyes.

The mask hides it, but you know he’s got the biggest smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re married?” Mr. Classified asks. Fuck him too.

“No.” You bark but then realise that it’s not his fault if your lieutenant is a bastard. Gingerly, you clear your throat and add more softly. “Not… anymore.”

Gotta fake it if you want to get out of here.

You sigh.

The waiter stands there awkwardly as you apologise to your date for not telling him about your non-existent dead husband. You stand up from the table, pretending heartache, while the waiter hovers around you and right in your business.

When you feel him too much into your space, you blink at him, plastering on a polite smile.

“Yes?”

He’s sweating profusely. The Ghost effect.

“The-the soldier, there—" he gives a subtle nod to where Simon stands. “—said I have to escort you b-because you’re a suspect.”

The appalled look on your face must be a sight to swear by.

You glare at Simon.

He shifts his weight on his other foot, arms crossed in front of his chest. Smug, like he’s having the time of his life.

“Yes.” You reply with a sigh, “Please, escort me.”

You don’t bother turning around to face Mr. Classified. He must be wearing the same shock the waiter is sporting. After all, in his eyes, hasn’t he just shared a dinner with a murder suspect?

What a tale to share.

“Thank you, sir.” Simon tells the waiter when you both reach him, deep baritone heavy yet gentle.

He grabs you by the crook of your elbow.

“Gonna bring this one to justice.” He adds theatrically.

The waiter nods like his head might crack in half if he doesn’t.

“Thank you, sir.” He parrots, “Thank you for your service.”

At the statement, used and abused without any regard for its meaning, you scoff in his face.

Simon tugs you by your arm, and your heels scrape against the floor.

Finally, you find your footing and follow him out.

Simon came to pick you up in a fucking Humvee.

He said it was in case the restaurant had those big windows that look out on the streets, so he could make an even bigger scene. All because you interrupted him while he watched the man u match even if they were painfully losing, he said.

When you asked him where the fuck did he get it since he should’ve been home on R&R and not at base, he told you that he had an IOU to cash in with one of the higher-ranking officers.

Baffling, to say the least, that he’s used it to embarrass you.

Yet not something you would put past him.

Still, though, as soon as you enter the car and he starts shedding layers of tac gear, mask included, the first thing he asks isif you’re alright.

You nod with a soft smile.

“McDonald’s?” He asks, then.

You cock a brow.

“I just had dinner.”

The engine rumbles as he turns the key in the ignition.

“No ya haven’t.”

He drags the shift stick back and puts the car in reverse. His hand comes to grasp the back of your seat as he looks to the rear window.

It takes a whole lot of resolve to not gawk at the way the tendons in his forearm tighten and bulge. You manage.

Thank fuck he can’t check if you’re salivating, because you are.

Because this car smells of him. It shouldn’t, because it isn’t his car. It’s a military vehicle, a big fat Hummer with enough space to host a task force, and from what you know someone else might have been using it all day before he got the keys.

And still, his scent invades it, dominates it, and you realize how much you’ve missed it. Missed waking up to it, missed having it stain your clothes, sometimes your uniform too. Memories flood, and something in your chest clenches.

Control yourself, for fuck's sake.

You turn your eyes away from him.

“How d’you know?”

He shifts into first as he finally leaves the car park. He shoots you a brief side glance, before returning his eyes on the road.

“Clocked your plate full even from afar,” he says plainly. “Bloke talked that much, uh?”

“You got no idea.” You sigh, exhausted. “Told me he’s military and then pulled the classified card.”

His lips twitch, and then his chest rumbles in a low, low chuckle you haven’t heard in a while.

You laugh with him.

Simon takes you to a drive-through. He orders what he knows you like, because this definitely isn’t the first time you two sneak out in the middle of the night only to eat something that isn’t the slob from the mess hall.

He drives a little further to find that nice parking spot next to the motorway. Once again, not the first time you’ve been here.

Sometimes with Johnny in the back and Kyle smoking a ciggie by the car window—couldn’t have the Humvee smell of nicotine and stale cigarettes when you’d return it (not so) surreptitiously later on.

Sometimes just the two of you, when new soldiers moved in the neighbouring barracks and Simon wanted you to scream without the pressure of being found out.

You punch the straw in your Coke and bring it to your lips. The carton box of chips is precariously balanced on your bare thighs.

Simon’s already munching on his burger.

“Thank you, by the way,” you break the comfortable silence first.

He shrugs.

“He was a right pain,” you go on. “Kept going on about—”

“—His dog, how much he benches, his hair care routine.”

You choke on your coke and then your head swivels to him.

“Okay—were you spying on me?”

He levels you with a deadpan look.

“Bloke like that’s only got one type o’ chat,” he explains, “And it’s all ‘bout him. You should’ve known, eh?”

He flicks your temple. You splutter.

“What?” He nods in your direction, swallowing a mouthful. “Went on leave an’ lost all those brains?”

You swat his hand away.

“Shut up.” You grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

He mercifully lets it go and returns his attention to his meal.

Even a burger that big looks awfully small in Simon’s hands. You used to look small in Simon’s hands, somehow—skin pliant and soft. Dimpling under his fingertips, folding easily with just the press of his big palm in his desired direction.

Same hands that used to hold you still by the waist, hands that handled you until you’d turn into putty on the mattress. Fingers long and skilled when they curled around your neck, cutting your airways just enough to make your head spin. Fingers that you’ve had all over: in your hair, on your stomach, down your throat, in your cunt.

Fuck.

Some ketchup spills out of his burger and onto his thumb. He brings it to his lips and purses them on his pad to suck it off.

Fuckfuckfuck.

You turn away and stuff your mouth with chips.

“How’d you find him anyway?” He asks after a while. “Apps?”

You balance your cup on the large center console as you shake your head in negative. Your response comes muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Pub down the road,” you tell him, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “The one close to HQ.”

“The Bell?”

You swallow. Nod your head. “Mhmh.”

“Should’ve known.” He muses, and you hear him scrunching up the paper that once held his burger. “Proper dive, that. Full o’ fucked up blokes.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re an avid frequenter,” you say, mouth full and eyes averted to your cardboard of chips.

He doesn’t snort, nor does he laugh it off. Instead, you can only hear the rapid tap of fingernails on the leather of the wheel filling the suddenly heavy silence that settled.

“No’ anymore.” He replies after a beat.

The tone doesn’t match the flippant vibe heard in the Humvee until now. He’s serious and levelled, like he’s stating some important matter he needs to unhook from his chest.

You swallow your chips like they’re cement.

“And why’s that?” You venture.

Simon shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. The leather squeaks, his jeans rustle where his thighs rub together.

“Don’t fit with the crowd is all.” He says quietly.

“What crowd?”

“The fucked up one.”

When you turn his way, you still.

Simon’s eyes are already on you.

His gaze is tangible. Sticks to you like damp fabric. You can almost feel his fingers draw mindless circles there, where your skin is heating up under the heaviness of his eyes.

Whatever reply you had ready for him dies choked in your throat.

Your shoulders are stiff, your body’s too warm. Tongue like sandpaper stuck to your palate.

It’s been so long since Simon looked at you like he truly wanted you—like nothing else in the world mattered more.

For months, his eyes have wandered everywhere but to you, and until now, you thought that was a blessing. Because if he didn’t look at you this way, maybe letting him go would’ve been easier.

But now, as his eyes hold yours, you can’t fathom how you’ve managed to go so long without it.

You match his intensity, as the air in the Humvee grows heavy and thick. Cement is poured into your chest until you’re not sure how to breathe right anymore.

“Not fucked anymore, you think?” Your voice is raspy and feeble, like there’s something tying your vocal cords in a perfect knot.

You know he can’t affirm anything in that regard. Lord knows he’s fucked, and you can’t even add your two cents about it because you’d act like the pot calling the kettle black.

And yet, he replies softly. “Not as fucked, I reckon, no.”

Your brows pinch. Eyes big and languid, searching his—rich, hooded, sincere.

“And you?” He rumbles, hesitant for the first time.

You blink.

“Me?” You mouth with your lips, voice stuck somewhere in your chest.

He nods your way. “Still an avid frequenter o’ the fucked-up crowd?”

You blink. A laugh breathes out of you without you even considering it first.

Almost naturally, you reply with a whispered, “No. Not as avid, I think.”

Simon’s lips twitch upward, and then his hand lifts your way, though never reaches out enough to touch you. He lets it hover in the space in between, fingers soft and curled inwards.

It trembles. Terrible characteristic for a sniper. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it happen to him. Always steady, always sure.

Your eyes fall on it. On the scars crisscrossing his knuckles, on the callouses of his pads and the raw spot on his thumb.

When you look up again, Simon’s eyes are a pool, open wide and waiting for you to just dive in it.

He says your name. Not your rank, callsign, bullshit loves, and pets, and the pretty ensemble. He says it low, heavy, like his tongue is a cinderblock and it’s so, so hard for him to speak it.

It’s almost a warning, you think. Your brain ponders it: the tone, the lilt, the volume. All of it, and you conclude that you are, in fact, wrong.

It’s no warning, no threat. It’s a plea.

Your eyes fall instinctively down the curve of his nose, to his lips. Lips you’ve kissed, lips that travelled every inch of your skin. Drank every sound you’ve ever spilled. Worshipped it, made it his. Coveted it carefully, in secret, until you noticed how those same breaths, those same noises, never left your mouth again, not after him.

Lost in his features, you don’t see how his eyes are focused on your lips as well.

And when you look up, he does too.

Something’s exchanged between you. Something written in the line between his brows as he frowns in concentration, in the tremble of your lips as they struggle to form words, requests, the barrage of questions you want to ask.

The mutual, soft, and barely veiled Please, please kiss me again.

His jaw shifts.

"Just say the word."

You gulp—fruitless. Your throat is dry, your lips unresponsive. Cursing yourself for not being ready now that you need it. Struggling to express the absolute beast that's scratching something violent in your chest.

You barely manage to break through it.

"Kiss me."

You blink and Simon’s lips are on yours.

Your stomach drops. You don’t think you can breathe.

He takes the lead when you go motionless, cupping the back of your head with both hands to pull you in. Your fingers grasp his forearms, flexing around them to make sure he’s real.

Only when your mouth opens and the kiss deepens do you unravel.

You melt in his hold, closing your eyes all the way and breathing heavily from your nose, because you’re not parting from him ever again.

Simon might think the same, because the passion with which you kiss him is thoroughly matched. His arms wrap around your waist, and you don’t spare a moment to turn on the passenger seat until you’re on your knees.

Chips spill everywhere on the floor. None of you care.

He helps you across the centre console until you’re straddling his thighs. Your knee knocks over the cup and coke spills everywhere.

And fuck, none of you care.

Humvees are big but never big enough for this. Granted, it’s not the purpose for which they were created. You hunch down when your head hits the padded roof, holding him by the sides of his face until he tips it back.

You taste his breath as it puffs on your mouth while he kisses you fiercely.

Simon pulls back. Cradles your face in his hands and his fingers dig into your scalp at the back.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls. Low, and breathy, and with that hint of disbelief that matches the one in your eyes. He brushes your cheeks with his thumbs, and you do the same.

He lunges forward, then. Captures your mouth briefly before travelling downwards, where open kisses make goosebumps rise on your arms. Big hands envelop your hips as he pulls you down, grinding you against the hard tent of his jeans.

And you comply, humping your sex—impossibly wet—to the seam covering the zipper.

He grunts in your neck each time your cunt drags across his. The sound makes you vibrate, a strange sort of power in the knowledge that he’s making it because of you, and you only.

The world moves slowly around you, like it wants the night to last hours and hours more. A small favour in exchange for what you do for it, keeping it clean and all the rubbish you’re told so you can live peacefully with your actions.

Perhaps tonight you believe them all.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this vocal with him, and it’s not even theatrics.

You just love it.

It’s overwhelming to have him hold you again, touch you, eat at your skin with the same intense desperation you’re gripping his hair with. Pressing his face into your neck as he sucks at the spot where it meets your shoulder, thundering heartbeat under his tongue. Darker spots blossom shameless in his wake, drawing a perfect mosaic of colours you’ll trace with your fingers come morning.

When Simon feels your hips do the work by themselves, he busies his hands with your dress. Rides it up your thighs until it bunches at your waist. Kneads the fat of your ass, landing a slap that makes you jolt.

Makes you moan.

And Simon drinks it just in time, swallowing it with a kiss that takes your breath away. Then, he rapidly travels down your throat, following the line of love bites all the way to your chest.

His teeth sink into the softer flesh there. Long fingers pull down the neckline of your dress until your tits spill out. He mouths a path to your nipple, sucking until it pebbles on his tongue. His teeth graze around it and you hiss at the perfect balance of pain and pleasure it creates.

And when his free hand comes to pinch at your other nipple, he pulls a little too hard.

You clench a fist in his hair and look down at him, hips falling still.

“Oi.” You frown.

His chest heaves. Yours matches the pants that leave your lips.

He wrinkles his nose, in that how dare you stop me way. But this time there’s something impish in there, like he knows what he’s doing and just likes to pull your chain. Lighthearted in a way you never dared to associate with Simon Riley.

How beautiful he looks with this new light bathing his eyes.

“What.”

You scoff. Your heart goes through several different stages of frustration, exasperation, anger, tenderness and love. Familiarity. Settling on the latter, until you recognize the glint in his eyes, the same one he had all those months back, when he was on his knees.

Lust, care, love, regret.

“Gentle.” You tell him as your chest softens, your voice still mockingly altered. “You’re not tuning the bloody radio.”

“Ha!” His lips twitch upward. “Coulda fooled me.”

Simon pinches your nipple in retaliation, but it makes you chuckle this time. When he’s sure you’re okay, he pulls your lips down in a kiss that’s starting to taste of you, and you like how the salt of your skin seems to belong so naturally on his tongue.

You kiss him through your smile as the air turns hot again. The windows slowly grow misty and opaque, creating a space around you that’s soft and insulated and safe.

Simon splays his palm on your stomach. Turns it so his fingers face downward. He inches closer to your sex, grazing the lace of your underwear, until the pad of his middle finger presses to the wet spot formed on the gusset.

There, he stops. Waits for you.

No need for words. You don’t want his lips to leave yours and you don’t fancy taking the risk of pulling away.

In fact, there’s little hesitation when your hand journeys down his shoulder to his forearm, tracing the hair growing over it and the odd bump of a scar here and there. You travel until your palm cups his knuckles, your middle finger over his, pressing it down to the swollen knot of your clit.

Simon draws a few experimental rolls, ones you encourage with the movement of your hips, with the puffs of breath all but pushed out of you and into the kiss.

A kiss he reciprocates, open and hot.

Moving your panties aside, Simon only brushes your entrance at first, finding it sodden already. And when you more than enthusiastically respond to his touch, he plunges his finger inside.

Your breath itches, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open against his own.

Simon drags his finger slowly, in and out, not teasingly but to let you adjust, to allow you to mould around his shape. And he does so until he feels you positively drip on his palm, softer around him yet clenching at the welcomed intrusion.

He adds a second finger. The stretch is delicious, fulfilling. Scratches an itch you couldn’t quite reach on your own, nor could the scattered toys you’ve bought and abandoned.

It’s a touch you’re comfortable with, one you know and can predict but not in a way that makes it boring. You just know he’ll feed the starvation, satisfy the drought.

He buries his fingers to the knuckle, until his palm is flat to your sex, heel pressing to your clit. Simon rolls it a few times and then lets you take the lead, keeping his hand still.

You ride his fingers by canting your hips in the way you like, stimulating both your g-spot and your clit. Simon keeps your mouth on his with a hand of steel glued to the back of your neck—unnecessary, because you have no intention of pulling away.

The first orgasm makes your head spin—you haven’t had a good one like this in quite some time. It coils around your stomach until it's knotted so tight you have no other option but to groan in his mouth to release the tension it built.

Simon’s fingers flex both at your nape and inside of you, pulling you impossibly closer, noses slotting next to each other. He breathes just as heavily as you do, as if your orgasm has somehow rattled him as well.

There are no formalities in the way he moves, in the way he leaves your still clenching cunt empty—wet fingers reaching for his belt, unbuckling in haste.

The sound of clinking metal manages to pass through the cotton barrier in your ears. It wakes you, prickles your skin that’s already burning hot.

You help him. Yours and his fingers try to work together but somehow make it harder to achieve the same goal. You chuckle when you both reach for the zipper and he playfully swats your hand away, taking the lead instead.

You feel him twitch a smile against your kiss.

He untucks himself from his briefs. The urge to look down is impossible to resist and so you do, catching the glint on the head of his cock as it leaks with precum, wetter than you’ve ever seen him be.

Your stomach tightens. Now that's a mouthwatering sight that never ceases to amaze you.

Simon pats your ass as an invite to scoot forward. He languidly drags the tip along your slit to collect some of your wetness. You jolt each time he catches your swollen clit.

When he lines himself with your entrance, you start sinking on him—nails digging into the cotton of his sweatshirt on his shoulders.

Simon stretches you wonderfully. He would slide in easily considering the way you’re dripping—it’s you who wants to take it slow in order to catch each muted reaction with ears and eyes, lips brushing his own.

And then you envelop him fully, taking his cock to the hilt.

“Fuck.” He croaks, and falls still.

The hand on your hip grips it painfully tight. The one on your nape locks your forehead to his. His breath comes out in heavy puffs, eyes wrenched closed.

Simon looks very vulnerable now. Much at your mercy. He doesn’t want you to move, clearly, and has full trust you won’t. For him. Maybe for you too, otherwise this will end much sooner than you both want it to.

But still, you brush the tip of your nose with his. He opens his eyes, iris swallowed whole.

“Alright?” You ask quietly.

He brushes his nose back with yours.

“Alrigh’,” he rumbles. “Been a while is all.”

You purse your lips in a wry smile.

“Has it now.”

He hums, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t fancy goin’ ‘round breakin’ any more hearts.”

“How considerate, lieutenant.”

“Aye, that’s me.”

“Not quite.”

He pinches the fat on your hip.

“Cheeky,” he says, watching your eyes smile.

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head from side to side.

“Eh, you love it.”

And he takes you off guard.

“I do," he says firmly, like that's some fundamental truth.

His hand moves to your cheek, thumb right under your eye brushing softly where the skin is thinner.

You like having him like this, with his face to yours, his lips within reach. It’s a strange thing, not having to turn your head around to reach for a sliver of skin to press a kiss to. Not having to find cotton instead of warm flesh, instead of soft lips.

You feel like you can, now—take the chance without finding a door being shut in your face.

In fact, your lips find his naturally, and he responds like it’s easy, like it’s something you do every time.

He kisses you slowly as his hand descends down your back to grab your hip. Then, he guides you, initiating the movements, and you follow through.

It begins gently, with your breaths in sync, lips just close enough for either of you to share a kiss if the moment feels right. Your hands cradle the slopes of his neck, his own fit in the crease between your hips and thighs.

It’s very quiet, you think, unlike the grunts and groans of the previous times. Now there's only Simon’s pants, your own efforts to keep your voice low, breathy moans occasionally interrupted by the smacking of lips.

And then he fits his palms under the round fat of your rear, lifting you up and then guiding you down at once. Your voice cracks, shattered into broken moans that Simon matches with his own.

Suddenly, you both want more. You feel it in the grip he has on your ass, in the hungry shadows of his eyes. You feel it in yourself, the heat pooling lower and lower, starving hands clutching the hair at his nape.

You prop yourself on your knees, as comfortably as you can, and start riding Simon even if your hamstrings are aching, thighs clenched and hard to the touch.

You go on and on, one hand perched on the padded roof and the other flat on the car window, mist disappearing in the shape of dragged fingers and scratching nails.

Warm pleasure collects in your belly. So hot it drips all the way to your toes, curling in your black heels clasped around your ankles. Your pace starts getting frantic, almost clumsy in the desperation to reach that high again, expecting it to be much better than the previous one since now Simon is fully sheathed inside of you.

You hold his eyes as the air catches in your chest and you fall silent. Breaths clipped and choked, like moans that you can’t articulate. Throat tight, tight, and tighter.

Simon seems to notice the signs, attentive as ever, and he dips three fingers in his mouth before bringing them to your clit. He swipes side to side with the same urgency of your hips, clit pebbled and raw soothed by the warm smoothness of his spit.

You cum hard. It’s a wave that almost crushes you against him, so hot you feel like suffocating. Your body collapses on him, as you pant loud and shrill into the curve of his neck. Simon’s cock is buried all the way in, while your tired hips twitch helplessly to both prolong your high and escape it.

And so, Simon takes it upon himself. Lifts you up and drops you down until you’re whimpering in his shoulder, teeth sinking in the taut muscles of his traps and nails digging into his back.

By then, Simon’s hanging on by thread and you know it even in your fucked-out state.

When the overstimulation hits and a rough string of curses leaves your lips right into his ear, Simon snaps.

With a grunt that rattles your chest, he pulls you down until he’s flush with you, and you swear you can feel him in your throat. His hips hump upwards as if that might somehow drive him deeper, and then he fills you with warmth, hot and liquid. Inevitably, it spills out, dripping thick down his thighs and onto the car seats.

Simon holds you like that, catching his breath as you catch yours.

He peppers your shoulder with kisses. Big hands clutch the back of your dress as it dampens with your sweat until his arms finally wrap you whole—so tight your breath leaves you in a gasp.

“Missed you,” he says, breathing your name reverently.

And why on earth should you not believe him, this time—with his face in your neck, his heart on his sleeve.

You lift your head to kiss his cheek. The cracks in your lips sting as they unexpectedly meet fine tracks of salt water.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Missed you too, Si."

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #ghost x reader #smut #cod smut #x reader #foxy #Simon Riley is bad at feelings #my favorite tag #but he's getting so much better at that!!! big up for Simon Riley!!!

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spurbleu · 3 days ago

Text

unraveling careful threads

nurse!reader x johnny mactavish (sfw oneshot)

s. johnny finds you where he needs you. wc. 2k for @kentwos, <3

you don’t know what it is about your door, but it seems to beckon chaos.

it has no business being there. on the days you return with sore heels and needle indents on your pointer and thumb, it should not follow you. the military is its ball and chain- two trenches deep behind security fences. it should remain there- you’ve told the damn thing to sit and lie and yet it stalks you to a place of respite.

stray cats pitch on fat paws by your front steps. doorbell ditches- neighborhood boys who strangle their youth. rain.

tonight, its dressed in a bleeding temple and wine cheeks. bruises beneath the porch light and leans against the wood of your door frame. lubberly smile.

“come here often?”

although your concern is sluggish, it waxes the underside of your ribs when he lumbers past you into your living room. you lock the door before following him.

“johnny? what on earth h-“

“jus’ a scuffle. some bam off his rocker- one tae maneh bevvy’s,” he limps across your carpet with a right lean- sobering up slowly as he rummages through your cabinets, “where d’ye keep yer aid?”

whatever brought him to your door had beaten off the drunken stupor. you can’t classify what replaces it, but the shadow of it follows him. wimpish, reeking of pub grease, caramelized liquor, a drying anger.

the lights of your flat soften it.

in fact, it softens him.

unfamiliarity sheets the corners of your vision. him, unmitigated substance- raw sinews that thread thick strands beneath tanned skin are left exposed to the mundane. violence in a butter dish. grisly silt on a vacuumed carpet. a sergeant in cotton.

you’ve seen him only in the context of harsh lines. charcoal draws his boots on concrete, nothing picks the gravel from his teeth, and horizon grays let him taunt grim reapers and their assault rifles. where the world is his adversary and he takes it by the throat. even in the confines of your office, the walls feel as though they’d been sanded on whetstone when he receives a third set of stitches.

delicate looked unnatural on him. johnny was rock. impenetrable, inevitable. a dulled stone, rounded and heavy, bludgeons docile until it’s drying in saline and the vim that grows haphazardly on his knuckles. he did not belong where things were soft, and certainly didn’t fit in your kitchen.

he sends you a look over his shoulder. “ah ken ‘m good lookin, but i could realleh use a bandage.”

you swallow. “what?”

realization funnels through your exhaustion. you’re on leave. so is he. neither of them, given the circumstances and distance, should converge. regardless, he stands beaten to a variant of death, offering you a wilting smile and a flirt.

your eyes narrow. “johnny, why are you here.”

“cannae wounded soldier nae get help from his favorite nurse?”

a cautious step forward. “on base. but this is my house. how-“

“christ bonnie, jus quit it with the interview ‘n give me yer aid,” he rubs his temple and leans against the fridge, “that fuckin bastard.”

the disquiet comes back in a wave.

you’re vaguely acquainted with the state. the lull of anticipation as you sit in the after brood of consequence, sore operative on a stretcher. a mothering silence, rocks you both into placidity. its where you become removed from the outcome of the stitches, the draw of their brow, the blood that gets on your shirt. fades to somewhere beyond the both of you, mental death among other reliefs. lets you work.

but its never there when you look at johnny. never has been.

you’re left so agonizingly present around him. you blamed his sound for years- the resonate baritone in foreign gaelic that forges its way into spaces that cannot fit it (medic rooms, your ears…wayward sentimental thoughts) and how after he’s stopped speaking, it lingers on the back of your neck for hours.

but the longer you’ve known him, you realize it isn’t how loud he is, or the territory of his torso- not even his eyes. it’s the untitled charm that soothes a callous under your skin. you don’t know how to name it, so you let it guide your body to the corner base cabinet, searching for your aid.

because he needs it. and you have never been above giving johnny want he needs.

“go sit down.” there’s a disjointed noise from behind you as you pull the box to the counter.

“’m perfectly capable of-“

“johnny- go sit.”

you feel him staring at your back, but when the kitchen goes quiet, you know he’s done as told. you put the kettle on the back stove and set the heat to low, before walking around the banister back to the living room, where he waits with a pouting lip and a wide sit.

what a charmer.

you set the aid on the coffee table and assess the damage. shallow gash on the right side of his temple, bruising cheekbone that swells his left eye, split lip and a smudge of blood under his nostrils.

you pause where you stand, realizing in order to be productive you’ll have to be up close. you don’t have another chair that won’t risk an unsteady hand. johnny follows your thinking rather quickly for being roughed up and half sober. “my lap donae look comfeh enough for ye, bonnie?”

this little-

out of spite, you plop ungracefully on his right thigh. you hoped- expected- a fragment of surprise. instead, he gives you a loose grin, before gently resting his hands on your hips. the breeze of his fingertips makes you flinch.

“wha-“

“jus’ tryna keep ye steady,” he close one eye, the other full of mirth, “ready for my check up, doc.”

you scoff before pulling out your cotton swabs.

the routine begins. cleaning infections, pinching the skin to prepare it for stitches, breathing slowing. all while trying to ignore the sensation of your hands ghosting over his face, and how when you pull them back, they’re burning, sweating between each gap. all this fuss over how his thumbs mindlessly fiddle with the hem of your sleep shirt.

your fingers are the spiders that web him back together. the lifelines of your palm could never reach him, but you find that he’s already been there. burrows in the vulnerable fissures of your body, your mind, until you’re unravelling while he’s sewn together.

and yet, you’re anchored. calmed. his discord serves as relief from a world that is inherently boring. you’d feel compelled to thank him if you think he’d understand.

“yer makin tha’ face again.”

you pause the needle before it hits his skin. “what face?”

“yer lip puffs out and yer brows do tis’ ting where d’ey meet n ta’ middle of yer-“ he smiles to himself and loses your eyes, “ye make it when ye need tae focus.”

you squint. “does it bother you?”

he laughs. a deep sound, resonates with the child in you that remembers waves against mercury bluffs, or watching thunder from your bedroom window. awe. having heard them before, and yet they sound foreign every time.

“nae,” he shakes his head softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a classic grin. if you had been standing, your knees would weaken at the gnaw of their blue when he looks at you again, “nae quite ta’ opposite. might be the most beautiful thing i’ve eva’ seen.”

the ceiling fan whirrs above you in a rhythm that matches your heartbeat, the carpet feels decade rough on your socks, and the clock in the corner is quieter than it’s ever been. and it’s all because a man who takes up leagues of space just by smiling called you beautiful.

you’d never say that aloud though. you’d be feeding the thing that makes him that way.

“you’re hopeless.” is all that you muster.

he smiles, but its without gravity. it’s almost sad. “aye, maybe for ye.”

you lose yourself in the moments you find him like this. pliant, willing, gentle. (is that how cain killed abel? virgin hands wield a rock on innocence? softness weaponizing itself? you’re unsure, but when he meets your eyes for a third time, you’re convinced he’s waiting to kill you with the tender that holds you still on his thigh.)

“this is going to hurt.”

he recoils when you push the needle through the edge of his temple, but relaxes with a labored exhale. suddenly its quiet like it hadn’t been before. a breed of silence where you realize how close you are, how you swallow his breath, and feel the blimp of his pulse on your hip bone.

it doesn’t take long for you to finish closing the tear. when he feels you pull away, he tips his head up to look at you.

“looks like i came tae the righ’ d-“

“why are you out at this hour?”

your interruption is involuntary if anything else, but now that you look at him- half blue and half bloody- the concern you usually remove from patients rears an ugly head and hits the roof of your mouth.

he falters. “wha’d’ye mean?”

you drag your knuckles across his cheek bone and the flesh swelters. plums where other men became sideways and angry- and it’s the cotton in you that can’t help but swipe a thumb over it. he cringes, but you persist until the pad of your thumb cools where it burns. when you find his eyes, you lose something in your lungs.

“I…I know you’re on leave, and your life is your own but…” you pretend to idle your hands over his jaw- looking for any contusions, or perhaps a lifeline that could stabilize you as you rest on his lap, “getting into fights at pubs isn’t exactly the point of a vacation.”

he sighs before looking at your palm, “I…” his voice below a whisper, his stubble barely itching your fingers tells you he’s trying not to startle you, “I get… antsy. gets me inta’ trouble,” he offers you a clumsy smile, “donae think I’m capable of sittin’ still for very long.”

you steal a look at his lips. they’re not bleeding anymore. you blink. “you’re doing it now.”

he gives you a look like you’re torturing him and your mouth dries. “I’ve got ye on my lap. ay’d be a very, very foolish man, to move now.”

johnny has a way of saying things so simply that you think it’s better if you say nothing at all.

instead you take antiseptic and wipe his stitches clean. the only remnants that remain of night- the swell of his eye, the healing cut on his temple- are now replaced with remnants of you. needle and thread, careful breath, your skin on his.

you didn’t know nursing could ever feel so intimate.

“i’m…you’re all..” you swallow the blue in his eyes like their air, “done.”

he nods, but doesn’t move. in fact, neither of you do.

the lamp light tames the sting of his iris. they can’t startle a paralysis under downy soft yellow. instead, hot blue steel melts you. diminishes your flesh and bone to the second skin he has a tendency to stare at it until it’s been torn apart and pieced together. the countless times you’ve done it for him under a needle and thread do not compare to what he does with his eyes.

it’s an oddity you’ve grown much to fond of for something that is so inherently finite.

“i…meant what i said,” this will not last, ��about you being beautiful.”

it will pass, god let it pass. “Johnny…”

the teapot whistles from the kitchen brings you back to your senses. you cough the penciled fear into your fist and try for a smile. both of you know its not honest.

“sit tight.”

the tea is still warm in your belly as you watch him shuck his coat on his shoulders from your position on the wall. you both remain comfortably mute, in this odd routine that doesn’t feel new at all. despite every experience tonight proving something different, as he stands at your door you’re prompted with an overwhelming rush of deja’vu.

“you sure you’re alright to drive home?” you stifle a yawn. “I know you’ve slept on more uncomfortable surfaces than my couch.”

he laughs, albeit its muddled by his own exhaustion. “very temptin’ bonnie. but i cannae stay- gotta get back to my own.” something other than his own bed is tugging him out the door, but you let a sleeping dog lay (or, an injured sergeant lie).

he opens your door and turns to face you before walking out. you can’t tell if the shiver is from the cold rush of air that hits your bare elbows, or the preserving look he throws your way. “thank ye, bonnie. yer a life saver.”

you smile. “i would say come again, but i feel like that’s redundant.”

he nods. his eyes flit to the space behind you and then back to your face. he pulls his hand from his pocket and tucks a stray behind your ear, and you swear it’s the first time you’ve seen the sergeant properly blush.

“sweet dreams, mm bonnie?”

“yeah. get home safe,” your smile broads, “not keen on staying awake too much longer to fish you out of trouble again.”

he nods, stepping out the threshold of your door. you feel like you’ve lost things tonight but gained something infinitely more important. “goodnight, Johnny.”

“g’night.”

you don’t realize that its yearning until his footfall recedes back into a world that is boundless and without your hands to keep him threaded together.

at least then, he’ll return to you.

#johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap x reader #cod #call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap x you

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08crll · 3 days ago

Text

🎨💐 246; GYEONG-SEOK HEADCANONS.

sfw & nsfw! <3

desc: 1.9k words. i NEED this man, i wish he was real. an angel loses its wings everytime this man gets written ooc 💔 so hopefully this one is in character.

sfw. gender-neutral!reader.

★ this man LOOOOVES cuddles. look at him. it doesn’t matter if you prefer being the big spoon or the Iittle spoon一he just wants to feel you close to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.

★ he's probably a little touch starved too. but he would never say it, not because he doesn’t want to appear weak or anything, he just doesn’t want to scare you away.

★ if u were to ask him what his love language was, he’d say it was quality time or acts of service but, really, that’s only what be wants to provide that for his partner. what he really want is physical touchh:( and words of affirmation!!

★ crafty guy. he would make u cards, letters and those paper origami flowers. it doesn't even have to be on special occasions, sometimes you just come home from your work and he surprises you with a new paper craft he discovered. made out of anything he could recycle. be it a receipt, a paper bag, newspaper.

★ very touchy. but not in a bad way. always asking if you're okay with it.

★ this man probably gets all flushed and shy when you call him handsome.

call him your good looking boy and he already has that sweet smile you always loved to see. burying his face on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s with all your sweet words?” his voice muffled by your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“can i not call you handsome?”

“aahh.. quit it,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you down the couch and peppering your face with kisses.

★ loves hugging you from behind, especially when you cook or you’re at the grocery store. you’d be looking at the list of things you needed to restock on while he pushed the cart not too far behind you.

was it powder or liquid detergent? you thought to yourself, pulling out the list from the back pocket of your pants. then, out of nowhere do you feel arms around your waist, warm hands settling on your hips. “where's our cart?” you murmured with a smile. gosh, you were just starting to freeze under the cold air conditioner of this damn store.

“its fine. ‘just right behind us,” gyeong-seok reassures you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. he really couldn’t care less if people stare. he wants them to see how much he loves you. “is this okay..?” he whispered, his breath tickling your jaw.

you just chuckle, not bothering to give him a verbal response. instead, you lean back into his touch. your back pressed against his chest. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, pulling his head up to place a soft kiss on that sensitive spot of your neck.

★ definitely has multiple drawings and doodles of you in his sketchpad. never shows you because he’s afraid you might think he’s being a bit much.

★ musician!reader & him? perfect pair. art recognises art! when he hears you playing your instrument in a different room, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and carefully walks to where you were to watch you do your stuff. if na-yeon is home, he’d definitely bring her with him.

★ always has his eyes on you even during times when he probably shouldn’t, like when the two of you are having a conversation with na-yeon’s teacher about how well she’s been doing in her classes. or when you were having dinner with your parents. you were explaining how you met him and he just admires you like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

★ adding onto the previous one, because of how often he just stares at you; you often mistook this as him spacing out and not listening but he actually was listening to every single word you said. your voice sounded like heaven to him, how could he not? when you ask him to recite what you just said, you were surprised to see how he got it right, word for word.

★ definitely the type to go out of his way to do something because he thinks you’d like it. during one of your library dates, he catches you picking up a book about poetry, complimenting the work inside and how beautiful people write when they’re in love. after that day, he definitely went home and wrote multiple poem drafts about you.

★ speaking of dates!! this man would be the type to apologise to you because he can’t take you to those fancy restaurants. you had to remind him multiple times that eating at fine dinings wasn’t really your thing anyway, that it made you self-conscious to be around such fancy people. he frowned, thinking you were just saying that so he’d stop apologising and you knew just how to cure that.

“you know.. i always did have a soft spot for library dates.”

his face lit up and ever since then, he never forgets to take you on your weekly library dates. it was a good place to unwind as well. killing one bird with two stones; spending quality time with you knowing that you actually enjoy being here, and being able to have some peace and quiet.

★ the protective and worried type!! always texting “are you home?” after dropping you off at your place. “are you tired? do you want to sleep?” as much as he’d love to text you up until the early morning even if it meant he had no sleep when he got to work tomorrow, he doesn’t want you to be sleep deprived.

★ i’ve seen other ppl say this and i just can’t get it out of my head; he’s probably insecure about himself whenever you introduce him to your friends and your family :(

when you invite him to attend a dinner party, telling him it was just a get together with some old friends from your hometown, he misheard you.

“you should definitely go! i know how much you miss your friends,” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

you furrowed your brows. “honey.. wait, no, i want you to come with me, yeah?”

he looks at you confused. you want to bring him with you? for what? he was never the type to be jealous of you attending events by yourself. maybe it was because he trusted you or maybe because he didn’t want to hold you back. he knew you to be too good for him. a single father, struggling to make ends meet and provide for his sickly daughter—it wouldn’t be much of a shock to him if you ghosted him out of nowhere or if you leave him for another person. please give this man some reassurance!!! :(

★ always wakes up before you in the morning. his fingers trailing across your face while he admires the way the sun shines behind you making it look like you were glowing. he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but my god, did he consider himself the luckiest man alive for that reason.

★ loves it when you cup his face with both your hands. he’ll have the biggest and silliest smile on his face when you do so.

nsfw! gender-neutral & fem!reader.

★ a soft dom, but would gladly be submissive if you asked.

★ as we already know, he’s a very good listener, even in bed. he’s always listening to the way you moan, the sound of your whine, the pitch. does flicking his tongue feel good? he’d ask but he had a feeling that the sound of you already gave him the answer.

★ probably would prefer to be intimate in comfortable spaces. although he would never object if you offered to give him a quickie, each time he’d remind you of how you never needed to do this. that he’d take care of it himself.

“you don’t have to. it’ll go away. i can—”

“i want to. please?”

how could he say no to those eyes?

★ prioritizes your comfort above anything else, above his own. if you were in an awkward place, but you really needed to get off—needed him—he would hold your hand firmly. “i’ll take you home, come on,” he’d say as he pulls you next to him.

★ loooves having you ride him, but he worries that it’ll tire you out too much

★ when your face gets sweaty, hair clinging to your forehead with your mouth open, he makes sure to brush your hair back with his fingers. he wants to see your flushed and fucked out face clearly, wants to see if he’s doing good

★ always preps you beforehand. he can’t stand the thought of hurting you, even IF you’ve done it countless times before.

reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he gently swats your hand away. “i need to prep you first, honey..” he cooed, pulling your pants down. he knows how eager you are, but he needs to take care of you first.

★ the only times he wouldn’t prep you would probably be when he’d be the sub. you ordering him around, telling him what to do and what not to do

★ subtle touches doesn’t get him turned on right away (he’s more mature than that. he’s not a pervert) this probably also means that he’s a little oblivious to your advances, you’d have to tell him directly what you needed or wanted of him and watch as his eyes widen, looking around to see if na-yeon heard the two of you. “honey.. are you sure?”

★ there would be times when you’d show off your skin and instead of him getting aroused, he’d just be in awe of your beauty. i mean, he probably IS aroused but he just doesn’t go insane over it.

★ breeding kink, FOR SURE, but he always asks first.

“can i come in you, baby? please?”

“i’m so close.. ‘so close..”

“pleaseee...” paired by him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

★ doesn’t like BDSM. i mean, he’s a father now. also hates the thought of hurting you purposefully. he’d also probably never say it, but he doesn’t like getting degraded as well :( just give this man some praises, he’s already sad enough as is!

★ saw ppl saying he has a daddy kink and im just like nooooo 💔💔 he has a daughter that literally calls him daddy, why would he ever want you to call him that in the bedroom?

★ his rhythm would be slow and gentle, wanting to feel all of you and be with you in the moment. you would have to beg this man to go faster

★ the type to hold your hair back during blowjobs. he’d probably accidentally pull on it when you flick your tongue over his tip, but apologies would quickly come spilling out of his lips.

“‘m sorry.. sorry, honey.. i didn’t mean to.. fuck, that felt good..”

★ always reminding you of how beautiful you are while his cock is buried deep inside you.

“you’re so beautiful like this.. taking me in so well..”

“yes, that’s it.. c’mon.. you’re so pretty..”

★ he makes sure you come before he does, and when he does come (whether it’s in you or on you) he takes a minute afterwards to take a breath while you feel his cock still half-hard inside you.

“i love you so much.”

“you did so good f’me..”

★ aftercare king 🫡🫡

a/n: there are literally no fics of him (x reader) on ao3 so i have turned to tumblr bc tumblr RARELY disappoints when it comes to content for side characters 🙏

#gyeong seok smut #park gyeong seok #246 #player 246 #player 246 x reader #gyeong seok x reader #gyeong seok x reader smut #gyeong seok #lee jinuk #lee jin wook #squid game s2 #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game headcanons #c’s fics 🖋️

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jjoongstar · 10 hours ago

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i… am speechless. now what even is this im so wet like i found another side of me that i nvr knew, damn. THIS IS SO AMAZING LIKE ITS SO FUCKED UP LIKE HELL YEAH IM SO INTO THIS SHI! HWA WAS SO HOT IN HERE LIKE MAN, THIS IS SO ATTRACTIVE FOR WHAT!? i fear you slayed this too much, you deserve an award, istg this made me go insane. i so cant be normal after this. oh good heavens…😞

no way out (p.sh)

pairing: hostage!reader x maifa boss!seonghwa

preview: seonghwa loves to collect pretty things. when he saw you, he knew he needed to add you to his collection.

tags/warnings: fem reader, (leather) gloved fingering, pussy slapping, begging, gun + knife play, edging, overstimulation, s&m, dacryphilia, degrading, praise, pet names (doll, princess, baby, angel), hair pulling, possessiveness, marking, choking, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: kidnapping, kinda noncon, beginning stages of stockholm syndrome, guns and knives ofc

wc: 2.7k

song recs for this fic: criminal by britney spears

a/n: please read the tags and triggers very carefully!!!

seonghwa sat comfortably in his black mercedes benz, watching the people around him. his dark tinted windows gave no one any awareness of his presence. many people gawked at his car, amazed to see something so expensive on this side of the city. “anything catching your eye, boss?” his driver asked, breaking the thick silence. seonghwa shakes his head, staring into the rearview mirror. “no, but we’ll give it another couple of minutes.” he returned his eyesight to scan the crowd.

the leather seats of his car were comfortable enough to give him the relaxation he needed while scoping out the crowds of people. spending so much time indoors had caused him to forget just how many people live in seoul. he leaned back against the headrest, wishing that endeavours like these didn’t take so long. he crosses his arms, his leather gloved hands resting on his biceps.

he spotted plenty of objectively attractive people, some he might’ve dared to test on any other occasion. but he knew what he wanted. finally, through the crowd, he spots you. you glow within the crowd like the sun in the sky. “there.” the man in the passenger seat is quick to jump out, standing in your way. you trip over yourself a bit, startled by the sudden presence in front of you. “sorry ma’am, do you have a minute?” he asks, your eyebrows furrowing. seonghwa climbs out of the car and appears behind his bodyguard. “no, i don’t,” you respond, quick to dodge both men, staring down at your phone. seonghwa watches you speed walk away, crossing his arms over his chest. your thoughtless resistance attracted a dark part of him. “that’s the one. follow her.”

both men are quick to pile back into the expensive car and follow your direction. they trail behind you, watching you as you walk into your apartment building. they sit in the parking lot for longer than most people would consider appropriate. seonghwa checks his watch. he has a meeting soon, he cannot sit here for much longer. “contact hongjoong and have him send some men here to get her for me.” his order is stern and his driver nods. slowly, they pull away from the parking lot and drive back to the mansion where the mafia resides.

_______________________________________________

a few days later, seonghwa is greeted by a knock on his office door. the doors open to reveal two lower members of the family, wooyoung and san. “what can i do for you, gentlemen?” he asks, tapping on the papers on his desk to indicate that he’s busy. the two men stand in front of him timidly, keeping their heads lowered. “she’s here,” san says. seonghwa’s eyebrow raises, his tapping coming to an almost immediate halt. he rises from his chair, the two bodyguards in the room immediately tense up. “where is she?” wooyoung visibly gulps, adjusting on his feet. “the safe house, as you requested. she was very combative. yeosang is with the doctor right now, dealing with the scratches she gave him.” seonghwa chuckles, imagining the image of a girl your size doing damage to a man built like yeosang.

seonghwa nods, waving the two men off. they’re quick to scurry away from the intimidating leader. he digs around in his drawer, pulling out his pistol. he’s quick to shove it into his gun holster before moving his coat back to cover it. he adjusts the holster on his other thigh, housing an intimidating looking knife. “let’s go.” seonghwa is quick to strut out of the room, heading directly for his car. he climbs into the backseat, his guards moving swiftly so as to not anger him. sitting in the backseat, he finds himself filled with an unusual sense of nervousness and excitement.

the usual procedure for entering the safe house would require seonghwa to enter with the protection of his bodyguards. something was gnawing at him and telling him to go in alone. “stay in the car. if i don’t come back out in 10 minutes, you may leave.” with that, he climbs out of the car. he punches in the short number code, listening to it beep quietly to signal the locking mechanism letting him in. he pushes the door open and the air is thick with tension. he doesn’t know where they put you or if you’re even restrained. however, based on the damage to yeosang, he figures it’s probably a safe bet that you are restrained.

the door clicks behind him and he decides to kick off his combat boots. it doesn’t take much effort to find you considering your constant, slightly muffled screams for someone to help you. seonghwa finds you restrained on a dining room chair, your hands tied behind you and your ankles tied to the legs of the chair. you flinch when he finally enters your line of sight. you’re gagged with what looks like a cloth or a bandana. your eyes widen with a look of familiarity.

seonghwa leans against the wall, tilting his head to the side. “hi, angel. remember me?” you turn your head away, avoiding his domineering gaze. a rush of frustration fills his veins, running his tongue over his teeth. he walks into your line of sight again, this time he flashes his gun at you. “you wanna try that again? remember me?” your eyes widen and you nod vigorously. a smile spreads over his face as he re-conceals his weapon.

“do you know why you’re here?” he asks, leaning against the wall as if he had all the time in the world. you shake your head, desperately trying not to drool around your makeshift gag. seonghwa clicks his tongue, as if he’s disappointed in your cluelessness. “you’re here because you disrespected me. bad girls don’t get to just walk away from people like me.” he stares at you through his eyebrows, his anger showing in his face. you can’t help the adrenaline rush you get that prompts you to start struggling against your restraints.

seonghwa is quick to close the space between you, grabbing you by the chin and staring into your eyes. “stop fucking struggling.” your body freezes like a deer in headlights, all of your movements stopping just as soon as they started. “do you even know who i am?” the empty look in your eyes gives him the answer he needs. it shocks him a little. someone who doesn’t know the most infamous person in the entire country. “have you ever heard of park seonghwa?” a strange glint passes over your eyes before you nod. he smirks before gesturing to himself. “you’re looking at him.” he pauses. “ honestly, you should be flattered that you’re here. i don’t pick just anyone to test like this.”

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “mmf- test?” you do your best to speak around your mouth covering and seonghwa chuckles before re-composing himself. “well, i have to see if i can break you. did you really think a pretty girl like you was going to get abducted like this and not get fucked?” a new rush of horror overcomes you and it lights a sinister flame within seonghwa. he can tell how anxious you are based on how the rhythm of your breathing immediately changes. he likes the way you react to his words. “oh princess, you’re in for a real treat.”

everything in you is telling you to beg for your life. scream, cry and hope a hardened criminal like him has at least a little bit of empathy left in him. you know these efforts are futile, however. seonghwa sheds his coat and places it on the table next to you. his slim figure in his attractive suit have you wanting to drool. you stop yourself when your eyes meet his pistol once again. you gulp, watching as he adjusts his gloves. “i think it’s best i start your test now.” before you can react, he’s untying your legs and arms, forcing you to stand. you whine, your legs feeling numb from sitting for so long. he shoves you onto the couch in the living room. he watches you scramble away, not even moving to stop you. he knows there’s no escape.

“are you done?” he asks, his tone that of an exhausted father dealing with his bratty toddler. he crosses the room, throwing you over the armrest of the couch. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them both down with one quick tug. “god, you’re fucking dripping. what a whore. you like this, don’t you?” you shake your head, kicking your feet as if to try and keep him away. “get off m-me!.” your speech is muffled from the gag. he shoves your legs apart and slots himself between them. seonghwa lands a harsh slap to your ass, causing you to yelp. “i said, are you fucking done?” you twist to look him in the face and scowl. you pull your gag off your face before speaking. “fuck you.”

seonghwa leans over you and presses your face into the couch with one hand, while he uses the other to shove two gloved fingers into your cunt. you cry out, your sound muffled by the cushion “whores don’t speak like that to their owners, do they?” his fingers move quickly inside you, thrusting in and out. the leather rubbing against your walls adds to the already euphoric feeling. you grip the couch cushion so hard your knuckles turn white. seonghwa shoves another finger into you, curling them to find your g-spot. he leans over you further to whisper in your ear, his fingers still working an orgasm out of you. he pulls your head up by your hair to get better access to your ear. “if i didn’t know any better, i would say this is turning you on. i can just feel the way you’re clenching.”

finally, you manage to kick him in the knee, sending him stumbling back. you gasp for air, your lungs desperate for oxygen. you don’t even have time to reap the benefits of getting him off you before he returns. this time, you feel something cold press against the skin of your ass. you hear the click of seonghwa cocking his gun. your whole body tenses, sucking in a sharp breath of air. “yeah, i bet now you wanna fucking behave.” he slides the barrel of the gun over your slit, collecting your slick. “p-please, don’t.” he sighs and shoves your face back down into the couch. “don’t speak unless spoken to.” he shoves the gun into your hole, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine. you know better than to fight back now.

he slides it in and out slowly, cherishing the way you suck it in with ease. the fear coursing through your veins heightens the pleasure. your whining and squealing at every drag inside you. seonghwa groans at the sight of you at his complete disposal, his gun inside you keeping you obedient. your legs begin to shake as you near your high, a feeling you regret. “ple-ah please,” you mumble into the couch.

“please what, baby?” you cry silently into the cushion, your shoulders shaking. your body reacts against your will, your orgasm barreling towards you. “c-cumming.” seonghwa says nothing as your orgasm crashes into you, your body trembling uncontrollably. as you finish, seonghwa shoves his gun into as far as it will go, making sure you can feel him brush his finger over the trigger. “this is the one time i’m gonna be nice to you. next time you cum without permission, i’m pulling the trigger.” he pulls his pistol all the way out of you, licking the remnants of your release off the gun.

he moves away from you slightly to pull his pants and boxers down mid-thigh. “stop it, p-please. i don’t want this.” seonghwa shakes his head before shrugging. “i don’t care what you want.” he keeps you bent over the couch, watching as your nerves continue to twinge. your cunt is red and swollen from use, yet still visibly slick. he drags his tip over your folds, gathering your wetness. you claw at the couch to try and crawl away, but he’s quick to pull you back. “don’t forget who has the gun, princess. one quick movement and you could be dead on this couch. do you want that?” you shake your head, fear making you shiver.

“didn’t think so.” with that, he shoves into you. his tip jabs at your cervix, the sudden stretch having you gasping for air. seonghwa’s jaw falls slack, watching the way his cock disappear into you. he fans his hands over your ass, grabbing and squishing your plush flesh. a hard slap rings through the room and you whimper, digging your teeth into your bottom lip.

seonghwa’s hips begin moving. he’s nicer to you than he expected you to be. that doesn’t last, however. his thrusts pick up speed when you start wiggling under him, your own body betraying you in its desperation for pleasure. “silly girl, can’t even resist her captor's cock. just admit how much you like it, baby.” you shake your head, breathing so hard it’s making you dizzy. your brain is turning to mush and you’re losing your ability to fight back. not that you really want to anymore. he’s making you feel so good, why would you want to run?

seonghwa manhandles you, flipping you over and moving you so your ass is hanging off the couch cushions. he slots himself back between your legs in one quick motion. he shoves in to the hilt, snapping his hips against yours so hard you might bruise. he wraps his arms around your waist to snap into you harder and your eyes roll back. the room fills with noisy skin slapping sounds and the wet noises leaving your core. “fuck, you feel so good. you clench so pretty around my cock, baby.”

he pulls his knife out of its holster, dragging it over your skin without pressing down. “i’m claiming you as mine. you will never know another man’s touch.” he adjusts his grip on the knife, guiding it down to your hip. seonghwa presses the blade into your skin, dragging it to carve an ‘s’ into your flesh. the stinging pain sends a new course of pleasure through you, your core sucking him in harder. “i knew you were dirty, but not this dirty. you like that, doll? you like when the man who kidnapped you carves his initials into your body?” you nod, your body twitching.

seonghwa traces a few more lines into your skin with his knife before putting it down on the table behind him. he gathers your blood on his fingers and brings them to his mouth. “c-cumming,” you sputter. before you can say anything else, his gun is pressed to your temple. he shakes his head at you, clicking his tongue. his incessant thrusts into you are not helping you fight off your orgasm. “what did i say?” tears spill from your eyes, your eyeliner running down your face. you breathe so hard it hurts your chest.

“please, please, need to cum. can i cum?” you plead. you hiccup, your bottom lip quivering. he pouts at you, pressing the gun against your head harder. his hips stutter and it becomes obvious that he’s been fighting his own orgasm. “cum for me, princess.” your eyes roll back and your back arches against him, his face pressing into your chest. you clench and unclench, hearing him let out a low moan. “that’s it, baby. milk my fucking cock. it’s all yours. yeah, it’s yours.”

finally, your body relaxes. you had anticipated feeling a new rush of fear once the pleasure left you. but, you found yourself seeking his comfort. he holds you gently, discarding his weapons. “you passed the test, doll. i broke your brain and now you’re mine. i’ll keep you safe.” swiftly, he puts his clothes back on properly. he lifts you, carrying you out of the house despite your obvious lack of clothing. san and wooyoung stand outside the door patiently, waiting for instruction. “clean the house, make it spotless. also, i need one of you to grab my gun and my knife. i don’t wanna re-scare my baby right now.”

with that, you’re carried into the very car that had followed you just a few days ago. except this time, seonghwa got what he wanted.

#seonghwa #ateez #oh my shibal-#im so down head over heels for this #yk what hell yeah #will defo reread this every morning #im not the same person i used to be #this fills up all my dark fantasies #fuck yeah!#LOVE LOVE LOVE #mak lurve gilaks sumpah istg #lurve #🫶🔥😻❤️❤️

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cameronsbabydoll · 2 days ago

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ROUTE 66 ㅤ♡ RAFE CAMERON X BABY DOLL READER

WARNINGS — smut, daddy kink, dub con, piss kink, humiliation MDNI 18+

Rafe felt a smirk growing on his face as he watched his babydoll fidget and squirm in her seat, his deep blue eyes caught the slight look of panic in her eyes as she tries to hold back the urge to pee and the way she’s squeezing her thighs together.

The engine rumbling and the sound of some old music in the background, the wind blowing through their hair as he drove the car with a cheshire smirk as he drove by yet another rest stop.

All the drinks he gave his babydoll before they started hitting the road were spiked with something Barry gave him, knowing it would only strengthen the pressure in her bladder. The little game of innocent torture was the ultimate pleasure in his books. It only made Rafe crave her more with the way she desperately tried to hold it in.

Rafe truly savored the way she saw her struggle, it only fueled his sense of control that he held. Rafes fingers curled tightly around the leather steering wheel, feeling the pressure and weight of his semi-erected cock.

Finally, when his babydoll just couldn’t handle it anymore, she let out a slight whimper and the warm trickle of urine dripped through her denim skirt.

Rafe’s grin only widened and his cock painfully throbbed in response to her embarrassment. Finally Rafe pulled the truck over to a secluded spot in the forest.

Rafe turned off the radio and pulled out the keys to the truck, his voice gruff as he turned to her, “Looks like my babydoll just couldn’t hold it in? Could ya..? You’ve gone and wet yourself, huh?” Rafe delighted in their humiliation, enjoying the way their panties soaked in their urine, and the way she bite her lip nervously.

Reaching over, Rafe unbuckled her seatbelt, his hands lingered on their shivered arm as he helped them move out of the car. “Now babydoll, let’s get ya out of ‘em dirty clothes, that alright’ with ya doll?”

Plus it’s not like she’ll need em anyways for what Rafe has planned to do to her, Rafe thought.

Rafe carried her out of the truck and set them down, the soft grass tickling their feet as Rafe kneeled down and took off the mary jane’s she was wearing.

“Turn ‘round for me baby” he commanded. Rafe unzipped the worn jeans he was wearing, and he pulled down the mini denim skirt she was wearing along with the frilly panties. Rafe inhaled the scent deeply, “God damn baby, you have no idea whatcha you do to me or how hard ya make me.. but don’t ya worry babydoll, daddy will show ya how hard ya make me”

Rafe’s hands found the its way to the small of her back, slowly guiding them down to bend over on a nearby fallen log. “Ya look so cute like this baby, all soaked and vulnerable,” Rafe purred slowly as his fingers traced circles on her neck, “Say it back for me, Babydoll”

Rafe watched the way she shakily looked back slightly, “I-I l-look cute like t-this” She sniffled.

Rafe grinned at the way she obeyed his words, “Bet ya look much better covered in your daddy’s liquid” Rafe grumbled.

Rafe’s large hand drifted to the supple of their ass, giving it a soft slap. He watched the way she jolted forward slightly at the surprise touch, “Mhmm, such a good girl, my good girl right?”

His fingers eagerly crept between her thighs, savoring the way the slick heat felt on his hands, “Ya know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to touching ya all day” he grumbled, “I loved watching the way you tried so so hard to hold it in, seeing ya squirm next to me, God it made my cock so hard, babydoll, so fucking hard”

Rafe emphasized his point by pressing his hips forward, grinding his rock hard cock on the flesh of their ass, he groaned by the contact, “Ya fee that babydoll? Feel how much your daddy wants ya?”

Rafe’s other hand slide up her neck, tangling his fingers through her hair as he tugged her head back slightly as he makes eye contact with her, “M’gonna fuck ya now, baby girl” he growled, “Gonna fuck ya so hard, you’ll forget your name, the only thing you ought to remember is the way your daddy’s cock fills you up”

With his promise, Rafe lined up his cock, smearing the leaky pre-cum from his tip, and with a hard grunt, Rafe pushed forward burying his cock in her slick form.

Rafe loudly groaned as he felt wet heat from his baby doll’s pussy. Rafe had to pause his eagerness for moment, as he wanted to savor this moment completely, “My God baby, you feel so good round’ me, so fuckin’ tight too”

Rafe continuously rocked his hips forward into her, letting his babydoll feel every inch of him, “Ya like that don’t ya? I know you like the way your daddy’s cock stretchin’ ya out, ain’t that right doll?”

Rafe could feel the way her body trembled beneath them, their walls fluttered around him. He could feel them getting close to their pleasure, “Come on baby doll, your daddy wants to feel you cum ‘round me”

Rafe pulled one of his hands from her hair as he reached down to rub her clit slowly and then speeding up, “Fuck I can feel ya gettin’ close,” Rafe huffed and breathed harshly against their neck, “Ya gonna cum ‘round me like the good girl you are?”

With that Rafe felt the way his babydoll whimpered lowly, feeling the way she limped over the log with the feel of pleasure. Rafe collapsed slightly against his babydoll’s back, the sweat rubbing against her, “Fuck baby, made me feel so good” he murmured as he slowly pressed soft kisses along their neck and face, “Took me so well, didn’t you baby? Just like a champ”

As Rafe pulled out of their hole, a mix of both of their combined liquids leaking down onto the grass, he tucked his now soft cock back into his pants before he scooped his babydoll up, cradling her against his broad muscular chest. “Now, let’s get ya you cleaned up into some fresh n’new clothes,” Rafe murmured into her ears as he walked with her in his arms as she fluttered her head against his chest.

“And after that, I can find us a cozy spot round’ here and we can cuddle and just be round’ each other, what do’ya say doll?” Rafe looked down at them with a warm affection in his eyes.

“Sounds good Rafey” she mumbled against his chest. Rafe brought her down to a nearby bench as he grabbed her and covered her with a blanket and held her against his chest tightly. Rafe knew in that moment that he’d always cherish his precious baby doll.

#cameronsbabydoll ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x yn #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #dark rafe cameron #rafe x innocent reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you

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sweetbuckybarnes · 3 days ago

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Crossword Masters

Summary: On their way back from closing a case, Spencer realises he had finished his crossword book. Only to look over the shoulder of BAU member Y/N, and see her playing a crossword game.

809 words

After finally closing a case that took a week in Washington, the BAU were finally on the jet and were making their way back to Quantico.

Hotch was looking over his paperwork, Rossi was reading a book, Morgan had challenged Alex to a game of Poker (with gummy worms being their currency) the pair had encouraged JJ to join. Spencer was finishing his crossword, as Y/N fiddled with her phone.

Y/N had joined the team three months after the sudden death of Spencer's girlfriend Maeve, she was used to Spencer being a little bit standoffish (Alex mentioned it was something to do with her hair or some kind of facial feature she inherited from her parents).

Spencer flipped the page after he finished yet another crossword (it was something he had picked up in the past month in order to quieten his mind).

Instead of being greeted by another crossword, he met the end page and back cover of his book. Damn, it had taken him just under a week to finish this book.

He put the book down on the table and looked over at what the rest of the team was doing. Which is when he noticed the game Y/N was playing.

A crossword game.

He kept watching her as she set letters on a board, Spencer couldn't help but watch her game as points were added and deducted from her final score. How her 'opponent' must be some kind of artificial intelligence, as she completed her game with a score of 120 points to the 'opponent's 66. Spencer watched as she moved onto the next crossword she had to complete in order to unveil some kind of picture that was locked away.

Spencer looked at the crossword over her shoulder, seeing words form in front of him. Much like everything, he couldn't keep a hold of his tongue. "Sues."

Alex glanced over her shoulder at Spencer. She was getting used to Spencer. Y/N looked over at him, raising a single eyebrow and taking an earbud out of her ear. The sound of a pop hit could faintly be heard. "I'm sorry?"

That was one thing about Y/N. She was unbelievably polite. In some aspects, she could put both the British and the Canadians to shame!

Spencer points at her screen. "Indicts. Four letters, it's sues."

Y/N looked down at her phone, which showed she currently has two As, a D, a S, and a C. "Thank you, Reid."

As Y/N progressed through the game, Spencer would sometimes blurt out words for her crossword. "Netting," was one, and "amass," was another.

The two letter word in the bottom corner was bugging him. Good night. How could there be a two letter word for good night.

There is one if you were a late teenager in the early 2000s. "GN, what does that mean?"

"It's text speak. Every teenager and young adult was texting like that in the 90s and early 2000s. You're looking at one of them," Y/N held her hands up in defence.

"I wasn't."

"That's because you're an old grandpa."

Spencer was only three years older than Y/N, but she would always call him a grandpa, especially when he had a full-fledged job and his second PhD underway when she was halfway through college.

Spencer rolls his eyes at Y/N. "There is no way anyone texted like that 10 years ago."

Y/N took that as a challenge, opening her text messages and starting an empty thread (so she doesn't send a random text to someone in her contacts).

Lol, omg wuz gr8 2 c u but gtg ttyl!!!

She turned her screen to face Spencer, and it looked like his brain just broke, simply looking at it. "What is that? Is that even English?"

Y/N burst out laughing. "JJ, can you explain this to Reid?"

JJ took Y/N's phone. Not even a second later. "Laugh out loud, oh my God, great to see you, but go to go, talk to you later," she quickly receited and passed the phone back to Y/N.

"What did he mean by that?"

"Texting was in its early stages in the 90s and early 2000s, so we found a way to adapt. You could only have 160 characters, so you got creative," Y/N tells Spencer. "I once had an ex-boyfriend when I was on Spring Break from College text me J4F and a question mark," Spencer's face was still confused. "Just for fun."

"Essentially, he was asking if I was up..." Y/N trailed off. Spencer blinked. "Sex, he asked if I was awake for sex."

Spencer's eyebrows raised. "That was dating?"

"That was just for hooking up. Dating was a disaster in the 2000s. And it still is now when I think about it..."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x you

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lostinlovingrevery · 1 day ago

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Smutty Stuff About Logan: The Reckoning

pt 2 about Logan and cute (and maybe nasty) smut scenarios. Grab your vibrators folks

Logan definitely likes to make a mess. A big mess. He cums a lot, so messes are inevitable. But his kind of mess is the kind where he comes inside, or over your pussy and he just sits and spreads it all over, likes he's in a trance. It sends shocks through you every time his thumb rubs his cum over you clit and stuffs it into your cunt. Is he drooling?

You're on a mission. You and logan get put in a position where you won't be able to go anywhere for awhile. Logan thinks it's a great chance for some bonding. The next thing you know your suit is gonna and Logans been fucking you for two hours. Its when Scott finally clears you both that you have to both quickly get your suits back on and you gotta finish the mission with his cum leaking out. Hes very smug about it (such a perv)

hes big about his cum being on (or in) you in general. it's one of his many ways he likes to "claim" you

making breakfast together, it turns steamy. Now he's pouring whipped cream and syrup over you tits and belly and licking it off you.

He doesn't finished cleaning you when he desperately lunges to kiss you, his chest sticking to your messy body, food covering him. you guys just end up a bunch of lovesick horny fools with syrup and whipped cream. You take turns cleaning each other.

I think Logan wouldn't be a huge masterbater. I think he'd do it out of boredom. Maybe if he was pent up. He'd probably prefer the real thing. But when you come into his life, and you guys aren't sexually together yet- he's yanking his chain nearly every night to the thought of you. An animalistic instinct he just can't control bc if he doesn't get himself off to the thought of you he's going to pounce you (pls do Logan)

Mutual masterbation. You both sit across from each other (or your straddling him) and get off on watching each other. It drives Logan insane. The rule is that you don't touch each other during the session but Logan always breaks that rule

I think Logan has potential to be a peeping tom. He wouldn't do it right away, it starts when you shower and he walks back the bathroom, the doors cracked bc you forgot to shut it- and he catches you in the mirror. You didn't see him.

He's now in his room desperately getting himself off because he's picture you naked hundreds of times but then he just saw a nice view of your tits and they're even better than he imagined

It's not how he imagine he'd get to see you, but he'll take what he can get. Now he searches in moments he could catch a look at you.

One night he catches you masterbating in your bed. You're moaning his name. He could smell your arousal. He nearly blacked out

His claws will pop out at sudden things that arouse him. You're planning to go to the beach, and he sees you in a bikini for the first time. He spots you and snikt! They're out. He didn't even notice, too busy staring at the way you tits looked in that top.

I'm currently writing a fic over this BUT, you don't like alcohol, but when you taste it on Logans lips/tongue, you can't get enough. you quickly discover you really like alcohol, but only when logans spitting it in your mouth.

you gift Logan naughty polaroids. Some are of you scantily clad, others are you just straight nude in sexual positions. He keeps one inside his coat pocket. It's not just cause it turns him on, but he deadass thinks you look so damn beautiful in your natural state. He just gotta be careful of where he is when he looks at it.

Sucking on Old Man Logans dick, you drooling and your eyes are hazy. he tastes so good, and feels so good on your tongue. He's praising you for being a good girl, telling you he's all yours, to enjoy as much as you want. He wants you to get sloppy, to suck on him and forget about everything else. You've made him cum multiple times already, and you're still sucking on him, even as he's soft and gets hard again.

Trilogy Logan ravishing you over and over again. It's been a stressful week, and he suggested you both get away from the mansion the weekend. You got a hotel room- and haven't left the bed other than to use the bathroom, and take a nice romantic (and sexual) bath with Logan. Hes putting you in positions you didn't even know was possible, pounding into you with an animalistic fury, stuffing you full of cum. you should probably consider getting plan b (unless you want a baby)

Having an argument with Worst Logan and you say something that implies that you worried about logan really caring about you, a discreet and quiet anxiety you never told him. Of course, it pisses him off and he has to show you how much he loves you. Which involves hot, rough, and sensual sex. he's fucking you and making you tell him that he loves you and that you believe it over and over.

Riding DOFP Future! Logans lap, after he woke back up in this new life. Hes been begging you to keep riding him, to keep fucking him. Kissing you sloppily as you ran your hands through his hair. You were busy grading papers, but Logan stormed into your office and practically yanked you into your bedroom. he found you, his pretty wife that he lost before he fixed things. Safe to say, reunion sex is fun.

70S! DOFP fucking you in an alleyway by the bar you two were in. "You looked too damn good in there baby. All those boys making eyes at you. Gotta make sure you know you're mine." he moans as he buries himself deep inside you, practically lifting you into the air against the wall

Watching Origins Logan chop wood from your pretty little log cabin. You get an idea, taking off all your clothes and standing on the porch, ass naked and waiting for him to notice. His face is concentrated, a cigar hanging off his lips. He just looked so hot, and you found it funnier the Logan he went not noticing your naked figure. When he finally looked up, the cigar hung off his parted lips almost comedically, before falling as he dropped the axe to his side, and he made his way to run after you, throwing you over his shoulder and bringing into the house as you shriek with laughter. He makes sure to make up for the lack of attention he gave you by stuffing you full of him and eating you out for hours

Having sex on Logans motorcycle. You're riding together when Logan pulls off suddenly, somewhere private. he gets you to sit in front of him, pulling your pants (or your skirt) down. The motorcyle still rumbling he makes you lean down so you could feel the vibrations of it, while he fucks you. Lets just say you don't last long- but logans not ready to stop.

Logan certainly doesn't want you to hurt or be in pain, but a certain amount of pride does hit him when he sees you walking around with shaky legs

This man can eat pussy for days. He'll get lost in you, licking and sucking and licking over and over. You'll have to push him off multiple times before he's done

I did my Logan variants BUT riding around with old man Logan in his car. Your legs across his lip. He's got one hand on the wheel, the other massaging your ankles and feet. He made you feel good, so you move around and give him a handjob and a blow. He pulls over, making you get into his lap and ride him- because he can just never get enough of you

Thigh jobs.

Tit jobs

nuff said

Actually no

Logan gets so damn excited when you offer one of those. Something about being able to fuck a body part that's not technically fuckable

this man would get himself off on every part of you if you'd let him

yes, armpits, elbows, knees included. hes insatiable. and gross. but thats why we love him. keep being a freak baby, i'll be a freak with you

anyway, he's fucking your thighs and you're watching as his tip appears and disappears, his precum soaking your thighs, he cums and shoots it all over your belly.

with titjobs, hes sitting over you, thrusting his cock between your wet tits. he spit all over them to lube everything up. his cum lands all over your face and open mouth

Tying each other up? Yes pls

Logan definitely loves it. Tying you up, having his way with you. I mean, he's strong enough to pin you down of course, buuuut something really fun about watching you be helpless to him

and vice versa

logan doesn't have much self control with you, so tying him up can prove difficult. he ends up breaking through the ribbons, rope, handcuffs- etc to grab you and fuck into you

you finally figure it out though, the way to make him behave

you grabbed his box of prized cubans. expensive, rare. he only smokes them on special occassions. you had him tied up, and blindfolded, taking off the blind fold- you told him the rules

"no touching. no breaking the ropes. if you do, I destroy each one of these."

Logans face fell as he saw his prized cigars. okay, maybe you both knew you really wouldn't...would you?

logan couldn't risk that

powerplay is fun

cue the most torturous session logan has every experience. he swears he'd rather have adamantium bound to his organs this time than what you're doing to him

you're playing with him. like a cat who caught a mouse. your messing with him, edging him, depriving him of your sweet pussy. an hour of sensory play. another hour of edging. He's not sure if he can take it anymore. surely he can find another box of cubans...

but then you reward him for being such a good boy. lots of praise. lots of riding and sucking. lots of kisses. when he finally gets to cum he's begging and thanking you for it

now he's starting to see why you like him being so dominant

you had your fun though. next time, he's putting you through worse :)

that's all folks! I'll make a pt 3 soon, i just got a few other fics i wanna focus on ;)

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #vans daydreams #wolverine smut

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chancloud8 · 2 days ago

Text

Picture Perfect

Part 1 * Part 2

Pairing: jeongin x reader

Word count: 2,1k

Summary: when Jeongin has a proposition for you, who are you to turn him down? Tags: suggestive maybe, but its mostly setting the scene for the smut in part 2

a/n: Happy birthday to our beloved Innie!! This was supposed to be a one shot, but because I'm not finished yet I decided to upload it in 2 parts. Part 2 will be smut ;)

Everyone in the studio has been excited about Yang Jeongin's shoot today. It’s all anyone could talk about this week, you included. You’ve been a Stay for a while now and when the call came that you’ve been chosen as the intern to work with the head photographer on this particular shoot, you may have fangirled your little heart out.

When Jeongin walks into the studio this morning, looking sleepy and a little nervous, you expect to have to coax him out of his shell during the shoot. But boy were you wrong. As soon as he changes into his first outfit and the camera’s are turned on, it's like he transforms into a different man.

You know he’s used to the camera’s, that he knows how to work them, but you also know how he feels about his body. He’s always been careful with showing too much skin and even with the Hallucination performance now existing, you didn’t think he’d be this confident, this sexy. Not that he shouldn’t be. The man is an absolute vision, with and without clothes.

All through the photoshoot you can't keep your eyes off him. He's a work of art, perfectly sculptured with smooth skin and muscles in all the right places. It doesn't help that his eyes keep finding yours, holding your gaze, both through the lens of your camera as without it.

‘Is it just me or does he look at you like you’re his next meal?’ Yumi, one of the make-up artists whispers in your ear during the second outfit change.

‘I’m glad you’re seeing it too and I’m not going crazy,’ you mumble, looking through the photos you just shot.

‘You’ve been undressing him with your eyes as well, don’t pretend like you haven’t,’ Yumi teases. ‘But I don’t blame you, that man is fine.’

‘Don’t let your husband hear you say that,’ you laugh. ‘But yes he is, look at this.’ You show her a picture where Jeongin leans back in the chair he’s sitting on, his abs on display as he has an arm thrown over his head while he looks right into your camera.

Yumi whistles through her teeth. ‘It’s like he’s looking right into my soul, damn girl, this is good stuff. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.’

‘You have a husband, babe,’ you repeat. ‘Besides, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t sleep around.’

Your eyes meet Jeongin’s then from across the room and the way he smirks at you almost feels like he heard what you just said.

During the next break you make your way to the snack table and grab a handful of grapes. You need something sweet to silence the beast inside you and usually food can do the job almost just as well as sex.

You grab some grapes and pop them in your mouth, already eying the chocolate on the other side of the table. The flavour of a perfectly sweet grape hits your tongue then and you hum in surprise, immediately reaching out to take some more. Wow, these are good.

Someone chuckles next to you and with flushed cheeks you look up to see Jeongin looking down at you. He has the same look in his eyes as before and his lips are tipped up in a grin.

Up close he's even more beautiful than through your camera.

'I, uhm, can recommend the grapes,' you stammer dumbly, not knowing what else to say. You quickly pop some more grapes into your mouth so you won't have to talk for a moment.

'I have a proposition for you,' Jeongin whispers into your ear as he leans close to you to grab an apple from the bowl on your other side.

You nearly choke on the remaining grapes in your mouth and start coughing loudly.

What did he just say?

A proposition?

What the fuck does that mean?

Jeongin looks at you with both concern and amusement as you continue to cough, but then he reaches for a bottle of water and unscrews the cap before giving it to you. One of his hands comes up to rub your back and you look up at him with teary eyes, before taking a sip.

'Thanks,' you say, clearing your throat. 'I don't think I heard that correctly.'

'You did,' Jeongin smiles and he looks around to see if anyone is in hearing distance before he leans in close again. 'And the next time you look at me with tears in your eyes will be when you're choking on my cock.'

Your mouth falls open at his words and you nearly drop the bottle of water in your hands.

'I--what?'

Jeongin just shrugs, giving you a cheeky grin before his eyes travel up and down your body.

'You can say no, but I hope you'll meet me after the shoot.'

You blink at him and pinch your arm, not sure if you're dreaming or hallucinating. You must be. Right?

Yang Jeongin, Ayen, the maknae of Stray Kids did not just suggest he wanted you to blow him, did he? Because that would be insane.

'But- You- I,' you stutter, your brain is definitely having an error at the whole situation.

'Me and you,' Jeongin nods. 'I'd like that very much.'

At this point you're just gaping at him, probably looking like a fish on dry land. Fucking hell, what did he just do to you?

'What happened to sweet innocent Ayen?'

'Who said I was innocent?'

'Uhm, everyone?'

'Have you seen the Hallucination performance?' Jeongin asks. 'Have you been paying attention today?'

You scoff at him. Of course you have and he knows it or he wouldn't have approached you, but he just raises his eyebrows and waits for you to talk.

Damn Chan for rooming with him. It has to be his fault.

'You've been corrupted and I wasn't ready,' you pout.

'Or have I just been pretending?' Jeongin winks, taking a bite of the apple you forgot he was holding.

'Breaks over!' Your boss yells then and you jump like someone just electrocuted you.

'Wait for me after, okay?' Jeongin asks, smiling sweetly before he turns around to get his make-up touched up.

What the fuck just happened?

The rest of the shoot goes by in a blur with Jeongin being even more sexy and confident than before and it's driving you insane. It feels like he’s playing with you, with his food, like you’re the prey and he’s the hunter.

Your camera is filled with pictures of him biting his lip, rolling his eyes upwards, baring his neck and many more sexual images. Everyone around you is buzzing with energy, happy with the vibe and the pictures that are being shown on the computer screens from both Junhi, the head photographer, and you.

You lost count how many times your heart skips a beat as Jeongin looks at you, or rather at your camera, but from your point of view there’s not much difference. By the end of the shoot you feel hot and your clothes feel too tight against your skin.

One by one staff members pick up their stuff and leave the studio. You're being deliberty slow with putting your camera and laptop away and you linger to chat with your co-workers to buy yourself some more time to decide what to do.

You'd be a fool to turn down Jeongin's proposal and you desperately wanted to go with him and do anything he wanted, but a small part of you wondered if it was a good idea. You had one night stands before, but being with a world famous idol is new for you and you’re not sure if you feel confident enough to go for it.

When Jeongin leaves the studio, his manager on his heels, you stare after him. Will he wait for you somewhere? Will he come back to see if you are still here when more people have left the building?

‘Miss?’ A soft voice startles you.

To your left a kind looking man smiles down at you. He's wearing a suit and there's a security emblem on his sleeve.

‘Yes?’ you ask, nerves filling your body.

‘Could you come with me for a moment? I have some questions I'd like to ask you.’

You share a look with Yumi and she shrugs at you.

‘Uhm, sure,’ you nod, following him to the hallway. ‘What's this about?’

The man doesn't answer and leads you to a secluded room at the other side of the building. Inside sits another man in a suit and in front of him are a bunch of papers.

‘Hello,’ he greets you kindly, gesturing to the seat in front of him. ‘You're L/N Y/N?’

‘That's me,’ you nod as you sit down.

‘Good, let's get straight to it shall we,’ the man smiles. ‘Yang Jeongin has asked to spend the evening with you, do you agree to this?’

You blink a few times and your mouth falls open in a small ‘o’. You should have known that this was about Jeongin.

Squirming in your seat you try to ignore your galloping heart as blood rushes to your cheeks.

‘I agree,’ you say, screaming internally at how easy it was to say.

‘And do you also agree to sign an NDA?’

You tilt your head. ‘What would I be signing for?’

The man pushes a paper across the table for you to read. ‘The most important thing is that you can't share anything about your night with the outside world, if you do we'll sue you and you'll have to pay a large fine.’

‘Okay, so no talking about it. Got it,’ you nod, scanning the text in front of you.

It’s all pretty basic. You can’t share any personal information with anyone or make any pictures or videos during your stay with Jeongin. It makes sense that they want to protect their idol from any scandals and you weren't planning on telling anyone. Who, besides Yumi, would believe you anyway.

‘Can I borrow a pen?’

Thirty minutes later you're in front of a hotel door. Your heart is once again beating so fast that it feels like Jeongin would be able to hear it if he opened the door right now. The security guard who brought you up, gives you a funny look when you take three deep breaths before knocking on the door.

Stay calm Y/N.

Jeongin opens the door within what feels like two heartbeats. He's wearing the same outfit as before, but his hair is much messier. It looks like he continuously dragged his hands through it. Was he nervous? Did he wonder if you would come?

He grins when he sees you and steps aside to let you in.

‘I wasn't sure you'd come,’ he says as he closes the door behind you. ‘I'm really glad you did.’

‘Yeah?’ you smile, shrugging out of your coat and dumping it on the couch along with your bag. ‘I’m glad I decided to come too, then.’

‘You were having doubts?’ Jeongin asks when you turn to look at him.

He has his arms crossed and his eyebrows are raised as he studies your face.

‘Not really,’ you shake your head. ‘I just have never done anything like this with an Idol before.’

‘So in a sense, I’m your first?’ Jeongin grins, dropping his arms next to his body as he steps closer to you.

‘I guess so,’ you laugh.

‘I like that,’ Jeongin says, he’s so close now that you have to look up.

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. He looks excited, hungry and playful and heat fills your belly in anticipation. You have no idea what to expect from him.

‘What else do you like?’ you ask, smirking up at him.

‘You’re about to find out,’ he says and then he pounces.

His lips are soft, but he kisses you hard and fast. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon and when he sucks on your tongue you moan into his mouth. Jeongin’s hands are on your waist and he slowly walks you back until your back hits the door.

‘You’re mine for tonight, Y/N,’ he whispers against your lips.

All decent thoughts and any lingering doubts leave your mind then. You like this confident man in front of you and instead of answering you just moan again and roll your hips forward to collide with his. Whatever he wants, he’ll get. You’re ready to completely give yourself to him.

Jeongin’s hands tighten on your hips to keep you still. ‘What do you say to that?’

Your brain takes a moment to come up with a reply.

‘I’m yours?’ your voice sounds breathy and shaky.

‘Is that a question or an answer?’ Jeongin asks, his lips leaving a trail on your neck as he slowly sucks on your skin.

‘I’m yours,’ you say, sounding more sure. ‘I’m yours for tonight.’

‘Good girl.’

a/n: part 2 with the smut will be up either tomorrow or monday at its latest! ;) I hope you liked reading this hehe (sorry i just cant write smut without at least SOME story or warm up lmao) - taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust @velvetskize @channiefever @luvbangchan @aalexyuuuhm @katsukis1wife @herpoetryprincess @ye0lkkot @glitterywastelandgardener @vampcharxter @boi-bi-ahaha @mlink64 @greyyeti @mariteez

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #in x reader #skz x reader #jeongin fanfic #chancloud8 writes

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