#my shoulder radiates pain every time i breathe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisymbin · 2 months ago

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[16:22] - kim mingyu

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

the kitchen is quiet as you lean against the counter. trying to focus on your phone, but mingyu is there, lingering in the doorway. you don’t have to look to know he’s smirking, he always does when he knows he’s getting under your skin.

"you’re mad at me," he says, his voice teasing as he saunters closer.

"you moved my mug," you snap, barely glancing up.

"so?" he shrugs, leaning against the counter opposite you. "you could’ve just asked me to get it for you."

"you put it up there on purpose," you accuse, pointing toward the top shelf where your favorite mug is now annoyingly out of reach.

"maybe," he admits, his grin widening.

you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "what’s your problem, kim mingyu?"

he steps closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. "you’re cute when you’re mad," he says, his voice dropping low enough to make your stomach flip.

"don’t start," you warn, though the heat rising to your cheeks makes it hard to sound convincing.

he’s in front of you now, so close you can feel the warmth radiating from him. he leans in slightly, his hand brushing against your hip. "what if i just wanted your attention?"

"then grow up and ask for it," you retort, your voice sharper than you intend.

he chuckles, the sound soft and infuriatingly attractive. "you’re so stubborn," he murmurs, his fingers trailing up to rest lightly on your waist.

you open your mouth to respond, but before you can, he dips his head, his lips brushing against yours in the faintest of kisses. it’s barely there, just a tease, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

"mingyu," you say, your tone half a warning, half a plea.

"what?" he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. "give me a kiss and i'll help you. a proper one." he demands.

you dont kiss him, nor do you answer him. instead, your eyes flicker to his lips ever so briefly, but it’s all the encouragement mingyu needs to pull you closer.

he kisses you like he’s been waiting for it, his lips firm and confident against yours. his hands slide to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat.

"you’re so childish," you mumble against his mouth, though your fingers are already tangling in his hair.

"but it worked anyway," he replies, his voice low and rough as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, trailing his lips down to your neck.

you tilt your head instinctively, giving him better access as his teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear. his hands tighten on your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter before stepping between your legs.

the shift in position has your heart racing, and mingyu seems to notice, his lips curving into a smug grin against your skin. "still mad at me?" he asks, his voice teasing.

"yes," you say, though the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.

he hums in response, one hand sliding up your thigh while the other cradles the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you again. this time, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s savoring every second.

your hands move to his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles tense under your touch, and mingyu groans softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"you’re such a pain in the ass sometimes," you murmur, pulling back just enough to look at him.

"but you’re not pushing me away," he points out, his grin infuriatingly smug.

you roll your eyes, though you don’t let go of him. "don’t let it go to your head."

"too late," he says, leaning in to kiss you again.

it’s intoxicating, the way he kisses you—like he’s in complete control, yet completely at your mercy. his hands wander, not enough to cross any lines but enough to make your skin tingle with anticipation.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, the air between you charged.

"there," he says, his voice low and satisfied. "was that so bad?"

"kinda, yeah," you mutter, though the way your fingers linger on his chest says otherwise.

he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his hands lingering on your thighs as he pulls away. "admit it—you love making out with me."

"get my mug," you demand, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

"only because you asked so nicely," he teases, reaching up to grab it.

he hands it to you with a smirk, and as you hop off the counter, you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. he notices, of course, but he doesn’t say anything. instead, he leans against the counter, watching you with that same cocky grin, like he knows he’s won.

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littlest-w01f · 5 months ago

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Bloody

Sylus x Reader

SYLUS MASTERLIST

LADS MASTERLIST

Summary: Even after being told against it time after time, you took a hit meant for Sylus

Cw: Blood, injury, angst, little suggestive at the end

The fight was a blur to you, all you remembered was that you and Sylus had been attacking your own Wanderers, as you finished off the Wanderer in front of you, you rushed for Sylus when you saw another about to take a strike at Sylus while his back was facing the creature.

With a cry of desperation, you lunged towards Sylus, throwing yourself between him and the looming threat of the Wanderer's weapon. Your body took the brunt of the impact, the alien's weapon slicing into your chest with brutal efficiency, the cut cauterised on impact. The pain was excruciating, but you barely registered it.

As you lay there, the gash burning your chest, your clothes slowly burning in, your vision blurring, you felt Sylus' strong arms wrap around you, cradling your injured form. His face was etched with concern, his eyes searching yours desperately.

"Stupid, aboslutely dumb little kitten!" Sylus growled, right eye pulsing red, his body nearly shaking in anger as he rushed home with you in his arms, being careful not to hurt you further, "Why? Why the fuck would you do that!?"

"You... You were gonna get hurt..." You gasped out as he set you on his bed, surrounded by pillows. "You always protect me... So I thought..."

"You don't take my hits!" Sylus growled, his hands hurting to remove your clothes so they didn't stick to your burnt skin, his words were harsh, yet they were laced with a desperate fear. "I step in front of you because I heal faster than you can blink. I will always step in to protect you, but you don't have to do that! Have you gone mad!?"

Sylus' intense gaze bore into yours, his chest still heaving with agitation. The dim light filtering through the curtains cast long shadows across his chiselled features, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrowed brow above piercing crimson eyes. His broad shoulders seemed to tense even further beneath the leather jacket he hadn't removed yet. "If the blade was a little to the left YOU WOULD'VE BEEN DEAD!"

As he stepped back, giving you space, and himself too, his clenched fists hung at his sides, the knuckles white with restrained fury. The air around him crackled with barely contained rage, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but you didn't flinch at how pissed he was, knowing he would never harm you.

Sylus paced back and forth across the room like a caged beast, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The anger radiating off him was palpable, making the air feel charged with tension. Every so often, his gaze would flicker over to you lying on the bed, his expression softening just slightly before hardening once more.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," He muttered, his voice low and rough. "But that doesn't mean you get to throw yourself in front of danger like some kind of martyr, sweetie!"

As Sylus tried to calm his breathing as if trying to lessen the power pulsing in him, his mind raced with thoughts of how close he came to losing you. The memory of seeing that Wanderer's blade pierce your chest made his stomach churn with nausea even if he had destroyed it, he hoped he could've tortured it more. He couldn't bear the idea of living without you, of watching your life slip away before his very eyes.

He stopped pacing abruptly, turning to face you with a look of determination etched onto his features. With swift movements, he shed his jacket and kicked off his boots, revealing his toned physique clad only in a black fitted top and pants.

"Sylus…" You whispered weakly, trying to sit up but wincing at the pain in your chest. He quickly moved to support you, helping you recline against the pillows.

"Just relax, sweetie," He murmured, his fingers gently tracing along the wound, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. His eyes blazing with intensity. "Look at you, all pale and shaky. You could've died, and for what? To prove some stupid point about how much you love me? I know you love me, you were crazy for what you did."

Sylus ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, his chest heaving with agitation. He knelt beside you, brushing away a stray lock of hair that clung to your forehead, his touch gentle despite his rough exterior.

"Damn it, y/n," Sylus muttered, frustration clear in his voice, "I can't lose you. I can't stop seeing you... On the ground... I..."

"Don't worry," You whispered, the words barely audible even to your own ears, "I'm fine."

Sylus growled lowly at your weak reassurance, his red eyes flashing dangerously. "Fine?" He scoffed, his large hands hovering over your exposed torso, hesitating to cause you any more pain.

His breath hitched at the sight of your tattered flesh, Sylus scoffed, unclasping and slipping off his leather belt, "Now this is going to hurt for you, kitten." You automatically opened your mouth for him to put the leather between your teeth to bite onto, having gone through him using his Evol to heal you before. He held you down, hands holding down your shoulders, he focused on your gashing wound, red and black tendrils formed around your injury, energy humming, stitching your skin back up as you struggled in pain.

Your breath hitched as Sylus' Evol surged through you, the sensation of your flesh knitting together was excruciating. BItting onto his leather belt in pain, tears lining your eyes. For Sylus, he was used to healing, the pain was almost unrecognizable to him, but for you, it was torture.

Sylus kept his grip firm on your shoulders, anchoring you to the spot as he focused his energy on repairing your torn flesh. The sound of your pained whimpers and whines were like nails on a chalkboard, tearing at his heartstrings. He wanted nothing more than to take away your suffering, to make everything better.

As soon as the last tendril of energy dissipated, Sylus released his hold on your shoulders, allowing you to slump back against the pillows with a gasp of relief. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the frantic beat of his heart, yours slow, gaining speed back after you were healed, a faint line now replacing the gash.

"There," Sylus said, panting lightly. "It should heal nicely." Sylus' touch was tender, his fingers tracing along the newly healed skin, ensuring every stitch was done correctly, leaving no opening. His eyes never left your face, watching every flinch, every grimace that crossed your features.

Leaning in closer, Sylus pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, then to your eyes, making the tears fall, his lips brushing against your skin with a feather-light touch. "Never again," He spoke softly, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that spoke volumes of his unwavering dedication to protecting you. "Never do that."

He was furious. Furious that you'd willingly taken a blow meant for him, furious that you'd endangered yourself for him, furious that he hadn't been quick enough to stop you, or protect you. Sylus's voice was low, almost a growl, "You're mine to protect, not the other way around, alright, my pretty kitten?"

A vulnerability, a hint of his underlying emotions that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "You can't just throw yourself in harm's way like that, y/n," he said, his tone softer now, though no less firm.

You looked away from his burning eyes, still a little weak, "I just..."

"You just what?" Sylus demanded, his voice rising once more as he towered over you again, looming over you. "Couldn't bear the thought of me getting hurt? Thought you could play the hero?"

His words stung, but you refused to let him see how much they affected you. Instead, you met his gaze head-on, your own eyes blazing with determination. "I did what I had to do," You said firmly, your voice unwavering despite the pain still coursing through your body. "I won't apologize for not wanting to see you hurt."

For a moment, Sylus seemed taken aback by your defiance, his brows furrowing as he studied you intently. Then, with a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You stubborn kitten," Sylus' nostrils flared, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. "You have no idea what you put me through," He muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Seeing you lying there… It felt like my world was ending."

For a moment, his usual tough exterior crumbled, replaced by raw vulnerability. He took a step back, raking a hand through his hair, his crimson eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Oh, Sylus..." You whispered, voice a little shaky, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm, feeling the corded muscles beneath your touch, the other stroking his cheeks. "I'm ok... I'm ok because you healed me... I'm so much better already..."

Sylus sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to where your hand rested on his arm. For a moment, he remained silent, as if grappling with his own emotions. Then, with a resigned sigh, he pressed his face further into your now healed chest. "I can't lose you, y/n..."

As he nestled his face into your chest, you felt his warm breath ghost across your skin, each exhale a reminder of his closeness. He buried his face deeper, inhaling deeply, the scent of you filling his senses, pressing his ear against you to hear the beating of your heart.

"I don't know what I would do…" He murmured, his voice muffled against your breasts. After a moment, he pulled back, looking up at you with those intense crimson eyes. "But I swear, if you ever try to pull another stunt like that… I'll tie you to my damn bed forever."

"Mmm... Kinky..." You joke half-heartedly, stroking his silver hair.

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of Sylus's lips at your teasing remark, though his eyes still held a serious glint. "Don't think that's funny, sweetie," He warned, his voice a low rumble. "I mean every word."

"You're such a handful, kitten," He grumbled, shaking his head slightly, yet his actions belied his words as he settled further into your embrace. "Always causing trouble, always testing my patience." Despite his stern warning, there was a playful spark in his eye that belied his earlier anger.

"I love you, Sylus..." You breathed softly, nails scratching his head gently.

Sylus groaned in pleasure above you from your antics, "I love you too, sweetie."

He leaned into your touch, letting himself be pampered by your gentle strokes, something about your touch soothing his agitated spirit, his hands reaching your hips, calming himself with the feeling of you as you did the same with him, hands tracing his back, grounding yourself.

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doumadono · 2 months ago

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Warnings: smut w/o plot, reverse cowgirl, creampie, mentions of ovulation, dom!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, ass spanking

A/N: what starts as a reckless kiss ignites into a desperate need you can't control. It's frustrating to admit, but ovulation turns you into a desperate, needy bitch — craving dick you shouldn’t want so badly...

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Who would’ve thought a single heated makeout session would leave you completely at Dabi’s mercy, again? Ah, you hated how vulnerable you felt while ovulating, every nerve in your body betraying you with raw, undeniable need for being stuffed with a dick.

Dabi’s scarred hands trailed over the skin of your back. Heat radiated from his fingertips, leaving a lingering ache that was equal parts thrilling and dangerous.

With a sudden, fluid motion, one of his hands captured both your wrists, twisting them behind your back in a firm, unyielding grip. The restraint forced you to arch, pressing your chest forward and sticking your ass out, leaving you utterly exposed beneath his smoldering gaze.

A low, involuntary moan spilled from your lips as the tension between pain and pleasure coiled deep within you.

His breath ghosted over your ear, his voice a rough, sinful murmur. "Keep making sounds like that, and I might not let you go, never."

In a sudden shift, you paused riding his dick in a reverse cowgirl position, drawing yourself up and away from his throbbing cock. Your fingers wandered down to your pussy, delicately tracing circles around your clit, spreading the slick wetness that had gathered at your entrance over your sensitive folds, only to spank them a few times later with the hood of your palm. Then, with deliberate slowness, your hand reached out for Dabi’s dick again, and guided his angry red tip to the very brink of your entrance. You tantalized both of you, using just the head of his cock to rub your slit and part your swollen labia. "Fuck," you whined.

She’s oozing juices like the slit in an overripe peach, Dabi smirked to himself, amused by just how obscenely cute the comparison truly was. He couldn’t take his eyes off your strait pussy as you guided his dick back into your cunt, trying your best to not spread your legs too wide to make yourself tight for him.

The skirt he had gifted you the day prior — a scandalously short piece — flared with each descent, its hem dancing teasingly up your thighs, showing the thick, plushy meat of your ass. The black stockings, tight and silky, sculpted your legs, accentuating every curve and contour as they ended in the middle of your thighs. Your shirt lay forgotten somewhere in the shadows of Dabi’s room, leaving you only in your bra, straps slipping carelessly off your shoulders. It sat slightly askew, offering a teasing glimpse of soft, firm skin as your breasts bounced while you rode your boyfriend’s cock.

One scarred hand improved the grip on both your wrists, pressing them tightly behind your back, pinning you in place as he controlled your movements. The other rested lazily on the arm of the couch, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his face. Dabi’s cerulean eyes, sharp and lidded, were locked on your ass, watching how his cock disappeared into your soaked pussy from behind. His shirt had long been discarded, but he hadn’t bothered removing his pants. As the heated makeout session intensified minutes earlier, breathless and driven by need, he simply unzipped and freed his cock out of its confines.

The burn in your thighs intensified with every passing second, your trembling legs barely holding you upright as you struggled to maintain the punishing position. Each strained movement sent electric pulses through your body, your muscles taut and aching, yet utterly consumed by the way Dabi’s cock stretched and claimed your seeping cunt — relentless, demanding, leaving no inch untouched.

A sharp tug on your captured wrists wrenched you deeper into the overwhelming sensation, forcing your back into a perfect arch. The position left you entirely at his mercy.

He spanked your ass, growling like an animal. “Faster, bitch. Fuck, I love how wet you are during these days.”

Every thrust pushed his veiny cock deeper, dragging over every sensitive spot deep within you, the stretch burning painfully. The obscene sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room.

His azure eyes, dark and hungry, locked on where his dick disappeared into your abused cunt, the wetness between your legs leaving a pearly shine on the rock-hard shaft that made his lips curl. “Look at that,” Dabi muttered, his voice low, gravelly, like the rough edge of sandpaper against your skin. His smirk widened as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke, the heat of his gaze fixed on your pussy making your stomach tighten. “Taking me so well. Bet no one’s ever stretched your little cunt like this before. Such a needy bitch. Who’d have thought you’d get so damn needy just from a kiss? Didn’t figure you were the type to melt just from someone else’s spit on your tongue."

“Dabi!” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your thighs trembling as you struggled to keep up with the pace of his hips pistoning into you and maintain the balance of the position. His cock was slamming into you without mercy.

“Keep going,” he commanded, his grip tightening on your wrists just enough to make you whimper, your body responding to his dominance even as it threatened to overwhelm you. “Don’t make me do all the fucking work.”

The sound of your slick pussy meeting the hilt of his cock filled the room, louder than it should’ve been. Your mind was teetering on the edge of coherence as the burn between your thighs grew more insistent. Your body moved instinctively, hips rolling back against him despite the strain, desperate for more.

Dabi’s grin widened as he watched you struggle, his cock twitching inside you at the sight of your flushed cheeks as you turned your head slightly to look at him while moaning his name like a whore. “Knew you’d be a good bitch for me,” Dabi praised, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Look at how perfect you are like this. Made to take my dick. Bent like a string, just for my pleasure.”

You improved the hold on your skirt up around your waist and slowed down your pace to gyrate your pussy on Dabi’s cock. You leaned forward just enough to give him an unobstructed view of your slick, thoroughly filled cunt, stretched and claimed by his cock, the lips of your slick pussy sliding up and down his throbbing shaft with each roll of your hips.

After a moment, Dabi continued to thrust into you rhythmically from below, deepening the penetration. The cigarette in his hand flared as he took another slow drag, the ember casting an orange glow across his face. He exhaled the smoke directly toward you, the sharp scent mixing with the sweat on your skin as he chuckled darkly. “Bet you’re close, doll,” he rasped, his voice rough and low. His free hand slid to your hip, gripping with bruising intensity, his long fingers digging into your flesh possessively. The cigarette still rested lazily between his index and middle finger, smoke curling in the air as he thrust up into you with brutal precision, forcing you to take every inch of him, deeper and harder. “Don’t stop riding my cock,” he commanded, his tone sharp but lazy, as though he was enjoying every second of your submission. “I want to see you work for the orgasm. Make me believe you deserve to cum.”

You straightened your back as much as you could, holding yourself upright with grace.

Dabi’s eyes traced the perfect curve of your spine, from the dip of your lower back to the elegant line of your neck.

Your ass pressed firmly against his lower stomach with every drop. Gasping for air, you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his knees, your back arching again. Slow at first, you started rolling your hips faster, twerking your ass in a way that made Dabi’s cock throb inside your abused pussy which already was clenching around him.

The white haired man watched your ass cheeks bounce with every move, every arch of your back perfectly calculated to drive him insane.

You glanced back over your shoulder, a wicked, tired smirk playing on your slightly parted lips. “Do you like my ass?” You teased, voice sultry.

“Fuck yeah,” Dabi rasped, tightening his grip on your hips as his nails scraped along your skin. “Keep going,” Dabi replied, accenting his words with a sharp spank delivered to your left cheek.

You bent even further forward, reaching your hands out, spreading your butt even more for him while furiously riding his dick, going up and down on his shaft.

Dabi’s cock was wet and shiny with your runny juices, gripped tightly by your pussy walls.

You ground the tip of your boyfriend’s cock into your g-spot as you bounced up and down, your clit repeatedly smashing into his clothed thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he flicked ash into the tray beside him, the smoke curling lazily around his hand. “Good fucking girl. Look at you — so desperate, so fucking ruined.”

Your head tilted forward, gaze falling to where your bodies joined, where his cock thrust into you with relentless precision. The sight made your pulse race, the way your slickness coated his dick, creating rings of white juices that slowly streamed down his shaft to his base, the way every inch of him disappeared inside you to reappear a second later.

He noticed where your attention was, and his smirk deepened, his hips shifting upward to meet yours in a sharp thrust that made your vision blur. “You like watching, don’t ya?” he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement as he exhaled another plume of smoke. “Bet you love seeing how fucking ruined you are for me.”

Dabi reached a hand with the cigarette out and stroked your cheek, but you abruptly turned your head, snagged one of his free fingers with your lips, and sucked the whole length into your warm mouth, not paying attention you might have got burnt by the cigarette. He groaned and pumped his hips up into you. You sucked harder on his digit, and lifted your pelvis up until only the head of his cock remained inside you. For a heartbeat, you hovered there, then slammed down against his jeans-coated lap.

Rose, slammed down, rose, slammed down, over and over.

"Love feelin' how wrecked that pretty pussy is, all stretched and ruined from takin’ my cock,” Dabi chuckled lowly, spanking your ass with his free hand.

The sound of his voice, the raw dominance in it, sent you over the edge. Your body clenched around him, trembling, and you gasped, barely able to catch your breath as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shaking in his grip.

His smirk never faltered, his hand loosening slightly on your wrists as he let you collapse backward, your back pressing against his chest. Dabi erupted inside your cunt, spurt after spurt, but still keep thrusting.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the coil in your stomach tightening until it snapped, your second orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your legs trembled, your vision blurred, and your entire body shuddered as pleasure overwhelmed you being, your pussy clenching around his cock painfully as he groaned low and deep, still cumming inside of you.

Dabi held you there, pinned in place as you slowly rode out the aftershocks, your body trembling with exhaustion. His grin didn’t fade, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he finally released your wrists, letting them fall limp at your sides. “Good girl,” he murmured again, leaning back into the couch as he stubbed out his cigarette, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.

Finally, you lifted yourself off him, feeling his unnaturally warm semen spill from your thoroughly fucked cunt, dripping onto his still-clothed lap. With a slow, deliberate grace, you stretched yourself lazily, his essence trailing down your trembling thighs in tantalizing streaks. Before you could even consider heading to the bathroom, his hand shot out with practiced precision, gripping your waist and yanking you back onto his lap. Your bare, overstimulated pussy, still slick and chilled from the cool air in the room, brushed against his cock — a touch that should have met soft flesh but instead found him thickening once more.

“Don’t ya dare thinking we’re even close to finished,” Dabi rasped, his breath hot against your ear before his teeth grazed the sensitive shell, sending a shiver down your spine as his calloused hands started fondling your tits. "I’m just getting started.”

♡ The art on the banner was made by @explosion-island ♡ I'm a member of @pixelcafe-network

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dutiful-wildcraft · 2 months ago

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This one is for all my retail pals

John Price has never worked retail in his life and it shows.

Price x reader, meetcute? if this qualifies

You're scrambling, have been since you walked through the door. They were already calling your name by the time you clicked your radio on.

From that moment forward you were hustling back and forth across the store, helping who you could, pulling orders for customer pick ups, trying to answer questions for the seasonal team members who got thrown to the wolves with slap dash training.

You're tired, you're hungry, and you've been listening to the same 5 christmas songs on repeat since the 1st of November.

You're trying to make it back to the break room for a quick snack, walking at mach speed, head lowered, praying that those you passed could see the sheer overwhelmed energy radiating off of you in waves and not ask you anything.

But there is always one.

“Excuse me!”

Your blood pressure shoots up immediately.

You stop short, try to school your expression into something friendly. He's a big man, shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway, with mutton chops that strike you as odd, but suit his face. The man hustles toward you, holding an expensive jacket out to you like a toddler.

“Can you tell me the price of this?”

Everyone thinks you have a scanner.

The chops age him, but a closer look reveals that he must only be a little older than you, pretty blue eyes scrunched apologetically. You think this grown ass man should be old enough to see the scanners staged on every other aisle, the big signs attached to the ceiling highlighting their location. Irritation wells up like a geyser as you pull the garment from his hand searching for a tag.

You search and search, even fishing around in the pocket to see if some kind soul accidentally yanked it off and put it back.

“Must be free!” Chops chuckles, and you think you should be able to pass out one free throat punch a day for simply working under these conditions.

It takes effort, not to shrivel up like a raisin over the monotonous comment. Trying desperately to focus on finding the fucking price and ignore the way the big bastard bores holes into your face. He could have looked it up on his phone, you're certain, but instead he's standing a little too close, watching you flounder, at least his cologne is nice.

A painful silence falls between you when you don't even giggle at his joke. But you must have a scrap of patience left in you because the angel of good will tugs on your ear, reminds you that not everyone stares at this shit day in and day out like you do, and he probably would have trouble finding it online anyway.

You suck in a deep breath, fish out your own phone to pull up your company's website.

“M'sorry for the trouble sweetheart” he murmurs, rolling almost sheepishly on his heels, hands reaching at his shoulders as if to grab something that isn't there, falling uselessly at his sides as he hovers over your shoulder.

The pet name should piss you off, but the rumbly timber of it tickles you somewhere in your monkey brain, he is a handsome thing, and something about the way he crosses his arms, peers over your shoulder like this was a problem he's helping you solve is kind of endearing.

You feel bad immediately for your bitchy attitude toward the fella.

“Sorry It's taking a second, I'm trying”

“I can see that, I appreciate you. I know you lot are busy, think I've seen you make a few laps now.” he teases, nodding to the bustle of people about the store, rummaging through once neatly folded tables like it's a yardsale.

You type in the style number with a little amused huff. “You have no idea, I get in miles trotting around this place” you joke, scrolling through site’s workwear options to match the jacket in your hand. It's one of the nicer one's the store carries, a sturdy brown canvas with a fleece lined collar and interior. You try to make small talk that you're notoriously terrible at.

“You must work outside.”

“Something like that” he muses, “been meaning to get the house prepped up for winter, I waited a bit late.”

You snort, “Hell me too, I barely have enough wood left for the stove myself, I'm just going to pile on blankets this winter!”

“Well that won't do.”

The hard tone of Chop's voice breaks you from your searching. A quick glance confirms he's serious, brows pinched as his posture has shifted to looking directly at you. Chin tucked to his chest.

“What?”

“You've got no one taking care of you?”

Nosy fuck. You don't know why you get defensive. “I take care of me just fine.” you retort confidently, finally pulling up the stupid jacket and telling him the price.

“Negative.” is all he replies, looking at you with the same stern gaze. You suddenly feel like a child, wanting more than anything to prove to this man you were more than qualified to handle yourself. You work retail for fucks sake.

He cuts you off before you can smart off again. “You're going to write down that number for the coat, and your number, so I can bring a load of lumber by. I won't have a pretty thing like shiverin’ in the night.”

Something inside your brain purrs at the idea. The idea of somebody looking out for you when you barely have time to keep your clothes washed and body fed was…appealing. Especially coming from a pretty gorgeous stranger. And yet?

“I'm not giving my number to a stranger, sir.” you retort with some semblance of authority.

Chops is having none of it, he makes a pointed show of raking his eyes down to your nametag dangling against your chest before flickering back up to your face. Your name rolls off his tongue easily, and you can't help the little shiver up your spine at the timber of it.

“John Price” he offers after, big paw curling around your own to shake playfully. “Not strangers now are we?”

#retail sucks but I can fix it in fantasy land #john price #captain john price #price cod #price call of duty #price x reader #wildcraft writing

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prettygirl-gabi · 11 days ago

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Title: Taking Care of You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women's Basketball

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: mentions of monthly periods

Summary: Paige's biggest moment in her college ball career and you missed it... and she’s ok with that

(It's that time so I'm in this kind of writing mood,be preparedfor extra saappy or heavy angst)

Reader's POV

It had been two months since I had last gotten my period, and I was beginning to think I was in the clear for a while. My period was always irregular—sometimes it was a couple weeks late, sometimes it’d skip an entire cycle, and sometimes it came in like a flood, heavy and relentless. I’d grown used to the unpredictable nature of it all, but this time felt different. I was just about to start to relax, thinking maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to deal with it this month... until I felt that first cramp during the second quarter of the game.

I froze for a second, glancing at Paige from across the court as she made an incredible play. Her focus, her poise—everything about her on the court made me feel proud. I wanted to stay and cheer her on, but the cramping in my lower abdomen intensified, and a wave of dizziness hit me hard.

"No," I whispered under my breath, standing up and trying to push through it.

But my body wasn’t having it. The cramps quickly became unbearable, each contraction of my uterus sending a sharp, radiating pain up my spine. I could barely stand, much less focus on the game.

I made the decision right then—I had to leave.

It was a struggle to get to the doors of the arena, but somehow, I made it, feeling the heat of my body flush with discomfort. By the time I got to Paige’s dorm, which I practically lived in at this point, I was in so much pain I could barely keep myself upright.

I stumbled into the bathroom, leaning against the sink for support as I fought to steady my breathing. The nausea was starting to set in too. My stomach felt like it was being twisted, and I had the sudden urge to curl up into a ball.

I grabbed my phone, hoping to text Paige to let her know what had happened, but the moment my fingers touched the screen, I was overwhelmed by another wave of pain. I dropped the phone onto the counter, sinking to the floor and hugging my knees to my chest as the cramps kept coming in violent waves.

Paige's POV

The second half of the game started, but something was off. I’d scanned the stands after a particularly good play, searching for the familiar face of the person I loved. I didn’t see her.

Where was she?

It felt wrong. I had gotten used to having her there, sitting courtside, supporting me through every dribble, every shot, every win. And now, with the crowd roaring around me, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I shook my head, trying to focus on the game. I had to finish it—there was no turning back. But the doubt gnawed at me with every minute that ticked by.

When the buzzer finally sounded, signaling the end of the game, I was relieved that we’d secured a win. But as my teammates high-fived and celebrated, all I could think about was her.

Where the hell had she gone?

Reader's POV

I must have passed out for a little while because the next thing I knew, I was being gently roused by a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, hey, baby... you’re okay."

I blinked up, groggy and disoriented, only to see Paige’s concerned face hovering above me.

"Paige..." I murmured, trying to sit up, but the pain in my abdomen hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Don’t move,” she said softly, her voice full of worry. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright? I’m here.”

I felt myself melt into her touch as she carefully helped me up, supporting me as I leaned into her. She guided me to the bathroom, where I could see her pulling the warm, steamy water from the tub.

"I know you're hurting, baby," she said softly, her hands moving to help me out of my clothes. "But we’re going to get you in the bath, okay? It’ll help."

I nodded weakly, too tired to argue, letting Paige help me step into the bath, the hot water easing some of the tension in my body.

"You're so strong," she whispered as she knelt beside the tub, her hand brushing my wet hair out of my face.

I swallowed hard, too overwhelmed to respond. I felt a pang of guilt—after all, she had just played in the game, a huge win for her career, and I was here, crumpled in pain, unable to even sit up properly.

“How did you do?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige gave me a soft smile, brushing her thumb over my hand. “You’re the one I’m worried about right now. But, we won. We kicked ass. I hit 2,000 but ended the game with 2,012 career points.” She said it with such pride, and I could feel the sense of accomplishment in her words.

But I wasn’t really focused on that. I just wanted her to feel as at ease as possible, even as I struggled with the pain and nausea.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to leave during the game… I just couldn’t…”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, baby,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “You’ve been through a lot, and I understand. It’s okay. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Paige’s words had a magical effect on me, and I could feel some of the tension in my body begin to ease. I let myself relax further into the bath, feeling the heat soothe the cramps. But even as the pain started to dull, the exhaustion was catching up with me.

“You’re still my hero, you know?” I mumbled.

Paige chuckled softly, brushing her lips over the top of my head. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And don’t worry, I’ll be your hero anytime you need me.”

I gave a tired smile, reaching for her hand as I let my eyes close, feeling her presence next to me like a warm blanket.

“I love you,” I murmured.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice full of tenderness.

As I rested there, surrounded by her care and concern, I knew that no matter how difficult things got, we’d always have each other. She was my rock, my safe place, and tonight, more than ever, I was grateful for her love.

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smutallyouwant · 12 days ago

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BINI VERSZE chp. 2

Red Hot

Micolet x M! reader

Word Count: 2.1k

So, I've been fapping to this picture of Micolet since it was dropped. Imagine both of them making out in front of you? Damn! Btw here's a smut for you guys, it's how I imagine having a threesome with these two wonderful women.

You're on a nature trip with your girlfriend Colet, taking pictures of her with a scenery behind her is your favorite hobby. After all, you're dating her secretly as their girl group becomes more popular in the media, you can't take a picture with her, at least those that are posted in socials.

Both of you are still wet from the water stream as you enter the cabin that you rented from the place, but Colet quickly removed her bottom and pushed you on the bed. You removed your bottom too as a response and Colet aligned your dick into her pussy riding on top of you as you're sitting down.

" Ughhh~~ fuck kanina pa ako nag pipigil " she said.

Colet grinds on you intensely while both of her hands are anchored on your nape.

Water from both of you literally wets the bed and her sweet scent radiates as she sweats on top of you. Water from her head mixed with sweat drips down on her face, down to her neck and her boobs. The show made you so horny, you removed her hair tie that caused her to grin in pain slightly.

" Mrggh, ughh~~ Ugh~~, sarap love? " Colet said as she rides on top of you.

" Yess love, ang sarap"

You said as you flick her hair behind her ears so you can palm her face and give her a deep kiss. Moans keep on slipping through your mouths as you make out.

" mmhh~~ mhhh~ *slurps "

You hugged her from the waist, pulling her closer. Her arms now basically are hugging you by the neck, you palmed her waist on both ends and you pounded her on your dick in an up-and-down motion.

" Ughh! Ughh! Ugh!! Tangina sarap love, sige pa ganyan lang "

She is now looking up and releasing a moan every thrust you make, you can feel her wall inside as you literally slams her on your dick. Water splashes on the bed every time, Colet's grip on your neck tightens and her nails dig down on your shoulders.

" Ughh! Sige lang! Y/N, love lalabasan na ako, ganyan lang, sige pa "

You focused all your strength into it but still making sure to not break the rhythm, Colet seems to like it as her eyes rolled up and is biting her lips. You continue this for up to 25 seconds before she finally buried your dick in her pussy, focusing all her weight into pressing it harder on her walls that prevents you from lifting her again for another thrust.

" Huuuahh! Ughhh! Haahhh! Mrrhhmm! "

She moaned as she caught her breath while she shivered in pleasure on top of you. You feel a hot liquid dripping on your legs from her pussy and her head rests on your shoulders while she is still catching her breath.

" tangina nalimutan ko huminga dahil sa sarap " she whispered.

" Sinasakal mo na nga ako habang binubuhat kita eh " you said.

" Hahaha edi ako naman sakalin mo? " She teased.

You then complied to her challenge

You gripped her neck pushing her on the desk from the cabin as you fuck her from behind without taking into account the force that you uses.

" Uy gago masakit, ughhh! "

" Huh ? Eto naman gusto mo diba? Malandi kang hayup ka"

She pushed her ass up and bent her waist more as she smiled hearing you say those words. The two of you have been in open for both of your sexual desires, and degrading sex is one of Colet's weird kinks.

You gripped her harder making sure that she's in pain, Colet gags and began drooling and tearing. All of it while she's still smiling in pleasure.

" Uhghkk~~ Uhkll~~ shiitt!! " Colet moaned.

You removed your arms now for her to catch her breath. You slapped her ass making her body lay on the table. You removed her bra, her breast was pressed on the desk and she locked eye contact with you as you leave red marks on her ass cheeks.

" Yes lovee, spank my ass "

" Do you love fucking me like this love? "

She said with her baby voice.

This reminded you of her soft side, and you decided to switch to be more gentle with her. You made her suck your middle and ring finger as you guide her on the bed and laying on top of her.

You hugged her and began fucking her missionary. Both of your eyes lock with each other as every thrust you make insinuates passionate love for Colet. You're now making love with her and the pleasure builds up with this idea. You're making love with your girl that loves you the most despite being famous.

" I love you, my Colet "

" I love you too, my Y/N "

" Cum ka sa loob love? You want diba ? I want you to cum inside me love " she exclaimed.

" Sure ka love? "

" Yes love, i-ceampie mo ako, putukan mo ako sa loob "

You're nearing your climax as you feel both of your bodies interacting, her boobs jiggles under you and the sounds you make as you hit her bottom, her soft breathy moans and her facial expressions made you cum.

" ~ughh lovee I'm cumming na, ughh~ "

" Yess loveee putok mo lahat sa'kin, ~ughhhh"

You pumped your semen as deep as you can with three powerful thrusts inside her pussy. Her legs hug your waist as she receives a creampie and cum overflows every thrust.

You laid on top of her for a minute before helping each other to clean the mess you made.

You kissed her forehead and both of you cuddled on the bed with a blanket.

You fell asleep but woke up with Colet caressing your chest.

" Y/N, malapit na birthday mo, ano gusto mong gift? "

" Ha? 2 years na tayo pero tinatanong mo parin sa'kin yan? " You said while giggling.

" Oo, palagi nalang kasi birthday sex regalo ko sa'yo tsaka surprise ng cake hahahaha, maiba naman "

" Okay na sa'kin yun, basta ikaw love " you answered before kissing her on her forehead.

" May tanong ako, if may gusto kang itry na i-fuck sa BINI maliban sa'kin, sino gusto mo? " she asked with a curious look on her face.

You replied with a more confused look.

" Promise, hindi ako magagalit curious lang talaga ako promises!! " She exclaimed.

" Clue nalang hahahah, si Red Hot " you answered.

" Nye! Hindi nalang sabihin na si Mika " she replied while rolling her eyes.

" Ohh akala ko ba hindi ka magagalit? HAHAHHAA " you teased her.

" Hindi naman ako galit ah " she said before turning away from you.

You hugged her from behind and kissed her cheeks and the two of you slept.

Fast forward to your birthday

You're waiting in your condo as you're going to celebrate your birthday with your girlfriend.

A knock on the door caught your attention.

You opened the door and you're surprised to see Mikha behind it.

" Hi Y/N!! Happy birthday! " She greeted you with a smile.

" Uyy, thank you, pasok ka "

She's wearing a black crop-top and a shorts.

You led her to your dining table and made her sit.

" Kain ka muna Mikha habang wala pa si Colet "

" Ayy, mamaya na malapit na raw siya eh pinauna niya lang yung gift niya "

" ha? " You muttered in confusion.

" I mean, pwede ba maki Cr Y/N? "

" Ayy, dito yung Cr "

Mikha went inside and you continue to prepare the table.

" Y/N! Hindi ba nagana itong flush ninyo?" Mikha shouted.

" Teka, nagana yan"

" Can I come in? " You added .

" Yes " she answered.

As you entered, Mikha grabbed your hands and pulled you. You're now facing her and hed hands are held on your nape. She pushed her lips into yours and forced her tongue in your mouth. Her sweet scent and her delicious tongue and saliva made your mind blank and you fought with her. As both of you are making out, your hands roam into her waist and made her moan in her breaths.

You can taste her lipstick every gallop of your lips, and her body feels heaven to touch. You pulled out from the kiss and you started kissing her neck.

" urggh~~ mhhh~~~ "

Moans started to be audible signaling you that you're doing good. Mikha' s other hand is now reaching for your bulge. As she caress your bulge, your hand started to fondle her boobs from inside her top.

You can see her face change as you fondle and pinch her nipples, she bites her lips and strangles your hair into her hands.

She gently pushed your head down as you kissed her neck. This just means one thing, she wants you to suck on her boobs.

You then pulled her top down revealing her boobs, you licked it first before suckling on it with gentle licks inside your mouth.

" Ughhhh~~ yes Y/N, sarap nyan "

She can't suppress her moans as she asks you to suck it more and pushes you onto sucking her other boob.

You can't hold yourself now as you hear BINI Mikha moan from your doings, you push her facing the mirror of the washbasin.

You unbuckled her belt and pulled her shorts down, she does not fight back, meaning that this is okay with her. You then removed your pants causing your dick to slap on Mikha' s ass. She looked behind her and saw your dick. You can see how turned on her face was, you kissed her as you aligned your shaft into her.

You managed to push it through, Mikha moaned in pleasure as you fuck her from behind.

" ~~mhhh mhhh ~arrghh fuck Y/N "

" Tangina ang sarap mo Mikha "

Moans filled up the whole comfort room as you hugged her waist and your other hand played with her boobs.

You managed to do a few thrusts before you hear someone entering the passcode to your door. It's safe to assume that your girlfriend Colet is the one doing this.

This managed to snap you out of fucking Mikha like a wild beast. You pushed her causing her to look at you in disappointment and lust, she squealed a little as you pulled your dick out in a swift movement.

" Sorry, Mikha " you said before putting your pants back on and going out of the comfort room.

You can't think of anything as you tried to cheat on your girlfriend, no, you cheated on her already with you kissing her friend and fucking her without a care in the world.

Colet entered your condo with a smile and with a cake with her hands. She looked at you top to bottom and gently placed the cake on the table.

" Hmmmm, nag start na agad kayo ha " she teased.

You're confused on what she's saying until she grabs your visible bulge from you fucking her friend.

" Haa? Mamaya na yan love, andito si Mikha naki Cr lang "

" Alam ko, masarap ba siya chumupa? "

" Haaa?? Baliw ka na ba "

" Hmmmm, mas magaling sa'kin? " She teased you again with a look.

Mikha showed up from the Cr, still buckling her shorts.

" Hindi ko na siya na BJ ate Colet, tinira agad ako eh "

" Ha? Anong sinasabi mo? Wala ha " you protested.

But Colet just asked you a question with a horny face.

" Sino mas masarap samin? "

" S-syempre ikaw " you stuttered.

Colet leads both of you in your bedroom and the three of you made out while standing and removing all of your clothes.

You watched as the two BINI members in front of you made out, Colet curled out her tongue and Mikha sucked on it as a response.

" Ate Colet, pwede ako mauna? Malapit na sana ako kanina dumating ka lang eh hahaha " Mikha pleaded.

" Ikaw naman talaga nauna eh, sabi ko chupain mo lang siya para malibugan hahaha "

Colet rested on the desk and Mikha is facing her making her ass available for your fucking. You then fucked her again from behind while she makes out with your girlfriend.

" Ate Colet, ang sarap mhh~~ slurps "

" Anlaki ng tite ng boyfriend mo, 6 inches na mataba " she added.

You smiled hearing this, you leaned forward to join the two into sloppy kissing.

" Eto ba yung gift mo sa'kin love? " You asked

" Yes, threesome with your Red Hot, do you like it? "

" Oo naman, let's have some fun together"

" Y/N I'm cumming, sigee ganyan lang huwag kang titigil ha " Mikha pleaded.

" Lalabasan na rin ako, pwede ba sa loob? "

" Noo, please cum outside Y/N "

You thrust for 4 more times before Mikha limped into orgasm, you then pushed her aside gently to continue fucking with your girlfriend.

" Uyy, ughhh ~~ ugh~ "

You girlfriend was shocked but was feeling it because she knows that you wanted to cum inside her pussy.

" Sige love you can cum inside me " Colet said while hugging your neck.

" Ughhh, I love you baby " you said before cumming.

You kissed her deep as you burrow your dick inside your girlfriend planting your semen inside her.

" I love you more " she answered.

The day lasted longer as the three of you did more nasty things and tried different positions:

1. Colet rides your dick leaning to you to suck your nipples while Mikha is beside you sucking into your other nipple.

Your girlfriend knows that you like your nipples to be teased, and two girls teasing both of you nipple made you cum inside Colet immediately.

2. Basically the same thing but you're the one on top of Mikha.

3. Fucking Mikha in dog style while she eats out Colet's pussy.

Your girlfriend convinced Mikha to try to eat her out while you give her the fucking.

4. You and Mikha enjoying a passionate sex while your girlfriend watches from the side.

This time Mikha let you cum inside her.

" Thank you love, this was my best birthday ever " you said to your girlfriend before sleeping in the middle of two tired girls.

What position or things will you try if Colet and Mikha decide to have a threesome with you?

---------------------END------------------------

#bini colet #bini #bini smut #bini mikha #mikha smut #colet smut #bini imagines

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batboysanonymous · 12 days ago

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A Taste of Silence (Pt. II)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhys's drunken words cut deeper than any blade, leaving Y/n questioning everything she thought she knew about their bond. As heartbreak and betrayal collide, she faces a choice that could shatter the fragile threads holding their world together.

Pt. I

Word Count: 1.5k

──────────────────────────────

Rhysand was drowning.

He had endured centuries of torment in Amarantha’s Court, faced death and destruction in ways that would have broken lesser males—but this? This was agony unlike anything he had ever known.

Because this wasn’t just losing her. This was being the cause of her pain.

The bond was still there, a heavy, throbbing weight tethered to his soul. It twisted and pulled at him, refusing to let him forget the raw betrayal in her eyes when she left. He couldn’t block it out. Couldn’t shut down the waves of anger and hurt radiating from her, nor the faint echo of her presence that haunted his every step.

He didn’t deserve to forget.

He followed her from a distance, staying just out of sight, knowing he had no right to approach her. She had retreated to a small, snow-laden village on the outskirts of his territory, a place so quiet and unassuming it seemed designed to swallow grief whole. Rhys respected her boundaries—at least, as much as he could while still ensuring she was safe.

The villagers had no idea their little haven was now fiercely guarded by shadows. Every night, he patrolled the perimeter, silent as death, ensuring no threat could come close. When a pack of feral beasts wandered too near, Rhys killed them before they could even scent the village. He cleaned up the blood and left no trace, unwilling to let her see the lengths he was going to for her protection.

She might hate him, but she was still his mate. And he would protect her, even if it tore him apart.

But even the small things he could do weren’t enough. Not when every second without her was a reminder of the chasm he’d created between them. The cold, empty nights stretched endlessly, the silence gnawing at his mind until he thought he might go mad.

──────────────────────────────

The third week after her departure, he broke.

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t intrude, and wouldn't push her until she was ready. But the bond burned unbearably that day, tugging at him with a force that felt like claws raking through his chest. He flew to her cabin before he could stop himself, landing with a muffled thud on the snow-packed ground.

She was outside, stacking firewood with her back to him. She froze when his boots crunched against the snow.

“Don’t,” she said without turning, her voice cold enough to make him falter.

“Please,” Rhys choked out, his voice hoarse.

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t think—he just dropped to his knees. The snow soaked through his leathers, numbing his skin, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Please, just listen to me. I—” His throat closed up, the words catching on the lump that had lodged itself there since the moment she left. He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his desperation. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I—Cauldron, I can’t live like this. I can’t live without you.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move.

“You are everything to me,” he said, his voice raw. “Everything. And I hate myself for what I did, for the way I made you feel. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right, if you’ll let me. But if you can’t…” He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. “If you can’t, I’ll still do it. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy, even if it’s from afar. I don’t care what it costs me, as long as you’re okay.”

“How can I trust that the next time you’re drunk or angry, you won’t say something that cuts me to the bone?”

Her words hit like a dagger, sharp and precise. He bowed his head, his voice trembling as he replied, “I don’t deserve your trust, not after what I said. But I swear to you, I will never drink if it means risking your pain. I’ll stop entirely if you ask me to. Nothing—nothing—is worth losing you again.”

Her arms crossed, her shields firmly in place, though he caught the faintest waver in her expression. “And what happens the next time we fight, Rhys? What if you get angry? Will you throw my weaknesses in my face again?”

His head snapped up, anguish written across his features. “Never. I would never—” His voice broke. “You are not my weakness. You are my strength. And if I ever forget that, I want you to walk away and never look back. But I swear to you, Y/N, I will spend every day of my life proving to you that I’ve learned from this. That I will never, ever make you feel like that again.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. He could feel her battling herself, the bond between them a swirling tempest of doubt and yearning.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his knees sinking deeper into the snow. “I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust if I have to. Just tell me how to begin.”

The silence stretched taut between them, and Rhys didn’t dare move. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but edged with steel. “Prove it.”

Her shields weren’t just up—they were fortified. But he didn’t need to feel the bond to see the war raging within her.

──────────────────────────────

The days that followed were a slow, painful process. Rhys didn’t push. He stayed near enough to be there if she needed him but far enough to give her space. He continued his quiet watch over the village, eliminating threats before she ever knew they existed. He left her gifts—small things he hoped might bring her comfort. A new brush when he saw her old one had broken. A scarf enchanted to keep her warm even in the bitterest winds. And a note with every gift: I’m still here. I always will be.

She started letting him stay for longer each time he visited. They didn’t talk much at first—just sat in heavy, charged silence. But gradually, the walls began to crack. She started asking him questions, small and tentative, and he answered with an honesty that left him vulnerable and bare.

The night she finally forgave him, it was snowing.

They were sitting by the fire, the soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Rhys’s voice was low and steady as he recounted the years he’d spent under the mountain. The rawness of the memories was evident in the way his hands clenched and unclenched, but he forced himself to speak, each word a step toward atonement.

Y/N sat across from him, silent, her gaze fixed on the flames. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, the movement restless and uncertain.

“You didn’t just hurt me,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “You betrayed me, Rhys. You made me feel small, like I didn’t matter.”

The words tore through him, but he didn’t flinch. He nodded, his throat tightening. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”

She looked at him then, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “How can I trust you not to run your mouth again? To not let some drink or situation make you careless with me?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shame crashing over him. “You can’t—not yet. But I’ll prove to you that you can. I’ll prove it every single day, Y/N.” His voice cracked, his chest heaving as he lowered himself to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his hands trembling as he clasped hers. “Please, give me a chance to earn back your trust. I’ll never take another sip of wine if that’s what it takes. I’ll never let myself forget the weight of what I have to lose. You are everything to me.”

Her lip trembled as she stared at him, the rawness in his expression and the desperation in his voice cutting through her defenses. “I’m terrified, Rhys. Of trusting you again. Of getting hurt again.”

His thumbs brushed over her knuckles as he held her hands tightly, his head bowing. “I know. And if I ever break your trust again, I’ll deserve every ounce of that fear. I’ll deserve to lose you. But I won’t. I swear to you, Y/N, I won’t.”

The bond between them hummed faintly, like a whisper of what it once was, and it pulled at her even as she hesitated. She reached out, cupping his face with trembling fingers.

“You have one chance, Rhys,” she whispered, her voice heavy with both hope and caution. “One.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, pressing her palm to his lips. “I won’t waste it. I swear to you, I’ll never waste it.”

When she finally leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively, as if he could shield her from every hurt in the world—including himself. The bond sang louder, fuller, and in that moment, they began to mend what had been broken, piece by fragile piece.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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#acotarxreader #angst #batboys x reader #slow burn #tension #acotar #night court #x reader #rhysandxreader #rhys acotar #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #high lord of the night court #light angst

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vervainandspritz · 2 months ago

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MORE GRATEFUL THAN THIS

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smut, deaththreat, gun, breeding, swearing, name calling, unprotected sex, choking, mean Tommy, humiliation, degradation

A/N: send smut requests for Tommy

"Tommy, please I need you" Y/N whimpered out, leaning forward on the desk in his office. Her hand curled around the edge of the desk, eyes silently begging him to give in to her needs. Thomas knew Y/N too well to not be aware of how.. insatiable she was getting whenever she was ovulating. The way she trembled lightly, pressing her thighs together never ceased to make him stiffen beneath his slacks.

Abruptly getting up, he immediately gripped the back of her neck in his grasp, circling the desk and standing by her side. His body firm against her soft skin. The room would be completely silent if it wasn't for her heavy breathing which made him chuckle darkly as his fingers tightened around her throat.

"So fucking needy, eh?" He hissed, pulling her against his firm chest. Tommy's look was... Quite unusual today. His suit jacket was off, his white elegant shirt was covered by a vest. The vest.. covered the holster and gun sitting neatly beneath the material. "Distracting, not letting me work," He purred louder, seeing how her cheeks turned red and her eyes became cloudy and only then did he loosen the grip on her throat just lightly.

"Please–fuck, please!" She squirmed, trying to see him over her shoulder but he didn't allow it, quickly pushing her down onto his desk, causing a few pens and papers to fall on the floor, but it wasn't enough to get her attention. The tingling between her legs was much more bothering, causing her to whimper over and over again as her knuckles turned white. "Tommy!"

He chuckled arrogantly behind her back, eyes moving down onto her covered bottom as one of his hands kept her face pressed down onto the dark wood.

"Shut up!" He barked, pulling her dress up in a rough, indelicate movement, baring her round ass for his eyes only. "After all, I'm doing you a favour. The least you could do is shut the fuck up," His tongue wrapped around the.. cruel words nicely, bringing out the intense accent even more than usual as he watched her try to rub her thighs together, seeking friction more desperately as his snarling came to her ears. Thomas' lips turned into a grin, knowing well how mean words worked her up. How easily influenced she was by his presence. He knew exactly what she wanted and needed, even if she wasn't aware just yet. ”Needy whore,” He growled, tugging on her hair as the other hand ripped her underwear, causing the cold air to hit her most sensitive spot.

The arousal, desire and longing for his touch quickly mixed with anger, hearing his words. Squeezing her thighs harder, Y/N finally managed to speak up.

”Maybe I–I should go somewhere else then, wouldn't have to look long!” She bit back with a snarl, feeling the way his fingers pulled on the makeshift ponytail harder out of nowhere. His hand shifted further, gripping her jaw and throat with one hand, as his body covered her own from the back, pressing her down.

Only then she felt his wet, hot manhood gliding between her legs while throbbing angrily. The warmth radiating off his skin was almost intoxicating and she let out a quick whine feeling the wide tip of his cock pressing against her lips, not enough to breach the opening. Her eyes fell shut weakly.

”Feel that?” He asked in a husky, low voice, every ounce of humour disappeared from his tone. Another hand snaked beneath her body, petting her pussy a couple times and causing her to squirm feeling the painful stimulation on her sensitive clit. Before she could let out any sound, her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as the desk jerked forward along with the hard thrust Thomas gave her, burying the entire length of his thick cock in her cunt with a growl. ”That's my cock, stretching your needy fuckhole. I thought I taught you to be more grateful than this, pet.” He purred into her ear, and Y/N could only moan loudly as she felt his movements behind her back.

”But it seems like you need a reminder, eh?” He let out a chuckle, and Y/N immediately turned stiff head to toe, as she felt the cold barrel pressing up against her temple. His hot breath coming in contrast to the cold metal, as he laughed arrogantly again, beginning to move his hips, stretching her tender walls and stuffing her full of him. Her orgasm began running towards her like a train just then, and the mix of emotions became so blurry, she could barely make anything out.

”Who does this naughty cunt belong to, pet?” He asked calmly, almost like he wasn't holding a gun to her head. Y/N's eyes watered as her heart pounded loudly in her chest, yet the heat pooling in her pussy was unmistakable, and she knew he felt that.

”Y–You, Tommy” She stuttered out as he fucked her a little harder, keeping a steady pace. She winced hearing the sound indicating his weapon is charged.

”You can do better than that, eh?” He kissed her cheek lightly, his lips softly pressing next to where the barrel remained snugly.

”It's yours, I'm yours, Tommy! I'm sorry!” She cried out quickly, starting to genuinely fear for her life as he chuckled once more.

Pressing his lips to the back of her head, he inhaled her scent, closing his eyes. Tommy's hips picked up at a fast pace, ruthlessly rutting into her wet heat, huffing and growling under his breath at how tightly her pussy gripped him, almost like it didn't want to let him go.

”Good girl. Good fucking girl” He purred, his right hand grasping her hips in a bruising grip, making her whine at the sting as he fucked her hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. The coldness at her temple was a reminder, as Thomas pressed the gun harder against her skin. ”Come for me, pet. Because you may not have the chance anymore.” His words were drained from any emotion, his hips pulling her own in tandem with his thrusts, pushing deeper than ever before. The fear in Y/N's mind increased the arousal, causing her to see starts in the pitch black of her eyelids as she cried out, tears spilling on her cheeks. Her weak voice kept begging him not to, repeating 'please' over and over as finally, he groaned out loud, pushing his cock snuggly against her cervix, getting as deep as physically possible.

...and then she heard it. His huff, followed by the cling of a gunshot... Of an empty barrel. No bullet coming out.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, laying completely still with her eyesight being a blurry mess, as she felt his cum filling her to the brim.

Thomas slowly raised from her back, supporting himself on his hands as he reached to his pocket, pulling out a handful. Slowly, one by one he let the bullets fall on the desk, causing her to wince at the loud sound as she looked to see what it was.

Her heart stopped for a second, realizing that he took the bullets out when she couldn't see, laying face down on the desk. Finally, she managed to let out a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing. Tommy chuckled, seeing it before he leaned down, leaving little pecks on her cheek.

”You're welcome, Mrs. Shelby”

...and Y/N couldn't help but smile, trying to catch her breath as her husband pulled back, causing his cum to trickle down her legs.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby dark #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby dark #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders

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clairoscharm · 2 months ago

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falling fast, falling hard

pairing : ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings : blurb? drabble? idek… highschool au, hallway crush! reader, uhmmmm nothing much lol

credits : to pinterest for all the pictures & @anitalenia

✉️ : fun fact, this was inspired by a story from my moots back then! i write this thinking of them. yk who you are, ditto!

DAILY CLICK

DON’T BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

It was only Monday, and Ellie was already having one of those mornings that felt like a personal attack from the universe. She stormed through the school’s front doors, the rubber soles of her sneakers squeaking loudly on the polished floor, drawing a few amused glances from nearby students. Ignoring them, she focused on her target: her locker.

She wrenched it open with more force than necessary, muttering curses under her breath as she grabbed her chemistry books. They’d been sitting there since last week—a deliberate decision to avoid carrying extra weight in her already overloaded backpack. Brilliant plan, Ellie. Now she was out of time and scrambling.

Staying up until 2 a.m. playing the new Nintendo game Joel had bought her for her birthday had been pure bliss last night. The adrenaline, the triumph of leveling up—it had all felt worth it. Until now.

Now, every second felt like a reminder of her own terrible life choices. She shoved the books into her bag, slammed the locker shut, and bolted toward the staircase, determined to make it to class before the bell but the clock ticking down to a certain tardiness.

That was when disaster struck.

Ellie rounded the corner and charged up the stairs, her mind too preoccupied with excuses for her teacher to notice you coming down in the opposite direction.

The collision was immediate and catastrophic. Ellie barely registered the impact before her grip slipped, her books and files flying out of her arms in a chaotic explosion.

She barely had time to react before her own foot slipped on a stray sheet of paper. With a startled yelp, Ellie lost her balance and went down, her back hitting the stairs as she slid a few steps before coming to a stop.

Pain radiated through her shoulder and hip as she groaned, staring at the mess of papers littering the stairwell like confetti.

"Fuck..." she muttered, her face burning with embarrassment as she tried to sit up, rubbing her sore shoulder.

"Shit! I’m so, so sorry!" a panicked voice exclaimed. Ellie looked up and froze.

Can this day get any worse? She thought bitterly.

Of course, it had to be you—her hallway crush. Or, let’s be real, her crush in general. Denying it was pointless, but she’d try anyway.

Ellie blinked and there you were, crouching a few steps above her, your wide eyes filled with concern. Her breath hitched for a moment.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Ellie groaned, her frustration now aimed at the universe itself. “Seriously?”

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, but—wait, don’t move! Are you hurt?" your voice was laced with guilt as you crouched beside her, reaching out like you wanted to help up or give her space.

Ellie glanced at you, about to brush you off, when she noticed your hand frozen midair, hesitating. Your expression was so genuinely concerned that it softened her irritation just a little. "I’ll live," she muttered, finally sitting upright.

"Here—let me—uhh, get your stuff," you said quickly, darting to collect her scattered papers and textbook.

Ellie watched you as she stood up carefully, her irritation softening just a fraction as she took in the way you moved—quick but careful, your hair falling slightly into your face as you worked. There was something undeniably endearing about it.

“Thanks,” Ellie said grudgingly when you handed her the slightly crumpled stack.

You gave her a sheepish smile, your hand brushing hers for the briefest moment. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” Ellie said, her tone sharp but not entirely serious, her lips twitching despite herself.

“Could’ve avoided all this.”

You let out a nervous laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Fair. But maybe you shouldn’t sprint up the stairs like it’s the Olympics.”

Ellie’s reluctant smile broke through. “Touché.”

She adjusted her bag, glancing down at the mess you’d managed to somewhat clean up. "Guess we’re both disasters," she said, her tone lighter now.

"Speak for yourself," you shot back with a grin, stepping back. “Try not to fall again, yeah?” you teased before walking away, leaving Ellie stunned.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence in your voice. She opened her mouth to retort, but you were already turning to leave, your steps light and unbothered.

As Ellie stared after you, heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "Try not to fall again," she muttered under her breath, a weak attempt to mimic your tone. "Yeah, right."

Falling on the ground? Sure, she’d work on that. But not falling for you? Too late for that.

That ship had sailed before she even hit the stairs.

#dyn’s | writings ᝰ.ᐟ #dyn’s | moodboards ˖⋆࿐໋#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams blurb #moodboards #messy moodboard #moodboard

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prolix-yuy · 1 month ago

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Ah, but it's cold outside

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Summary: If you could throw Pero Tovar out of your bed and breakfast you would, but something more than your constant bickering keeps him darkening your door.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, fingering, PiV sex, consenting unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming inside, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), Pero Tovar is Uncircumcised, pain kink, exhibitionism, slight degradation kink, enemies to lovers as self-actualization? We love to see it.

Notes: Happy Holidays @221bshrlocked! I am your not-so-Secret Santa for @pedrostories Secret Santa event! I love love LOVED your prompts and had to give you as many as I could possibly jam into one fic. Plus it's been a while since I've written Pero and I need that grumpy man to get his ass handed to him every now and then. I hope you enjoy!

With the wind howling outside and the lights flickering dangerously, the last person you want to see on your front steps is Pero Tovar. But you barely have time to register the dark-haired pain in your ass before he’s pushing past you and into the warm haven of your bed and breakfast.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” you call over your shoulder, closing the door against the freezing air. Even when the latch clicks the force of the gusts still rattles the door.

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome,” he huffs, swatting snow off his wool jacket to puddle on the floor. Rolling your eyes, you stalk into the kitchen for towels.

“It’s late, what do you want?” you call from the other room, unable to stop yourself from twisting your mouth into a pretty fair imitation of Pero’s scowl. You’d just turned off all the lights, only the twinkling glows of Christmas decorations still lighting the main floor.

“The road’s snowed out, I can’t see shit. I debated on whether it would be easier on my nerves to keep going or stop here.” He waves at your exasperated face when he catches the towel you toss. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The telltale frustration rises in your throat, and you swallow it down. “I don’t have any rooms, everyone’s hiding out from the storm.” Busying yourself with the late-night tasks you know by heart, Pero thumps along behind you.

“Believe me, I would rather be in my own bed than your ‘charming’ ones, but I am out of options. Anything. A couch. It’s too cold to sleep in the truck.”

There it is again, that seething annoyance climbing up your spine. You take in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before gesturing at the common room.

“The couch is the best I can do.”

Before you’re done speaking he’s striding in, shucking off his jacket to drape over a chair before kneeling by the dying fire. You’re about to scold him for kicking it back to life but if the power does fail the heat will be welcome.

“I have to finish closing up, yell if you need something,” you add, his dismissive wave meeting your mocking wave back. The scrunch in your shoulders eases partway through the mess of dishes you’re washing, thankful that the silence of late nights is still yours even with the eerie howls and creaks of the storm surrounding you.

Yours and Pero’s relationship was barely that, if anyone asked. When he first came to town you were elated that a carpenter-handyman type was finally local. You had so many projects half-finished or begging to start in your bed and breakfast, a cozy Tudor-style house you bought at the peak of another career crisis. Thankfully this choice was a revelation, even with the tremendous undertaking. The pipes were of indeterminate age and prone to cracks, the noise of the radiators a heart-pounding alarm clock. The unpleasant odors of past smokers and bad cooks hung heavy everywhere you turned, but paint and YouTube videos and determination brought it up to a standard you were proud of. However, you didn’t want to know what electrocution feels like, or be chummy with the scent of carbon monoxide, so after a proper number of niceties and crossed paths you invited Pero over.

The first day he darkened your door, you felt something wildly different than his entrance this evening. He was dark haired, roguish in an unfamiliar way. Simply dressed in jeans and a canvas jacket over a black t-shirt, his frame tugged against mouthwatering places you tried not to stare at. He was polite, wiping his feet at the door and setting his toolbox down gently. His accented voice was deep, sonorous, goddamn sexy. You had to focus on showing him the finicky electrical box and the concerning gas hookup in the kitchen to stop your mind from wandering to steamy romance novel plots.

Then he started speaking, and it all went to hell.

“You should take down the curtains too,” he hummed, the cadence almost masking the disdain before your brain snapped to attention.

“The…curtains? Are they a fire hazard?”

“No, they are ugly.”

Heat flooded your face, your teeth clacking together as you whipped to look at Pero. His face is the picture of disgust, and when he meets your eyes there isn’t a hint of embarrassment in them. “Did they come with the place?”

“No, they fit the aesthetic.”

“This is an aesthetic?”

You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips but he didn’t back down one bit. He kept talking.

“I thought the furniture was from the previous owner. Cheaper, you know. You like it?” He looks around as if someone would back him up, but you just fold your arms.

“People don’t come to a bed and breakfast because it’s modern, they come because it’s quaint and charming and…”

“...cheaper than the Marriott…”

“And how would you do it then? Design the space for me, oh wise one.”

“Not how my grandmother would do it.”

Pero did not get your business that day.

Embarrassingly enough, he did get it three weeks later when your gas line started leaking. He critiqued how many mouse droppings were behind the stove and recommended an exterminator. You almost threw him out.

So if anyone asks, you and Pero do not have a relationship. You have a business agreement, at best. A begrudging one. He comes when you call - not quickly, of course, and it feels like a personal slight even when he insists he has many clients - and you pay him after haggling over the cost of the pipe or how long he actually worked for (he has a tendency to charge for his hour-long lunch breaks). He makes his snide little comments and you spit a retort back, and sometimes you swear you catch him smirking to himself after you deliver something especially sharp.

As you dry your hands, you dwell maybe a few minutes too long on this. You’d never admit it in earshot of his big head, but there’s something incredibly freeing about talking to Pero. Sure, he criticizes and complains about anything he comes within five feet of, but he’s never cruel to you. He never speaks down to you, or makes you feel inferior because you don’t know something. Most of the time he explains what he’s doing so you can do it yourself, with only a few jabs thrown in for flavor. No contractor has ever treated you as capable before. Most try to talk over your or around the topic, and you have to smile and gently redirect them to understand that yes, you are aware of what an impact driver is and no, you think drywall screws would be overkill to reattach that molding. You’d rather snark at Pero all day then have one of those pillow-scream-worthy conversations again.

Shaking off the retrospection, you take a plate of leftover roast chicken and potatoes into the common room. Pero, as you expected, has stoked the fire into an almost concerning blaze but the warmth is welcome. He’s settling back into the well-worn couch and scrolling on his phone as you plop the plate on his lap. Your knuckles graze the top of his thigh when you withdraw, a nervous tingle dancing through your stomach.

What the hell was that about? It’s Pero, for fuck’s sake.

“Eat,” you order, rounding the couch to drop into the open space. If there’s one order Pero will never argue about it’s to eat, which he does with gusto and a nod in your direction. The crackle of the fire covers the ravenous chewing - even barely hungry he eats like a man starved - as you let your body relax into the cushions. All the guests are tucked away, breakfast is prepped and ready, and the silence is welcome. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

“I did not think you would be fully booked. I wouldn’t have bothered stopping by.”

It’s too late and you’re too tired to deal with this bullshit right now. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“And why would you think that Pero? Because somehow I could never run a business this well?”

“That’s not…”

“Or am I not paying you enough? Are we about to have a heart to heart over hourly rates?”

“I am not…”

“Then fucking out with it then! If you hate being here, being around me so much, then just tell me why so I can stop trying to give a shit about it.”

The silence that follows pulls your hands from your eyes, and where you thought Pero would be glaring at you he’s…confused. Which is…also confusing.

“I thought this was fun,” he says, voice softening to a rumble that loses its edges in the fire. “The, you know, the back and forth.” He studies his hands, blunt thumbnail dragging along a knuckle. “Most people defer to me because I’m…” Gesturing at himself, what could be a brag instead is dripping with annoyance. “The men pretend to be in league with me, and the women laugh at everything I say. It’s so…boring.”

You’re frozen in place, brows knit as you let him speak, a tingle rising up the back of your neck and flooding your fingertips.

“Any bullshit that entertains me, I can do with them. But not with you.” He can’t meet your eyes, instead staring into the fire that paints the planes of his face in luscious amber. “You never let me get away with shit. I like that. I thought you liked that too. You always seemed to get…brighter when we were…” His hands come up and make little quibbling mouths, finally looking at you.

Have you ever seen his gaze so bare before?

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.”

Inside your body, a mounting wave of understanding and excitement fills your limbs. No one has ever praised your fire, your brightness, only wanting to tamp it down into something manageable and palatable. Now before you is a man who not only revels in it, but encourages it? You’ve never felt this thrum of excitement before, like holding a tuning fork against your sternum.

“You did,” you say, the strength of your voice surprising. Rising to stand, Pero’s chin tilts, a supplicant before you. “Because if you had given me even an inkling of an idea that this was foreplay, I wouldn’t have held back.”

Much like your own revelation, you can see your words change Pero. His brow smooths before arching in tandem with his growing smirk. Hands coming down to grasp the seat cushion, his veins bulge against the creak of upholstery. He tilts his chin to you with shrinking obedience.

“Then I am very interested in seeing you at your worst.”

The words drive you to clench. This is dangerous new territory, but nothing could hold you back from striding headfirst into it. Two swaying steps place you in front of Pero, his knees widening to stand between. The new angle makes him lean back, exposing the tantalizing length of his neck dotted with delicate freckles.

“I don’t know, Pero, you may not deserve that honor.” A giggle rises in your throat, letting yourself enjoy your new-found freedom. Saying exactly what’s on your mind without the nagging fear of being too much. By Pero’s expression, he’s enjoying it too. You wind up another retort, but his next words steal your breath.

“Are you wet right now?” he says, tongue slipping out to lick at his lower lip. The crude statement slams heat into your face, and suddenly your hand is in the air and headed for Pero’s stubbly cheek.

“Ah!” he scolds, catching your wrist firmly before you make contact. Your brain barely has time to register you were going to smack him! when he yanks you closer, catching yourself on the back of the couch.

“I knew you were sharp in many more ways,” he gloats, and you can’t decide if you want to try wiping that smirk off his face with your palm or your mouth. “I’ll ask again - are you wet right now?”

This is the precipice of desire and level thinking, your toes on the edge. Strong voices shout that this is crazy, foolish, ill-advised. You feel too good to pay them mind.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Hunger roars in Pero’s eyes but his movements are slow, steady as he helps you straighten to standing. The fire licks at your back, but his hands finding the waist of your jeans are scorching. Eyes flick up to you as he pops the button loose, thick fingers grasping the small zip to open it tooth by tooth. The challenge is to let him take his time, and you’re up for it. By the generous tenting in his pants he’s affected too.

“What will I find if I take these off? Pretty little panties? Something lace? Nothing at all?” he husks, toying with the plaquet as he purposefully doesn’t look.

“I think my previous answer still stands,” you retort, and your boldness earns you a rakish smile while Pero rolls your jeans down. The darkness of night shrouds your form, but anyone stumbling in could find you like this. Something tells you Pero likes it better that way.

“Perfect,” he whispers, and his hot breath ghosting over your mound raises goosebumps.

“At this rate it’ll be morning before…” you tease, lips forming around a smile, but that morphs into a choked exhale when Pero deftly pulls aside your panties and slides his thumb over your clit. Your hands come to his shoulders, digging in as he traces an experimental circle.

“I knew you were dripping,” Pero purrs, and words fail as two fingers slide through your folds to press at your entrance. “I want to fuck you on my fingers, is that amenable to the lady?”

Staccato laughter punctuates your “yes” before he presses in, those hands you’d marveled at fitting into the hot clutch of your cunt just shy of painful. Then he curls them and you can’t stop the high-pitched whine that whistles out.

“Just needed something to scratch that itch, hm? Needed a little finger fucking to relax?” he says, and even with your body responding beautifully to his slick rhythm you can’t let that go. One hand twists into his hair, wrapping locks around your fingers before squeezing.

Like an electric shock Pero’s body locks up, mouth falling open and his hips undulating more than you expected. You tut at him, superiority flooding your brain even as your pussy drenches his hand.

“Tattling on yourself, Pero. Let your mouth run just a little and I’ll learn all your secrets.” His fingers redouble their efforts, thumb sliding over your clit as he coaxes your orgasm to the surface, but now his head is in your hands, nails digging into his scalp as he fights against succumbing to the pricks of pain.

“Devil woman,” he hisses with no fire. “Tell me what you want - fuck, you’re so fucking wet - tell me what you want to make you cum.”

Your mind races with possibilities - your slick smeared on Pero’s beard, his hands wrapped around your headboard, what his lips would feel like - but the mounting need in your chest is to be filled.

“I want to fuck you. Right here.”

Pero curses colorfully, fumbling at his belt. You ease his hand from your pussy, the ache of the loss a yawning chasm but he needs both to yank off his jeans and boxers. Pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra, you’re nude and silhouetted by the dying fire. Pero is struggling with his shirt when he glances up at you, stunned into stillness.

“Mierda,” he whispers. It’s said like a prayer, and at this moment you know why worship is addictive. Pero’s reverent gaze is a stronger aphrodisiac than any oyster could hope to be. He comes back to himself enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing dark chest hair leading down to a healthy mess of curls surrounding his flushing cock. He fists it, sliding the foreskin down to reveal the deep purpling head slick with precum. Cocking your hip, you fake a loud sigh.

“Fine, I guess you have a big enough dick to act the way you do,” you observe, diffusing the weighty moment enough for Pero to scoff and smile. It’s new on his face, his scowl so everpresent, that you bask in it briefly.

“Come sit on my lap,” he implores, reaching out to take your hand. After all the sparring, the gentleness puts you off-kilter, unused to being allowed both.

“What are you, Santa?” you ask, straddling him and settling on his thighs as he rolls his eyes.

“Are you trying to make me lose this? Is it a little too intimidating for all your big talk?” Pero teases, stroking his definitely still very hard cock before tapping the head against your mound.

“Don’t worry, I know how to get it back if you do,” you quip, dragging your fingernails lightly down his chest before he can retort. He reacts exactly how you’d hoped, muscles clenching and a bead of precum dribbling from his tip. “Do you like it when I make it hurt just a little bit?”

“Yes,” he groans, unashamed, unselfconscious, and your cunt throbs. “You can make it hurt more,” he says, eyes widening suddenly as you see him realize he said that out loud. Sliding closer to hover over his proud cock, you take another sweat-damp handful of hair and squeeze. His groans are growing in volume but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can blame it on the storm in the morning.

“I’ll let you have anything you want if you’re a good boy for me.”

The whine he’s clearly embarrassed to have let out is cut off by a sudden inhale.

“Wait,” he gasps, hands digging into your hips to hold you above his cock. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you interject, “and I haven’t slept with anyone in…like, eight months.”

Pero’s hands knead into your flesh, eyes searching your face.

“I’ll pull out.”

You don’t even think about it.

“Don’t you dare.”

If what you saw was hunger before, what’s in Pero’s expression now is ravenous. His lips curl back into a snarl, eyes deep and dark. Suddenly his fingers are inside you, scissoring you open roughly as you pant into his ear.

“Tell me to slow down,” he growls, but you shake your head. “Tell me…when I need to.”

“I need you, Pero, please, now.”

No longer holding you still, Pero’s hands guide you down onto his cock. The moment his head breaches a whole body shiver races through.

“Are you…”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He fills you until he’s in your guts, your lungs, surrounding you with his arms and his thighs below. The splay of his hands on your back makes you dizzy, head buzzy with hormones and his musk and every place he’s touching you in a symphony of pleasure. Faintly you realize he’s saying something, lips moving against your shoulder.

“Pero?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A few drops of clarity sharpen the mush in your brain.

“You’re inside of me and we forgot to kiss.”

Pero’s chest hitches once, then again, then the both of you are moving out of sync as hiccupy laughter overtakes you. He pants when you clench around him, trying to catch his breath until you both come back to your senses.

“I was enjoying what you were saying too much,” he admits, leaning back against the couch. His face is shadowed but you catch the glint of his eyes, the wetness of his plush lips. How had you resisted them this long?

Pero beats you to initiate, pulling you down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and chaste, his hands cupping your head as you part. But you beat him to return the kiss, pressing him into the couch with a deeper kiss, barely waiting for him to react before urging his lips open. He hums greedily into your mouth, letting you explore with your tongue before he fills you with his. It’s not long before his mouth is frantic, gripping your hips as he makes an experimental thrust into your cunt that breaks your lips apart.

“Pero, fuck,” you gasp, nails digging into his back as he thrusts up deep and smooth. You meet his pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit against him. Fighting for dominance, you finally push him back and ride him in earnest, lifting up over and over again to slam his cock into your cunt. He’s mesmerized by how your tits bounce, taking one in his palm to knead to tease your nipple as your orgasm creeps up your spine.

“Fuck, Pero, you feel so good,” you moan, slowing to grind down, the friction of his pubic hair on your clit giving you the edge to pull your climax close.

“You feel amazing on my cock. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you pant, using every inch of Pero to find that moment of bliss. “Fuck, yes Pero, I want to cum on you. Want to feel you inside.” It’s right there, you’re at the brink of tipping over.

“Fuck, yes, oh fuck, say my name like that. Say it when you’re cumming.”

Your nerves sing and your body pulses to the beat of Pero, Pero, Pero rasping from your lips. He’s growling something you wish you could understand but the blood is pumping too loudly in your ears. The only thing you register is the couch against your back as Pero flips you. He’s pressed long against your body, hips snapping into your cunt even as you’re so tight around him.

“...beautiful, you’re so beautiful, can’t stop…” you faintly hear as the sensations of Pero’s hands roaming your body, his humid mouth at your neck, and the wet slap of his cock bring you back to your body. His thrusts are becoming erratic, right on the cusp of his own orgasm, when you dig your nails into his back and rake them down his spine.

Pero’s orgasmic bellow is muffled in your neck as the throb of his cock empties inside you. You offer little scratches up and down his arms and shoulders as he comes down, hips pressing in deeper as he lets out satisfied groans. Finally he slumps, head resting on your chest as he catches his breath.

The silence is back, the dimming fire combating the dark. This was by far the best fuck you’d had in ages, and in no small part due to the freedom to just be. But when the sun rises - hell, when the post-orgasmic haze lifts - what will this even look like?

Pero sighs and lifts up on his hands, easing his cock out before softly swearing and grabbing his shirt to wipe away the cum dripping out of you.

“I might recommend getting this couch cleaned,” he muses, sitting up on his knees to look down at your loose-limbed body with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t think we’re the first ones to do that on this particular piece of furniture,” you joke, enjoying the wrinkle of disgust on Pero’s face.

“Then I definitely recommend a shower. And request a bedsheet.”

The statement is unassuming in a way that you needed. Yes, this is new and strange, but you’ve always embraced both.

“You know, there is still one bed left in this bed and breakfast.”

Pero’s head perks up.

“The only problem is that it’s mine.”

A roguish smile dimples Pero’s cheek as he hovers over you.

“And what must I do to share it with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

END

"I ought to say, "No, no, no sir" Mind if I move in closer? At least I'm gonna say that I tried What's the sense in hurting my pride? I really can't stay Baby, don't hold out Baby, it's cold outside."

#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #modern!pero tovar x reader #modern!pero tovar x you #prolix fics

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sollis-occasum · 6 months ago

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you think i'm gone 'cause i left - anakin skywalker/darth vader x fem!jedi!reader (part 2 of 3)

a/n: you can read it as a stand-alone ♡

summary: when a ghost born from his past regrets returns to haunt him, darth vader has no choice but to confront it.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, blood, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of sex (no smut), reader is manipulating darth vader (but in a girlboss way), darth vader and darth sidious are their own warnings, no proofread, my english is the biggest warning.

word count: 2k

part 1

Darth Vader, who made the galaxy tremble with fear just by the idea of his existence, had subdued leaders who were said to never bow down, destroyed kingdoms that were said to never be destroyed, and made even the proudest warriors beg for mercy. Ironically, the only person who could bring this Sith Lord, who struck fear into every beating heart, to his knees was the ghost of a woman whose heart had stopped years ago.

Was his master manipulating his thoughts to create an illusion of you in order to punish his failures? Or were you the reflection of a ghost trapped in this world because the parts of his soul that belonged to Anakin Skywalker were not ready to let you go?

Darth Vader had no answers to these questions. If there was one thing he knew, it was that you were haunting him and that you would not let go until his heart, which had become a mass that did nothing but pump blood, was numb and torn apart with pain and regret.

Your presence wasn't always this disturbing to be honest, at first he was taking a pleasure in seeing you that he couldn't even admit to himself. You were looking at him with a magnificent light in your eyes that even the greatest massacres and most brutal executions you had ever witnessed couldn't extinguish, you were smiling at him affectionately as if the man in front of you wasn't a war criminal but the little boy you entrusted your lightsaber to. Sometimes he felt a shiver as if you were running your hands over his armored shoulders, and this sweet feeling that covered his entire body reminded him of the times you spent together. Perhaps it was your presence mixed with the air he breathed that prevented Darth Vader from taking complete control...

However, with each passing day in the empire of fear he and his master had established; with every innocent person he ruthlessly killed, with every enemy he tortured with disregard for their honor in the hope of getting information about his plans, the mask that had become the symbol of brutality was sticking more to the face underneath and his new identity was taking over him

While his burnt, torn body was trapped in an armor, the only thing that gave him a sense of freedom was his memories of you. But they began to fade one by one, leaving nothing but the memory of your bloody body being dragged by a clone soldier. Your first meeting at the temple, the first time he held you in his arms at the weapons factory that had become a battlefield, the exchange of your lightsabers, the first mission you officially went on together, the first moment he realized he liked you, the first kiss you shared, the first night you spent together... All of them were so distant now.

Maybe that was why your ghost had also slowly begun to change. Your reflection no longer radiated the noble glow it had when you first appeared; your image was more colorless, paler. The sweet feeling he felt when you appeared had been replaced by a pain like an ice burn. You weren't even smiling. A disgusted expression that you only reserved for the most vicious criminals in the galaxy appeared on your face. Especially those eyes... Darth Vader had never seen even his greatest enemy look at him with such devastating hatred.

"You killed me," you said with great anger. "You are responsible for my death!"

Darth Vader had tried everything not to witness those words that had been echoing in his mind for years coming out of your lips. He had told you to leave, tried to ignore you, used the force to disperse your reflection... But you weren't leaving! No matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of you. Finally, he was about to ask his master for help, even if it meant enduring his punishment for being weak, when you asked a question he couldn't leave unanswered.

"Where's my lightsaber, Anakin?"

You were in the throne room of his fortress on Mustafar. Darth Vader was thinking deeply, leaning his arm on the edge of his throne and leaning his helmet on his hands, when he heard your hysterical voice. He reached for his lightsaber as a reflex, but he also knew that the only enemy who could stand against his saber, which was red as if referring to the blood he had shed, was you.

"Anakin... A name I haven't heard in a long time," he said with his robotic voice hiding his emotions. But he also knew that he couldn't hide his feelings from you. You knew his deepest desires and fears. You might have been living in different bodies, but you two were the same person.

You smiled mockingly as if he was a buffoon instead of a commander who had the galaxy wrapped around his finger. "You didn't think I would call you by that funny name your master gave you, did you? Please don't take offense, but you have the stupidest name out of all the Sith Lords."

"How dare you!?" he roared, raising his hand into the air and trying to throw you to the other side of the room with the help of the force, but nothing happened. You continued to stand tall. Apparently, even the force couldn't harm those who didn't belong in the world of the living.

"Do you really think you can get rid of me like that? It's surprising that a ruthless Lord like you can have such naive ideas."

Although you emphasized the word ruthless, an expression appeared on your face as if the anger of the man in front of you amused you.

"What are you and what do you want from me?"

You slowly shrugged your shoulders and started to wander around the throne room. Sometimes you would delicately run your fingers over the objects in the room and sometimes you would go behind the throne and watch the hellish view of Mustafar. There was a silence that Darth Vader, even the most fearless man in the universe, did not dare to break. Finally, you answered the question in a low voice, "Only you can know the answer." Obviously, the answer you gave was not satisfactory for you either.

"I could be your guilt or your regret. Maybe I am your remorse that you cannot silence. Who knows?"

"Nonsense." Darth Vader snapped. "I have no regrets about the past. Such feelings are only excuses for those who are weak enough to succumb to them."

"You may not have it, but Anakin Skywalker does. Maybe that's why you can't defeat him. The remnants of him you can't destroy are suffering, right? Even if you block your ears, you can hear his screams. The more you try to suppress him, the more he finds ways to survive. Look, his pain has created me: the only enemy you can't defeat."

"Shut up! You're not real!"

In a sudden move, he took his lightsaber and tried to separate your head from your body, but your reflection only waved for a few seconds.

"That's what I meant when I said the only enemy you can't defeat." You said with an exasperated tone and rolled your eyes. "Anyway, you've asked enough questions. Now answer my question. Where's my lightsaber?"

"Obi-Wan took it." he said with great passion. His hands clenched involuntarily as he said his former master's name. Even his robotic voice couldn't hide his hatred.

"Ah, I see. So you couldn't protect it. What a shame, it really was a beautiful lightsaber."

You slowly walked towards the throne and sat on the armrest. You tried to keep a sad expression, but it was obvious that the commander’s failures were amusing you. You began to gently run your hands over his shoulders. Even the touch of your abstract presence was enough to soothe him. You could feel him relax under his armor.

“I didn’t think you would give up the only thing I had left so easily.”

“We made a deal. First I saved your life, then you saved mine. After you paid your debt to me, I had no reason to protect the lightsaber.”

"So you're saying that our only bond was some stupid pact we made when we were kids? That the lies we told our masters just so we could spend time together, the kisses we shared, the nights we spent together meant nothing? Don't expect me to believe that, Anakin. If I were truly that worthless to you, you wouldn't have built this fortress on Mustafar as a monument to your failures, you wouldn't have found every clone trooper there that day and tortured them all to death, and most importantly, you wouldn't have sold your soul to your new master in order to save me."

Without waiting for him to respond, you removed your hands from his shoulders and gripped his chin tightly. Technically, you had no power over him, and your fingers had even passed through his mask, but Darth Vader had surrendered to you so much that he lifted his head slightly, just as you wished he would.

"Do you know what I'm actually thinking? Maybe your desire to be Palpatine's toy has nothing to do with me, Skywalker. You turned to the dark side to save me, didn't you? Nonsense! You were just looking for a new master, that's all."

These were words that were too degrading and humiliating for a Sith Lord like him, who was used to being feared and obeyed. He rose from his throne in a sudden movement and held his hands out to you. He knew that he could not harm you, but for the first time, he felt that his anger was harming him, not powering him. He had to do something to get rid of you! However, his desperate efforts to catch you were only making you laugh.

You sat down comfortably on the throne that was vacated by him and crossed your legs with confidence. Your hands were gripping the throne on either side as if you were its rightful owner.

"Look, you can't even sit on the throne, Anakin," you said. "How pathetic."

"The men your master has given you, or that stupid word added to your new name, mean nothing. No matter how much you deny it, you are nothing but a slave. When you were a child, you belonged to Watto, now you belong to Sidious."

Darth Vader clenched his hands into fists and held them up to his face, "I rule the galaxy," he shouted at you. But his voice was weaker, more insecure. You continued, enjoying the pleasure of hitting him in his most sensitive spot.

"No, your master rules the galaxy. You are merely one of his insignificant, dispensable puppets. You have no free will, you still have the soul of a slave. You need others to control you in order to survive. In the past, you needed Obi-Wan and my approval, now you look to your master for help. Because you destroyed everyone who ever cared for you for nothing, and no one else has accepted the monster your sins have created."

"Why are you punishing me like this?"

You had finally done it! The most powerful man in the galaxy, that magnificent figure who bowed to no one but his master, was now kneeling in front of you, his hands on his helmet as if to silence the thoughts in his mind. He was trying to stop Anakin Skywalker, whom he thought he had killed years ago, from taking control with the strength he got from your screams, but he couldn't.

"I am not punishing you, Ani. You are doing this to yourself. Do you want to get rid of me? Then go and avenge me. Make your crimes have meaning. You know who your enemy is."

tags: @circe143 @snowtargaryen @etheriaaly @ariskywlkr @tellybearryyyy @anisgurll

#anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #angst #darth vader #darth vader angst #darth vader x reader #star wars #obi wan kenobi #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x you #star wars x reader #star wars angst #writers on tumblr #fanfic #no proofreading we die like men

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bowieandqueen11 · 9 months ago

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Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

#fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #fallout imagine #fallout show #cooper fallout #cooper fallout imagine #cooper fallout x reader #fr though why are there so many plates in this game

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filmtv2022 · 1 month ago

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Part III: Our Time is Limited (18+)

Part II

Pairing: Geta x Reader (Romantic) & Platonic!Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Fighting back worry, Reader reveals their concerns about Acacius and Lucilla. In the dark of night, Geta & Reader find solace from the weight of the world in each other, even if the reprieve is temporary. The struggles of the empire are only part of the obstacles that move to keep Geta & Reader apart. Caracalla's illness rears its ugly head proving to Geta that protecting the ones he cares about most may not be a possibility, throwing him closer to the edge of despair and desperation.

Warnings: smut/sexual activity + drug use + violence

A/N: Oof am I excited about this installment of the story! These three have my whole heart and I'm beyond grateful to those of you who are joining me on the journey of telling this story. Some of this will continue to follow canon, but I haven't fully decided how the story will end... therefore if things diverge... don't be surprised. I'm letting these characters dictate where the story goes within the realm of my planning. And as always, please forgive me for any and all mistakes!

** I will start working on the next part soon, but work is picking up for me in the next few days. So I apologize if it takes a bit longer to get part four out!

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The cool stone was in stark contrast to the humidity and heat that rose through the heavy air. Steam clouded your vision, marking the water's surface in swirling patterns not unlike the constellations in the night sky. Trusting your knowledge of the room, you tracked through the dark with expertly placed steps avoiding the slippery spots and sharp edges. Barefoot and clad only in the robe Caracalla had discarded before slipping into bed, your mind wandered to the events that had unfolded just hours earlier.

You dipped your toe into the farthest bath. Warmth radiated up the length of your calf enticing you to sink into its depths. More than ready to shed the tension in your muscles and the ache of your cheek, you plucked at the knot around your waist. The heavy fabric fell off the slope of your shoulder, exposing your skin to the air. Letting it drop to the floor, you kept a firm grasp on the smoking bundle in your hand. Inhaling deeply, you allowed the medicine to sit in your lungs easing the pain and dulling your mind.

Alone, you stood exposed to the empty space. For a moment, the haze over the water cleared revealing your reflection. Here, hidden from prying eyes you were free to map the passage of time. Youth remained in the pleasant curve of your chest and hips, and yet your eyes… they were no longer the bright windows to your former self. Tired, and anxious, you stepped carefully into the bath. Sinking down on the ledge beneath the surface, the water washed in choppy waves.

Covered to the top of your chest, you brought the furl of dried flora to your nose once more. The foggy weight of the opium and devil’s breath wafted around you, smoothing your senses. Lost to their powerful hold, you almost missed the emperor’s approach. Geta stood beside you, admiring the glimpses of your skin.

“You’re late.” Your head lolled to the side to look at him. The makeup he’d worn earlier had been wiped clean apart from the smudge of scarlet that painted the fatigued skin beneath his eyes. Dressed down from what he’d worn during the day, rings still adorned nearly every finger. Their stunning jewels glowed in the dim flickering torchlight that danced about the room.

“And you are… relaxed.” Geta smiled down at you, amused with just how far gone you were. Standing beside the pool, he twisted the ring on his pinky, an anxious habit he’d picked up in his youth.

“And I’d be better if you were in here with me. Do you intend only to watch or join?” Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to focus your vision under the influence. The deep fortifying breath you took filled your lungs with moist air and the murky lull of the opium. The pain had long since ceased and yet you continued to partake, the blend doing wonders to ease the nervous jumble of your mind. Unburdened, your free hand slid beneath the surface, teasing your pebbled nipples before dipping between your thighs.

Under the watchful gaze of emperor Geta, you allowed your eyelids to close, blocking out the rest of the world, focusing on the brush of your fingertips along your core. In your self-imposed darkness, you listened to the muted thump of clothing being discarded beside you. Geta’s robes pooled at his feet leaving him bare and in search of the water’s pleasant heat. With care, he stepped in to join you, the waves lapped harder at the sides as his weight upset the balance. Ripples crashed upon you, marking his approach, but it was the sensation of his presence surrounding you that snapped reality into place.

Geta’s broad palms came to rest on either side of your head, leaning his weight into his elbows so that mere centimeters separated you. Mesmerized by his beauty, you reached for him, mapping the planes of his chest with your fingertips so that glistening trails reflected back at you.

“You’re late.” You repeated, this time the plush of his lips brushed yours as you spoke.

“As you’ve mentioned,” Geta smirked into the kiss. The velvet of his tongue exploring yours added fuel to the fire stirring within. Just as he felt you lean forward, chasing more, he pulled back earning a pitiful whimper. “Can you find forgiveness within?”

“Perhaps.” Emboldened and consumed with need, you tossed away the bundle, its flame extinguishing in the puddle beside your discarded clothes. Entirely free, you ran an eager hand along the soft expanse of his stomach, teasing your way closer to where you knew he desired your touch the most. A sharp inhale tumbled into a choking gasp as you reached for him beneath the surface. Geta was half hard in your hand as you rolled your wrist, passing the width of your thumb over the tip and sealing the rest of the words in his lungs. Swift and gentle, you pushed against his chest, leading him across the bath to rest on the far ledge. Enveloped by steam and the feeling of your hands upon him, Geta’s head tipped back bumping lightly upon the stone.

From this vantage point, it was impossible not to lose your senses in the delicious features of the man before you. His shoulders heaved, shuttering at your steady grip along the length of his cock. Trusting you completely, Geta’s jaw fell slack, his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out everything besides you. The thick bands of gold wrapped around his fingers bit into your waist as he pulled you closer, forcing you to balance with a knee upon the ledge beside him, your other thigh resting between his spread legs. The hand at your waist held tight while the other kept him from slipping, his hips raising to meet you, desperate for more.

“Is this what you desire, Geta?” You whisper along the shell of his ear, timing your question with the twist of your hand. A greedy smirk wrapped around the rest of your thought. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Geta’s eyes snapped open, and the dark of his pupils was blown wide, showing the depth of the lust that consumed him. Using all his strength, Gets hauled you into his lap, your lush thighs pressed along the outside of his own. In one fluid motion, the breadth of his hand fell to the base of your throat feather-light over the bruises that marred your skin, while you hastily sunk down on him. Swallowing each other’s moans, Geta devoured you in a heated kiss. Unsteady, you reached for his shoulders, using him as an anchor.

Devoid of any thought but the storm of pleasure that continued to build, crackling in lightning strikes across every nerve in your body. The pair of you were in perfect harmony, his body moved in unerring time with your own. Leaning back, Geta pursued you, dropping his hand from your throat to lay a line of fire down the column of your neck, traversing the swell of your breasts above the water.

Focused entirely on you, Geta groaned as your velvet walls fluttered around him. His free hand came between you, laying expertly placed brushes on your clit. The swirl of your hips faltered as did his own. The pair of you worked each other over the edge, the sound of unhindered moans echoed through the room before giving way to shaky breathes. Boneless, and weak, Geta’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest. Exhausted, he buried his face into the side of your neck.

“Mine… you’re mine. Always.” You could feel the ghost of his words drift over your flushed skin as he spoke. His confession twisted the knot in your stomach, for you knew it was the truth you both desired, but not the reality that existed. For as long as Caracalla lived, this was all you and Geta could ever be, lovers in the night, shrouded in shadow and hidden from the world.

“Yours… but only so far as the night allows.” At the sound of your voice, Geta sat back to look at you.

“Only so far as the night allows… though I’ll gladly take what the gods permit.” His response was met with a half smile from you. Geta studied the bleary look that remained in your eyes from the opium and devil’s breath. Even held captive to the influence of the medicine, the worry and fear from earlier at the arena returned.

“What if the gods have abandoned us?” You murmured, pressing the pad of your thumb along the expanse of his lower lip.

“Where is this coming from?” His head cocked to the side, the scared boy returning in full force at the look on your face. “You promised a confession… that you’d tell me the concern which occupies your mind. You have my ear.”

“I did, yes. I just… I do not know if what I speak is truth or the anxieties of a mind on edge.” You admitted sheepishly.

“It matters not. It weighs upon you, and you mustn’t carry this burden alone.” Geta’s wide eyes looked up at you, encouraging you to share the concerns of your heart with him, to trust him in a way that no other had ever dared. For there were many who gossiped to and confided in him as an act, but never had another trusted him with their innermost contemplations.

“It’s the General and his wife… there is something afoot with the pair of them. The way he spoke before the crowd today… Those were not the words of one loyal to Rome or you. And Lucilla… you should have seen her face when that gladiator stepped into the arena. It was as if the world fell away.” Taking a shaky breath, you reached for him, pulling his brow to rest on yours. “There’s something wrong there, Geta. You must be cautious. I need you safe, both of you.”

“Acacius… and…” He looked past you, dropping his countenance so that he could stare into the abyss beyond.

“Lucilla, yes," You repeated hesitantly.

“But they are…” The tremble in his hands radiated over your body as he clung to you.

“Meant to be your closest allies, I know.”

“It cannot be true.” Geta’s voice cracked, the thoughts catching on the barbs that constricted his throat. Not wanting to lose him entirely, you held his face between your palms, your thumbs sweeping in tender arcs across his cheekbones.

“And I hope that it isn’t, in earnest I do, but until you know for certain I pray you to keep a weather eye upon them. For I am uncertain where their true loyalties reside.” A shallow nod marked his comprehension. “You know I would not speak of this unless I believed there to be at least a thread of truth in it. Geta, you and Caracalla… you are my priorities.”

“I know.” Words failed him. Desperate for you to know how sincerely he understood, Geta’s lips met yours. With careful hands, he fastened his hold on you, gripping tight to the back of your thighs as he lifted you to sit on the edge of the bath. The temperature change sent gooseflesh rushing over your skin, causing you to shiver, though the discomfort was short-lived. Geta followed you to the side, his hands skimming from your ankle to the bend of your knee allowing him to see the sway of pleasure at his touch before reaching for your robe. Standing to his full height, but still within the water, he swept the flowing garment over one of your shoulders. Together you threaded your arms through the holes, letting it drape behind you. Satisfied that you were protected well enough, Geta exited the steaming bath.

Bent at the waist, he reached for his own robe. The bright carmine of the fabric was beautiful against his skin as he donned the cover. Not wanting to slip on the damp stone, you stood at a snail's pace and made your way to him. You grabbed for the ties he held in his hands while yours remained unfastened. Geta relinquished his hold without question allowing you to methodically form the knot.

“Take me to bed, Emperor. For tonight I am yours alone. Let no fear of the future keep you from me and I shall do the same.” Tugging lightly, you felt Geta pitch toward you, his hands finding your frame to keep from tumbling further. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip in contemplation.

“As you wish.” Geta deftly closed your covering, tying it loosely before reaching for your hand. His own quivered, painting a picture of the tremulous hold he had upon his nerves. On instinct, he guided you both back to his chambers. The journey was short and uneventful, only the two guards beside his door remained awake at this time of night.

Back in the relative safety of his room, the pair of you undressed and fell into the comfortable plushness of the bed. Already spent from the night’s previous endeavors, Geta curled into you, his strong arm protective around your middle, holding you flush with his chest. The emperor’s distant stare sat buried in your shoulder, and with each mellowing breath, he inhaled the scent of you and attempted to let go of his thoughts. You didn’t need to see his watery eyes to know his struggle. Threading your fingers with his, you willed peace upon him, hoping that sleep would overtake him soon and relieve the pain and worry.

A new day broke over the imperial palace. Within hours a hectic flurry of action would overtake the relative calm of the early morning, but for now, a tenuous peace remained. Geta, still free from the perils of the waking world, did not so much as stir as you gingerly pulled yourself from his arms. Dressing quickly, you found your way back to Caracalla much the same as the day before. The dull ache from your wound had returned with the absence of the opium’s presence in your system. At the back of your mind, you noted the itch to reach for more, to pull from the supply that sat ever present in Caracalla’s chambers. To your better judgment, you ignored the desire.

Sunlight trickled into the vast room, not yet strong enough to illuminate the space in full. Heaped upon the bed, Caracalla lay tangled beneath the sheets, his bare chest milky white apart from the marks that littered his otherwise perfect skin. Dundus’s elated chirp announced your arrival. The tiny creature picked its way across the table, seeking attention and affection. Dressed in clothing fit for an emperor, Caracalla’s faithful pet and companion lept from the back of the chair he’d crawl on to get closer to you, landing upon your shoulder. Tiny hands plucked at your clothes, tickling the exposed skin at your neck.

“Good morning, my little friend. Thank you for keeping him company.” You collected a piece of fruit from the nearby bowl and handed it to Dundus who happily accepted the gift. Like this, you made your way to Caracalla. The young man stirred in his sleep, more aware of you than you’d previously thought. At the side of the bed, the faithful animal departed, scurrying off in another direction as you pulled back the covers to join the emperor.

“Where did you go? I woke and could not find you.” The groggy croak of his voice caught you off guard.

“I know, forgive me.” You tucked yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest, hiding your face from him. “But I am here now.”

“I do not like it when you are gone. I am lost.” His confession was barely more than a whisper, so low you were uncertain whether he meant for you to hear it. The bridge of your nose burned, the guilt of leaving him behind was always present, but hearing him speak candidly… it hurt more than you were prepared to handle.

“I am never truly gone, Calla. You can always find me, here, even in the dark.” You pressed the width of your palm to the place above his heart. Caracalla’s hand came to rest on top of yours, keeping you close without asking for more. Silence descended upon you both, leaving far too much room for your mind to spin. Like this you waged war with your thoughts, counting away the minutes until the sun rose fully above the horizon.

Almost done dressing, you ran your hands over the pleats in your stola, fixing them in place. The black and gold swirled together impeccably, fierce and sharp. Caracalla’s unassuming frame came into view beside you dressed in matching attire. Your gaze fixed on the mirror before you assessing the picture of unity the pair of you presented, but the look in the emperor’s eyes faltered the rhythm of your heart. Turning to face him, you noted the absent feel of his gaze. It was as though you barely existed in his current reality.

Caracalla reached for you, his slender arm extended weakly, just close enough for his fingertips to brush the gold inlay of your clothing. His touch wandered haphazardly over your stomach to the curve of your hip, dragging higher and ghosting over your breasts to your collarbone.

“What are you doing?” You stilled his movement, holding him in place. “Talk to me.”

You craned your neck trying to look into his eyes again, but nothing came of your request. The emperor remained silent.

“We should go, your brother is waiting… your public is waiting.” You took a step to his side, floating past him a fraction of a pace before an iron grip clamped around your bicep, ripping you backward. Off balance, you tripped over the flowing cape that draped down your back, smacking into the wall with force. A sharp pain shot through your shoulder causing you to gasp. Flat against the stone, you didn’t have time to think when another blow landed. Caracalla’s nails bit into the tender flesh around your chin, your face held like a vice in his hand.

“Calla, stop… ” You pleaded knowing it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. You grabbed for his wrist, struggling to speak, “You’re hurting me.”

“You're mine, whore,” was all he uttered, fresh blood trickling down your face as skin tore. The slamming of the chamber doors reverberated powerfully through the room breaking his concentration long enough for you to slip from his grasp. You stumbled forward, arms extended to try and keep from falling. Your knees crashed into the unforgiving ground and rattled your thoughts. A voice called in panicked waves from whomever had entered the room. Distantly, you recognized your name but could not respond.

As carefully as he could, Geta who had come to collect his brother, lifted you from the ground. Back on your feet, you tried to focus. You felt the strength in your knees give way as Geta wrapped you into his chest. Over the top of your head, he locked eyes with Caracalla. Still trapped in his delusion, Calla started toward the pair of you forcing Geta to bark an order.

“Macrinus, take her.” He gestured to the silver-haired man behind him whose face was absent of emotion.

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but your argument was shallow given the crack of your voice and the droplets of red that welled like shining jewels from your wounds.

“You’re not.” As gently as he could, Geta passed you to Macrinus who guided you to sit upon a nearby chair. With keen attention still on the brothers behind him, the man pulled a cloth from somewhere deep in the pocket of his robes and handed it to you.

Across the room, Geta held onto this brother, a hand tense on his shoulder and the side of his head, keeping Caracalla's eyes from drifting toward you. Quietly he whispered, his words not powerful enough to be audible from a distance. But it did not matter, even without them, it was obvious what transpired. The struggle to bring Caracalla back to reality grew more strenuous with every fit that overtook him, each bout taking more time to end than the last.

The world refocused around you, allowing you to really look at the relative stranger who stood beside you. Mapping his features, you noted the way time had been kind to him, such beauty lingered along with the scattering of lines that shaped his face. As if he could feel eyes upon him, Macrinus’s focus fell to you and it chilled the blood in your veins. A hardness enveloped his being, a calculated focus left his eyes void of life as though everything human about him had died. You stood to meet him, forcing the man to continue to pay attention to you rather than the emperors.

“Leave us.” You demanded, no longer wishing for his continued company.

“What?” He scoffed in disbelief at your boldness.

“You heard me. Leave us. Your presence is no longer necessary.” You stepped in front of the man, your hand ghosting closer to the blade strapped to your thigh. Shoulders pulled tight, you cringed at the pain that radiated down your arm, but held firm in place, preventing any ludicrous idea that he might draw closer to Geta and Caracalla.

Macrinus's eyes flicked between you and the brothers. Giving into your request, he raised his hands in resignation, humanity returning to him as he backed up before turning away from the scene. You waited for him to navigate out of sight before returning your attention to the emperors, and it was heartbreaking. Slumped cross-legged on the floor was Caracalla, his head swaying from side to side, Geta knelt before him still holding onto his brother. Tears streamed down Calla’s rosy, pockmarked cheeks. The worst of the spell appeared to have ended leaving behind the childlike shell of the once lucid emperor behind. You knew this version of him intimately. Gone was the violence, replaced by a soul-deep desperation for closeness.

With cautious steps, not trusting the strength of your legs, you made your way to the pair. Geta chanced a look back at you over his shoulder, his own eyes wet with emotion. As you got closer you attuned your ears to Caracalla’s senseless mumbles, ignoring the warm trickle of crimson down your chin and neck. The words he spoke would have seemed meaningless to an outsider, but they were far from it.

“Lost… lost… I can’t find…” Still muttering under his breath, Caracalla reached for his brother trying to make him understand, but failing to communicate. Stepping into the space next to Geta, you lowered yourself beside him, using his shoulder for support. Your attention was focused entirely on Caracalla, but you could feel Geta’s eyes on you… watching.

You tested the waters, making contact with the man seated before you, treading lightly with your words, “I’m here. I am not lost.” Calla’s face snapped to yours, and in an instant, he was crawling to you.

His uncoordinated limbs wrapped around you in a fierce embrace. The crown of laurels that decorated his fiery hair pinched uncomfortably at the side of your head as he buried his face in your neck. You could feel him shaking in your arms, sobs wracking his body. Locked together in a never-ending maze of time and memories, you sat back on your heels, twisting to finally sit on the floor. You gripped him tighter as you rocked smoothly from side to side.

Geta burned to touch you, to hold you, to tend to your hurts and nurse you back to health, and yet, here with his brother, he was trapped. He pleaded with you silently, praying to the gods for forgiveness. He failed to do what he’d promised, keep you safe. The weight of the empire rested on his shoulders, its tenuous balance almost too much to bear. It was never supposed to be this way, him working alone. But all of that paled in comparison to the bone-deep guilt that chipped away at this heart when he looked at you.

A heavy sigh fell from Geta as he ran a hand over his decorated countenance, wiping away the tears and smudging the color that surrounded his eyes. Sensing his sorrow, you extended a hand, begging for him to take it. For a moment, he hesitated, terrified of needing you and simultaneously petrified at the thought of losing you. With a simple nod, you invited him once more to take your hand, and by the mercy of the gods he did. The weight of his fingers laced with yours seemed to right the injustices of the world, giving you both the strength to carry on.

#emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #geta smut #emperor geta smut #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator fanfiction #emperor geta x you #geta x you

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months ago

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Bobby Nash x reader - our own family

Heyyy, if you ever find the time could you please make a hurt/comfort bobby nash x platonic!reader who is a fighter based off of the prompt “ I’m not your dad” “I know…do you know that”. I’d love some more bobby as a parental figure material please and thank you. 😊 - @purplecrayola 💜

You had woken up in the hospital, you didn’t have much recollection on how you ended up there or why.

Everything was still really hazy, and but the pain you could feel radiating from your abdomen was definitely real, you could feel it.

It wasn’t bad, maybe the IV in your arm had something to do with that, you had no clue.

You laid there taking small breaths, just staring up at the ceiling, and you heard the door open.

“Hello…?” You asked softly.

You didn’t want to risk sitting up, so you waited for the nurse to come over, and she smiled warmly at you.

“Well hey you, you’re awake again.”

You furrowed your brows a little bit in confusion.

“A..again…?”

“Yes, you woke up a week ago, not for long, only a few minutes. Can you sit up for me?”

You nodded, and the nurse helped you in slowly sitting up.

She checked your vitals, took some blood and checked your injury sight.

“Do you.. do you know what happened to me?”

“You came in about two weeks ago, you had major trauma to your abdomen. Do you not remember?”

You thought for a moment, forcing the memories to come to light.

You remembered the flames, you had been called out to a huge fire at a construction site, where a couple of people were said to still be inside the building.

You had gone in to try and find them, you were with Eddie and Hen.

You heard a loud creaking noise, and you barely had time to react when scaffolding fell, and then you remembered the pain.

People screaming your name.

Rain hitting your face.

You furrowed your brows a little bit.

Was it rain?

You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you snapped out of your head to look at the nurse.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

“No I uh.. I remember what happened…”

She nodded her head.

“We need to keep you in for another few days, but after that you can go home, would you have anybody you can stay with?”

“I uh.. my chief, Bobby Nash. Has he been here?”

“Oh yes, comes by every day after work.”

“Can you ask him if he can take me? I live closer to him so it’ll be easier.”

She smiled, nodding her head and you went back to think.

While you were thinking, you went back to the last thing you remembered.

You were sure it wasn’t rain, it wasn’t supposed to rain that night, maybe it was water from the trucks? But that didn’t make sense.

Why would they keep you so close to the trucks if you had been hurt?

You shook your head, taking a sip of the water that was put next to you.

You shuffled back down, deciding to get some more sleep.

You spent a lot of the time sleeping, up until the point where Bobby came to take you home, and you still sat in your own head.

He helped you to your apartment, slowly sitting you down on the couch.

“I’ve been given a strict list of what medications you’re supposed to take and when, how to look after your wound and signs of infection.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“Right now you need some food that isn’t hospital food.” He smiled.

This made you laughed a little bit.

“Can we order Chinese?”

“Oh no, you’ve got to stay away from takeout right now. So, we’re going to do some simple chicken and rice and see how that goes.”

You grumbled a little bit but said nothing.

Bobby walked to your kitchen.

“I did some shopping before coming to get you.”

“I have food.”

“You have meals you throw in the microwave, we’ve been through this (Y/N) that’s not healthy.” He scoffed.

“But cooking is effort.”

“You live five minutes away from me, you could just come over you know.”

You shrugged a little bit, shuffling down so you could lay down and you placed a hand over your stomach.

You closed your eyes, the pain medicine taking hold, letting you fall asleep again.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for, but somebody was gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey kiddo, hey.., come on..” Bobby whispered.

You opened your eyes, and you stared at him.

“It was you…”

“What was?”

Bobby helped you sit up, placing your dinner in your lap.

“I.. I thought it was raining, but it was you, crying. I.. I said something but I can’t remember what. I’m trying to remember the accident.”

“Don’t rush yourself (Y/N), you went through a lot. Just let it come back naturally.”

Bobby sat down with his own dinner, and you looked at him.

“What did I say bobby?”

He sighed.

“You called me your dad.”

You glanced back down at your plate, that part of the accident rushing back to you.

You were begging and pleading about how you didn’t want to die, about how much it hurt, begging Bobby not to leave you.

You kept calling him dad.

Bobby cleared his throat, and you looked up at him.

“I’m not your dad”

You nodded your head a little.

“I know…do you know that?”

He looked at you confused.

“You’ve been sleeping in my hospital room, the nurse told me. That’s not something a chief does for his fighters.”

“You don’t like being alone. That’s why you’ve got a cat, who by the way will be returned in the morning by Chim.”

“That doesn’t change what I said…”

“We’re not talking about this.”

You nodded your head, setting your plate down, not having touched a single thing on it.

“I’m really tired…”

You pushed yourself up with a great deal of pain, hand over your stomach.

You slowly padded away, making your way to your room and you laid down on your back, placing an arm over your eyes.

You didn’t mean to get annoyed at him, but on the medication and the pain you weren’t thinking right now.

Bobby stayed in your living room, truth be told you were like a kid to him, but right now that was a conversation for later.

His main thought was making sure you got better

#911 fandom #911 imagine #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 x reader #911 x you #Bobby Nash #Bobby Nash x reader #Bobby Nash x you #Bobby Nash imagine

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