#they have VERTEBRAE that you can PICK UP

[nimblermortal]

I went to the WHALING MUSEUM last week and I didn't even make it out of the lobby

but, like, who would?

rip herman melville you would've loved adding several chapters about whale falls to moby dick

[clownwritesfanfic]

Drift Away - Five Hargreeves x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Five gets stuck in the subway station all alone, he decides to stay in a comfortable timeline while he tries to figure out how to get back to his family, however, he didn’t plan on falling in love with the lonely woman who lives there.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 7,984

Warnings: death, slightly canon compliant but not really, implied sex, slight nudity, author pretends to know wtf they’re talking about when it comes to cottagecore living

Disclaimers: Can you tell I love the subway concept but hate how it was executed? I refuse to believe Five would ever stop trying to go home. Also no Fivela in this because that whole mess is one I don’t want to clean up. Reader dresses feminine. Plus size, poc, and trans fem friendly. If you see something that goes against that, please feel free to say something. Five’s body is 24.

———————————————————————

It had been a little over six years now. Six years of being stuck in a confusing maze of timelines and once again, Five was all alone.

At least in the first apocalypse, he found comfort in Delores. But down here, his only company was the rats.

Five was desperate. He wanted to go home, to see his family again, try and stop yet another apocalypse. He wasn’t going to give up, that wasn’t the kind of person he was.

But this place was driving him crazy. He could focus in here. He wanted a shower, clean clothes, a regular source of clean water and good food. He remembered a timeline he visited that looked peaceful, a place he could relax and feel safe to figure out a way back.

He picked himself up off the ground. His body aching and joints creaking. He may have a twenty-four year old’s body, but it sure felt like his body finally caught up to his age.

Five groaned as he stretched, feeling his sore muscles pull and his vertebrae clicking into place. Damn that felt good.

When the train came to a stop at his station and the doors slowly opened, he stepped on board and collapsed on the nearest seat. He was so hungry and dehydrated that he barely had any energy. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could get to the timeline he wanted.

It took about twenty minutes for Five to get to the right timeline, and another seven to exit the station. He was so exhausted that the stairs nearly made him pass out. He knew exactly where he was headed and he couldn’t wait to get there.

When he saw the little cottage far in the distance, he felt a burst of energy. He had been dragging himself along for thirty minutes and the knowledge of having good food and fresh water helped him find the strength to continue.

The gate to the property was open, its latch broken. Five made his way to the greenhouse as it was the closest thing and he knew there were strawberries inside from his last visit.

He opened the door, a burst of warm humid air hit him immediately as he stepped inside leaving the door ajar. He made a beeline for the plants and started picking and eating as many ripe strawberries as he could. They were so sweet and the juice ran down his chin.

He was busy stuffing his face when he heard the familiar cock of a gun causing him to freeze in place.

He slowly turned around, one hand frozen in place holding a strawberry near his face, his mouth full of the fruit. The first thing he noticed was the twin barrels of a shotgun a few feet away pointed directly at his head.

Then his eyes moved down to see whoever was holding the gun, was wearing a beautiful dress that stopped right above the person’s knees.

“What are you doing here?” A stern voice spoke out. The gun was obscuring their face but he could make out the long hair that framed it.

“I’m not going to ask again.” They readjusted the gun as a warning when he took too long to answer.

Five dropped the strawberries he was holding and held his hands up. He roughly swallowed what was in his mouth and tried to speak.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean any harm. I’ve been lost for a long time and I’m starving. I didn’t know anyone lived here.” He explained in a soft voice, trying not to startle the owner.

The gun faltered slightly before it was lowered slightly. A pair of eyes stared back at him with an unreadable look.

The person sighed and finally lowered the gun fully, the click of the safety being turned on being heard through the quiet greenhouse.

Five was able to see them fully now, a woman was stood blocking the entrance, and she looked beautiful.

“Come on, you look rough. I got some proper food inside and some clean clothes.” You gestured for him to follow you as you stepped out of the greenhouse.

Five eagerly followed you out, excited to finally eat something proper and get clean. You closed the door behind him and started towards the cottage a few feet away.

A few chickens roamed around the property, most running out of the way as you two walked but there was one or two you had to nudge out of the way with the barrel of the shotgun. You did it with such care and gentleness that you must’ve had to do it many times before.

You opened the wooden door to the cottage and held it open, gesturing for him to go in first. He thanked you as he passed you and took in his surroundings.

The inside was cute. It was small but not cramped, more…cozy. Plenty of room for two people to be comfortable.

You closed the door behind you and propped the shot gun against the wall. You startled Five, causing him to jump a bit when you accidentally clapped your hands together when brushing them off against each other.

“I’m sure you’d like to take a bath quickly. But everything’s pretty old school around here so it will take me a while to get enough water and warm it up. But I’ve got some soup simmering right now.” You put your hands on your hips as you looked him up and down.

“Thank you. Anything is perfect.” Five knew he looked (and smelled) bad. He hasn’t been able to do anything properly for six years and he was grateful for whatever you could provide.

You nodded, feeling weird having a man around after being alone for so long. You gestured for him to take a seat at the dining table as you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, ladling some of the soup into it. You placed the bowl down in front of him and grabbed some slices of sourdough bread you had made fresh that day and placed it in front of him as well as a spoon.

Five was nearly drooling at the steaming bowl of soup in front of him along with the fresh bread. You chuckled silently to yourself when you noticed his expression.

“It’s potato and leek and the bread is sourdough, made it today. I’m going to go get a bath ready for you, help yourself to seconds if you’d like, there’s plenty left.” You patted his shoulder before you left towards the bathroom.

“Thank you.” He called as you left and dug in. He moaned as the creamy and smooth soup slid down his throat so easily and warmed him up from the inside. He was quick to dip a piece of the bread into the soup and scarfing it down. He hasn’t had a proper meal in years so he couldn’t control himself.

It was about twenty five minutes later when he wandered into the bathroom. He had helped himself to seconds like you said and he also washed his dishes. He didn’t want to be any more of a burden than he already felt.

The bathroom was small. There was a big long metal tub sat on the side of the room, a wooden shelving unit with potted plants on the top few shelves and some different soaps on the lower shelves with in reach of the tub. On the opposite side of the small room was a metal basin full of charcoal that was glowing orange.

There was a window a few feet above the tub that was slightly open for ventilation, there was a door that lead to the outside that was wide open. As Five was busy observing his surroundings, you walked in from the open door. A pole was over your shoulders, two big metal buckets full of water on either side.

“Oh…hello…” You were startled at the sight of him but you couldn’t let it stop you cause the buckets were starting to feel heavier by the minute. You bent down at the knees and slid the pole off your shoulders, causing the buckets to hit the ground with a thump making some water splash out onto the concrete floor.

“I..uh…the soup was really good, thank you.” Five shuffled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. He was impressed by your strength, and watching you do it in a dress was just the cherry on top. He was used to seeing strong women due to his time in the Commission, but none of them looked as soft and feminine as you did. It was clear you were a tough individual and he liked it.

“No problem.” You lifted the buckets up and set them in the pile of lit charcoal and used a stick to move the charcoal around so it surrounded the buckets. “Sorry, I don’t have running water. I’ve gotten used taking cold baths, usually only heating it in the winter but I thought you’d appreciate a warm bath more.” You brushed your hands off and placed them on your hips.

“You don’t have to go through all this trouble for me.” Five felt awkward, he’d never had anyone care about him this much and he was slowly starting to realize how much he craved a simple life like this.

You waved him off with a scoff. “Just gaining some good karma points.” You joked. You reached in the cabinet that the container of charcoal was sat on top of and grabbed some big fluffy towels out and set them on the middle shelf near the tub.

As you checked on the temperature of the water, you explained to Five that all the soap and shampoo was homemade. Despite living in the middle of no where near a forest, you had a neighbour that you regularly trade with. She was an older lady that grew Beehive Ginger, a plant that produced a natural liquid shampoo. You were able to make your own bars of soap pretty easily with the lye you also made. You mostly had everything you needed out here but it didn’t help to build connections with those near by.

As you picked up one of the buckets, holding the bottom with a cloth you picked up earlier and poured it into the bath, Five was thinking to himself how much he wanted a life like this, he hoped he could when he got back to his family and figured out how to stop the Cleanse, but it was tempting to stay here with you.

You poured the second bucket into the tub, it didn’t fill it completely but it was full enough, it would’ve cooled down by the time she was able to grab more water and heat it up anyway and Five was grateful for any amount of water. You scooped up some of the smouldering coals with the bucket and dumped them into the water.

Five gave you a weird look and you let out a breathy laugh. “It will keep the water warm longer. The water put it out and cooled it enough where it won’t burn you, plus, charcoal ash is good for your skin. Helps bring out toxins and such.”

Five nodded and thanked you again. You left to go grab him some extra clothes you said you had lying around and he finally took the opportunity to strip out of his dirty clothing. He wasn’t sure where to put the clothes so he left them in a pile on the floor. When he was fully nude he climbed into the tub and sat down. He groaned when the warm water raised around him. It reached just above his belly button and he took a moment to just sit there and enjoy the warmth. Not wanting the water to get cold, he grabbed a small pitcher that was on one of the shelves next to the various soaps. He scooped up some water and poured it over his head, relishing in the warmth and how it felt as some of the dirt washed right off.

You walked into the bathroom, a folded up shirt, jeans, and a pair of briefs in your arms. You paused when you realized he was in the tub already, you couldn’t blame him, you’d want to clean off as soon as possible if you looked as bad as he did. The tub was high enough where you couldn’t see anything below his shoulders from where you stood.

“Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly. “I’m used to not having to knock. Here, got you some clean clothes. They should fit.” You placed them down on a stool nearby and noticed you hadn’t closed the door to the outside and walked over and latched it shut. “Sorry to get rid of the view but sometimes the goats get too curious and sneak their way in and that usually brings in the chickens.” You laughed.

Five smiled with a huff. “Thank you, again.”

“Stop it. No more of that.” You huffed. “I’ll be around. Just shout if you need something.” You smiled and gathered up his dirty clothing and left.

——————————————————————

An hour or so later, you had his original clothes all washed and hung up outside to dry in the sun.

You were sat at the dining room table, drinking some tea thinking about everything that’s happened so far.

Five entered the dining room and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off. “If you try and thank me one more time I’m going to kick you out.” You semi joked.

He silently laughed and shook his head. “Noted.” He pulled out a chair and sat adjacent to you. “I was actually going to say, I didn’t know how to empty the bath so I just left it.”

You waved your hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it later. Tea?” You gestured to the kettle sitting on the stove.

“I’m more of a coffee guy.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Oh, I’ve got some of that.” You stood up and grabbed the container of instant coffee and poured some into a mug and poured the hot water from the kettle into it and stirred it around. You placed the mug in front of him and sat back in your seat. You made it so quickly it was as if you’ve done it many times before. “Sorry it’s only instant. Coffee is kinda hard to get out here so we’d have to go to the nearest town for it which is about two hours away.”

“I’m grateful to be having any coffee at all. I haven’t had any for twelve years.” He picked up his mug and took a sip. It was the perfect strength, slightly bitter but it wasn’t the worst he’s ever had.

“Oh! I forgot to ask if you want cream or sugar with that.” You sounded concerned but didn’t really make a move to get up.

“Oh no, that’s alright. I take it black. This is great.” Five reassured.

“How are the clothes? They comfortable?” You asked as you sipped your tea.

“Great, yeah. They fit perfectly.” A little too perfectly to be honest.

“That’s good. I cleaned your other clothes, they’re outside right now hanging up.”

You both let a comfortable silence go through for a few minutes before you gasped. “Oh my god…I just realized I never asked for your name.” You laughed.

He smiled after taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s…Five.” He hesitated, not sure on if he should tell you his real name but deciding it was the least he could do.

“Five? Like the number?” You questioned.

“It’s…a long story.” He sheepishly replied.

“I got nothing but time…but I won’t make you talk about something you don’t want to.” He was grateful for that. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

He repeated your name. He liked the sound of it. “Do you live alone? I find it odd that a woman who I’ve only seen wear a dress so far has men’s clothes.”

“I….I had a husband.” You looked away.

“Oh..I’m sorry. I didn’t see a ring so I just assumed…” he trailed off when you grabbed the thin chain around your neck and pulled it out from the top of your dress. A simple metal ring hanging off the edge.

“Hard to do any work around here when you’re worrying about keeping a ring on your finger. Plus I’ve never been one for wearing rings. He made it himself out of some scrap metal he had lying around.” You explained as you played with the ring. “We got married officially down at the courthouse. No wedding though. We were never much for big events like that and we didn’t really have anyone to invite anyway.” Tears pricked at your eyes as you thought back to it all.

“If I may ask, what happened?” Five straightened up in his chair, feeling sorry for you.

“He went out one day to check the traps we have out in the woods…never came back. I went looking for him for months but I never found him. He wasn’t the kind of man to just leave. He loved it here. So I assumed something got him.” You sniffed and wiped your eyes. “Sorry…”

“No no it’s alright. That sounds awful. I’m sorry that happened.” He reached out and laid a hand on yours that was on the table. It was out of character for him, usually he wasn’t good at comforting others, but he felt like he needed to. Something drew him to you.

You smiled weakly. “It’s been three years. You learn to cope and move on quickly. Especially with this kind of life. You don’t get to mope around, there’s always stuff to do here so you have to work through it.”

“It must’ve been hard, having to do everything yourself after having someone else to split the chores with.”

“It was. But you get used to it. You sorta look like him too. The long hair and eyes, they’re just like his.” You smiled. “Anyway…enough about me. You can stay as long as you’d like. I’ve only got one bedroom but the couch is surprisingly comfortable. I’ve taken many naps on it. Sorry I can’t offer you something better.”

Five smiled. “Anything is better than what I’ve been sleeping on for the past six years.”

——————————————————————

Five originally planned on staying for a few days. But a few days turned into a few weeks, which then turned into a few months.

He hadn’t given up on finding a way home but he got a little…distracted. He helped you out around the house and small farm you had. You taught him how to do a lot of the more labour intensive tasks and over time you two grew closer.

You were in the greenhouse, collecting some of the strawberries to make jam later when Five appeared in the doorway, a watering can in his hand. He was wearing a green knitted sweater that used to be your husband’s favourite. He paused for a second to admire you and smiled to himself and busied himself with watering the plants.

You glanced over and smirked to yourself and picked one of the smaller strawberries and threw it at him. He tried to hold back a smile at your antics when he got hit with another strawberry, and then another, and another. Finally, he turned to you.

“You’re not going to have enough to make jam if you keep throwing them at me.” He smiled gently at you.

“Ah, they’re just the shitty ones I would’ve fed to the chickens. I think I have enough now anyway.” You took a few steps towards him before you stepped on the handle of a trowel that was left on the ground. It caused you to slip and you dropped the basket of strawberries in shock, you prepared to catch yourself when Five caught you just in time.

You both made eye contact. You felt a shiver go down your spine at seeing eyes that looked so similar to your late husbands. You felt yourself get lost in them the longer you looked and Five felt the same.

The last person he ever loved was Delores, and she wasn’t even real but he loved her all the same. But you made him feel the same way, only a thousand times more. He had started to fall for you over the months of being alone together.

He glanced down at your parted lips, silently asking for permission. You sucked in a small breath and looked down at his. He slowly leaned in, tilting his head slightly before closing his eyes and softly kissing you. When you parted you looked at each other again before Five whispered.

“Was that weird?”

“No…but that’s what makes it weird.” You replied.

At that, Five cupped the back of your neck and pulled you closer, bringing your lips back to his. This time the kiss was more passionate and loving. You held onto his shoulders, gripping his sweater.

You slowly dragged your kisses down his jaw right to a specific spot on his neck and harshly sucked. Five threw his head back and moaned lightly. He hadn’t been given a hickey before but it felt so good. After a few seconds you pulled away and admired the bruise starting to form.

You pulled away from him and walked towards the greenhouse door. He looked at you in confusion, wondering if he did something wrong or if you were just toying with him when you turned around to look at him and leaned against the doorframe.

“You coming?” You smirked with a look in your eyes.

He grinned and stalked towards you with a predatory look on his face. You giggled and took off towards the house with him chasing behind you.

——————————————————————

Five had been with you for six months now. He has since graduated from sleeping on the couch to sharing your bed.

He has been everything you could ask for. Attentive, loving, patient, caring, hard working, etc. He was perfect in your eyes.

You were once again in the greenhouse. It was your favourite place after all. You were sat on a crate, using some shears to tidy up some flowers for the small bouquet you were putting together.

Five walked in carrying two rabbits. “Oh wow look at that. Two this time.” You smiled.

“All because of your traps.” He winked and kneeled in front of you.

“Such a flatterer.” You smirked as you put down the shears and placed the last flower with the rest. “What are you hiding?” You inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying hard to hide his smile.

“I know you. You got that look.”

“What look?”

“That guilty ‘I have a secret’ look!” You laughed.

“I have no such look.” He bit his lip holding back his smile.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a grin.

“Ok ok you’re twisting my arm.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out. “Here.” He holds it out to you.

You gently take it from him and notice it’s a bracelet made of metal. It’s beautifully twisted together making a unique piece of art. “Oh…Five, this is beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“I made it. Used the scrap metal I found lying around.” He looked up at you.

“I love it.” You looked up from admiring the bracelet into his eyes.

“I aim to please.” He looked at you full of love and smiled.

You grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. He placed a hand on your waist and leaned in to the kiss. He was always such a good kisser. It was passionate and full of love and want and always left you breathless.

You both slowly pulled away, leaning your foreheads together as you caught your breath.

“I love you, Five.” you whispered as you softly scratched his scalp.

“I love you too. So much.” He replied, his thumb rubbing your waist.

As much as you’d love to keep the moment going, he slowly pulled away and stood up. “I’m going to go look for more scrap metal, we’re getting low and one of the traps needs to be fixed. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful.” You smiled at him as he stood in the doorway.

“I will, love.” He replied softly before turning around and leaving.

Your smile fell as soon as he was gone. Now was as good a time as any.

——————————————————————

Despite finding peace and happiness with you, Five never stopped trying to find a way back home. His family was important to him and even though you were apart of it now, he still wanted to get back to his siblings.

He told you all about his family, his powers, how he got trapped in the future, his true age, everything that lead him to that point in time with you. The only thing he left out, was the subway. It was quite a distance away from your little piece of heaven and he didn’t want you to get stuck by accident like he did.

It was the one secret he kept from you, but what he didn’t know was that you had one of your own.

You had been feeling suspicious for a while about where he was getting all the metal. It was woods and foliage for miles so you had no clue where he was getting it all.

You weren’t stupid, you knew how much his family meant to him and you saw how it effected him being away from them for so long yet again. There would be days where he wasn’t himself, he was visibly depressed and his mind was occupied with the thoughts of his family. He would reassure you that he loved his life with you and didn’t regret a single thing, but being apart from them was hard.

But you were selfish. As much as you would love to meet his family, you refused to lose the one man that made you happy, again.

You waited for Five to get a head start before you went after him. You had to be careful, you knew he was a trained assassin and a former CIA agent, one little mistake and he’d catch you and you didn’t have an excuse thought up if he did. Luckily, you had some training yourself. Not at the level of Five’s but good enough where you were able to sneak up on him a few times before.

You followed a few yards behind him, staying close by but far enough behind where you won’t lose sight of him.

After about twenty minutes of walking, Five reached the entrance to the subway station. He looked around as a precaution before descending the stairs. Luckily, you had ducked down before he could spot you, you rose from your spot as you watched him go down the stairs.

You walked over and looked down from the top of the stairs and sighed heavily.

——————————————————————

A few months later, you were outside feeding the chickens when Five walked outside, he had the messenger bag he always used when going out slung around him.

He hadn’t needed to go to the subway station since the time you secretly followed him but a lot of things needed repairs recently so he had to find some more metal soon.

He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. “I’m going out now. Be back soon, okay?” He said softly as he rested his head on your shoulder.

Five has become more touchy and cuddly recently and you’re not too sure why but you’re not exactly complaining.

“I can come with you. I don’t have much else to do right now that’s urgent. Just lemme finish up here.” You replied, throwing the rest of the seed to the birds.

“No no, it’s okay, love. You stay here. It’s safer here than out there.” He tried persuade you.

You huffed and turned around in his arms. “Five, I’ve survived out here on my own for three years before you showed up. I think I can handle it.”

“I know, but please? Just stay here. It gives me peace of mind knowing you’re here safe.” He looked down at you with pleading eyes.

You sighed exasperatedly. “Fine. But don’t be too long or I’m coming after you.”

“I won’t, love. See you soon.” He kissed you before taking off.

Five felt guilty. He had found a notebook that had the answers to find his way back home. He had held on to it for so long but he had no clue how to bring it up to you. He loved you, and he loved his life with you so much. But he also wanted to save his family, and as much as he’d love to bring them here, he knew most of them would refuse to drop their new lives to start over completely. Plus your cottage and garden kept both of you living comfortably and he had no idea what this timelines world was like outside of the small bubble you stayed in.

He was going to scavenge for metal but he was also hoping to study the notebook a little more. He had covered the subway walls in equations while he tried to think of all the possibilities of getting his family safe while also being able to stay with you. He knew you wouldn’t want to leave your timeline, especially since the one he was trying to get back to was turning to shit quite quickly.

Five had walked this path so many times that he was walking on auto pilot while looking down at the notebook and thinking. He had made it to the station and was about to take the first step down when he bumped into something solid.

He looked up and saw a bunch of wooden planks and chains blocking the entrance.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself.

“I knew you’d come here.” He turned around when he heard your voice. You were stood a few feet away looking disappointed.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? I told you to stay back.”

“I know. But I wasn’t going to let you go down there again.” You crossed your arms.

“You did this?” He gestured to the shoddily put together barrier. “How do you even know about this place?”

“I followed you last time. I knew you were hiding something. Plus I was curious as to where all the metal was coming from. So…what’s that?” You nodded towards the notebook he was still holding.

“You have no right to keep me out of there.” He ignored the question and walked towards you.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. You’re not going down there again.” You stood your ground.

“Oh yeah? And where else would I get the materials we need?” He was starting to get pissed off.

“Fuck all that! I don’t give a shit about that! What are you doing down there that’s so fucking important?” You yelled, getting frustrated with him diving the question.

“Trying to find a way back home! To my family!” He raised his voice back, throwing his arms up.

“This is your home now, Five. You’re happy here. We both are.”

“This is NOT my home. Without my siblings here, it will NEVER be home. With or without you here.”

That hit you hard. You felt a pang in your chest at hearing that.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave as soon as you can? You just can’t WAIT to get away from me huh?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He huffed.

“Stupid?! You won’t even tell me what the fuck is in that notebook or where you go it!” You waved your arms around.

“It’s the answer I’ve been looking for on how to get back to my timeline. Now, take this shit down so I can finish my equations.” He sighed.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. You’re staying here.” You stared at him while he glared at you.

Five got close to you, getting up in your face. “What the fuck is your problem? What makes you think I won’t just blink down there and leave right n-“

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU AGAIN!” You screamed as tears finally started falling down your face.

This startled Five, causing him to back up. It took him a second before he spoke up again.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” He questioned.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, hugging yourself.

“Y/N…” Five warned as he took a step towards you.

You hung your head as your tears kept falling. “I knew about timelines long before you showed up.” You sniffed and lifted your head, looking off to the side. “My husband…he…he found this place years ago. He went on the subway and came back telling me all about it. He was so captivated by it that he kept coming back, taking it to different timelines. I went with him once but we ended up somewhere awful. I never wanted him to go down there again. I didn’t trust it. But of course he was too stubborn and didn’t listen. He went out one day and…never came back. I waited for years. I came out here every day for about two of those years, just waiting for him to walk back up. I wanted to close it off but kept it open just incase he came back. Then you showed up…and I…I thought that you…were him. You looked and sounded the exact same. Even had the same name. But I knew you couldn’t have been him from the way you acted when we first met. But when I gave you his clothes to wear…all I saw was him.” You wiped your tears away.

Five was silent for a while. Trying to process everything you just dumped on him. “So…I was a replacement, for the version that you lost.” He clenched his jaw.

“No!” You looked at him with surprise. “No I swear you weren’t a replacement. Even if he was a version of you and you had a lot in common, you’re also different. There are things you do, things you say, that are so different from him. I never saw you as a replacement. I never saw you as him. I just saw someone so familiar that I felt so comfortable with. You made me fall in love all over again with a whole new person.” You tried to explain quickly.

Five sighed and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I need to get home.”

You sucked in a breath. “Five, please. Please don’t leave me alone out here again. I’ll…I’ll do better! I will do whatever you want as long as you just stay here. Please.” You felt tears stinging your eyes again as you reached out and held onto him.

“Y/N…” He sighed. He brought his arms around you and held you close. “I love you. I really do. But I don’t belong here. I’d love to stay with you. I really do. But your Five is out there somewhere. Stuck just like I was. He belongs here with you. I need to be with my family. I’m sorry.”

You sobbed into his chest as you tightened your grip on him.

“I’ll find your Five. I promise. I’ll find him and I’ll bring him back to you. You’re strong, you can take care of yourself while I look for him.” He reassured as he nuzzled into your hair.

“How do you know he’s even still alive?” You whimpered into his chest.

“He’s a Five. We’re stubborn, and if he loved you as much as I do then I know he’s fighting to get back to you.”

You both stood there, the air cold as you held each other. Your sobs mixing in with the sound of the wind. After a couple of minutes, your tears died down and you slowly pulled away from Five. He looked down at you, evidence of his own silent tears on his face.

You reached up and wiped the tears off his face. “I love you, Five. Just as much as I loved mine.”

He caught one of your wrists. “I know.” He whispered before kissing your palm. You both looked into each others watery eyes before stealing one last kiss.

When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his, one last time. “Do you promise you’ll find him?”

“I promise.”

With that, you backed away from him and held your hands close to your chest, one of them playing with the bracelet he made you all that time ago. You watched him look at you one more time, smiling, before suddenly he was gone in a flash.

You felt yourself fall to your knees as your curled in on yourself as you sobbed.

——————————————————————

Five had managed to arrive safely in his timeline. He was going to keep his promise to you, but first he needed to see his family.

His heart was still heavy at the thought of leaving you behind but he tried not to let it show. He didn’t want his siblings to pry too much when the wound was still open.

He walked up to the familiar house and sighed before knocking on the door. It opened to reveal Lila.

“Hey there you are. Finally.” She looked him up and down. “What the hell are you wearing?” She questioned.

“I can’t be comfortable?” He countered.

“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ve only ever seen you in suits or a school boy uniform. It’s weird seeing you in casual clothes.” He rolled his eyes at her statement. He certainly didn’t miss her quips. Lila stepped back and opened the door more to let Five in.

As soon as he stepped inside he saw Diego with Grace on his hip. “Heyyyy you made it, Cinco! Come on in, take your shoes off first though.”

Five softly smiled at the sight of his family safe and sound.

——————————————————————

Five found himself back in the subway station pretty quickly. The Cleanse had yet to be stopped and everything was escalating so fast but he knew he had a promise to keep. He hated leaving his family again with no explanation but he refused to let you down.

He was prepared to spend another six years down there all alone just for you. Luckily, he had only spent a few hours searching different timelines when he came across a deli.

He had followed what he swore was an another version of him down there. He hoped it was the one he was looking for.

However, he was shocked to find the entire place was full of doppelgängers. “Hey! Over here.” The Five in the suit that he followed called him over to a booth.

“What is this place?” He sat down across from himself.

“It’s a gas station. What the hell’s it look like? It’s a deli.” His counterpart replied sarcastically, sipping some coffee.

Another Five chuckled in the booth behind him while yet another copy of himself placed down a mug of coffee and two pastrami sandwiches on the table.

“Little light on the sauerkraut don’t you think?” Five joked.

“Yeah, it says it on the menu and I keep telling him but…he never listens.” He shook his head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Theoretically it is.” He picks up the mug of coffee.

“Oh, you’re not gonna like that.” The other Five points out.

He looks down at the coffee with a frown.

“So! I take it your figured out the subway system by now.” The Five takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Alternate versions of the same moment in time?”

“That is correct. You’d be surprised how long it took some of the Five’s to figure that out.” Five mumbles with a mouth full. It made him think back to you and how you always scolded him if he talked with his mouth full. He hoped you were alright.

Five swallowed and continued. “We’re all you. From alternate timelines, most of us have given up trying to fix the problem.”

He looked at his counterpart, confused. “What problem?”

“The broken timeline, man. There’s only supposed to be one.” Five sipped his coffee.

He thought for a moment. “I don’t get it.”

“Look around, Five.” He sighed. “Does this seem right to you?”

He looked to the side. “Well, no-“

“You think Einstein was thinking of this when he was figuring out relativity? Not a chance. This shit would’ve made his head explode.” He took another sip of his coffee.

“Ok so, what shattered the original timeline?” Five questions.

“Not what…who. And I’ll give you three guesses to figure it out.” A ding is heard through the deli.

“We did!” Another Five from behind the counter shouts.

The Five across from him looks exasperated. “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five? Why?”

“By we he means…the family, my siblings?”

“The morons, yeah.”

“I’m familiar with them, yeah.”

“One perfect timeline and the moment we come into existence; boom! Shattered. Into an infinite number of alternate timelines in an infinite loop of time. As we try and save the world- how many times…was it again?” Five leaned over and asked the Five in the booth behind him.

“One hundred and forty five thousand four hundred and twelve.” The Five lowered his newspaper to look at the other two.

“That’s a lot. He’s like Rain Man, that one. He loves num- oh by the way. Look at the artwork.”

He turned and looked at all the framed photos littering the walls.

“All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom. Gold star for consistency, am I right?” He joked.

“We need to fix this.”

“Oh trust me, we tried. That’s why one of us created the commission. By the way that’s why there’s no paradox psychosis here. Uses the same technology that Five did for the panic room. He wanted to undo all the broken timelines, get back to the one and only. But that always fails because…?” He prompted.

“The family is the problem. We’re doomed to save or destroy the world over and over again and infinitum.” He sighed.

“Bingo.” A Five sat at a table holding a coffee chimed in.

“Bingo.” The Five across from him repeated with his mouth full.

“I need to get back to my family. Stop this from ever happening.” He stood up.

“Well…good luck with that. Guess you don’t want your brisket to-go?” The Five reached for his plate and slid it towards him.

He was about halfway to the door when he remembered his promise and turned around. “One last thing. I spent a year in a different timeline with a woman. Her name is Y/N, she said she lost her husband because of the subway and that he’s another Five.”

“Y/N, huh? Only a few of us have met someone with that name, but chances are you’re looking for that one over there.” He pointed to another Five who looked the worst out of all of them. He was hunched over a table in the far corner, head in his arms. “Used to talk non stop about his wife named Y/N and how he had to get home to her. Poor bastard got stuck and went crazy trying to find his way back.”

That’s all Five needed to hear. He walked over to the Five and shook his shoulder. The Five grumbled but lifted his head.

“Hey, I know how to get you back to your timeline. Your wife misses you a lot. She’s waiting for you right now.”

“Y/N?!” He straightened up.

“Yeah. C’mon. She needs you.” He helped the Five stand and lead him out of the deli.

——————————————————————

On the subway ride back to your timeline, your Five was pacing back and forth.

“Sit down. You’re gonna fall on your ass when the train stops.” Five tried to calm him down.

“I haven’t seen her in years. She told me to stop coming down here but I just couldn’t fucking listen and I ended up leaving her all alone.” He brushed his hand through his messy and dirty hair.

“Hey. She’s strong. She was doing just fine by herself when I met her. I promise she’s okay. She’ll be happy to see you again.” He sighed. He really wishes it could be him, but now that he knew his family was destined to destroy the world no matter how hard they try to stop it, he had to go back and be with them.

When the train stopped in the right timeline, he guided the other Five out. “Ah shit.” He muttered when he got to the stairs and saw it was still blocked off. “Forgot she did that.” He grabbed the other Five and blinked them to the surface. He shivered at the cold air. It must have been a few months since he left considering there was now snow on the ground.

“This way. I’m not sure how long it’s been for her so let’s not keep the lady waiting.” The disheveled Five followed close behind him, growing anxious at the familiar scenery. His heart started beating hard in his chest when he saw the cottage in the distance.

As they got closer, they could both see you exiting the greenhouse, a basket in your hands.

“Oh my god���” The Five whispered. He stood still in shock at seeing you again. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. “Y/N!” He called out.

You looked around at the sound of your name being called. You had been hallucinating hearing your name in Five’s voice since he left so you were in complete shock when you looked over and saw your original Five a few yards away.

You dropped the basket, its contents spilling onto the snowy ground, and beelined for your husband, jumping right over the fence.

He ran towards you, quickly closing the distance before colliding in a desperate hug. Tears were pouring down both of your faces as you squeezed each other right. Scared that either one of you might disappear.

You looked up from his shoulder and through blurry vision you could see the Five you spent a year with standing in the distance. You smiled at him and mouth a “thank you” to him.

He smiled sadly back at you and nodded. You closed your eyes and nuzzled deep into your husbands neck. When you opened them again, Five had disappeared from view. You frowned, a part of you will always love and miss him, but you had your true Five back now. You could only hope he found someone that made him happy.

You pulled back from the hug and looked your Five in the eyes and smiled through the tears. “Welcome home, honey.”

——————————————————————

As Five stood hand in hand with his family as the Durango slowly consumed him, he thought back to you.

He had no idea what timeline was the right one, but he could only hope, that even if it was a slim chance, that your timeline was the correct one.

As you laid in bed, cuddled up to your husband, you didn’t feel a thing as your timeline disappeared.

——————————————————————

On the twelfth hour, of the eighth day of August, 2024, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

Y/N would say, it was just a normal day as she watered the marigolds in her garden.

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

[avocado-writing]

i neeeed smth silly with wade and his s/o having a stereotypical teenage girls' sleepover- painting their nails, gossiping about boys (logan) and trying to style wade's wack ass wig.

sigh unfortunately i am in love with The Idiot

Honestly? You’re pretty fucking happy.

Wade is incredibly attentive. A goofball, sure, and the kinda guy to take things a little too far sometimes - but he can always tell when there’s something wrong. You’ve been far too stressed. Work has been getting you down, too much pressure with not enough appreciation, and it just feels like you’re being ground into the dirt by someone’s heel. Your usual enthusiasm when you come home has been ablated and you’ve barely been able to give Wade a smile recently. 

So tonight, when you walk in with gloom heavy around you, you’re pleasantly surprised when the apartment is lit with candles and your favourite album is playing quietly on the stereo. Wade looks up from where he’s judging between two facemasks. 

“Okay, we can go with ‘jasmine tranquillity’ or ‘rose seduction’. I’m feeling ‘rose seduction’, but maybe that’s because sensuality is my middle name. Well, one of my middle names. Wade Winston Sensuality Wilson.”

You put your work bag down and fix him with the smile which can’t help rising over your face. 

“What’s all this?”

“I couldn’t have my pookie ending their week on a bum note. I co-opted the place for ourselves tonight.”

“And Logan doesn’t care? Al?”

“Out drinking and at bridge, respectively. I’ll let you guess which one’s where.”

The image of your gruffest housemate sitting across from three retirees while playing cards makes you snort, and Wade knows he’s got you. 

Now? Now the facemask is smelling the room with soft perfume and you’re swilling your Merlot around in its glass, watching as Wade holds one of your bare feet in his lap and carefully applies red to your nails. There are curlers in your hair but none in his wig, because god knows you refuse to touch that thing any more than you absolutely have to. 

“This wine is nice,” you hum, slightly buzzed from the two glasses you’ve already had.

“It’s not, it was ten dollars, but once you’ve had enough you stop noticing that it tastes like ass,” he replies. Yeah, okay, he’s right. You down the rest of it and lean back against the sofa, watching him work as your vision swims a little. 

“You’re really good at this,” you hum. Wade doesn’t tear his eyes away from where he’s applying varnish in neat, diligent strokes. 

“I can sever a guy’s spine through his first and second lumbar vertebrae from thirty feet away. I’ve got steady hands, babe.” As easily as if he was commenting on the weather he holds up a small tray of press-on decals. “Now, do you want the little apples or the little cherries?”

You snort, gleeful. “Oh my god Wade, did you get those from Claire’s?”

“Yes I did. I went into Claire’s today because I’m confident in my masculinity and it’s a wonderful, joyous place to be.”

“… did Laura go in with you so you wouldn’t feel weird?”

“Yukio. I’m picking the cherries,” he decides with an air of finality. You cradle your woozy head in your arms and sigh, happily. 

“I love you, Wade.”

Finally he looks up, his face melting into a smile. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Now do you wanna watch Definitely, Maybe or Bridget Jones tonight?”

“Bridget Jones. You get weird when we watch the other one.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. 

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13

[monarchberrysblog]

EL VAQUERO

ᥫ᭡。 SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY

A long-ass drabble.

Riding on cowboy! Miguel. Enough said. (The second picture is from @/farevalee9s on X/Twitter.)

MINORS DNI | MATURE CONTENT

/

"I wanna be on top!" She beams, sitting on her haunches, planting her feet onto the soft mattress. Miguel glanced over at the woman from where he was lying down.

"You want to be on top, princesa? Aren't you going to tire yourself out?" Miguel chuckles.

"Can't I at least try?"

"Whatever, don't tire yourself out then."

/

The woman happily straddles down on Miguel's lap, feeling her legs tremble before settling down on the soft mattress. She pulls off her warm sweatshirt, revealing her perked nipples.

A conceited grin slowly paints on his lips before his eyes trace her bareness. Stretch marks decorated her hips and lower stomach, which glistened in the bedroom light. "You know, I never noticed your beauty mark before," His calloused hands traced her figure, and he felt her warmth radiate to his palms. "It's cute."

His hands grasped onto her wrists and moved her hands to her breasts. "Play with yourself."

She looked down at him before she moved her wrists away from his hands with a simple turn on the wrists and grabbed his instead.

"Then help me." A breathy whisper escaped her lips as she placed his hands on her breasts. The callouses on his hand against her skin sent chills down her spine, feeling goose pimples slowly form on her vertebrae. Miguel's hands grasp the soft mound of flesh gently before resting his palms on her nipples. Then her palms trace his calloused hands.

Her soft, gentle touch contrasts his hands. Her nails were always clean and done, occasionally decorated with tiny gems, flowers, and trim-painted designs. His hands contradict hers, fingernails trimmed, sometimes having her help clean the dirt and grime underneath his fingernails.

Her hands were the same ones who always tended to him, even in moments like this.

"I want you." His voice rasps deeply, sending her heart to a flutter.

"But I'm not something for you to buy." She whispers coyly, a breathy response against his croon.

Her hands reach down to his fly, slowly unzipping his jeans and unbuttoning him. A noticeable tent forms at his boxers as she palmed at the bulge before freeing him from the restraining fabric against his cock.

The sight of his aching, swelling cock twitching before her is enough to make her mouth salivate as she eyes the precum tracing down a prominent vein.

She shakes the thought away before she straddles on him again, sliding the gusset of her underwear to the side and slowly sliding down into his length. The aching bulge bullied into her cervix, sending shockwaves of pleasure in her lower stomach.

Miguel felt her aching core rub against his aching cock. Her hips a couple of times, quietly whimpering to herself and adjusting herself.

Miguel grinned to himself as his hand grasped onto her hips. "Okay, let me help you-"

"No, no... I got it." She huffs confidently. She straddled herself once again, but tried something different. With fluid motions, she shifted her weight onto one leg before picking up the other leg.

Miguel opened his mouth, ready to comment something snarky, but his words were erased from his mouth as she placed her hands on his chest. She moved her weight to his chest and slowly began to bounce on his length, feeling him move in her with ease. A content hum vibrates on her sternum.

A small groan escapes the man, feeling his hands rest on her hips. "Come on; you can be louder than that..." She asserts softly, slowly bouncing into a frantic pace.

Then something filled her ears.

Miguel O'Hara lets out a moan, following a whimper.

She bit down on her bottom lip, soon picking up the pace. Beads of sweat slowly formed on her forehead, soon allowing the sweat to glisten on her skin.

"Carino, por favor." Miguel groans, now moving his hands off of her hips and grasping the bedsheets with a vigorous grip, turning his knuckles pale.

He takes off his hat and places it on her head, making it adorable for Miguel as it looks like she is trotting on a horse, but instead, it is his cock. “There you go…” He compliments.

Low, rough grunts filled the space as Miguel looked at the sight before him. Her tits bounced, her lengthy hair moving occasionally with her movements while she placed a secure hand on the cowboy hat.

“Get closer to me for me, nena…” Miguel softly pleads, keeping his eyes on her breasts. Without thinking, she leans closer, letting the cowboy take a nipple to his lips, suckling and lightly nibbling the sensitive nub. His teeth lightly grasped on the nipple before tugging on it playfully and suckling on it. He lets go of the nipple, seeing how her soft muscles bounce a bit after he latches off.

“Good boy…” She cooes to the man below her, feeling her orgasm building up. “Are you close?” She softly moans, keeping up the vigorous pace.

“Cariño, pro favor. Let me finish inside…”

The sinful act kept up while Miguel continued to deal with his inner turmoil to not finish immediately after all the teasing and bantering he told her. “Por favor, let me come…”

“Go ahead, baby…” She pants, feeling the cowboy hat tip down a bit, shielding her eyes. “I’m all yours.”

I CANT FIND A WAY TO FINISH THIS BUT YEH

[signanothername]

do you think dream might also have some sort of chronic pain? nightmares legs are like obviously really messed up from corruption, but like being in stone for more than 400 (or 500 I kinda forgot how long he was in stone for) years has gotta do something to your joints or bones. Probably maybe not something as painful as what nightmare goes through, but I’d expect it to be painful or discomforting nonetheless

ACTUALLY YESSSSS ANON I DO THINK DREAM IS IN CHRONIC PAIN TOO!!!

And they’re definitely joints, definitely suffers from some sorta arthritis, being frozen in place for so long can be debilitating, and allow me to say that I love to think Dream also wasn’t just able to move around like he just wasn’t frozen for 500 years when he got free

Like I absolutely love to think he barely could move at all when he first got out of his prison, he definitely was in so much pain too, and absolutely struggled to move his limbs, like I wholeheartedly believe he just lay there without moving for a while (all while his mind was on overdrive as his memories got back to him as to what the hell happened)

And well, that pain as well as stiffness, especially in his joints just stuck with him, he now also struggles a lot of the time with moving too much or working, and sometimes the pain can amp up to the point he just can’t move at all, literally would cry from the pain, he’d force himself to stay as still as possible as to not irritate his pain even more

And unlike Nightmare, who’s pain is mostly just his back and legs, Dream’s pain is in every and each joint in his body, from every vertebrae in his spine, to every finger joint in his hands

Now take that and include Dream’s archery in the mix :)

One of the biggest things about archery is that you have to have strong flexible joints to be able to use a bow without any problems, not to mention, using it excessively can cause joint stiffness/pain, so I think it’d be easy to imagine how hellish using a bow is for Dream

But Dream had to learn how to use it effectively with his disability if he wanted to survive, the reason Dream picks up archery specifically is both cause it holds sentimental value to him as he used to play archery with Nightmare, and cause he knows he needs a long range weapon when Nightmare got his tentacles, he can’t be too careless and be at close proximity to his brother when he’s trying to kill him

So even tho there’s so much in his way, Dream managed to learn how to use a bow effectively all the same

It doesn’t mean he never faces any problems when fighting with his bow, Dream has great aim, but even then he’d sometimes miss his target just cause of the pain/stiffness he has, and sometimes it irritates his joints so much that he’s just unable to keep fighting and so he just retreats

I like to think Dream never even knew how to make his pain better at all, he never knew how to treat it, so for the longest time he just lived with it, until he met Swap, and well, he finally understood that he doesn’t need to just live with it and that there are methods to treat the pain, so now he wears braces under his clothes most the time, especially his wrists, arms and knees, he sometimes uses heat/cold therapy and he’s definitely on pain medications on a daily basis

Damn this boi needs a break

[peggyao3]

Pt. 15 - Hair Pulling

A/N: A bit of a continuation of Pt. 11 - Shaving 🤭

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, dom!Feyd, FMC wears her hair in a way that you can pull it, mentions of non-consensual marriage

WORD COUNT: 400

"Are you going to try and shave this off next?!"

"Let go-o-o!" She claws back at Feyd-Rautha's wrist, spine arched so obscenely that she can barely take it. Each pounding thrust of his pelvis lances like a dagger up her vertebrae.

"Perhaps I shouldn't leave you to your own devices so much, wife. Maybe you need a tighter leash, hmm?" He tugs on the leash naturally provided by her body, forcing a choked yelp out of her throat.

"I won't shave my head!" She wouldn't even think of it.

"Good darling," her husband praises, the drawl of his voice rough and dark. "We need it, or else how could I keep your pretty head up when I take you on your hands and knees?" He mocks her, as her fingers can barely reach the sheets with the obscene arc of her spine. "You don't need to shave to impress me, though it flatters me that you'd try."

Feyd cannot see the way his wife's grimacing features twist into annoyance. "I wasn't trying to impress you." That makes his rhythm come to a forceful halt and her scalp prickles with a sense of danger where his calloused hand keeps her in a threatening grip. 

"Weren't you?" He slowly drawls. "Trying to shave your little pussy to look more like my Lady Harkonnen?"

She could remind him that she's by no means keen to be his Lady Harkonnen, that this marriage, much like most of her obligations, wasn't her choice. But she simply states through clenched teeth: "It's a vanity thing for women in my home world, to be shaven clean in most places aside from the head."

Feyd-Rautha lets out a grating laugh and releases her hair, hand gliding down her spine to give a quick pat to her buttocks as he picks the pace back up, snapping into her tight, wet sheathe while his fingers skim across her half-shaven pubic mount.

"So, you were trying to look pretty for your husband." His raspy timbre jumps from the little victory even though he's got it all  wrong. She would have shaved because she likes it, but the discussion would be futile, and so she merely sinks with her face into the sheets, thankful for the mercy granted to her aching spine.

To think that his unwilling wife's every action serves to please him, that might just be a thing of vanity fitting for a Harkonnen.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring

[dearharriet]

congrats on 150!! for your celebration can I please have 🫧 with sirius black + “oh, that’s new”? Maybe reader got a tattoo without telling him and he likes it

thank you for requesting! 🩷 (wc: 664)

Sirius can’t stop staring at you in the sauna towel you’re wearing. You’ve both been in for several minutes now, and you’re relaxing more and more into the wood bench. He’s not sure he’s ever seen your shoulders so far away from your ears, and he’s definitely never seen your hair pulled off your neck the way that it is.

It gives him too much skin to work with, visually speaking. You’re completely free and clear of any curtains, your skin sticky with dew, legs sprawling and bare. The two of you make a happy sight.

As the air thins down, you stretch up and ladle more water over the hot rocks. Sirius watches a bead of sweat race down the back of your neck with rapt attention. He loses sight of it when he spots your tattoo.

“Oh,” he breathes, a strange twisting in his chest, “that’s new, yeah?”

You hum breezily, pouring one more generous scoop onto the hissing stones before giving him your questioning eyes.

“What’s new?” Sirius brings a hand up to absently rub at his own bare nape, and you seem to catch his meaning, sweeping your fingers over it bashfully. “Oh, that. Yeah. You’ve seen it haven’t you?”

He shakes his head no. “When was this?”

“Umm,” you dally. “Like a week and some ago? I wasn’t really planning it at all.”

Sirius watches you carefully, perhaps reading a small bit too far into your rosy flush. The air in the steam room is thick and hot now, thanks to you, which could easily be the cause. Still, you’ve retreated from him slightly, holding your arms nervously over your torso.

“Can I see?” Sirius requests, beckoning you to his side of the room. You oblige him, standing and relocating to the spot on his right.

You face your back to him, pushing away nonexistent baby hairs to clear the view. Sirius tentatively takes your neck under his fingers, holding you still.

It’s worse up close, which is to say dangerous for his health. He can’t believe what he’s looking at.

“You got a star,” he says distantly, not quite trusting his voice to keep steady. A star.

Your head falls forward and Sirius marvels at the way your tattoo stretches, wraps tight over your vertebrae.

“Like I said, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “right.”

Reluctantly, Sirius peels himself away from you, returning stiffly to the cedar bench. His skin feels alive, thrumming with heat.

You settle back beside Sirius instead of returning to your bench.

“Is it what you hoped?” he asks, half to break the tension and half because he’d really like to know.

You nod, and Sirius’ eyes train down to the black shape again, unable to resist now that it’s right there.

“Yeah. I always wanted something for my neck, but I never could decide what.” You’re picking at your towel wrap awkwardly, sickly aware of Sirius’ hot gaze on you. You knew for a fact he hadn’t seen the tattoo yet, and you were almost dreading when he'd finally catch sight of it.

“I like it,” he says in passionate agreement. “I really, really like it.”

Your lips twitch into a smile, and you throw a sideways glance his way. “Yeah?” He nods avidly, and you release a relieved laugh. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can I see it one more time?” he asks. You laugh some more.

“Um, okay. Yeah.”

Sirius stares at the ink for another long minute, long enough for you to begin fidgeting with impatience.

“Yeah,” he concludes finally, “you’ll have to show this off more. Keep your hair up like this, maybe?”

Puffing in amusement, you peek over your shoulder shyly. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” he laughs. “I definitely say so.”

Stomach swooping with butterflies, you face forward again, trying to retain some semblance of composure.

“Well, okay then.” You sit back, relaxing some, milling in the warmth you feel inside and out.

+

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

join the celebration!

[ruiniel]

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

Part I

Summary: Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, blood, injury, death, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, Rengoku POV, eventual smut

Author Note: I am not OK and will never be OK about *waves hands* all that, so this is now a multichapter story.

II.

“Once again, you’re a guest in my healing ward.”

Kocho Shinobu speaks softly, as is her manner. She's seated by his bed with the afternoon sun shining gently on her features, highlighting the amethyst in her hair and eyes.

“I seem to be the only one,” Rengoku replies, looking at the empty infirmary. He’s still bedbound and can barely move his limbs. It hurts to breathe more often than not, and there’s a dull ache where his left eye used to be.

Her kind smile never falters as Kocho looks at the liquid in the syringe she’s preparing. Rengoku always admired her decision to honor her late sister this way, by holding on to that smile Kanae loved so much. After all, everyone has a keepsake of their loved ones in their heart, driving them forward. Memories, moments, words that hone one’s spirit and meld with determination, acting as a guiding light in the darkest places. He knows this all too well. 

“At least you won’t be lonely during your convalescence, those three have been coming here every day, even before you’d awoken.” She giggles, seeking a vein in his arm. 

Oh, of course… young Kamado… the boar lad, the yellow-haired boy. All of them gifted, resilient, and unwavering. He’d promised to train them, but…

That was… before. 

Another image appears before his mind’s eye, drenched in fog—you, running towards him. He, ordering you not to interfere. “Kocho. Tell me, please. How long before I can leave this bed? What is lost, what can I regain?” 

She sets the used syringe aside on a tray, then places her hands on her knees. “My, my, impatient already?” 

Rengoku tries a smile of his own, though it hurts the muscles in his face. If not for the strong sedatives and painkillers administered to him since he regained consciousness, he imagines he’d be squirming in pain. “I want to self-assess myself. Besides…I have promises to keep.” 

She understands. He knows she does. The Insect Hashira gazes out the window, and a small sigh leaves her chest. “Your fatal injuries have been healed by the peculiar blood demon art of young Kamado’s sister.”

He nods. Remarkable. He thought that would be his last battle, and he’d have passed without regret into the land of Yomi. Nevertheless, his gratitude is boundless.

“... your muscle and organ tissue has regenerated and there was no internal bleeding. However, there is still some damage to several vertebrae in your spine, severe trauma to your head I’ve not fully assessed yet, and you have eight fractured ribs.”

“Hah, I can feel them, too! I miscalculated by one, I thought there were seven.”

She looks his way, with that odd expression people sometimes have when he sounds unreasonably high-spirited. He supposes not everyone shares the same outlook, and that’s all well. But what use is there to bow down in dismay and accept the worst life throws my way? 

“Your left eye was smashed, and irrecoverable,” Kocho goes on. “We removed it with surgery and placed an implant inside to fill the empty eye socket. The recovery period in these cases is typically a year, as now you must adapt to your monocular status. But this also depends on the individual, and… this might mean alterations to your fighting style, of course.” She rises and picks up the tray. “I’m convinced that with time, you can return to a state allowing you to perform your duties. For now, please rest, that is a foremost priority.”

My friend, you know all too well that time is never on a demon slayer’s side. “Thank you, Kocho.”  She is right, though: he does feel exhausted, as though he’d climbed a mountain without rest or ever reaching the summit. Expected, though bothersome.

“We’ll do our best to help your recovery. Aoi will return later to change your bandages,” Kocho adds.

Rengoku turns his head as Kocho greets someone on her way out, and sees you, standing in the doorway. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“You heard?”

You nod, nearing the bed. “Ms. Kocho told me of it all while you were asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in bemusement. “What ever for?”

“Because, I won’t be able to help with your training for a while.”

You’ve been at his side often. While in a coma, even if he couldn’t react, even if his body wouldn’t listen, he knew you were there. The thought is a warm one, a foreign sensation: different from the heat bursting in his body during a fight. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to your visits even now, to see how you’re faring, to hear the latest news on the Corps.

“No,” your voice brings him out of his thoughts, “but that does mean I can help you. When you’re ready, that is,” you add quickly. “With rehabilitation training.” 

“Of course!” The fatigue in his body is stubborn, clinging to him like heavy wet wool. “And… I don’t believe I’ve told you this yet: I’m happy you returned safely.”

You look away, appearing utterly miserable. It confuses him. Rengoku’s seen that shadow in his father’s eyes countless times, so often he can’t stand it: self-loathing.

“Forgive me, Master. I should have been able to do more, after all you strived to teach me. I… I could barely be of any use.”

But you were there, you helped protect all those people. You did your part. “You were unflinching, fast, and aided those who needed it precisely like I taught you. You are rank Kinoe, and what's your demon kill count?”

“Thirty-two.”

“There… now that I think about it, even without further guidance from me or anyone else, you’ll make Hashira soon! Our numbers are dwindling while demon activity increases. You’ve seen it. This is a struggle that needs all of us.” Rengoku pauses. The word ‘need’ felt odd coming from his mouth. But the statement is true. Why does it feel incomplete when he says it to your face?

You look down at your hands. “How can you do it?”

He blinks, frowning. “Do what?”

“Be so supportive and encouraging even when you’re lying broken in an infirmary bed. Sometimes… sometimes you are so very strange, Master.”

You do say that to him often, though less so than before. A smile trembles on your lips—it took you a long time to smile again, he recalls. 

“I merely speak the truth…” He can barely stay awake. The slow drip of liquid in the IV infusion is magnified, drowning out all other sounds, and your face becomes hazy as he drifts away.

Three years prior

The path of blood leads straight into the farmhouse, looking as though someone had been dragged inside by force.

His eyes narrow, and he centers his breaths as he walks forward with his blade drawn. The silence of the glade is eerie, the reek of decay nauseating in the heat of this humid summer.

Soon, he stands on the threshold. Two, there might be two of them. Near the farmhouse is a toolshed, he’ll look there next. Rengoku covers his mouth with his sleeve, eyes closing in pain.

The bodies lie there, some with scattered limbs. This was a family, no doubt about it. The brutality of the mutilation makes his stomach turn, but Rengoku steels his resolve, extending his senses for any hint of the entity’s presence: there is none. He sheathes his katana and enters the space proper. Three hours until dawn.

He descends to one knee, finding the fireplace in the middle is out, but the ashes are still warm. The tatami mats are sticky and stained dark. This all transpired recently. He reaches out a hand, touches an inert arm: not yet cold. Too late, I am too late. But I’ll find you, wherever you are, you damn beasts. 

It’s only due to his reflexes, honed with endless hours of training, that he turns around fast enough, leaping backward before the descending attack.

At first, he thinks it’s the demon, his katana at the ready.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” 

He pauses, nearly too late in avoiding the second strike. A girl’s voice, a human’s heartbeat. His arm shoots out, catching the wooden staff in a strong grip. 

You’re panting, eyes wild and glimmering in the moonlit night. “Let—go!”

“Wait, I’m not an enemy!” he says, taking a better look at you, still holding your makeshift weapon even as you try to wrest it from his hand. 

“How do I know that! Demon!” Your voice is hoarse. Half your face is caked in drying blood, and there must be multiple injuries on your body judging by the torn clothing and the widening dark stains. 

“I’m not a demon,” he speaks calmly but urgently. “I hunt them. Please, they may still be close.”

You jerk your chin towards a corner of the room. “I had him… I don’t need you. Get out of my home!” you yell, more desperate with each word. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Another body lies there in the dark, slitted pupils dark against its milky eyes. The head had been nearly completely crushed. Rengoku freezes in disbelief. You did this? Alone? “Wait, you don’t understand, there’s another—”

A loud crash severs his words as the ceiling collapses, and he barely has time to leap forward, catch you in his arms, and throw himself outside. He rolls onto the ground, pain erupting in his left shoulder with the impact. When he opens his eyes you’re there, safely held against him, face tearstained and body rigid with shock.

But there’s no time to explain further—he feels it. The gurgle of inhuman hunger as a figure emerges from the wreckage of the farmhouse, eyes fixed on them. It does not speak, but growls in hunger; it must be of the feral kind, no reasoning left as the transformation rotted its memories. 

Rengoku rises, changing his stance. “Stand back,” he urges, looking over his shoulder at you as you struggle with your own body. He looks back ahead, grinds his teeth, his breathing attuned to his thought. 

First Form: Unknowing Fire.

It doesn’t last long. He’s been running from mission to mission, dispensing with different kinds of fiends, and this was yet another run in a long chain that will only end with his own life. 

Once the head is removed, the battle is over. Sometimes there is someone left to check on after the fact; often, there isn’t. But now, Rengoku hurries towards you, descending and slipping a hand under your back, aiding you to sit. “Where are you hurt?”

“Thank you,” you say instead, eyes glazing over. He hopes the Kakushi will get here soon. You point towards your ruined home. “Set it ablaze… please.” 

“Hey, hey, stay awake!” Rengoku urges even as your body turns heavier and your eyes roll back. 

He expected this to come. Kneeling and with his forehead pressed to the ground he sits still, prostrated before the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. 

A voice like the lull of spring reaches him, setting his worries aside. In his heart, he thinks he’s done what is right.

“Rank Kinoe Rengoku Kyojuro, you are summoned to explain why you have brought a non-combatant to headquarters, instead of having the Kakushi transport them to a civilian hospital.”

“Master, the girl shows extraordinary potential. Her family has been murdered by demons, and yet she managed to fell one before I arrived, alone, despite grievous wounds and bloodloss. Forgive me if I overstepped, but I believe…” 

“Go on.”

“I believe once her body heals and her focus returns, she will join the fight. I believe she will want to. If I'm wrong, I accept all consequences.”

“You sound fairly convinced of this, young Rengoku,” says Ubuyashiki Kagaya. “Though there is no reason to know for certain one way or the other.”

He stays quiet, his heart raging in his chest. It will all depend on you, of course. You may want to have nothing to do with this. 

“But… you’ve not failed us thus far. I will allow it.”

“Gratitude, Master.” And then, almost in the same breath, “If she chooses this, I will guide her myself.”

TBC

[dollfaceksj]

from yesterdays poll i see that readers have no patience 😋

clearly😭😭😭 well, they ask and they shall receive but

i still like being evil. sorry ! this was written so fast it’s so BAD i promise i write better than this i swear check my masterlist <3

wordcount: 2k

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #13

masterlist

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WHAT SHOULD YOU DO?

STAY AND RISK GETTING CAUGHT 53,5%

LEAVE AND CONTINUE BUILDING TENSION 46,5%

325 votes

you chose:

STAY AND RISK GETTING CAUGHT

↓

His anxious eyes continue to search for an answer in yours but your mind is blank. If you get caught, this could get really fucking messy. But if you don’t get caught… it’d still get really fucking messy, literally. In this tent, at least.

You contemplate the situation, numerous possible situations and outcomes flashing through your mind at a headache-inducing speed, making you more anxious by the second.

How the hell did you ever get yourself in this situation?

“Tell you what,” Jungkook says as he breaks the silence, tongue swiping along his swollen bottom lip, thinking about what he wants to say. “Let me just make you feel good.”

You innocently blink at him a few times, irises drowning in anticipation and worry. Your pretty lashes flutter quickly, kissing your furrowed brows every time you blink and the silence is so loud that you’re convinced you can hear the sound of your eyelids coming together. His own eyes are flickering with the hope of permission, patiently waiting for confirmation.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought. Should you really? Is this really a good idea?

Your mind is still trying to reason with you but the clench in your thighs and the goosebumps on your skin will not allow you to think straight, not even for a moment.

You’re already grinding into each other anyway. “Fuck, yes, okay,” you quietly say, your chest dramatically deflating when you let a shaky breath push past your lips.

He wastes absolutely no time rolling off of you and pulling you back up by your biceps, making you sit up straight. A soft gasp leaves your lips at the sudden strength he uses to pull you up, fingers tightly wrapping around your arms. Fuck, he’s hot.

You lean back on your hands and watch him intently, committing it all to memory – because who knows how long it’s going to take for Jungkook to fuck up – the way his toned body moves, the way his pretty lips twitch, the way his onyx eyes flicker with pure and utter lust.

He settles on his knees next to you, pushing you further back by your shoulders. Your hands continue to support your weight from behind your body as you lean further back, his firm yet gentle touch sends a jolt of electricity up your vertebrae and he’s not going any easier on you when he slowly starts spreading your thighs apart with his hand.

Your teeth start picking at the loose flesh on your bottom lip as he leans into your neck, lips softly grazing the sensitive skin. The world around you stops spinning when his hand slowly and gently starts moving down to your sex.

He places his hand flat over your clothed pussy, making a quiet gasp escape your lips at the sensation. He smiles against your neck, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’s getting out of you when he’s barely even touched you.

The tips of his middle and ring finger start rubbing circles directly onto your sex through your leggings whilst his lips leave a wet trail of sloppy kisses down your neck.

The breath of the cocky chuckles that he lets out every time you jerk your hips hit your sensitive neck and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

“Stop teasing me,” you breathe out, reminding him of the time you don’t have, nodding at the blue tent surrounding him.

His chest rumbles against your shoulder as a low chuckle leaves his mouth but he wastes no time further when he brings his hand up to his mouth, placing his fingers onto his tongue and coating them in his saliva. He removes his fingers from his mouth with a pop and then tucks that hand under the hem of your leggings, fingertips grazing your pelvis.

Your legs slightly jerk once he finally reaches your clit. “Hm. No panties?” he mumbles against your neck, digits slowly diving in between your folds and spreading them slightly.

You merely grunt in response, eyes shutting on their own when he starts rubbing a specific pattern directly on your clit, a pattern that you seem to really like.

How is he so fucking good at this?

He has barely touched you but you’re ready to melt into those claws of him that Taehyung mentioned.

You continue to bite down on your lip to keep yourself quiet, eyes shut tightly as his wet fingers continue to rub and spread your folds apart, smearing your sticky arousal all over your sex.

“Damn. I wish I could see this pussy,” he says as he kisses back up your neck, lips softly grazing your earlobe. “It has to be the prettiest fucking thing on Earth.”

You mewl with your mouth closed, your hips jerking up into his hand. It makes him chuckle like the arrogant asshole he is but he doesn’t hesitate any further when he plunges his two fingers into you. Your eyes shoot open in surprise and your mouth falls agape at the intrusion.

He lifts his head off your neck to finally face you, black eyes staring you down as he starts fucking his fingers into you.

His palm slams down on your clit whilst his fingers ram into your pussy over and over again at a sickening pace, making your legs tremble beneath him and your throat dry with the way you’re constantly trying to swallow your moans down.

He continues to watch your face, committing every feature and expression to memory. The way your brows are scrunched together in pleasure, the way you struggle to keep your eyes open because of the sensitivity, the way your mouth is agape in disbelief at how quickly he’s got you putty in his hands.

His own brows scrunch together as he stares at you, eyes scanning your entire face. “Don’t look at me like that,” he quietly whispers, tongue playing with his lip rings after the words leave his mouth.

Quiet moans leave your lips as his hand never falter in speed and precision, continuously abusing your sex. “Like what?” you manage to say without sounding overly fucking pathetic.

“Like you want me to fuck the shit out of you.”

His words make another moan leave your lips but it might’ve been too loud, apparent by how quickly Jungkook has pressed his lips against yours to keep you quiet.

Because, yeah. You do want that.

You try to focus on kissing him back but with the way both your clit and walls are being stimulated by his slender fingers right now, your orgasm is inevitably approaching you rapidly and it’s taking over every nook and cranny of your messy mind.

“Fuck,” you mumble against his lips, eyes shut tightly as tears well up in them at the amount of pleasure that’s flowing through your body.

Your heart rate picks up, the blood in your veins pumping so fast that you’re convinced your blood has turned into lava.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, another attempt at keeping you quiet. Another whimper leaves you as his tongue rubs against yours, salty tears rolling down your hot cheeks.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Jungkook’s hand comes to an abrupt halt, fingers still inside of you and you both pull away from each other’s lips once Isabella’s voice reaches both your ears. Fuck.

He stares into your wide eyes as the crunching of the branches becomes louder, indicating that she’s getting closer.

“Jungkook?” she calls out, seemingly making her way to his/your tent.

You drape your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from even breathing too loud.

“Yeah, I’m just quickly changing clothes. I’ll be right out,” Jungkook replies, loud enough for her to hear before he starts pumping his fingers back into you.

Bastard.

You keep your hand on top of your mouth, blocking whatever sound that may escape without your permission.

It doesn’t really serve any purpose because the squelching sounds of your wet pussy being abused by his fingers are nearly just as loud as your moans.

“What happened to your clothes?” she giggles, so very unaware of what’s going on in the tent that’s right in front of her.

His black eyes stare into your own, glimmering with something you can’t even put your finger on as he quietly fucks his fingers into you. “Some mud,” he replies, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches how you struggle to keep quiet.

She giggles again and God, you really have nothing against her but in this moment you wish she would fuck off.

“You’re so stupid,” she pokes the tent with her finger and you jerk under Jungkook as your orgasm starts approaching you again.

He gently kisses your tears away before he responds with, “Trust me, I know. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Well, don’t make me wait too long!” And with that, you finally hear the scrunching of branches and whatnot as she retreats.

You can’t focus anymore when he picks up the pace of his hand without a warning, slamming his fingers into you and curling them inside of you at incomprehensible speed and precision.

“You’re always so fucking pretty but seeing you like this, it’s driving me crazy. Fuck,” he whispers as his eyes continue to drink in your facial expressions, his own bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he watches you break underneath him.

Fuck, the things he’s saying are pushing you even closer to that mindblowing orgasm you’re about to experience.

“That’s it, cum for me on my fingers, Y/N.”

Butterflies in your gut eat your stomach from the inside out, your thighs are clenching on their own and before you know it, your orgasm drops onto you like a pile of fucking bricks.

All your nerve endings are set alight, a jolt of electricity traveling down every single one, to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

He dives back into the crook of your neck, soft lips leaving paralyzing kisses all over the sensitive skin of your throat.

On the back of your eyelids, you see every celestial body in the universe that you know of and your body heats up like it’s been lathered in magma.

You cry into your hand, your other hand moving up to squeeze his shoulder as you clench around his wet fingers. You cum so hard that your body falls limp but his hold on you is solid, fingers still pumping into you to let you ride out your high.

Once your orgasm washes away, your hand lazily pushes against Jungkook’s shoulder to get him to stop and he gets the memo immediately. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and glances down at his hand once he’s successfully pulled it out of your leggings without accidentally smearing it against your clothes.

He brings his sticky hand up and glances at you before placing his wet fingers onto his tongue and wrapping his lips close around them, sucking all of your arousal off his digits and cursing at the taste that hits his tongue. “You taste un-fucking-believable.”

The emphasis he places on the swear word has your body heating up like you’ve been lathered in oil under the scorching hot Sahara sun. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight in front of you, your eyes staring at him with desperation twinkling in them. Fuck, you really need him.

“Let’s go back,” he whispers as he reaches for the zipper of the tent and before you can even gather enough energy to stop him, he suddenly turns back to you.

You furrow your brows as he faces you again but he doesn’t let you think too much about it when he presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss.

And you absolutely hate that it makes your stomach clench that way.

You blink at him when he pulls away. “What was that for?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before turning back and reaching for the zipper again. “An apology in advance for what I’m gonna do to you tonight.”

And with that, he exits the tent.

To be continued.

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[randofics]

🎶 David Kushner- Skin and Bones

🎶 David Kushner- Dead Man

🎶 The Neighborhood- Sweater Weather

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

You let out a breath, watching as it fogged in the cold November air and held your arms around you to keep warm as you waited for Sideswipe. Your back muscles were killing you after hunching over to grab boxes off the floor at work. All you wanted to do was lay in bed for the rest of the night.

Bright white headlights made you shield your eyes as he came to a stop in the empty lane of parking spaces. The gullwing passenger door opened for you, and sorely, you sat in the seat.

"Thanks for picking me up, Sides. I owe you one."

"Hey, I didn't have anything better to do. How was work?"

"Ugh, don't get me started."

"That bad, huh?" He watches you through his rearview mirror as you struggle to get comfortable. "Something wrong with my seat?"

"No, my back is practically screaming at me. I just need to lay in bed and relax. A massage would probably help, too, but I can't afford an appointment at the moment."

"My hood is still warm from the sun earlier. Maybe laying across it would help. I've heard that heat can help relax muscles."

"You hear that on TV?"

"I happened to catch it on one of the channels." A small smile twitches at your lips.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

-------

After pulling into the junkyard, you hop out attempting futility to pop your sore back as you massage your muscles. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, Strong-arm is on patrol with Bumblebee, and Denny took Russel, Fixit, and Grimlock out to watch the city parade from the hilltop."

"I forgot that was happening tonight. I'm glad Russel gets to see it. He seemed so excited about it this morning."

"How about we go back to my quarters and watch some TV?"

"Sure. You said I could use your hood, remember?"

"You think I forgot? How dare you!" His faux offense made you laugh as you trailed behind him. He bowed as he held the makeshift door open for you, and you shook your head at his antics. Taking the remote, you turned on the TV quickly, flipping through the channels to one that never failed to interest you. Animal world was on, and a re-run of the leopard episode was playing.

"Alright, transform so I can warm up my back. It's freaking chilly." He chuckles, rolling his optics as he transforms. You lay back on his hood, being careful not to scratch his paint. Almost immediately, the warmth of his metal seeps through the fabric to your skin. Your body relaxing as the warmth soakes down to your bones.

You stay like that for a little while, but the heat slowly fades, and your muscles are left sore. Rolling over onto your stomach, you let out an annoyed groan.

Sides' chuckle catches your attention. "That leopard has the same idea as you." Glancing back at the screen, you see a leopard sunning itself on a dark rock. The big cat looks content, all sprawled out like that. A small smile comes to your face before you stand, letting out a pained hiss as your muscles take on your weight again.

"Still sore?"

You nod, twisting your back in another futile attempt at popping it. He transforms, crouching down behind you. "Can you lift me under my arms so I can pop my back?"

His servos wrap around you under your arms, lifting you a foot off the ground as you let your body go limp. Your spine crackles as the vertebrae decompress, releasing some of your tension. After he sets you down, you test out your spine. The pain of your muscles is still present, but any spinal pain is pretty much gone.

"You want me to give you a massage?"

You're a bit surprised at his question. Did he really just ask you that? Did he even know what that insinuated or even how to properly do it? Your mouth moved faster than your brain.

"That would be great!"

Why'd you have to say that!? Now you had to go through with it! You kicked yourself as you made your way back to your camper. He transformed again, parking just outside the door as you walked in. His holoform followed you to the "bedroom" of the small mobile space. There were only two lights, one for the living/kitchen and another for the tiny bathroom, leaving the bed dimly illuminated.

You removed your hoodie, tossing it to the side as you sat on the edge of the mattress. "So, how are we doing this?"

"Lie down on your stomach, and I'll sit beside you."

Once you're in position, he sits cross-legged next to you. "Do you mind if I lift your shirt?" Shaking your head as best you can against the pillow in your arms, you take a calming breath. The cool air hits your skin as he lifts the hem of your shirt. When his holoform didgets touch your skin, a chill runs up your spine. Goosebumps form all along your body as he maps out your back.

Soon, he starts adding pressure to his touch. It's light at first like he's afraid he'll hurt you, but slowly, he gets heavier with his hands. Your sore muscles slowly feel much better as your pleasure senses take over. Heat spreads through your body.

-------

When a small sound escapes your throat, he pauses. "Not hurting you, am I?" Your voice is small as you answer.

"No, I'm fine."

He continues, pressing into the muscles of your lower back, eliciting another sound. This time, he keeps moving, listening for the little sounds you let out.

When he places his fingers over your love handles and presses in the backsides with his thumbs a much louder sound escapes you.

You attempt in vain to smother the sounds with the pillow. Muscles quiver under his fingers, and curiosity gets the better of him. Gently, he grazes his fingers across the front of your abdomen and love handles, making you squirm a little.

With a bright blush on your face, you turn to look at him. "What are you doing, Sides?"

"Um... sorry, I got distracted. What's up with that reaction?"

"It's... my abdomen is sensitive, ok I can't help it when you touch me like that."

"Right here?" He tilts his head like a confused puppy as he grips your hip again, letting his thumb graze under the hem of your jeans.

"Yes! So don't do that." A mischievous glint in his eye makes your heart skip a beat. "I'm not sure what you're thinking, but you probably shouldn't go through with it."

"What? I'm not thinking anything." You feel his thumb again as you grip his wrist, his other hand cupping your side squeezing gently. Suddenly, he lifts your shirt to your lower ribs and pulls the hem of your jeans down an inch. Your eyes widen as a gasp escapes your throat. His lips make contact with the v of your abdomen.

Blood rushes to your face as you bite down lightly on your knuckle. Your other hand tangles in his dyed red hair. While the feeling itself isn't overly pleasurable, the act is extremely erotic. His eyes connect with your half lidded ones as his teeth nip your skin. He places another kiss there before moving up slowly over your stomach, giving you light pecks and nips all the way to just under your sternum.

When he pauses, you look down at him quizzically. In one swift motion, he pulls you up into his lap, making you yelp. Instantly, his lips are on your neck. You melt into him, wrapping your arms around him and tangling your fingers in his hair.

-------

He can feel your breathing quicken with the rapid beating of your heart. His spark pulses faster with his own excitement. Your scent, taste, and fingers in his hair overwhelm his holoform senses. Your skin, though littered with natural bumps for the most part, is silky soft. And your plush flesh feels amazing in his hands.

Your small gasps float into his audials through the holoform, and they sound heavenly.

-------

You feel his hands on your back, one massaging your muscles while the other glides over your skin, slipping under the back of your bra. Without warning, his lips connect with yours. He's surprisingly good at it, considering it was probably his first time. You didn't even know if cybertronians kissed at all. Your head was swimming with his intensity, not that you minded much.

Lightly, you scratched at his upper back, legs locked tight around his waist. As far as you were concerned, you could do this till your heart gave out, but fate wouldn't even let it come close to that.

There was a knock on your camper door, making Sideswipe turn his head to look. Russell's voice broke through the silence. "Hey, Y/N, Sideswipe! You guys in there? Come watch the parade you're about to miss the best part!"

In a poof of pixelated glowing particles, the warm body you were wrapped around was gone, and you fell back on your mattress. You lay there for a second, arms splayed above your head as you let out an annoyed groan. You loved Russel, but he had the absolute worst timing sometimes.

Sitting up, you could still feel his hands on you, and the feeling of his lips lingered as you walked to your door.

Outside, Bumblebee stood with his usual cross arm stance. Sideswipe was still in his alt mode in the same spot as before. There was a barely noticeable quake in your steps as Bee eyed you. Your hair was ruffled, and red marks were starting to form on your neck and jaw. Your face was still red from the blood rush, and you were acting a tad nervous.

When you lightly kicked Sideswipes tire, annoyance evident on your face he put two and two together.

-------

"Hey, what was that for!?"

"You know darn well what that was for!"

"It's not like I had any other options!"

"Yeah, you did! You could've faced it like a man instead of turnin' tail and running!"

Russel looked confused at the whole exchange but took your hand, dragging you behind him to the hilltop. When you got there, Denny handed you a blanket, which you gladly wrapped around you. Fireworks cracked in the air as the end of the parade was driving down the street below.

The nose of Sideswipes alt pressed into your rear, making another blush come to your face. You glanced around, making sure no one had seen that before turning your head to look at him. With a small hop, you sat on his hood, crossing your dangling feet.

When the parade ended and everyone was going back to the junkyard, you and Sideswipe stayed put. Hopping off his hood, you stood with your arms crossed.

"What?" Moving closer with an expression he wasn't familiar with, slight intimidation makes him roll backward. "Wh-what are you doing!?"

"Continuing what you started." Your hips sway as you follow him, backing him all the way almost into a tree. "Holoform, please."

Under your expectant gaze, he produces his holoform. He looks as nervous as you'd expected.

Pushing him into his driver's side door, you press your body against him. He sucks in a breath, his eyes flickering from your eyes, lips, and chest pressing into his. "Like what you see, darlin?"

You hear him gulp as he forces his eyes closed. He makes the mistake of tilting his head up, giving you the perfect opening to ghost your lips across his synthetic skin and whisper in his ear. "Not so cocky now, are ya?"

When he looks back down at you in surprise, you press your lips against his. His hands shakily grab your hips as he bends down for you. As you continue to kiss, the two of you are none the wiser to a pair of optics watching you.

Bee, with a knowing smile on his faceplate, chuckles, shaking his head. He walks back into the junkyard, leaving the two of you be.

[aurumacadicus]

159 or 139 for the ficlet please!

(Also, do these numbers correspond or a prompt or are we just winging it here, curious minds would like to know how this lottery is working 🧐)

These numbers correspond to a prompt set which I can post a link to after this is done but I wanted the randomness of it. No offense but you guys always go for the same prompts (which don't get me wrong, make sense for the characters/my writing) but I wanted to stretch some writing muscles!!!! So I anonymized the list :3c

--

Steve groaned when he realized he couldn't ignore the constant pinging of his phone anymore. It had well and truly rung through his half-dozing state. He pushed himself up, popping each vertebrae as he attempted to blink the sleep out of his eyes, then yawned, loud, and scrubbed at his eyes.

He took a glance around his room, then squinted in confusion when he saw his lamp had been knocked off the bedside table, there was a... sock? On the ceiling fan? And the ceiling fan was askew, the edges of the blades scraping the paint off on one side and nearly low enough to clip his hair on the other. He stared at it, mouth hanging open in confusion, especially as it finally registered that it was not a sock hanging from the fan, but a ripped pair of tights.

Steve grabbed his phone, still staring at the tights, as he wondered how, exactly, they'd been ripped right down the middle of the crotch and where, exactly, the other half was. He found it as he rolled onto his back to check his phone, one end tied to the foot board of his bed, the other tied around his ankle. He blinked slowly, then thumbed his phone open, peering at the notifications.

[Bucky] If you don't respond, I'm calling the cops

Steve blinked again, then sent a simple 'responding' and scrolled up to see what was going on. He came to the conclusion that he'd disappeared halfway through a party. Bucky and Natasha's engagement party, maybe? They were celebrating something, he remembered. The first messages has been teasing, calling him a curmudgeonly old man, then jokes about him getting lucky, then concern as he'd never replied to any of them. He flipped back to Bucky's messages.

[Me] Yo what happened My lamp's broken? And my ceiling fan? I'm tied to the bed kinda.

He looked around again just for good measure, then did a double-take at his sheets. He snapped a picture and sent it along as well.

[Me] Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.

Bucky's response came only a few seconds later.

[Bucky] Oh my god the stripper??????????????! I wondered what happened to him!!!!!!

"The stripper?" Steve asked, squinting at the screen in confusion.

The door to his bathroom opened, and a man stepped out, naked as the day he was born. He was beautifully damp. He had a towel wrapped around his hair. Steve understood, suddenly, why half a pair of tights were on the ceiling fan. He immediately wanted to fuck this man so athletically that the other half snapped off his leg and flew onto the ceiling fan too.

"I ordered breakfast," the man said casually, pulling a duffel bag from... somewhere. "It should be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm Tony, by the way," he added, picking a pair of briefs out of the bag.

"You don't have to put those on, Tony," Steve offered, instead of doing the polite thing of offering his name back, or asking if he wanted anything else.

Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Just as charming as last night," he teased, shaking his head.

God, Steve hoped he'd been charming last night. "So... were we introduced last night?" he asked carefully. "And you thought I forgot your name?"

"I was introduced as Bambi last night," Tony said, offering him a smirk. "And you waxed poetic about my big brown eyes until I basically had no choice but to fall into bed with you."

"Bambi," Steve repeated, and then, louder, "Ooooh, Bambi." Suddenly he remembered exactly what had happened last night, up to and including how his room had gotten messed up, and it had started with Tony finally asking, 'Does that make you Faline? Or are you more of a Ronno?' and Steve just picking him up and carrying him toward the door as Tony giggled in his arms.

Well. Food was coming. He'd have time to convince Tony he was more than just a fan of brown eyes. Tony had a cheeky smile. He found those always seemed to get him into trouble in the best way.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: johnny soap mactavish x medic!reader (stitch)

summary: a night of drinking with 141 pushes you to the brink of your friendship with soap.

warnings: [ 1k words ] pathetic levels of mutual pining, yearning, alcohol and drinking, (f) masturbation, reader fantasising about sex with soap.

notes: i had so much fun writing this <33

Soap leans back dangerously on the stool at the bar as he laughs, a deep rumble that rattles his ribcage. The legs of the seat teeter precariously on the edge of a broken floor tile, threatening to slip into the grout grooves and knock him from his pedestal. He’s like sunshine, glowing with the grin plastered on his face as he guffaws at something Ghost had grumbled across the bar.

Even in your drunken stupor, you manage to place your palm on his lower back, curbing gravity’s inevitable pull by easing him back into an upright position. He chuckles weakly, still struggling over Simon’s ridiculous comment as he blinks back humorous tears.

“Cheers, Bonnie,” he grins, the ocean in his eyes swimming with the whiskey The Captain had been plying you both with all evening. It knocks you seasick, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, weathered by emotional storms. They creased for you, now, his wide grin carving out crevices that would last a lifetime simply because he offered you a smile. “Always lookin’ after us, aren’t ye?”

“Y-Yeah, don’t go expecting me to catch you in the field. My job’s to treat injuries, not prevent them,” you murmur, heart cracking against your chest as it flooded your cheeks with blood, heating the skin beneath his gaze.

“Mhm- it’d mean y’d have less work,” he pointed out with a pert raise of his brows, picking up his glass of whiskey and swirling it around so that the ice tnk’d against it. Johnny doesn’t break eye contact, basking you in the warmth of his gaze that could only be rivalled by the sunshine on the beaches his salt-water eyes reminded you of.

Did other people bathe in that everglow? Did the golden rays of his affection colour the cheeks of other girls, or was that look of adoration reserved only for you? You dread to think of the possibility that you were misreading Johnny’s tender gaze, that what you had hoped were exclusive expressions of enchantment had, in fact, been handed out as frequently as the insults that Soap consistently levelled at the members of task force 141. Or even worse, there was a single ‘lass’ back home, waiting in the cobbled streets of Glasgow to receive his embrace.

Genesis: the split on his forehead that went straight to the bone. No bullets were fired; instead, Soap’s skull connected with Ghost’s knee during a football game with the rest of 141. Inexplicably, he and Simon had been on the same team, yet Johnny still managed to end up hurt. He’d smiled at you, and the sight had wormed its way into your bones, the sound of his accented voice all hushed and husky ringing in your ears. ‘Bet yer not used to fixin’ daftys like me.’

You’d assured him he wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Swallowing thickly, your fingers trail up the ridges of his spine through the thin material of his t-shirt. His back is muscular, leaking the heat of far too many whiskeys for so early in the evening. You’re sure you can feel his vertebrae ripple beneath your touch, his eyes zeroed in on your lips like he was aiming his sniper rifle at a target.

“It’s not work if it’s you,” you whisper, feeling the rest of the bar, the team, wash away in those ocean-blue irises. Soap hums softly, the weight of his hand resting on the top of your thigh beneath the sticky countertop of the bar. He seems to calculate the distance between you; the logistics of the shot.

You can’t breathe.

Defibrillator, chest compressions, mouth to mouth.

“Yer too kind, Stitch,” he murmured softly, giving your thigh a squeeze before withdrawing his touch almost as quickly as he’d offered it. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the glass containing the rest of his amber whiskey, the condensation clinging to the sides of the glass dribbling down the length of his fingers to the knuckles.

Code blue.

☆ ☆ ☆

Breathless, your back arches from the cot’s mattress as you sink your fingers into the dripping head at the apex of your thighs. You can’t help the moan that spills over from your lips as you feel how wet Soap’s single touch had made you, the burn of his palm still simmering in the flesh of your thigh.

You’d barely made it back to the barracks. Stumbling over your own feet, you’d whimpered in frustration when tearing off your clothes, needing to rub your throbbing clit to ease the pulsing need Soap had instilled in you with his fucking smiles.

They’re a nuclear weapon, so bright it hurts your eyes.

Alcohol made it so much worse. Your mind runs away with itself, imagining Soap had tripped into your bed alongside you. He’d be rubbing at your swollen clit with his thumb, sinking his fingers deep inside you while praising you for how well��you received him.

‘Steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie,’ he would groan, kissing across your sternum while searching for that mind-numbing spot inside you that had your toes cramping as they curled, ‘so fuckin’ wet for me. Can ye take another? C’mon, that’s it-‘

You wail softly, rocking your hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers as you imagine the sensation of his lips on your neck, the scratch of his stubble against your pulse point.

“‘M gonna cum, Johnny,” you wheeze aloud, urging the ghost touch to keep going. Your fingers sink deeper, the ridges of your fingerprints scraping something cataclysmic when you curl them just right.

A long, anguished whine ricochets off the walls of your dorm as you drench your fingers with your cum, eyes squeezing so tight that you can almost see the ghost of Soap’s silhouette behind your eyelids, praising you for your devastating orgasm. It’s so slow, utterly debilitating as it obliterates every inch of your drunken limbs with a white-hot ecstasy.

Your lungs rattle with the force of your inhales, bleached knuckles gripping the bedsheets in a desperate attempt to brace against the explosive orgasm. Soap’s touch still simmers beneath your thigh muscles, buried into the sinews despite the trembles that wracked them.

Did he feel the same? Had your palm burned into his vertebrae, or did he imagine the touch of a girl from home, whispering her name when he came?

You dread to think. 

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[thecampjuicebox]

Hiii, I love your writing and I wanted to ask if you could make nsfw or sfw (or both) of Astarion or Gale x taller (fem presenting) reader? That's the base idea, the rest you can have fun with!:)

(Thank you for reading:))

eeeeee thank you so much!! Oh my gods I've been wanting to do tall fem Tav x Gale for soooooo loooong (Me being taller than Mr. Dekarios myself) 😈 Thank you so much for your submission! I hope you enjoy 💞

Purple

Pairing: Gale x Reader(f)

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: smut, fluff, rope bondage, bruising, whipping, edging, oral, orgasm denial, arousal from height difference, slight game spoilers

"My love? Could you come down here?"

Gale's voice is soft, yet strained and laced with a familiar frustration that brings a devilish smirk to your lips. It's painfully obvious just by his tone. He can't reach something again. Snapping the book you've been blissfully lost in for hours closed in your right hand, you rise to your feet and stretch your arms upward. Each vertebra in your long spine shifts, crackling, sending a shudder down to your legs that threatens your balance. With a huff, you start toward your lover's voice. A crash causes you to pick up your pace. Then another. Then another. Your footsteps quicken down the stairs and around the corner to the kitchen, the wizard in question standing with both palms pressed firmly to the countertop, shards of porcelain scattered around his slippered feet.

A frown plasters itself on your lips. You can feel the irritation radiating from the wizard like waves of deep purple weave, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. A cold feeling of pity swirls in your stomach. Seeing Gale upset makes your brain buzz like an angry hornet in a jam jar. Although.. Had he just waited for your help, there'd be much less of a mess to clean up. Placing your hands on your hips, you point your gaze at him, rolling your tongue around behind your teeth. A soft clear of your throat alerts Gale of your presence and he turns to look at you, eyebrows knitted together in his usual look of disappointment, eyes flicking to the debris at his feet.

"I've done it again."

"That you have, my sweet.."

A lighthearted chuckle erupts from the wizard's throat and he tilts his head back, deep caramel eyes squeezing shut as his thumb and index finger reach up to pinch at the wrinkled bridge of his nose. His laugh is soothing. Thick like honey and velvet in your ears. He kicks at the mess, small white shards of what used to be a plate sliding into a small pile beside him. "Can't take my anywhere, it seems." He mumbles under his breath. Your nerves calm, feet shuffling around the shards on the wooden floor, finally settling in front of Gale's shorter frame. Long arms circle around his neck like constricting vines and you place the softest kiss to his prickly chin. Warmth pools in your belly. Moments like this bring such peace to your otherwise hectic days. Bliss. Comfort. Careful hands settle on your hips, fingertips digging into the plush meat hidden beneath your robe. His eyes meet yours and your heart skips a million beats.

"My Goddess.. Any other pales in comparison."

His Goddess. Knowing of Gale's previous lover, and just how that went, his nickname for you always strikes a strange chord. You hadn't felt worthy of such a name before. Never heard it muttered so easily toward you, either. Yet here he stands, staring up at you as if you were Mystra herself during his younger years, before the Orb. His eyes sparkle. Glow, even. Little sparks of weave seem to dance around the two of you as you drink each others' company in, in your little tower in Waterdeep. Your closeness makes your stomach ache with desire. The mutual heaving of chests as you both breathe in each others' scents causes your mind to wander. Absentminded fingers twirl themselves in the soft hairs on the back of Gale's neck and he shudders at the sensation, hands gripping tighter at your hips, tight enough to bruise.

Hungry lips meet his, nearly sucking the air straight from each others' lungs, a tight seal between your two mouths. Gale stumbles back against the counter and you press into him tightly. Your curves fit against him like the most perfect puzzle piece and he lets out a primal groan, his hands moving from your luscious hips to the globes of your ass, clawing and kneading at the flesh covered by a thin layer of silk. The very silk robe he'd gifted you the day you moved to Waterdeep with him. "Woven by the gods themselves." he joked. It's the very robe you spotted in the window of Figaro's shop in Baldur's Gate while you'd still been traveling with your little friends behind your eyes. He took notice of the color. Eggplant purple. His favorite color on himself, and as he soon realized, on you. You'd talked about that robe for at least a tenday. Gawking with Astarion over the lace trim, the careful stitching, the high quality material. It seemed so royal to you. So foreign and new and wealthy. Gale bought it the day you spotted it and, somehow, kept it hidden for weeks. Tucked it away amongst his small pile of belongings in camp. Lucky for him you fell just as in love with him as he had with you, so his gift did not go to waste.

Warm hands work their way under the robe to leave careful claw marks down your thighs. The grunt that leaves your lips is enough of a sign to Gale. He's got you right where he wants you. Heat burns like the fires of the nine hells between your legs and you squeeze them together to dull the desperate ache settling within. Your lover takes notice, forceful hands adjusting your position so you're turned swiftly around and end up bent over the table in the middle of the kitchen, cheek pressed firmly into the oak. It takes a moment to blink yourself from your daze. You hadn't even noticed Gale's powerful grip on your hair with one hand, the other pressing into the small of your back to keep you against the surface of the table. His hips knock against your ass, the thick bulge in his leggings an indicator of how this evening is going to play out. You can't help but grin, cheek still squished into the wood beneath you, a small puddle of drool forming at the corner of your mouth.

"Wait here." Gale growls. His hands leave you for a moment and you not dare move from your spot. Minutes pass, feeling like hours, and the sudden softness of what feels like some kind of rope trails up one thigh, along your ass, and down the other thigh. You gasp at the sensation. Gale's foot kicks gently at the inner parts of your ankles, signaling for you to part your legs. You follow obediently and step each foot to the side. "Good.." he grunts, fiddling with the knot on the rope to release its length. Testing the waters, you wiggle your almost bare ass into the air, the silk fabric of your robe wrinkling and riding up to reveal your sex, already dripping with excitement. Pupils blown wide, he sinks to his knees to marvel at the sight, nose nudging against your warmth. You yelp against the table, hands reaching back to guide his head exactly where you want him. He dodges your grasp and lands a swift thwip of the silk rope against your ass, leaving a delicious red line.

"Not yet. Not until you cry for me."

You mewl from the pain, your pathetic sounds not deceiving Gale for even a second. He'd watched you take quite the beating from Abdirak in the Selunite outpost. Heard your exaggerated cries for help. Watched you grip at the bloodied bricks as the Servant of Loviatar landed blow after blow against your back, bottom, and legs. Reveled at the way you flashed a grin at Astarion when he asked for an encore. He also heard the way you pleasured yourself that very night. The way you moaned for more, hand plunging deep in your leathers while you sat in that clearing, blissfully unaware that someone was watching. Your filthy sounds and words lived in his mind during your travels together, and he pondered long and hard about how to give you the same pleasure you'd felt while earning Loviatar's blessing. How he, a learned wizard from Waterdeep, could expand his horizons and delve deep into your most depraved desires. And so he did just that. Read every book he could find on the subject. Studied every word again and again until he felt he was ready. And your first night together was nothing short of god-like. Every night tangled up together after that has been exactly the same. An intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure that opened new doors Gale never thought to unlock in the first place, let alone take a step through.

Your tall frame remains bent over the dinner table and Gale takes a step back to assess his next move. The silk rope glides between his fingers with skillful ease as he unravels it, one tail end wrapping tightly around his hand while the slack end hangs around his knees. You wait with baited breath. Wait for the next blow. The next move. Anything. Searing pain shoots down your legs as you're granted momentary release, the rope leaving a hot stripe across your other ass cheek now. You cry out, jaw falling open. "Yes, yes.. So good for me. Louder." Then another hit. Thwip. And another. And another. Black spots invade your vision, your sex absolutely weeping between your thighs now. Deep purple bruises speckle the almost broken skin and Gale runs his fingers over the lashes, grinning as you hiss from his touch. "G-Gale.. P-Please.." You beg, a whimper causing your voice to crack.

"Arms behind your back for me. Remain obedient and you'll be rewarded."

You fold your arms behind your back, chest pressing firmly into the table now, almost uncomfortably. The rope finds a new home wrapped tightly around the upper part of your arms, intricate knots attaching your two arms together as one unit. The remaining rope ends snake between your legs on either side of your sex, the almost burning friction making you shift in your spot with excitement. More knots keep the rope steady, your robe pulled up and out of the way to allow the rope to connect with the restraints on your arms. You stand there, wrapped like a Midwinter present. Gale takes another step back to admire his work, his hand palming at the painful erection in his leggings. "Aren't you beautiful.." He mumbles. Your lover moves toward you once more, lips connecting to the deep purple bruises on your raised ass. He groans at the taste of you, the sweetness in your sweat, the musk emanating from between your thighs, the metallic tang of your blood from the small cuts the rope left behind on your skin.

Strong hands tug you closer to him. His nose probes between your ass cheeks, tongue lapping at your sex with a feverish pace that makes your knees buckle. "Gods, Gale!" You yell against the oak table, head unable to lift itself because of the way he's so expertly pinned you there. Rendered you completely hopeless. At his mercy. You dig your nails into your own forearms. Gale lands a hefty smack to either side of your ass cheeks, squishing his face between them as he devours you. The knot in your belly tightens, winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each flick of his tongue. With each slap to your skin. You moan, yell, scream, cry out, drool all over yourself. The assault of his tongue halts and he grins as you keen back at him from the lack of stimulation.

He repeats this over and over, denying you each time you nearly topple over the precipice of ecstasy. One hand slips into Gale's leggings and he palms at his angry cock, precum slick against the velvet fabric. Quiet moans rumble against you and you tense completely. "I'm almost- I need to- Gods, Gale please!" Your voice is desperate. Broken. Absolutely drunk with pleasure. Still he denies you. Teases you. Breaks you even further. With a swift motion, Gale stands, his free hand moving between your legs to cup your sex, rubbing against it at a furiously slow pace. His other hand remains inside of his leggings, working his cock to his own end selfishly. The wizard leans against the table to look at you, teeth catching his plush bottom lip as he admires how much of a mess you've become. The shiny drool covering the tabletop around your face. His hand leaves his cock, fingers probing at your parted lips and you move your tongue out against them, tasting the salt of his seed, eyes blinking innocently up at him as he continues to move his hand against you just enough to deny you of your orgasm further. He smiles sweetly at you, watching your tongue work against his fingers. Caramel eyes scan over your body and he leans in to mumble softly into your ear.

"Have I ever told you how incredible you look in purple?"

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hiii! I have been reading your stories RELIGIOUSLY... This is my first time making a request so please bare with me. Could you do something where the reader disobeys johnny and he punishes her in a bdsm way but johnny has his own kinda ideas PLEASE 🙏 I hope this make sense 😅😅

Pain in the Ass

Description: You didn't do your housework, and Johnny isn't pleased (MINORS DNI)

Warnings: blood, bruising, painal

Word count: 1,313

The creak of Johnny's shack door jolts you upright from the couch.

Fuck!!

The house is still a mess, your ‘quick nap’ had somehow devolved into five hours. Johnny's displeasure is clear as he stands in the doorway, his gaze darkening.

"Darlin'," he drawls, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I thought I told you to clean all this shit up."

His voice is low and dangerous, causing you to shrink against the couch.

"Sorry, Johnny, I just... I fell asleep-"

"I can see that. I work all day to put meat on the table, and you greet me with this mess," he chides, his heavy boots signaling his approach. Your heart is beating erratically, and when his footsteps pause in front of you, you flinch. 

“You'd been behaving so well, I thought we might go out tonight. But looks like you need a reminder,” he grabs your hair, yanking it back so that you're forced to meet his gaze, “of your responsibilities.” 

As he snarls as he leans in close, cold dread courses through you. 

“I know my responsibilities, I swear! I just fell asleep ‘s all,'' you whine, but Johnny isn't moved. He never is.

“You're a lazy little brat,” he snarls. “Only good for one thing.”

The cold dread that had pooled in your stomach starts to heat, and drops even lower. Greased strands of his dark hair hang over his forehead as you look into his eyes. Your throat runs dry, and you swallow hard. 

A half-cocked grin spreads across his face. “I ain't gonna be gentle, sugar. You've fucked up one too many times.”

His hand in your hair pulls you up painfully before flinging you onto the ground. The floor is gritty and sticky from spilled alcohol and dirt from where Johnny had come home yesterday, belligerent and drunk after having to do work around the house for Nancy. You had stayed up into the early morning, exhausting yourself in an attempt to soothe him, and now you're bearing the consequences.

Johnny presses a knee against your back, holding you down. You whimper as he unsheathes his bowie knife and drags a chilling path between your shoulder blades. 

“I'll make sure you can't forget this time, you little cunt.” As he speaks, he digs the blade just beside your spine, cutting through your shirt. He slips the blade under your bra strap with practiced ease and you wince as it snaps back against you when he cuts it in half. 

He flips the blade over and drags the dull end over your spine, pausing between the vertebrae of your neck. 

“One cut here and you'd lose all feeling,” he says, making your heart skip a beat. 

“But I don't want that,” he says, brushing your hair away from your neck and kissing it gently. “I want to know that you're feeling every last thing I do to you.”

Johnny turns around facing your rear and positions his legs on either side of your back. He yanks your shorts and panties down, throwing them onto the couch and pressing a hand against your butt, the other holding his knife over the fatty flesh of your ass.

“Gonna carve a lil’ somethin’ into your ass so if you try n’ sit down you'll remember you got work to do,” he says, sounding gleeful. “I'll let you pick, what should it be?”

You can't think clearly, your entire body is trembling, both cold from fear and hot from the lust that burns through your veins at having Johnny pressed up against your naked body like this. 

“Ah, I know somethin’ that'll get you off your lazy ass,” he says. You tense, expecting to feel the blade ripping into your flesh, but instead you feel Johnny's hot breath against your left cheek.

He plants a few kisses, and just as you're beginning to relax—he bites down. You scream, writhing, but there's no way you're getting out of this. His bite indents deep marks, and blood pools around his teeth, but he doesn't let go until your screams subside into pained whimpers. 

“There, now was that so bad?” He asks, standing and unbuckling his pants. You stay prone, blood dripping between your butt cheeks and a purple bruise blooming around the shape of his teeth. 

You look up in time to see him remove his painfully hard cock from his pants. Your blood is still all over his hands, and he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking you off him with a wry grin. 

The hunger in his eyes makes you want to melt into the floorboards. No human was meant to take the level of torment that you do, and yet still you find yourself loving every second of it. Johnny owns you and you can't deny it, especially not while his teeth mar your flesh.

“Can't resist when you're all pretty like this,” he says, kneeling with a knee on either side of your legs. You feel him slide his cock in the pool of blood between your ass cheeks, humming in approval.

Then, he pulls your cheeks apart, causing a new wave of pain to rip through your bite mark; but it's nothing compared to the fire that burns as he forces his rock hard cock into your tight ass, with only your own blood for lube. 

Cold sweat breaks out all over your body, and your moans of pain only spur him on more. Johnny grips the back of your neck in one hand and squeezes the bite mark harshly with the other, causing more hot blood to coat his hand. He then wraps his bloody hand around your midsection and pulls you up against his firm torso, and you feel blood smear against your flesh as he brings your neck to his lips. 

In this position, his cock is buried so deeply inside you that you see stars. He sucks hickeys into your neck, and thrusts so harshly that you can't help but blubber out his name helplessly. 

“Does it hurt, sugar?” He asks, nipping at your earlobe.

You nod, tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“Good, maybe this lesson'll get through your pretty little airhead,” he says. He then gathers your wrists and holds them at the small of your back, forcing you to arch against him as he fucks you. He's so harsh that you hear him grunting as he thrusts up to meet your bruised rear. 

The heat in your stomach is unbearable now, and you can't help but to cum so harshly that your voice cracks through your pained screams. 

“That's right, baby, take it,” he snarls. He presses your bundled wrists against the small of your back, forcing you face first onto the ground. Your shoulders burn and your face scrapes on the floor as he hikes your ass up in the air and ruts himself so deeply inside you that when he cums you feel the whole of his cock pulsing from tip to base. He pulls out and lets you drop to the floor, your entire body bruised and sore. 

He sets a boot under your chin and nudges your head up. 

“I ain’t staying in a pigsty. This house better be spotless by the time I get home tomorrow,” he says, rebuckling his belt. “That clear?”

“Y-yes, Johnny,” you rasp, your voice scratchy and broken, just like the rest of you. 

“Better be,” he says, wiping your blood off on his discarded shirt before tossing it at your face. The strong scent of his sweat and your blood mingle, making you feel even weaker. He removes his boot from under your chin and pulls a new shirt on, leaving the shack without a second word. 

You press your cheek against his shirt, still splayed out on the floor, and breathe him in deeply. 

Better get to cleaning.

[azulcrescent]

Hi Azul! :) I started following your silly scribbles about a year ago, and seeing Cheryl model how she came out to her friends and family in the comic helped me articulate my gender experience better with my wife and even come out to my friends and family. Thanks for sharing your art! I also wanted to say that I'm sorry that you're experiencing poor sleep and burnout lately. :( Those can make you feel awful. I've had a chronic illness for the past six years -- and I'm fully aware that's something separate, nor do I want to equate it with your experiences -- but, at risk of giving any unsolicited advice, I do wish someone had said something to me about this when I first felt those as well. Because I was pushing myself to work for 2 hours a day as a special education paraprofessional in a wheelchair due to fatigue and systemic dysfunctions throughout my body -- so I had to quit my job since I was making my health even worse. When I stopped working, I was fully bed bound for a time but even still kept pushing myself to attempt grad school online despite only being able to sit up for 5-10% of the day. My point is that, even when our bodies are burnt out, we still push ourselves because that's generally just our human nature to do. And I wish that during that time someone had gently said it's okay to slow everything down and listen to what my body was telling me it needed.

With slowing down, I also get that finances are a thing, and I wouldn't have been able to recover from severe to moderate ME/CFS without my wife working her butt off for us to cover medical expenses by switching jobs and upskilling. (She jokes that she has no more butt anymore because of those years :'(... )

So, although this is stepping into unsolicited advice, but as someone who was burnt out and constantly eepy for years, I feel like it would be remiss of me to not try to say something and just give a bullet point list of free things that helped my nervous system not be so overstimulated and tired but wired that I couldn't sleep and even when I did it was unrefreshing and yucky to wake up the next day:

•Search for "ally boothroyd yoga nidra" on YouTube and pick a 10 minute video •Do belly breathing to expand the diaphragm (one of the few ways we can give input to our parasympathetic nervous systems -- the rest, digest, and heal system) •When breathing, breathe in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4, repeat to tell your body it can be calm •Spinal flossing in bed: start from your lowest vertebrae you can, try to isolate it with your muscles, and shift it up down left and right, then go up to the next one •Listen to how your body responds to foods: maybe try cutting out gluten and refined sugars for a week to see if it helps in any way; a lot of our immune system is in the gut, and being in a stressed state can cause our immune systems to mistake food molecules for pathogens which then activates the immune system and turns off the parasympathetic nervous system •Drop your jaw fully open like you're going to yawn, then stretch your tongue upward outside your mouth as far as it can go and stretch it around. This is a stretch for the muscles near your vagus nerve near your ear/neck behind the jaw to help them relax •Plan a bedtime routine for the thirty minutes before you go to bed and be consistent •Brain retraining: When you feel stressed or anxious about sleep or being burnt out, compassionately tell yourself "Stop, stop, stop." Thank that part of you for bringing up its concern, then remind that part of yourself that it doesn't need to worry anymore because you are working on recovering and healing. And if the insomnia or fatigue do happen, you have plans for what to do and will be okay. •Remember the conclusion from the American TV show Mythbusters: https://www.tumblr.com/gretchensinister/678474387179077632/one-of-the-most-life-changing-things-i-ever You're still getting rest even if you just close your eyes. You've talked about having ADHD, and while I don't have it, I get that it messes up brain chemicals and can contribute to both insomnia and burn out. There might be a reddit discussion that speaks to you better about medications or deficiencies. I hope you get to rest. Cheering for you. It's always fun to see your art. Thanks for what you do! :) Sleepy cat tax:

Glad to hear you like my comics! And thank you for the very informative and helpful info on sleeping better! Ill try to put your advice to use!