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teeth-farie · 2 months ago

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Restroom Rendezvous

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)/Reader

…: I’m back from the dead! I can’t guarantee that I’ll post often, but I at least wanted to share something I wrote. Deadpool has been my hyperfixation since I saw DP&W last summer, so this is set right after that. Thanks for reading!

Wade totally wasn’t caught up on Vanessa’s rejection, not at all. Things don’t work out sometimes, and that was fine, really, it was. She let him down easy, he was thankful for that, at the very least. People change. She had and so had he. They simply weren’t what each other needed anymore.

It hit him bitterly, that he can admit. He spent many long nights drowning his sorrows in ice cream cartons and reruns of the great British bake off, and a couple nights actually drowning himself in the bathtub. It was a rough period, but life goes on.

He’s since come to terms that romance just isn’t in the cards for him, not when most people ended up nauseous after a first impression. However, that wouldn’t stop him from living vicariously through Logan’s love life.

He’d put up a good fight so far, but Wade would be damned if he let all that go to waste because The Wolverine doesn’t know how to flirt with this universe's population. Seriously, he’s never seen someone be so politically incorrect and over correct in his life.

It all leads them to a seedy little bar, but one with enough charm to know you probably won’t be getting an std. Probably.

He has to tug Logan away from the bar and to the pool table before he can get too shitfaced, sighing in exasperation.

“It’s like you don’t even want to find anyone.”

“You said I’d be getting laid, not that I’d fall in love.”

“Oh, but don’t you just love the trope of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers?”

Logan snorts a puff of air from his nose as he grabs a pool stick and rubs the little thing of blue chalk on the end of it.

Wade turns to scope the bar population, leaning up against the edge of the pool table as Logan lined up pole tip to white ball, cradled by his fingers.

“At first I was like, ‘let him have some time, he’s new to this universe’, but now I’m like, ‘fuck it, he’s had enough time!’,” Wade begins, the sounds of pool balls clacking making him roll his eyes.

“See, that’s exactly it! I took you here to mingle and now you’re huddled away playing fucking pool. Alone. You aren’t even playing with anyone.”

Clack. Roll.

“I didn’t even think you could play pool alone, it seems like a very obvious two player game, but you do know best,”

Clack. Thunk!

“OW!!” Wade turns dramatically, hand on his ass to face the other man with a look of betrayal.

“Did you just hit my ass with a pool ball?”

“Shouldn’t be sittin’ on the table there then, bub.”

Wade frowns and Logan chuckles to himself, jaw flexing with his hidden grin.

“You’re gonna make me do the work for you, huh? You big baby. You big 5’3 baby.”

SNIKT!

“YEESH, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m leavin!”

There’s that saying of ‘there’s always more fish in the sea’, but the fish out here look a little too dead eyed for his tastes. Well, Logie’s tastes.

Just when he’s about to call it quits, he spots you (Duh, you know what you came here for).

There’s nothing outright that he can pinpoint that draws him to you. Maybe it’s the way you dress, or the way you hold yourself, but something about you makes him feel just about as giddy as a kid in a candy shop. Part of him wonders if maybe he could snatch you for himself.

Checking his breath in a cupped hand, he winces and shrugs. It’s not like the rest of him was all that better.

Wade leans up against the bar next to you, dark hoodie shadowing his mottled face under the overhead lights. His smile still gleams, crooked lower teeth and blistered gums.

“You’ve been looking over at me and my friend a lot, I noticed it.”

“Ah, guilty as charged.” You respond, a split smile, beer on your breath. “I’m sorry though, if it made you uncomfortable.”

“No! No no, the opposite, actually,” he sits down on the barstool, leaning on his elbows against the sticky countertop. “See, my friend over there,” he points over his shoulder, voice suddenly low and conspirative.

You follow the point of his thumb to his friend, thick and burly, bent over the edge of the pool table to line up another shot. Truly a magnificent specimen, but your eyes don’t seem to be on that prize.

“I’ve been trying to set him up for ages now, and between you and me, he thinks you’re real cute.”

“He does, does he?”

“Oh yeah, super cute. He might seem like an asshole, but he’s a real softie at the center, all gooey and shit.”

“Mhm,”

“Ok, ok, I see I’m losing you a bit- but what’s the harm? Come on over, just don’t say I brought you over here.”

You sigh, resting your cheek on your palm, and he can’t help but feel a little scrutinized under your gaze.

“You know, it wasn’t him I was staring at.”

“I…oh, pfft, yeah, this whole thing,” he gestures to his face, scarred and tumored flesh pulled taut and tender. “Wanted a ticket to the freak show?”

“No, not like that,” you say quickly, a little hot in embarrassment. “I meant, I think you’re…cute.”

Wade almost balks at you, silent before scoffing. “Cute? Pardon my French, but are you fucking blind?”

You laugh, and you’re a little worried that you probably shouldn't have. “Listen…”

“Wilson. Wade Wilson. Did that sound cool?”

“Wade,” you say, and the way you say it makes him feel all tingly at the base of his spine. “You seem like you really love your friend.”

“Totally! We’re BFF’s, best friends forever, we’ve got the matching necklaces, too.” He tugs on the thin chain dangled around his neck, a half heart charm jingling underneath his hoodie.

You’re resting your hand on his thigh, a deliberate movement that makes his fingers twitch a little, necklace falling back under his shirt. You lick your lips a little, and he’s back under your spell.

“Wouldn’t your friend want you to…have a little fun?”

His mouth falls open to say something, then closes, then opens again. “F..fun? I like fun, what kinda fun are we talking about?”

Your head leans back with a laugh at his flustering, hand squeezing his thigh just a little tighter. He shifts in his seat and you notice it, of course you do.

“The kind of fun where you follow me into the bathrooms and I,” you stop, fingers inching up just a little bit higher on his thigh, just shy of bumping this fic rating from mature up to explicit. “Well,” you sigh out, and move your hand away entirely. “I wouldn’t want to give it away, not when you can come see for yourself.”

“Yes,” he strains, leaning up in his seat like he was ready to jump you right then and there. “I want that, I wanna have some fun with you—if, if you still want it?”

“Honey, I’ve been groping you for the last minute, of course I still want to.”

“Right! Right, right, right,”

“Leave a bit of distance, don’t make it so obvious,” you say to him, getting up from your seat and nodding towards the bathrooms with a wink before you leave.

Wade’s heart pounds in his ears almost louder than the bar's music. Surprisingly jazzy, they probably came on a themed night. In ways, he thinks his heart might be singing too.

He looks over to Logan, finding him still at that damn table. At least this time it looks like someone’s joined him, or he hopes so. He really wants to be following you right now.

Then, with a skittish bit of flair, Wade slinks away into the crowd.

—

Wade’s tarnished skin feels impossibly hot when your mouth makes contact, lips and tongue over the length of his jugular. His hands wander, catching on your clothing, rumpling the fabric under his grip. Yeah, this fic is getting rated explicit.

“This is fucked,” he huffs, head lolling back against the bathroom stall. You make a questioning sound against his neck and his whole body shivers. “S’posed to be hooking you up with Lo’, not…not…” you’ve found the tender little spot below his ear as he speaks, blunt teeth pressing firm and he hates how reactive he is to it.

“God, you’re not playing fair, this isn’t fair,” he wheedles, tugging on your clothes.

You laugh and wiggle your leg between his, hip pressing against his groin, and you’re pleased to find him half chubbed already. “If I were fair, I’d be talking to your friend right now instead of kissing a cutie in the bathroom.”

“I’m- am I the cutie?”

“Yes, you’re the cutie.”

You’re mouthing lower and Wade is sure his heart is going to burst from his chest Alien style. Your teeth catch on the chain of his necklace, a touch of your tongue against his skin and you tug, breathing out a laugh when he whimpers.

“That shouldn’t have been so hot,”

“But aren’t you glad it was?”

You’re only stopped by the neckline of his hoodie, lavishing your mouth over the exposed skin of his throat. He’s breathing heavy, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your teeth.

He’d never thought anyone would want to be close to his cancer riddled skin, let alone kiss. The scabbing and sores of his skin don’t bother you, you devour him all the same.

Just as he thinks it can’t get any better, he feels your fingers tug on the waistband of his jeans.

“Is this ok?” You’re asking, all soft and hushed, like you haven’t unraveled him at the very seams.

“Uh,” he stammers like an idiot, flushed red and sweating. “Yes, yes, it’s ok, it’s more than ok, actually! I’d really uh, it’d be totally cool, totally consensual—“

You cut him off with a kiss, fumbling with his buttons and pulling down the zipper with a huff puffed from your nose.

His pants shuck down easily enough, caught around his thighs while your hand finds his erection. The first touch is like bliss, your fingers wrapping around his mottled cock and tugging, toying with the foreskin around the tender head.

You make a pleased sound, reverberating into his mouth as you give him a testing squeeze, his hips canting forward.

It feels better than he anticipated, much better, though he supposes it’s due to only having his right (and left) hand for a while.

“No undies, huh?” You’re laughing, a sickly sweet sound that makes his knees feel weak. “And here I thought you were just trying to set your friend up. Were you hoping for this all along?”

He shakes his head, though it’s more like a frantic twitch. “Huuh, nuh-uh,”

“No? I think you did,” his cock weeps enough to make the slide of your fist easy, the soft palm of your hand so much better than his own blistered one. “I think you were hoping I’d pick you, that I’d come kiss you all better, make you feel good.”

“Please,” is all he can muster, nosing against your head with a pitiful sound.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you croon, letting go of his cock to put your cupped palm below his chin, expectant. “Come on, get it wet for me, Wade.”

It’s all but purred, the way you say it. Like butter and cotton candy had a baby and it was your voice. And he’s obeying, gathering the saliva in his mouth and spitting it into your palm, flushed red hot and wanting.

“Good boy,” you whisper and he thinks he’s in love.

Your wet hand is grabbing his cock again, slick and dripping.

“Tell me what you like, cutie.”

“Tighter? Oof- not that tight, j-just kinda- ohhh,”

His body feels like it’s blooming, warmth flooding into his nerves different from the anxious, hormonal flush of his blood. He sucks his lip in between his teeth, eyes rolling when the web of your finger and thumb catch on the head.

“Now that’s a pretty expression,” up and down, up and down, wet and messy. “I think it’s cool, how your dick is like the rest of you. Nice on the hands…” you thumb over the uneven skin, thumb pressing against the more tender and raw flesh, pulsing with his heartbeat.

“Oh, ha..haha, r-ribbed for your pleasure, amiright?”

“Oh, Wade…” your tongue slides across the shell of his ear, saccharine voice a heady whisper. “I’m not the one that’s gonna be bent over.”

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, hands shooting up to cover his face in near comedic embarrassment.

You laugh in his ear and it sounds utterly mocking, your voice trailing off into a sigh of a moan (which isn’t helping him in the slightest- or it is, and that’s why he’s suffering).

“God, you’re wet, I don’t think I even needed you to spit at all.” You thumb over the head, a back and forth rub that gets your fingertips sticky with his pre. “Look at that, like a fucking garden hose.”

Wade huffs loudly through his hands, spreading his fingers to peek out, pupils dilated under the milky sheen of his eyes. “Don’t stop,” it comes out strained and weak when he says it. “K-keep talking, I need- I-I—“

His hips jerk in aborted thrusts, biting on his own tongue when his teeth clench. He whimpers, and you kiss him better, tongue against tongue.

“Close,” he still tries to whimper anyway, his balls drawing up to his body in anticipation, the building of his orgasm festering in his gut.

“Close? Alright, alright,” you start to shuffle him forward and he makes an indignant sound when he’s pulled away from your mouth. “Aw, don’t look at me like that, I’m just trying to avoid getting a stain on my clothes.”

You position him over the toilet and he grabs at the tank of it, your hand wrapping around him from behind and pointing his cock down to the bowl. It’s not the first time he's jerked off over a toilet, but this time is definitely more enjoyable.

“There you go,” he can hear the smile in your voice, feel your hands wrapped tight around him. It makes him feel kinda jelly inside, soft and jiggly and vulnerable.

He finds himself holding onto the hand on his stomach, your other making quick work of his erection, pumping quickly to push him right back to the edge again.

“C-can you,” he swallows, tries to catch his bearings.

“Can I what, sweetheart?”

It only makes him whine, a gutteral noise from the back of his throat. “Say I’m good,”

“Ha, you want to be a good boy? Want me to call you that?”

“Please,” really, it’s all he wants. At least in the moment. Or maybe after too, think about the way he made you happy and apply that to himself so he doesn’t seem like that much of a fuck up anymore.

You don’t notice his inner quarrels, of course you don’t, but you still squeeze his hand back, dig your thumb into just the right spots with your other to make him push back against you. It’s enough to tip him over from the edge where he teetered, down into the fallen abyss or whatever poetic shit his mind could conjure.

You keep his cock aimed and he spills into the toilet, shuddering with the force of it. It’s the deep rooted kind of orgasm, the kind that makes your eyes roll and bones go gelatinous. Yeah, that kind. It’s honestly the best orgasm he’s had in months, he thinks he could actually cry.

No, scratch that, it’s not hot to cry after sex, even if it’s a bathroom handy.

He feels your hand move up and down against his stomach, petting him, such a soft action that he does sniffle a little.

“Good boy,” you say to him, tender, kind.

Oh boy, here comes the waterworks.

—

Wade would have been an idiot not to have grabbed your number after that night. Actually, it’s more like you grabbed his phone and put your number in yourself, which made him fall just ever a little bit more in love.

It’s scary, he thinks, to try again after so much heartbreak. Vanessa would always be his friend, even if at one point, he had still wished it to be more. Actually, he thinks she might be proud of him for making another new friend, and that thought does make him feel warm inside.

He meets you today at a cute little coffee shop for a technical first date after the restroom rendezvous (which he’s still surprised got no knocks on the door, thanks author).

It’s cliche, sickeningly so, but it’s so healing to his mangled up little heart that he’s damn well bringing a bouquet with him, too.

He knows it’s your favorite spot, not because you told him, but because he did some light stalking on his own. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with doing a little research! He had to make sure you weren’t an ax murderer or something (which would have just been another score in his book).

He watches you from the window of the shop for a minute, a certain type of nervousness gnawing in his chest, more so than he felt with you before. Maybe it’s because this time it’s more than just a mindless fling. Maybe he just really likes you.

You catch him when you look up from your phone, giving him a wave through the window and he gathers himself up once more, and pushes open the door.

#spicy #deadpool #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #dom reader

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maluustrawberry · 9 months ago

Note

I saw that you are accepting fic requests. Do you write about some DreamWork's characters too? I wanted to request a Pitch Black from the rise of the guardians.

And I wanted to say that I love your work, your fanfiction are very good and I love the way you manage to write the characters so well!!!😭❤️❤️❤️

“My Dear Cupid.”

(Pitch Black X Fem!Reader)

Synopsis: Pitch, better known as the boogeyman, ended up developing a new feeling that he had never felt in all his years, feeling for the new guardian who was your total opposite, for you the guardian of love, the cupid.

A/N: By great coincidence I was watching this film recently. Of course I'm going to write about Dreamworks characters too!! You can ask me, but it will take me a while to make some fanfiction because there are already a lot of requests in front. The next one will be Clopin Trouillefou and Hades from Hercules.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He hadn't imagined that this could happen, no one had, least of all her, who he thought had deliberately made the enchantment so powerful that it affected the king of nightmares.

That flame and that heat disturbed him. Pitch had never felt that burning in all his millennia of life, but everything changed after his first encounter with the guardian of love, Cupid.

After a meeting of the guardians at the North Pole on the subject of the new guardian, The Man in the Moon determined that the new guardian should destroy Pitch and protect the children, along with the duty of bringing joy to them.

Knowing this information for himself, Pitch decided to face the chosen one personally, after all, a simple cupid couldn't do anything against him; or so he thought.

The blizzard and the intense cold dominated the place, but that didn't bother the bogeyman at all, because everyone knows that cold and fear combine perfectly with each other; leaving only agony and suffering. When he saw a silhouette in the middle of all that snow, he deduced that it might be you and sneaked up from behind to destroy you with just one blow from his scythe, and you wouldn't even know who hit you.

That's when he saw your face. The moment you sensed that you were being pursued, you quickly turned around and aimed your bow and arrow, surprising him and leaving him static in that position holding his scythe.

The two of you stood in silence, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Pitch seemed awestruck by your appearance, not imagining that you looked so angelic and delicate. Seeing you pointing your arrow and looking deeply at him, while the snow from the blizzard stuck to your hair, was a sight worthy of a painting.

It was hard to say what kind of look he was looking at and where the flame that was coming from him was coming from. Pitch wasn't as expressive, but his gaze showed that he had never been as perplexed as he was at that moment; it was one of admiration, and therefore full of disturbance and turmoil.

And you looked at him confused, but also wary. "Why doesn't he just attack me?" You asked yourself, and you couldn't attack him either, you were overcome with trembling and the cause of this was the intense cold. Before you could shoot your arrow, he quickly disappeared, using your shadow, to his advantage, which was close to him. That was so fast that a small gasp of fright escaped his lips. You lost sight of him, but looked around, still holding your arrow and bow tightly in case he appeared by surprise, but no, he was really gone.

That was your little encounter. After that day, his thoughts were dominated by you, appearing in such strong colors that this unknown feeling and the desire to tear you apart grew more and more. Your wings were so delicate, your neck so fragile and graceful that he wanted to squeeze and twist it using just one of his hands.

He removed all the hatred and evil from his heart and recognized that this hatred and evil was only love, which had become terrible things in the heart of the bogeyman, a poisonous, hateful and vicious love that seemed more like an obsession. In all these years it never occurred to him that the guardian of the nightmare, the terror of every child, could fall in love with such a fragile, angelic creature, the complete opposite of him, and therefore one of his enemies, but unfortunately it did.

That's when a thought came to him: you were a cupid, the guardian of love, and you made people fall in love with each other. Could that be? It had to be, there was a great possibility that you had put a spell on him. The fixed idea kept coming back and torturing him, he had to get rid of this doubt in his mind by going to you and putting an end to this agony once and for all.

*****

You were flying to your temple after several hours of work. Of course bringing couples together was your specialty, but you also worked on preserving the sympathy, innocence and gentleness of children, because love was related to all that too, and your work only worked with the power contained in the substances you put in your arrows.

On the way there, you sensed that something was wrong, and unfortunately your intuition was right. Your temple was being invaded by Pitch's "horses", but they quickly left as a figure, and when you looked a little further, you noticed that they were stealing your arrows and the vials containing the substances. This made you extremely worried because your arrows and those vials were your most important things, they were what made you the cupid and guardian.

When the last creature left your temple as fast as a shadow, you followed it trying to catch up with it as it flew, it was hard to keep up as the nightmare was fast, but you didn't give up for anything, you weren't so focused on catching up with the nightmare that you didn't even remember to call the other guardians to help you.

With that chase, the nightmare took you into a forest and disappeared among the trees, you landed and looked around. The place was totally dark and gray with a certain evil malice, as if there was no life, only melancholy, which made you immediately become defensive and walk among those trees and hold your bow and arrow.

You looked around for that smoky black creature as you entered the forest, until your ears caught the sound of a neigh and you knew it wasn't just any horse. The cupid ran quickly to where the sound was coming from and stopped at the sight of a broken, old bed in a deep hole, getting closer cautiously, a bad energy taking you over more and more and you were slightly startled to hear the neighing again, but this time inside that hole. You had no choice, had to get back what had been stolen from you. So you entered that deep, dark hole, using your wings to land gently without hurting yourself.

As you stepped into the room, you looked around. It was a poorly lit cave, the lights were just a few rays of sunlight that invaded the deep cavern, who knows how many meters you were underground, the cold dominated the place, but it was bearable. You managed to discover Pitch's hideout, but you also wondered whether you would make it out alive or sane. You gathered your courage and decided to explore the place while your guard was still up, but even so, your fear was palpable, and he loved it, little did you know that he savored your fear.

You stood out in that dark, gray place, with your angelic appearance, lively and so delicate, it was obvious that you shouldn't be there, that environment didn't suit you. The negative energy in that place was so strong that it gave you the creeps, and you also felt the sensation of being watched. You just wanted to take what was yours and leave.

As you walked around the place, you could see the large globe with the little lights on, and you came closer to look at it. You knew that each light was a child who believed in you, but how could he have that in his cave? Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice:

“Looking for something?”

When you looked back, you saw only his shadow on the wall and wasted no time in shooting your arrow, but the shadow quickly disappeared, slipping into one of the corridors of that cave and you followed him, but lost sight of him when you reached that dimly lit corridor:

“Put the arrow down, dear. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you.” His voice echoed around, in that calm tone of his that could put a child to sleep.

“Afraid? I'm not afraid of you.” You said, still holding your bow and arrow, looking around and turning quickly to look for any sign of him.

“Don't lie cupid, my specialty is understanding people's fears...” Then he stepped out of the shadows, standing in front of you with that smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “...just as you can understand love, but don't seem to understand when it comes from a certain person...”

The bogeyman walked quietly around you, and you couldn't take your eyes off him as aimed the arrow. Both of your hearts were beating fast at the presence of the other, but for different reasons, yours being of fear, but his being of love and eagerness to put his hands on you, if only for the slightest touch.

“Give me back what you stole from me.” You said commandingly. “You don't need my things.”

“Don't you see that I did this just to bring you to me?” He asked seriously and stopped walking.

“And what do you want from me?”

As you asked this, a small smile formed on his lips and he disappeared back into the darkness behind him. You quickly followed him and as you passed through the darkness you felt like you had been teleported to another corner of the cave. He was toying with you, you were desperate, feeling lost and wondering how you got there. You dropped your guard and felt the bow being quickly taken from your hands, one of his horses had picked it up and carried it away, now leaving you unarmed:

“I just need some answers on a specific matter that's been bothering me for days.” You heard his voice echoing again and his shadow walked around the corners of the wall as he explained. “I've never felt a feeling like this in all these years, I feel weak and anxious when it comes to you, but at the same time it's such a pleasant warmth and delicious anxiety when you're around.... Oh! My cupid... What have you done?”

He asked with a sigh. You were confused and stunned by this information, you knew exactly what he was describing and what that feeling was. He was in love with you? But how?...

“My spell doesn't work on myself, I can't make someone fall in love with me. I didn't even know you could fall in love...”

You said as you took slow steps backwards, suddenly you felt a presence at your back and a shiver ran through your body as you felt two icy hands on your shoulders and a whisper close to your ear:

“We seem to have discovered something together. So why would I, the bogeyman, be in love with you, such a delicate cupid who is the complete opposite of me?”

The sensation of the king of nightmares' icy touch on your warm skin brought a small thermal shock to both of them, his presence so close exuded a very strong negative energy, but at the same time transformed it into a pleasurable adrenaline and fear. His question made you quiet and also thoughtful:

“Did that leave you speechless, love?” he asked, speaking close to your ear while his hands rubbed your shoulders and squeezed them lightly, making him inhale deeply as he felt satisfied and relaxed at finally being able to feel you and satisfy his curiosity about what it was like to touch your soft skin.

“I don't know what to say... I can only say that we don't decide who we fall in love with, it's impossible to control the desires of the heart. And I can't undo that since it wasn't my spell, it was natural.”

“I confess I wanted you to undo that...” He explained as one of his hands left your shoulder and went to your waist, bringing you closer to him until your back and wings brushed against his chest. “It made me so weak, but I changed my mind when I realized how good this feeling was, but also how torturous... It's an almost addictive sensation, and so new.”

As he spoke close to your neck with the sensation of his lips almost touching your sensitive skin, your attention went to his hand, which was on your shoulder and slowly descending, tracing its way down your skin, to your elbow and arriving at your small and delicate hand. His long, slender fingers intertwined with yours, and the energy of that touch gave you a different sensation, of course there was no good energy coming from Pitch, but somehow you felt a warm, protective feeling, therefore of great danger and you felt the same anxiety.

Your gaze shifted from your entwined hands to his face, your heart softening as you saw the way he looked at you, revealing the deep burning desire in his eyes. For the first time you discovered that there was love in the eyes of the king of nightmares. But you were uncertain, he was your enemy, you couldn't trust the man who was as treacherous as a snake, and besides, what would your friends think of that? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a small laugh from him:

“I don't understand love, but there's something that leads me to believe that we were meant for each other. It's evident from the mere contact of our hands.” He spoke in a calm, enveloping voice as he lightly squeezed your waist and caressed your hand. That's when you pulled away and faced him, and he felt an emptiness at that.

“I can't.” You said thoughtfully and with a hint of sadness, this couldn't happen, you were a guardian and you were supposed to protect the children from the bogeyman. Unfortunately he was right, however wrong it was, it seemed certain that you were soul mates. That smile wouldn't leave his face.

“You're afraid of giving yourself to me, afraid of finding out what the other guardians will think, afraid of disappointing them.” The taller man approached you and grabbed your chin, lifting your face, forcing you to face him once more. “Am I right, my cupid?”

“But my goal is to destroy you.”

Holding your chin firmly, he moved even closer, and you stared into the deep golden eyes that were fixed on your lips. That man's ability to bewitch you and influence you to give in was remarkable, and it was practically impossible to resist after so many looks, touches and closeness... He was bewitching you like a snake that grabs its prey so cautiously to strike next:

“You already destroy me completely just by your presence... Don't you see that I'm totally at your mercy, darling? You have me in the palm of your hand.”

Cupid, which was you, felt almost as if you were being seduced into opening Pandora's box, about to unlock the doors to dangerous territory with no turning back. It was slowly turning into a game of pride and hesitation. Their faces were so close that you could feel them both breathing, a chill went through his stomach and he felt his cheeks start to heat up. Before you could say anything, you were surprised by his kiss on your red lips, breaking the distance and forcing you to give in to your hidden desires. Your eyes widened in surprise at the bogeyman's audacity, but you returned the kiss after closing your eyes.

While you were kissing with such fervor, Pitch slid his hand around your waist, drawing you close to him, joining your bodies, while his other hand went up to the back of your neck, gently pulling your hair. This made you moan involuntarily during the kiss, at which point he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. Pitch held you so close to his body that he seemed to have waited years for this moment, he was desperate to feel you, your body, your lips and hear your sweet moans. You had never experienced a kiss like this, it was so needy, possessive and deep, you felt as if you were the only creature that mattered to him and his most valuable possession, and indeed, you were.

He interrupted the kiss, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath, you realized you were wrong that it was over when he started kissing your neck, distributing light bites and sucking on the sensitive, soft skin of the cupid, marking it like an animal marking territory. Your wings fluttered softly as you felt his cool fingers caressing them and his knee sliding between your legs, teasing you. Knowing he wanted to push the limits, you pushed him away from your neck, and your hands rested on his chest as your eyes met:

“That can't happen again...” He laughed when you said this and gradually let go of your arms and pulled away, feeling the flaming trail of your palm on his chest.

“Deny it all you want, I know you'll come back again and we'll have lots of dates like this, love.” The taller man removed the small lock of hair from your face. “You know where my hideout is, just visit me.”

That man knew very well how to manipulate someone, especially a creature as sentimental and romantic as you. He magically took your little bow and arrow from his back and handed it to you, and as soon as you took it you looked at him doubtfully:

“Until another day, my cupid.”

As he said this he snapped his fingers and suddenly you no longer felt the ground around your feet and you fell into that darkness, desperately trying to find a position to fly to, but as soon as you did you were teleported back to your temple, specifically into your bedroom and fell onto your bed. You were breathing heavily from the adrenaline and the unexpected fright, so you sat on the bed thinking about what had happened and running your hand through your hair.

Your enemy had just declared his feelings to you, given himself to you completely, and then kissed you and you gave in to that temptation. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling empty for having stopped such bold caresses.

When you got out of bed, confused by your feelings, you wondered what your next meeting would be like, if it would be the same and if you should give in next time, or if there would be a next time. And as you looked in the mirror you also wondered how you were going to hide those marks on your neck from your guardian friends...

End...

#fanfiction #pitch black #the rise of the guardians #rotg jack frost #rotg #jack frost #bunnymund #jack frost x reader #dreamworks animation #pitch black x reader #rotg x reader #rotg fandom #rise of the guardians

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ciciyup · 5 months ago

Text

Do You Still Want To Go To Lunch?

cw: Voyeurism, exhibitionism, cheating, cuck!Bakugo, humiliation, oral, masturbation, provocation, fingering.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

You didn't even know why you were with him. Both were in their last year at U.A. and it seemed like Bakugo hadn't changed at all. Even after the war and all the things that had happened, he hadn't changed one bit. He was still the same rude and moody boy, he continued with his constant insults to everyone else, belittling them and treating them as inferiors. You remembered the times in the first classes years ago when the only way Bakugo seemed to be able to woo you and make his feelings known was by insulting you. You didn't know if you really had feelings for him, The only thing you seemed to know was that he had become so upset about it, to the point that you had become his partner simply so he would stop bothering you. Yes, you were regretting it from the first moment. You and Bakugo could never have something good in which the relationship would prosper. He because of his attitudes and personality and you because you were also from a different plane. You were two opposite poles and they didn't attract each other in any way. At least on your part you always seemed to have made it more than clear, but Bakugo didn't seem to understand it. It wasn't until the day before that things got tense. You were tired of him always seeming to want to push you away from your friends, he didn't like it when you went out with anyone, especially Izuku. Because he was annoying, an annoying nerd, according to Bakugo, but sometimes he forgot that he was still your friend. Long before you started your relationship with Bakugo and even before getting close, one of the first friends you had made at U.A. was Izuku, the boy was really nice and kind, you liked spending time with him doing homework, chatting or going to some cafeteria. He had always been very kind and polite, sometimes he made you laugh with his clumsiness, but you went back to admiring him for his great courage for things. You had always found the way your boyfriend treated Izuku annoying. It was too much. The poor boy had never said a single complaint to him about his constant insults and threats and even beatings, you didn't even understand what it was that Bakugo had against him to always be crossing him out. That day in particular you were in Izuku's dorm, you didn't plan to stay because you had agreed to go out with Bakugo, but after Midoriya helped you with one of your homework and they started chatting about various topics you began to lose track of time.

—Are you leaving already? —Izuku asks confused when he sees you putting your notebooks inside your backpack, although you didn't seem in a hurry you clearly had leaving in mind.

—Yes, I agreed to meet Bakugo outside the dorms to go to lunch, he says there's a food place he wants to take me to —you explain in an indifferent tone while you shrug your shoulders, closing the zipper of your backpack.

—How's everything going? —He asks again curiously, a kind smile appears and forms on his lips although very slightly.

—Not very well... I'm going to end it —you admit leaving your backpack on the side of the bed, looking back at Izuku. For a moment you think you see a flash of joy in his eyes, but you're not quite sure since the second his face seems to become a little more serious.

—Oh, really? I'm sorry, are you okay? —Midoriya's bright eyes seem to search yours as he purses his lips a little as if silencing his words.

—I am. Seriously, I'm fine. Honestly, I don't think I've ever felt anything for him. Besides, this relationship is only bringing me problems, I can't find anything good in it —your words are so serious and determined that for a moment you think if what you said sounded too cold, but you couldn't lie to him or lie to yourself because the truth was that you couldn't continue with that relationship for another week.

—I'm sorry about what you've been through, I know it hasn't been the best of months —Izuku apologizes, although he didn't have to, he seemed to regret it as if he was the one to blame.

—You don't have to apologize for something like that. I should. —You quickly shake your head before the boy could say anything else. You knew him so well. —I'm sorry for all the times he's treated you badly while I was there. That bothers me and I don't think I've done enough.

Midoriya copies your action and shakes his head silently without saying anything else, the dull noise of the room and the little noise that could be heard from outside through the hallways was the only thing that could be heard at that moment. Neither of you seemed to want to say anything else, so before it became awkward you got out of bed grabbing one of the straps of your backpack with the intention of doing something and changing the subject. Izuku repeats your action only getting up hastily as if he was afraid of not being able to do something before you left. For a moment you both remain face to face without saying anything, but soon the boy's calloused hands rest on your cold cheeks, cupping and caressing them before leaning forward capturing your lips. They remain still in yours without moving for a moment with doubt, becoming more confident when you give him a good sign following his kiss.

—Stay. —His voice is almost a whisper after speaking, afraid of ruining the atmosphere if he spoke too loud. He walks with you slowly until your legs hit his bed and then you grab both of his hands pulling them away from your cheeks, Izuku, confused, separates from your lips to ask a question that he doesn't get to form due to the speed of your movements. Opening his eyes in surprise, he lets out a gasp when you push him onto his own bed, his head falling back against his soft, padded pillow, not even having time to adjust when you climb on top of him, sitting on his lap but laying your body on top of his. You kiss him again with such immensity and need that Izuku narrows his eyes in happiness, bringing his hands to your waist while he holds you on top of him, letting you be.

Your hand gets dangerously close to the boy's crotch, who seems to hold his breath as he watches you. Seeing you like that, in a way he'd never seen you before but wanted so badly was something that was driving Izuku crazy. Your hand makes contact with his cock, groping it over his pants, running your fingertips over the fabric in such a way that he kicks them off, hastily pulling his underwear down to release his raised cock, the tip of it red with precum on it. You nod at the state of the boy, sliding down to the spot, stroking his cock before taking a few licks around it. Izuku can’t help but squeal as his face grows redder and redder, watching you take half of his cock into your mouth. It was an incredible sight. Sucking hard and determined, deepthroating before pulling back and letting the cock fall against his now harder and raised stomach. You straighten up in bed to grab the hem of your uniform and pull it up leaving you in just your bra, quickly unbuttoning it and freeing your breasts as you toss the garment somewhere in the room. Seemingly almost mesmerized by them, Izuku moves forward until his cheeks make contact between both of your breasts, glancing at you from the corner of his eye to see your approving gaze, he takes one of your areolas into his mouth sucking on it like a hungry boy while his other hand gently caresses and pinches your other nipple. Pulling him closer to you with your arms, you push his face so that he's almost smothered by your breasts, not that he complains since he looked like he was having quite the feast. Pulling him off of you, you slowly lay him back down on the bed before removing the bottom of your uniform. Izuku lets out a moan of despair when he notices your awful slowness in removing your panties, sliding them down your legs until they fall off taking all the time in the world, as if he doesn't know you want to tease him.

Crawling over to Izuku, you reach him, climbing onto his lap, grabbing his cock in your hand as you guide it to your soaked entrance, running it through your wetness a few times to better lubricate, finally letting it slide down your walls with torturous slowness. Just the sight of you on top of him, taking him so well without even making a move was making Izuku’s mind explode. Without thinking of anything but your heat enveloping his cock, he moans raggedly as he watches you take a confident pace without going easy on him even though you’d barely started. Your pussy seemed to swallow his cock deliciously, forming rings of cream around it that only served to increase Izuku’s satisfaction who seemed lost between watching his cock enter and exit your pussy or watching you. His cock was fully swollen inside your core, stimulating your inner walls with each deep bounce, while your hip movements began to become more frantic.

The footsteps through the hallways were hard and fast, after waiting for you for longer than he was supposed to, Bakugo got fed up with waiting outside going to your room without finding you there, his brow furrowed a little at not finding you, with some annoyance he wondered internally if you had forgotten the agreed plan. No, you weren't usually such a forgetful person, at least not with important plans, so he just chose to stay in your room until you returned. His mind ruled out the possibility that you were in the bathroom after having waited for you for more than ten minutes, so he stood up and closing the door to your room he decided to go to his room to look for his phone and call you to find out where you were. After walking one more hallway he stopped for a moment, three rooms before Izuku's, his mind rejected the idea that you were there and he would have almost continued on if a hunch hadn't told him to go to the stupid nerd's room to rule out the idea that you were there. His brow furrows again when, standing in front of the door, his ears pick up unusual sounds, his hand closes on the doorknob and turns it so he can open it and enter. Bakugo's eyes are fixed on a certain fixed point, his mouth opens slightly at such a scene that he witnesses without being able to articulate a word or even think; you, his girlfriend, riding Deku's cock, riding the damn nerd's cock.

Izuku seemed to cling to your waist as if his life depended on it, helping you carry out your movements, his body jumping slightly at the sound of the door opening and watching Bakugo in front of you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye before turning your head and staring into his eyes and although Bakugo's eyes are a little more open than normal and almost with his gaze lost in you, you, on the other hand, look at him coldly and with distant affection. Keeping your eyes on him, you continue bouncing on Izuku's cock this time harder and faster. Izuku's gaze falls on Bakugo as soon as he had seen him enter, but instead of feeling self-conscious and afraid of being caught like this, he instead feels a great inner satisfaction as well as great excitement for the moment. Bakugo, who always used to bully and harass him now seemed to be reduced to what Izuku saw in front of him: a poor, deceived boy. No longer the boy with a loud voice and words of superiority, he now seemed to give simple pity, but Izuku couldn't even feel that for him.

—I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. —You speak in a more resonant tone and almost in a breath. You should have said something else, something else, but you can't think of much while Izuku's cock hits your exact spot non-stop.

—What...? What the fuck are you doing?! —Bakugo takes a firmer stance after reacting again, his face was as red as if he was about to explode.

Before anyone could say anything else, Izuku grabs your hips moving quickly, throwing you on your side while he hugged you from behind, bringing his cock to your entrance and again going back to the hard and long rhythm, now with Izuku controlling everything.

—Calm down, Kacchan, when I'm done she'll be all yours —Midoriya speaks in a tone of voice so soft as if it didn't fit with what he was doing, lifting one of your legs so that Bakugo had a better angle to see his cock buried in your pussy, just to tease him a little more. The boy's words only make Bakugo even angrier, who glares at him furiously.

Bakugo's fists clench as he sees so clearly the way your pussy swallowed his cock and your face was more than happy to receive it. Just seeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes narrowed looking at him while you moaned and squeezed Izuku's cock having your orgasm and at the same time Izuku had also cum inside you had sickened him so much that small explosions began to form from his hands launching themselves in the direction of both of you with the intention of attacking. More quickly Izuku lets his cock shoot out of your pussy while he straightened up a little, using his gift, one of his whips sticks to Bakugo's arms and legs preventing him from moving causing him to fall on the bed near the two of you. You quickly pull him towards you with your legs wrapping around his face and your thighs covering almost his entire head. Bakugo is practically left with your pussy on his face, your accumulated fluids and semen coming out of your entrance causing him to try to get away from the grip.

—Lick it. Get it completely clean and don’t forget to swallow, don’t waste anything —Izuku orders as his hand grabs part of Bakugo’s hair, pushing his face into your pussy so that he had almost no oxygen to breathe. Without another option, with a furious growl Bakugo runs his tongue over your slit, beginning to lick Izuku’s own cum inside your pussy cleaning it all up.

Bakugo’s chin is covered in your juices as are his lips and tongue, licking and sucking with resignation. For a moment his eyes lock with yours, to which you return the gaze as you loosen your grip on him, giving him some air. You furtively touch your clit when he runs his tongue inside your channels and quickly grab him by the hair, pulling it away from your pussy before letting out a whiny gasp, dripping onto his face. Bakugo keeps his furious image alive as his face is now completely soaked, with his hair the same, thanks to your act. Izuku smiles lightly as he pats Bakugo's head a few times as if he were an owner congratulating his dog.

—Well done. —Midoriya praises your boyfriend. As you put your panties back on, Izuku releases Bakugo from his quirk leaving him free although the latter didn't make any attempt to attack again or use his quirk, instead, he stays in the same position without doing or saying anything as he continues to watch you with an angry face and you simply give him an impassive look.

—Do you still want to go to lunch?

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #deku #izuku midoria x reader #deku x reader #my hero academia izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader smut #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #boku no hero academia izuku midoriya x reader #my hero academia deku x reader #deku x reader smut

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justrustandstardust · 1 year ago

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Why y'all pair Geto and Gojo? They're both men it doesn't make sense at all. They are just friends. Respectfully l know people have different views, but why can't men just be friends?

when people say "why can't men just be friends" they seem to think they're making some kind of outstandingly intellectual point. i'm not only going to explain why that is blatantly untrue, but also why this claim imprisons gojo and geto in the very cage you seem so desperate to free them from.

in making this claim, you've created a binary with "friends" at one end and a (presumably romantic) "pair" at the other. you understand the two locations to be diametrically opposed, at opposite poles in a fixed landscape.

queerness, as you understand it, is attached to the "romance" pole within your binary, and heterosexuality is fixed to the "friends" pole. these poles are antithetical to you— either they're friends, or they're lovers. the binary only permits one or the other.

to you, queerness is a a consumptive vacuum that subsumes everything "good" about gojo and geto's relationship. you understand gayness to be the antithesis of heterosexuality; you relegate personhood and agency to the latter whilst deriding the former, resisting what you perceive to be the deliberate action of Turning Them Gay.

this deliberate twisting of their characters then makes them not gojo and geto anymore but two men in love, voiding the intricacies and complexities of their relationship and reducing their dynamic to a one-dimensional romance because that's all you understand queerness to be. either they're regarded as friends and they remain people (retaining their personhood) or they're queered, abandoning their identities because now their only identity is gay.

in attempting to defend them from being queered, you think you're saving them from subsumption by the label. in your mind, you're preserving their nuance and complexity because you seek to protect them from being whittled down from unique individuals into gay-shaped men, who now exist relationally to each other along one axis: romance. to you, there's gojo and geto, the characters you know and love, who are then twisted from their "original form" into being queer.

in seeking to free them from your understanding of queerness, you reify the very structure that you think you're dismantling. you attempt to defend their agency and personhood but you achieve exactly the opposite: you forge their identity on your own terms, pigeonholing them into fixed categories because of your own limited understanding of what it means to be queer.

in constructing queerness oppositionally to heterosexuality, you flatten their characters and push them into a prison of your own making. relegating them to heterosexuality does to them exactly what you're afraid of will happen if they're deemed queer: they become one-dimensional, actively stripped of the agency, dignity, nuance and complexity that you so righteously seek to defend. people cannot be Turned Gay because they are not straight by default; gojo and geto's characters are not being twisted into unoriginality—they are gojo and geto, and they are queer. it is one and the same.

gojo and geto are enemies, and soulmates, and partners, and friends, and lovers, and so much more. what draws people to their connection is that it transcends the binaries of friendship and romance that you so eagerly defend. in pushing for them to be regarded as "just friends" you flatten their characters, imprisoning them in the very cage that you think you're saving them from by rejecting the label of queer.

queerness is not a reductionist subversion of heterosexuality— it constitutes dimensions and layers to identities and relationships, not all of them romantic. queerness goes beyond the static conception within your binary; it is dynamic, complex, agentic and relates to more than merely sexual orientation. in rejecting queerness, you actualize the one-dimensional characterization you so fear through stripping away the integral complexities of their characters that can only be understood through a queered lens. queerness does not reduce— it is constitutive.

gojo and geto are not merely straight or gay, according to your limited understanding. they transcend the binary in which you've imprisoned them, queered in more ways than one. queerness does not take away from the parts of their relationship that make them unique; it is what makes them unique. gojo and geto's connection remains profound, not in spite of their queerness, but because of it.

and to address your comment about how "they're both men"— men have been queer for centuries, regardless of time or place. pick up a fucking book. (or just take a good, hard look at the jjk manga).

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spotsandsocks · 5 months ago

Note

🎃 cat

Hello and thank you for trick or treating with me - I got to 650 ish words with this one so here we go with cat

Dinner is over and a surreptitious check confirms no one is watching him. Eddie stands up as casually as he can to take his plate to the kitchen then edges carefully towards the pole. Not too slow or too fast nothing to attract attention. You wouldn't think it but its actually the fastest and least obvious exit to take as long as everyone else is looking in the opposite direction. Luckily for him they are. Not that he’s doing anything wrong but he could do without the inevitable comments that will come if he’s caught.

Glancing around one last time everyone looks fully occupied so he makes his break for freedom, fully aware that he’s five minutes later than usual and that means there will be complaints. Someone won’t be happy with him. The lump in his pocket reassures him he’s prepared for the encounter so he’ll be forgiven quickly enough.

One hand on the pole he makes a last check. It’s been particularly hard to avoid Buck catching on to what he’s doing because he’s so often with him or looking at him. However at the moment Buck is fully engaged in a heated debate with Ravi and Chim about the relevant merits of some social media site he’s never heard of.

Taking advantage of that he vanishes out of sight.

Downstairs his exit is significantly easier, most of the shift are still upstairs, a few other occupied by the gym equipment or chores Bobby set. He makes it out to the back of the station without having to explain why he slinking around.

He wouldn’t be in this predicament if she wasn’t so cute and he hadn’t fallen completely in love. If Buck finds out he’ll never hear the end of it.

The packet slips out of his pocket with a crinkle and within seconds she’s there. Making a lot of noise, as he suspected, she’s cross with him but as he also knew the treats laid out on his hand soon fix that. Eddie sits down and the cat he refuses to name purrs wildly, butting her head against his fingers demanding attention and affection.

“Hello beautiful” he whispers, giving the golden brown tabby cat the fussing she wants.” How’s your day going?”

The stray he’s very much not in the process of adopting purrs some more and climbs into his lap. She is very pretty and absolutely adorable. Still young, probably not even two yet. He doesn’t need a cat. He doesn’t want a cat. He hasn’t got a cat.

Yet.

He smiles down at the one kneading his thigh happily and strokes her ears. It’s not his fault if she’s so fluffy and cute is it? How’s he supposed to resist. He knows Buck and the others are bound to find out soon but until they do he kind of likes having this little lady to himself.

“Where’s Eddie?”

Hen asks the person most likely to know. She’s looked everywhere and she wants him to help with the inventory downstairs but he’s vanished. Buck looks back over his shoulder at her, pausing whatever argument he’s having with Chim.

“He’s out the back, he snuck out to see his cat again, thinks I don’t know.” Buck shakes his head in disbelief. “As if…”

As if indeed Hen thinks and trades a look with her partner who’s sat next to his brother in law and pulling a face Buck doesn’t notice. It’s funny how Buck notices some things instantly and other things get totally missed. The guy had a set of weirdly specific interests.

And speaking of Buck’s weirdly specific interests Hen looks and eventually finds the missing firefighter sat outside talking quietly to a small noisy cat. She can hear it purring from the door she’s hiding behind.

Eddie looks so calm and happy that she retreats quietly the way she came with her own smile. She can wait a little longer for Eddie to come back from not too secret adventures in kitty sitting some things are just too adorable to interrupt.

Sorry for all the tags these last few days you must be tired of me!! Only one more after this and then I’ll be quiet for a while @actualalligator @bekkachaos @beyourownanchor6 @bekkachaos @caroandcats @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @darkrose6578 @diazsdimples @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @hermscat @hippolotamus @inell @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @repressedqueen @ronordmann @stagefoureddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @shipperqueen6 @tizniz @thekristen999 @thelikesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @underwaterninja13 @wildlife4life

#Spottys trick or treating #inbox trick or treating #spotty scribbles #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 abc #911 fic #911fic #911 ficlet

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six-eyed-samurai · 4 months ago

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I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could do a Gyutaro fic? If you’re going to make it heart wrenching angst then PLEASE have like teeny tiny bit of comfort or something otherwise my heart cannot take ittt

SUMMARY: Trust fall: in which you slip and let go on purpose, hoping - no, knowing - that someone will catch you in the end. A/N: It was 3am and I was delirious and thinking about that one demon from Judge from Hell that died to protect his girlfriend from Venato and you can see what spawned from there - but as requested the ending is...uh... better WARNINGS: suicide, Gyutaro's usual self harm

Daki had warned him, hadn't she? Stay away from that human or it'll be bad for the both of them - three of them, including her.

But it was kind of like trying to separate two magnets with opposite poles: they kept inching back together until one of them enters the field and they’re practically glued together. Gyutaro couldn’t stay away if he tried (not very hard), using any excuse however pathetic and unbelievable to even just walk past the door and see the shadowy figure behind moving about. Stolen trinkets he claims Daki no longer wants placed on the windowsill, leaving his sister’s body to take a walk on the roofs as the Red Light District burst into color during the night, when it was no one but Gyutaro and-

“Oof - ! It’ll be so much easier to walk up the stairs if I could open my eyes, you know.”

“Walk more slowly then!”

Speaking of a walk…is this how it’s going to end? He’s lied, but only to Daki, himself and maybe denied everything in the face of Kibutsuji-sama’s wrath. He’s a demon who deals in poison, but the ones pouring out of Gyutaro’s mouth tastes worse than anything, bitter and stinging and if he could, he’d take it all back, let go of the hand he was holding, force the one he was leading to turn around and run, run, run far far away. Both from here and from him.

Because Daki was right all along. He should’ve nipped it right at the bud, eaten the human like any good, loyal demon would and Gyutaro wouldn’t be sullenly watching these events fold with something akin to…emotion? Negative human emotions?…rising up within him.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You already know.”

“Up to the roof, then? What’s got you so secretive about it then?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Maybe he should be nicer, Gyutaro reflected in the only part of his mind that isn’t torn between fear of Kibutsuji-sama and regretful tension of what he’s doing. Yeah, he should be nicer, seeing as it was his last chance to do so. He pulls at the hand faster instead.

Nice. That was a word completely foreign in Gyutaro's dictionary. He'd just planned on toying with the gullible human, play around and push around until it broke and paid for the crime of being fortunate and beautiful. It must already have been broken, because what other human would eagerly await his presence every night, thread fingers into his tangled hair and comb it out, force a festival mask on him in order to blend in with the crowds during walks? Gyutaro despised the Red Light District, even though as both a human and a demon he called that place home; but around his plaything - human - love - something he could take pleasure in the parades, vibrant lights and lively night.

He must be broken too, because what other demon would chase and fall for their prey?

Nice. Gyutaro really has let himself go. Forgotten what he is and forgotten what he owes to Kibutsuji-sama.

Unintentionally his nail digs a little too deep, deep enough to draw blood.

“What's so special about this roof?”

“Nothing. View's better.”

Better is the word, Gyutaro agreed in his mind. Just not to describe the view. Better height. Better for them both.

Kibutsuji-sama’s voice was still fresh in his head. He knew exactly how to play, how to toy, how to push Gyutaro’s buttons until he was tearing scars all over himself to watch them quickly heal themselves and be reminded of how if he didn’t do as the Demon King said the next time he’s slashed it won’t even be a slayer’s Nichirin blade or the sun’s rays that does it. No, it’ll be Kibutsuji himself who does it, for demons are not supposed to be friends - in love - with humans, degrade themselves to those imperfect insects in the dirt. And Gyutaro has just done that, whatever his vehement denials.

It all amounts to nothing in the end. Not nothing, exactly, but in the end the choice was between having Daki killed and him punished or kill the human and all will be forgotten; Gyutaro can’t actually even be sure Kibutsuji will keep that promise of letting the human be. Is it a selfish choice? Probably, but a choice where at least two people are still alive albeit miserable and the third can…can…can do it in a way that won’t leave Gyutaro a raging mess. Do it on their own terms. So, well, nothing.

(Better if neither of them had met in the first place.)

“Why are you being so secretive? That’s no fun, come on, tell me!”

“Nehh, stop nagging, it won’t be a surprise otherwise. Go ahead and turn back if you don’t want it!”

“Oh shut up, you know I do, as long as it’s you.”

“Shut up.”

“Heh, you’re blushing, I can tell!”

Would the truth, or some vague suspicion, inkling of it, not make an appearance soon? Please turn around, please run away, and I won’t follow and I’ll make my excuses and everything will be - just turn around, run away -

There were plenty of other opportunities to run, and Gyutaro would’ve given up a lot of things for it to have happened. If the other would not run, fine, he would run, run far far away from everything that led up to this moment of him coaxing and pulling that hand up the stairs and past everything, beyond anyone who could hear or see or understand.

The stupid human should’ve run from all the nights they spent together, run before he even showed up. But Gyutaro was the one who should’ve run away that night - the first night they’d met.

He’d been out hunting, searching for a good, pretty meal as usual. Beloved Daki had been too picky and greedy and now it was going to take them a while before their house had more beautiful humans to devour. Hungry, he’d stolen off with someone and was finishing up the last of them when damn, had a stupid, scrawny cat really started everything?

The animal had just run into the alley he had squatting and using the shadows to blanket himself with, yowling like it had a dog on its heels, but maybe that was just because it had a stolen treat in its mouth. He should’ve killed the cat right there, to keep it quiet, because the next thing he knew a human had appeared, out of breath and the chaser.

“Oh…is the cat yours?”

He was too stunned to reply, honestly. Gyutaro was ugly. Gyutaro was a demon. Gyutaro had just eaten a human. Usually that was enough to deter anyone.

“My bad, have a good night!”

And after that he should’ve run away instead of stalking and watching and tracking and leaving gifts by the window just because he became a little obsessed over the smallest interaction with someone who did not first notice his looks.

“Okay, at least tell me what's so special about tonight then?”

“We're celebrating.”

Or he’ll be celebrating, alone, for decades and decades to come because demons are immortal and fixable but humans, weak, ugly things, were not. The one he was leading now, trusting blind lamb following the big bad wolf, was anything but weak and ugly if only in unconventional ways, so Gyutaro wondered if they were - could - be different.

Maybe he could make them a demon? Too late, Kibutsuji-sama would still have his head for that; throwing away his precious gift of blood for love, of all insane and worthless things. And it was for the same reason Gyutaro never did it before: change. He was terrified of a potential monster who could only think of its stomach, a bloodthirsty shadow of- damn, he really was going soft, humane. If he were Kibutsuji-sama he would’ve killed him on the spot, so he supposed he should thank whoever was listening for this small mercy.

Humans are so, so delicate. Why would anyone willingly choose to be one? Why was he so besotted over this one, the one trailing after him, excited at imaginative fantasies and expectations for yet another night together, uncomprehending of the truth. A part of Gyutaro wondered how his more unforgivable crimes during his time as a demon weighed less than this act of humanity on his mind?

Humans are weak, ugly things but the one he was leading now was anything but, so Gyutaro wondered if they could be different.

But a human, no matter how beautiful or amazing or strong or everything could survive falling off the roof.

“You can open your eyes now.”

The moon, the sun, the lights of the Red Light District all dim when those eyes open, but for once they darkened enough to rival instead of dominate. “It’s a…nice view, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“This roof is taller.”

“Yeah, I know, but what -” The measurement from here to the ground finally clicks. His secretive behavior, his sudden affectionate nature, his irritation when asked, it clicks. The way he had carefully guided the hapless lamp to the very edge, where he wasn’t even holding out an arm for support. “Gyutaro. Look at me.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he replied roughly, scratchily instead. “It was either you or me.”

Gyutaro likes to make himself sound more selfish than he actually is, doesn’t he? Because me here means me, Daki and you, doesn’t it?

“…Was this always your plan…then?”

“No!” Gyutaro backed away. “It’s punishment - ‘m a demon, you’re - you get it? It wasn’t supposed to happen so I gotta end it. I should’ve just eaten or poisoned or killed you that night.”

“But you didn’t.”

Tense shoulders relax. Gyutaro hardly dared to - he didn’t know what to think. This was more than he could comprehend, more than he could take, demon instincts and attachment warring against one another. He took it out on his face.

“It’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Don’t make this harder.” Gyutaro’s never brought out his sickles before, until now, but he’s holding it up more like a shield than a weapon meant to kill. “This was better. He would’ve done worse to you. You can do it yourself - I’ll be here, I can do it for you - just do it -”

“Why here?” He’s thankful that forgiving (why can’t it be accusing? It’ll be so much easier, so, so easier) gaze has wandered over the ledge and not at him.

“Because everyone else got thrown off as well. It’ll be - it’ll be if you didn’t.”

Also because this was the roof when two broken things watched the sky break from fireworks and lights and laughter below as well.

“Okay.”

It’s too quiet for him. “SAY SOMETHING!”

Gyutaro doesn’t think he deserves that understanding, forlorn smile. “I’ll do it then. If you’ll hold my hand halfway.”

He’s got nothing to say to that so he does it anyway. The human looks like it does (it’s eight letters, starts with I and ends with U, but none of them can say it because everything is-).

“We’ll see each other again, somehow.”

At least no one’s there to witness that one traitorous droplet leaking out of Gyutaro’s yellow, bloodshot eye when the hand slips and - and -

In the midst of the screaming at another body found on the ground Gyutaro retreats and returns to the back of Daki’s mind.

Somehow.

***

“WATCH OUT!”

The kid with the too-big raincoat and scowl on his face barely heard the warning in time before he’s stumbling back and falling on his butt into a puddle. The instigator’s a speeding calico cat with a bell jangling around its neck, so he vents his rage at the rapidly approaching owner instead. “Your stupid cat knocked me over!”

A giggle is the last thing he expects. “Sorry! He’s new and we just brought him home, so I guess Chachamaru is excited.”

“My shoes are full of water,” He tries to complain.

“Oops -” The cat’s scooped up, meowing, and the kid squints at it indignantly. “Sorry again. Do you wanna come in and dry them off then? My mom made dorayaki!”

“That’s not going to make you my friend or anything!” But the boy sulkily tromps after anyways. “…can I bring some back for my sister?”

“Sure!” How bright can that smile possibly be? “What’s her name and what’s yours?”

“…Ume-chan.” He hunched his shoulders, averting his eyes. “’m Gyutaro.”

#Sunny's works #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x you #gyutaro shabana x reader #gyutaro shabana x y/n #gyutaro shabana x you #gyutaro x fem reader #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n

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dailyanarchistposts · 5 months ago

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When the world ends, people come out of their apartments and meet their neighbors for the first time; they share food, stories, companionship. No one has to go to work or the laundromat; nobody remembers to check the mirror or scale or email account before leaving the house. Graffiti artists surge into the streets; strangers embrace, sobbing and laughing. Every moment possesses an immediacy formerly spread out across months. Burdens fall away, people confess secrets and grant forgiveness, the stars come out over New York City...and nine months later, a new generation is born.

CrimethInc. Collective

We’re going to die?

The Earth is not dying, it is being killed, and those who are killing it have names and addresses.[1] But us – me, you, even those who are killing the earth? We’re going to die.

In the worst case scenario, you drown, you starve, or you succumb to heat stroke. Not figuratively. You will drown, you will starve, you will succumb to heat stroke. Perhaps there’s the small chance that you will survive the mass migration to the last reaches of habitable land in and around the poles.

Perhaps.

But let’s be realistic here: In all likelihood, you’re going to die. A slow, horrible, excruciating death at that. We would like to say this is the future we’re hurtling towards at an ever-increasing rate. But it isn’t: it’s the present, the material, graspable present. Islands are sinking into the ocean. The poverty-stricken are freezing to death on the streets. People are burning to death in gigantic wildfires.

The collapse is not to be a single event. It’s a process, and it’s currently underway.

In the best case scenario, death is liberation. Perhaps the real “you” – your body, your consciousness, your soul, what have you – won’t die, per se: instead, the abstract “you” – your way of life, your social relationships under capitalism, your system of meaning that’s been drilled into your head since day one – will die.

Can’t we reform the system?

No. We can’t. The system is the problem, and the system runs deep. The problem isn’t just capitalism. It’s also the state, but it also isn’t just the state. It’s the ideology of consumption itself: that beings – plants, animals (including humans deemed to be *sub*human), fungi, even inanimate natural “resources” – are objects to be bought, sold, and eventually, consumed. This ideology is perhaps the deepest ideology we have. It permeates every form of knowledge: from science, to art, to politics. It seeps through our language (one must think how often we refer to feeling, living beings – ones with the capacity to suffer – as “it.”) It permeates our relationships. It is the very basis of our societies, if it cannot be deemed our “society” itself – the group of capital-h Humans deemed to be worthy enough to be circumscribed by the abstract Community, that constructs itself in opposition to literally everything else.

Your favorite pet politician isn’t immune to this. Not Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, not Bernie Sanders, not Jill Stein. Not the Democratic Socialists, not the Green Party, not the CPUSA, and not anyone else, either.

Perhaps their hearts are in the right place – but sadly, that isn’t enough.

To quote the amazing piece Anarchy Works by Peter Gelderloos:

Some people oppose capitalism on environmental grounds, but think some sort of state is necessary to prevent ecocide. But the state is itself a tool for the exploitation of nature. Socialist states such as the Soviet Union and People’s Republic of China have been among the most ecocidal regimes imaginable. That these two societies never escaped the dynamics of capitalism is itself a feature of the state structure — it necessitates hierarchical, exploitative economic relationships of control and command, and once you start playing that game nothing beats capitalism.

What about nonviolence?

Concerning nonviolence: it is criminal to teach a man not to defend himself when he is the constant victim of brutal attacks.

Malcolm X

The struggle against ecocide was never nonviolent, and it never will be, because it cannot be. That’s because ecocide is violence: violence against me and you, against animals (wild and domestic,) against the trees and the grass and the water and the mountains.

Climate insurrection is self-defense.

Strict adherence to nonviolence – that is, the rejection of violence – is complicity in the face of ecological destruction. It is not “offensive,” it is not “rebellion,” and it’s not a “strike” at climate change.

Many of us do not have the privilege of being nonviolent – namely, those of us who already marginalized. We will be the first to go. We’re the rural farm workers and their families being sprayed with pesticides. We’re the houseless freezing to death in polar vortices. We’re the indigenous peoples whose homes are being swallowed by the sea. We’re the poor who will not have the capital necessary to complete the long trek north to the last remaining habitable lands.

If we aren’t violent – if we don’t rebel against the system that oppresses us – we will be crushed. Don’t be complicit in our death, in your death.

What’s climate insurrection?

Perhaps the only hope me or you have. It’s destroying that which destroys us — by any means possible.

Wouldn’t that hurt the movement?

No. A better question would be: what has “nonviolent” protest won us in the long run? The answer: absolutely nothing. Many supposedly “nonviolent” movements, such as the Civil Rights Movement, were incredibly violent. There were hundreds of riots throughout the United States, and of course, the existence of armed paramilitary groups such as the Black Panthers, or the Brown Berets. One could make the argument that this narrative of nonviolence is pushed by the very people whose power would be threatened by violence, because violence means (perhaps immediate) change. Hence: why those in the US celebrate Martin Luther King Day, a federally recognized holiday; but not Malcolm X Day.

Even the most-oft example of nonviolent resistance, the Indian independence movement, was not so. Bhagat Singh, who after his execution became a folk hero of the cause, was inspired by French anarchist Auguste Vaillant to bomb the British Raj’s Central Legislative Assembly. Less than a year before, he had assassinated a British police officer in retaliation for the death of the nationalist leader Lala Lajpat Rai.

Wouldn’t it be counterproductive?

Counterproductive to what? Getting meaningless reforms passed? Getting empty pyrrhic victories in the legal circuit? Performing impotent marches through major cities that don’t achieve anything other than receiving lukewarm press from second-rate newspapers?

Ask the battery hen liberated from cramped cages by animal activists, or the old-growth forest protected indefinitely by logging saboteurs (and all the animals who call those forest home): is direct action productive?

Anarchist action — patient, hidden, tenacious, involving individuals, eating away at institutions like a worm eats away at fruit, as termites undermine majestic trees — such action does not lend itself to the theatrical effects of those who wish to draw attention to themselves.

Anonymous (in Desert)

To quote the great illusionist Georges Méliès, “I must say, to my great regret, the cheapest tricks have the greatest impact.”

If insurrection is so great, how come people aren’t doing it now?

They are. You just haven’t heard of it because the media is smart enough to hide it. Hearing about the heroic stories of those who fight back would be too dangerous for most to hear – it runs the risk of radicalizing them. Movements like the Animal and Earth Liberation Fronts, have been waging war against ecocide since the 1970s.

I don’t want to go to prison.

We dream of a world without prisons.

I’m scared.

We’re scared too, friend. We should be, but we should be strong, too.

What can we do?

We’ll let the great animal activist Keith Mann speak for us.

Labs raided, locks glued, products spiked, depots ransacked, windows smashed, construction halted, mink set free, fences torn down, cabs burnt out, offices in flames, car tires slashed, cages emptied, phone lines severed, slogans daubed, muck spread, damage done, electrics cut, site flooded, hunt dogs stolen, fur coats slashed, buildings destroyed, foxes freed, kennels attacked, businesses burgled, uproar, anger, outrage, balaclava clad thugs.

What if I don’t have the ability to fight?

You do, even if you can’t physically. Despite the tone of this letter, we aren’t totally opposed to above-ground action. In fact, in some cases, we think it’s necessary.

Groups like the Earth Liberation Prisoners Support Group and the Animal Liberation Front Supporters Group are active in representing and advocating for operatives. As Sinn Féin, the Irish political party once associated with the militant IRA has been described:

Both Sinn Féin and the IRA play different but converging roles in the war of national liberation. The Irish Republican Army wages an armed campaign... Sinn Féin maintains the propaganda war and is the public and political voice of the movement.

What happens next?

We don’t know. But with any luck, we’ve laid out our options.

[1] A faumous quote from Utah Philips

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boosari · 2 years ago

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yin and yang — j.ww

pairing: bf!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

wk: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of chinese philosophical symbol (yin and yang if you could consider it as a warning)

summary: you and your boyfriend decide to watch a movie for the night, but you end up admiring each other's face.

rest is all wonwoo needed right now. just him, you and movies. finally that day arrived. a day off, which you obviously used as your advantage as a couple. today wonwoo didn't feel like hanging out and proposed to stay at home and spend time together by playing games, cooking and cuddling. to which you agreed immediately.

you and wonwoo are the perfect mach. like two magnets, like the sun and the moon, like the north pole and the south pole, like the yin, the night, the femaleness, passivity and absorption and the yang, the daylight, the maleness, light and heaven. it's like you two complete each other.

after a day of playing games, cooking and various activities, the night has arrived. you agreed on watching a movie (avatar 2) and just cuddle on the couch.

"everyone loves this movie" you say looking at the movie as it starts.

"yeah, i heard a lot of positive feedbacks too, we will probably like it as well, since we enjoyed the first one" he replies smiling at you.

you get comfortable, putting your head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around your body.

wonwoo glances down at you, only to see your eyes glued to the tv, concentrated and bond to the movie, your brows furrowed a little. he now notices also your cute pyjamas, your messy bun, your bare face. the corner of his lips curve upward a little, admiring your face, realising that you were beautiful, and he was lucky to have you.

you on the other hand were too concentrated on the movie. after a while you felt like being observed, so you turn your head to the side, to see your boyfriend staring at you with a little smile on his face.

"what? is there something on my face?" you ask lifting yourself from him a little. he doesn't reply, only shakes his head while smiling a little.

"why are you staring at me then?" you laugh a little. "nothing...just pretty" he replies. you smile widens as you snuggle close to him.

now you're the one to look up at him, and notice his glasses, his messy hair, his cute pyjamas (that matched with yours) and realised that he was handsome. and how lucky you were to have him.

you are both so whipped for each other.

he notices your stare, and looks down at you for the nth time. and everything freezes. no one paying attention to the movie anymore.

you stayed like that for who knows how long, just looking at each other, admiring each other, loving each other. your eyes locked, you saw the universe in his and he saw the stars in yours. just like two pieces that completed each other.

you slowly put a hand on his cheek, caressing it as he leans in your touch. you two keep looking at each other adoringly while smiling like idiots.

"i love you" he suddenly says, without breaking eye contact.

you smile, your eyes still locked in his. "i love you too, wonwoo".

there's always a piece of him in your heart and soul, just like there's a piece of you in his. because the yin always has a piece of yang in it, just like yang has a piece of the yin.

a/n: thank you @jeonride for the request! very very sweet, we love a soft wonwoo! i think i got carried away and added little off-topic details. my bad guys i just love being philosophical LMFAO. just to clarify, yin and yang are opposites but they also complete each other. i honestly don't know if reader and wonwoo are opposites, you can interpretate it the way you want. it's a bit short kinda like a drabble, but still i hope you guys will like it!

masterlist

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ghostlychief · 2 years ago

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Don’t Blame Me

Pairing: MW2 Ghost x f!reader

Summary: They say love makes you crazy, so can they really blame you?

Warnings: mentions of blood, knife usage (stabbing, stabbing people’s eyes, eyes being ripped out of socket); mentions of combat fighting; hints of torture and injuries from torture; typical MW2 lore

NSFW, MINORS DNI: blowjob, fingering, eating pussy; missionary; creampie; aftercare

WC: 7k+ (IK IT’S LONG)

A/N: hello hello! here is the long awaited ghost fic that’s been in development for quite awhile. Thank you so much for participating in my pole, and i hope you enjoy!!! I really let myself indulge in more of the gore this time around, so please read with caution if that kind of content bothers you.

ENJOY🫶🏻🖤

You didn’t know blood could be this thick.

But, as you cut through the swarm of your opponents, you really don’t care how much of it gets on your clothes, seeps into your crevasses, and splashes on your face. No, you really don’t give a shit. Your only objective is to get to Ghost, and quickly.

All you see is red, literally.

Before you even fully process what you’re doing, the knife in your hand has already sunk into a neck, blood spurting everywhere, drenching you further. You carry on, the one person you’re trying to reach at the forefront of your mind.

Should you have felt some remorse for the lives you ended? Probably, but it was like you brain was turned off. Actually, no, that’s incorrect. It was like your brain was wired differently, like it was wired to focus on one thing and one thing only: retrieve Ghost.

You can’t recall when you two got separated, or when he got captured in your last mission. All you remember is the pain you felt when you noticed he’d been taken.

You could blame yourself for his capture, but you decided to turn your fury towards someone else rather than yourself. You realized over the years that self-loathing wasn’t very efficient. It tends to waste time.

It was easy after all; it’s not hard to hold contempt towards the people that stole your lover away from you.

This was their doing. I’m only showing them the consequences of their actions.

It’s what you had to tell yourself. Otherwise, you didn’t see how you were going to come out of this alive. You had to redirect your rage, your frenzy. You had to channel it through your veins, making sure it heated you, and coursed through in a way that burned.

It had to be this way. It was the only way to help you be relentless against your opponents.

You were pretty proud of your knife skills; it was your favorite weapon after all. You always made sure to carry at least two with you at all times.

Today, you strapped on four and you were lucky, since you lost your first two about ten minutes ago. They were no doubt lodged into someone lying on the ground, pierced through their eye. That was your sweet spot, never failing you to effectively take down your opposition.

By this point, it felt like you had sliced your way through a hundred men and yet you still haven’t reached the door of the facility Ghost was being held in. Hope was on the horizon though because you could faintly make out the top of the door frame, which egged you on further. Your muscles worked tirelessly as your arms continued to swing at the men attacking you.

Occasionally, you would move your arms in a quick jabbing motion, repeatedly stabbing the opponent in the stomach and then you would land one last finally blow to their eye, your signature move some would say.

One of the downsides of this move was that sometimes, it took a lot of strength to pull your knife back out of the eye (hence your missing knives), which resulted in pulling their eyeball clear and out of its socket.

Not the best outcome of this tactic, but it is what it is.

Unfortunately, for your last victim, this very thing happened. You were thankful when his screams died down quickly.

You had a moment to catch your breath, hanging your head, quivering hands resting on your upper thighs. You looked up just in time to see someone charging at you, yelling, and with their own knives in their hands.

You noticed that they were the only one alive left outside.

One more. I can take care of him.

You swiftly moved to the side, but could hear the whisp of his blade cutting through the air. That was no good- he got too close.

Time to fix that.

Since you were so deft in your knife wielding ability, you also had a knack of being light on your feet and quick. Something that certainly benefited you.

While the man was no doubt taller and heavier than you, you were faster and anticipated his movements with ease. Sooner than later he too was on the ground, finished, with a sliver blade in his left eye, your red hand-grip the only thing you could see sticking out of his head.

You decided to leave it there, as a parting gift of course.

That’s where you got your nickname, Red Eye, seeing that your weapon of choice was wrapped in a blood-red grip that blended in with the blood that seeped out of your victims’ eye sockets. You thought the nickname was silly at first, but you just grew to accept it over the years. What can you say, you like the fancifulness of it every once in a while.

While you always had reputation, this name made your reputation grow into something almost bigger. While your peers and opponents knew you as the women with the red soaked blades, this name gave you a more, how should you put it?

Eerie reputation.

After stepping over your last remaining victim, you finally reach the double doors, leading into the building Ghost is being held captured in.

Before you entered though, you heard a voice through your comms. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red Eye.”

Fuck me.

You hear Soap over the comms, “Wait for backup. We’re detecting three bodies via heat signatures”

You let out a groan, but made sure that your comms didn’t pick up on that.

“We don’t have time for that. I need to engage now.”

“You will do no such thing.” You hear Price’s voice cut through, stopping you from opening the doors.

“It’s a miracle you made it this far without any back up. Don’t test my patience.”

Ok, so you may have left without anyone knowing and got a two-hour head start before the rest of your team caught up to your location.

It’s just- they were taking, what it seemed like, forever to develop a plan to get your boyfriend out of captivity. You get it, logistics need to be air tight. But this was Ghost, Simon. Your Simon out there.

You knew he could handle what was given to him, but that didn’t ease any worry or hurt left in your heart, and it made you see red with anger.

That’s how your more or less ended up here, alone, slicing through about 30 men all by yourself. Not the smartest move you admit, but you had to get to Simon. You knew his time was running down, like a sand timer, each minute gone left him more perilous than before.

You were definitely going to get your ass kicked tomorrow at debrief.

You were just about to go in, thinking to hell with listening to orders, when you hear at least two sets of feet jogging across the gravel.

“Jesus, Red Eye. Leave any for the rest of us?”

You just roll your eyes at Soap, ignoring his comment. “C’mon guys, we need to hurry. Let’s take the last of the fuckers out and get Ghost back home.”

“Roger that.”

You go in first taking point, Soap and Kӧnig flanking you.

This time around, you have your handgun out, but your knife is safely held with your left hand, resting on the underside of the muzzle.

The hallway is dark, but it’s to your advantage. You think you see a light source coming from the hallway on the left that you’re coming up to, so you raise your left hand and point in that direction, signaling to Soap and Kӧnig.

This is where you come across the first person.

We must be close.

You let Kӧnig take him out. He comes up swiftly behind him and locks an arm around the man’s throat. First knocking him out, but then ultimately, finishing the job.

You three continue down the long corridor. They seem to go on forever. Sweat drips down your temple, and you hastily swipe it away, not wanting anything to obstruct your vision.

As you come closer to the end of the hallway, you start to hear something.

You raise your hand to signal Soap and Kӧnig to stop, and turn around so they can see you raise your pointer finger up to your lips.

You listen for the sound again, and you realize what it is this time.

Your blood runs cold, and goosebumps form on your arms, freezing you in place as you listen to the deafening sound that doesn’t seem to stop.

Ghost is screaming.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this loud, let alone sound so full of pain. You have to pull it together though, you’re almost to him.

You continue on, making a right this time, and Ghost’s screams become louder. It’s good and bad of course. Good because he’s near you and you’re close, bad because he hasn’t stopped screaming.

You wonder how long this has been going on for.

You feel a heavy weight float down your chest, that takes its resting place in your heart. You find it hard to breath, and it takes every fiber in your being not to go into full panic mode.

You get closer and closer to the room Ghost is in, but you don’t hear him anymore. There is no one outside guarding, so the remaining two people must be inside with him.

Your stomach churns over.

You hadn’t realized it, but you fell behind both Soap and Kӧnig, but without a beat, they took your spot at point, leading you to the door.

They bust in first and immediately go after the two men that were standing by Ghost, who is strapped to a chair. It’s your job to get Ghost free of his confines.

But when you look at him, you freeze all over again.

He’s slumped in the chair, hands and feet bound by thick ropes that are no doubt leaving crude burns in his skin.

His pants have rips and holes in them and from further examination, you realize it’s from cigarette burns and cuts from blades.

You can’t see any damage on his arms but you’re worried what his shirt is hiding on his torso. You realize he’s slumped because he’s knocked out cold, probably from a concussion. But you know he’s alive because you see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s ever so faint, but it’s there.

You look around the room and notice a medium size table with different kinds of weapons and tools splayed out along the length of the table. You notice some have dried blood on them, while other tools are still dripping red. Rags litter the table as well. They’re dirty and also have traces of lingering blood.

Once again, you feel the embers burning through you, and you feel like you’re about to explode into a fury of rage.

You turn towards the two men that Soap and Kӧnig took down.

The two bodies lie on the floor and before you realize what you’re doing, you crouching over the first man, and with your blade, you start stabbing both of his eyes, switching on and off between the left and right. While you do this, a blood curdling scream leaves your lips.

It’s both terrifying and heartbreaking; a fine line dances between the two.

You snarl at the now eyeless man before you crawl your way over to his counterpart and release the same anger and revenge onto him. Your screech never faltering.

You don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel strong arms come up behind you and lift you off the dead man.

You start fighting their hold and it’s then when you start crying, your scream turning into a sob. The exhaustion finally getting to you.

“We got him. He’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

When you wake, you notice you’re lying on something soft. When you come to, you realize you’re on a bed, under a thin layer of covers and your head rests on a firm pillow.

You squint because the lights are overly bright but when they adjust, you notice the infamous florescent glow, meaning, you’re in the medical ward of the base.

You sit up, and you notice no aches or pains outside of your regular soreness you felt after fighting for an extended period of time. Your head also hurts, but you don’t really care.

You want to know where Simon is.

You notice a nurse a few feet away and you wave her over.

“Excuse me, but why am I in here?”

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that she’s nervous. She fidgets with her hands before answering you.

“Well miss, you fainted on your last mission. They brought you here to be examined.”

She moves over to the end of your bed and takes out the clipboard that resided in the pocket.

“Here, let’s see.” She looks over your paper before looking back at you, still with a trace of uneasiness.

“Seems like everything is OK. Your vitals are normal, and you have no major injuries, just some light bruising on your arms and hands. You are welcome to leave when you want.”

You glance down and notice the light purple that spans across your knuckles.

Before she can scurry away, you ask, “Wait, where are they keeping Ghost?” You shake your head, “I mean, Simon Riley.”

A look of pity crosses her face before she answers, “He’s in Ward C miss; the intensive care unit.”

She leaves before you can ask her anything else.

What the fuck was her problem?

You jump out of your bed, but immediately regret that decision when your head starts to throb right above your left eye.

Now is not the time for a migraine.

You make sure you have all of your belongings before you rush over to Ward C. Right before you are about to enter through the doorway, Price comes through and stops you with a hand placed on your shoulder.

He looks down at you – you’re really getting tired of being the shortest on the team- and squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Before you go in there, guns-a-blazing, he’s doing ok, alright?”

You just stare up at him and nod. Although it was good to hear Simon was doing ok, whatever the hell that meant, you still had so much anger left in you. So much you were hoping that just the sight of Simon healing would help quell you.

You walk past Price, a determined spring in your step, ready to be reunited with Simon. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him.

Three weeks.

Three weeks he was gone, and you thought he was never coming back.

The intensive care unit is unusually empty so it’s not hard to find which bed Simon is occupying.

You quietly walk up to the side of the bed, and you are finally by his side.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me bug, I’m awake.”

Simon’s voice startles you and your head turns towards his. You notice his left arm is in a sling but a lazy smile graces his lips.

If you weren’t in a medical facility on base, out in the open to the prying eyes of the public, you would have immediately burst out crying just at the sound of his voice.

Instead, you let out a breathy, “I thought I lost you.”

Unlike Simon, your face has no hint of happiness. Your lips are slightly turned down, quivering and your eyes start to well up with tears, but you will them not to drop.

Your hands are balled up in fists but you bring yourself back down. You are here for him after all; it’s not the other way around.

You slowly unclench your fists and then gingerly sit down on the side of Simon’s bed, right at his hip.

That’s when you bring your hand up to trace down the side of his face, feeling the familiar stubble that never fails to tickle you when he kisses you.

Your hand comes back up to rub his cheek and you say again, “I thought I lost you, Simon.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours that still rests on his face. “I know, I know. But I’m here, and I’m ok.”

“Are you though?” You can’t fight it anymore, the tears stream down your face, their streaks burning your skin.

His hand that was resting on yours comes up to rub your head. “Promise.”

After that, you and Simon laid in his hospital bed for the remainder of the day. He fell in and out of sleep, but you were just thankful he was alive and breathing next to you.

It’s been about three weeks since Simon’s been back. He’s out of his sling and most of his bruises and wounds have healed. Expect for the deeper lacerations on his thighs. He also has some scarring from the cigarette butts. But over all, you would say he’s doing pretty alright, all things considered.

You’re both currently on base, since you needed to attend multiple meetings today, and you’re eating lunch in the cafeteria.

“So, I heard you went kind of, feral, when you came to rescue me.” Simon has an innocent look on his face, but you see him trying to hid his shit eating grin.

You narrow your eyes at him, “And who did you hear that from?”

He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No one in particular.”

You scoff. Fucking Soap.

You knew he must have told someone, if not Simon himself. He was quite the gossiper.

What a fucker.

“Well, did you want me to ask them to be friends?”

Simon lets out a low laugh. “That would have been funny.” You look up at him and see his eyes are lit with amusement.

You let out a sigh, but a ghost of a smile dances across your lips. You know he’s feeling better since he’s joking around.

Another three weeks has passed and you find yourself in the typical meeting room. The one you all use before a mission. That means this will be your last debrief before you jet off to where ever the location is in a few days.

The meeting goes well up until the part where Price says “And Ghost, you will wait here at the rendezvous point.”

You interrupt him, “Wait what?”

The room goes silent as you stare down Price.

“There’s no way Simon is going on this mission. Nope. Not happening.”

“Well, y/n, you don’t really have a say in this. Do you?”

The trace of condescendence has you short circuiting but you keep your cool. You glare at Price, “If Simon’s going on this mission, then count me out.” You don’t notice the slip of his name. Usually at work you call Simon Ghost or LT, but never Simon.

You storm out of the room and head back to your desk to gather your things to leave.

You hear someone lightly jogging behind you, and you have a hunch about who it is that followed you out.

You feel a hand softly grab your elbow and you hear Simon plead, “Wait.”

You sigh and turn around. Looking up at him you confess, “Look, I need to cool off for a bit. We can talk at home, ok?”

You see Simon contemplate whether to let you go or not, but he just gives you a curt nod. He gives your arm a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests, “Ok, see you at home.” --

You basically scowl your whole way home. Listen, you know you have some slight anger issues, but you’re working on it.

You get home after the long day and quickly make way to the shower, needing to feel the hot water run down your head and back. That will calm me, you think.

Once you step out of the shower, you already feel better. You’re clean, and you smell like your favorite soap. You change and do your normal routine after a shower then head to the kitchen to make yourself a warm cup of tea.

Evening tea is one of your favorite treats and it always seems to quell your nerves. Because that’s what you are right now, nervous.

You don’t want to fight with Simon, no, not at all. But you can’t help but feel frustrated at Price, and subsequently him, for deciding that he’s ready to go back in the field. Because from your perspective he’s not. Hell, it’s barley been a month and a half, and you think he needs more time to cope with what happened to him.

Sure, he’s seeing the base’s therapist, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his physical body healthy, yet you can’t help but the ball of worry that has formed in the pit of your stomach, fester. Something keeps nagging at you, and you don’t know what it is.

You just don’t understand how Simon can bounce back so quickly.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for Simon to get home. And when he does, you find yourself perking up on the couch when you hear him come through the door.

He lets out a soft “Hey,” in which you respond just as softly back.

“I’m going to go shower and wash up, but then we can talk, yeah?”

You give him a nod, but also confirm, “Sure, that sounds good.”

His shower felt like eternity, but you know you only feel this way because you’re on edge. Again, you don’t want to fight with him. You just, you love him so much, you can’t stand to lose him again. No, it can’t happen again.

You hear soft footsteps on the tile as Simon makes his way through the kitchen to the living room where you’re still seated on the couch.

You look up at him before he sits down and grant him a quiet smile, and reach out your hand to his. His large hand grasps yours in his, and his thumb traces your knuckles. He then sits down next to you, and now his fingers are tracing over yours, relaxing you just a smidge.

You can feel his warmth radiating off of you instantly, and it takes ever thing in you to not glue yourself to his side.

You both slightly turn to each other, and funnily enough you each say “So,” at the same time.

You giggle and he lets out a low chuckle that makes your insides swarm. You miss him.

“You go first, bug.” The hand that has been tracing yours pulls you closer to him, and he embraces you in a warm hug as you both sit on the couch.

Before you start, you simply just bask in Simon’s embrace, not wanting to let go just yet. You begrudgingly pull away, but still keep your fingers connected in their little dance.

“I’m sorry for storming out today at our meeting. That was unprofessional, and uncalled for, but I just don’t see why you have to go on our next mission.”

“Aren’t you still hurting from what happened to you on the last one? I guess I just don’t understand why you want to go back in the field so soon.”

There’s a pause before you add, “How do you know you’re ready to go back?”

One thing you appreciate about Simon is that he never interrupts you, and he always lets you finish your complete thought before adding his.

When he can tell you’re done, he sighs and says, “Because, y/n, that’s what we’re trained for.”

“I wouldn’t have this job if I couldn’t put the pieces back together after every mission.”

You guess that makes sense, but you’re still concerned about him.

“Listen, I get that, I really do. I guess what I want to make sure of is that you’re actually doing ok and that you’re working through whatever happened to you.”

He’s told you the gist of what happened, and he confides in you whenever he feels like he needs the extra support, but you know that there are some things he’s still hiding. Which, you’re not going to push him to tell you, but you hope at some point he does.

He gives you a slight smile, “That’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for me, and I appreciate it so much, but I’m really doing fine, ok?”

He shifts so he’s leaning in closer to you, and now it’s his turn to cup your jaw with his hand. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod at his answer. “I love you too.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You grant him a smile in return and then he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss deepens and before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, one leg on either side of his thick torso. You’re a mess as you straddle him, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, if even possible.

He wraps his arms around you and subconsciously pulls you closer to him. His large hands span across your back as he holds you close to him. Your center brushes against his you let out a moan when you feel this contact. You run your hands down his neck and shoulders, feeling the taught muscles underneath his black t-shirt. As you rock your hips against his, you hear him let out a moan, which only eggs you on further.

“Fuck, y/n. Keep doing that again.” His hands travel down to hold you hips, almost as if he’s trying to help you move against him.

Your hands move in tandem and they come to rest at the base of his t-shirt, your fingers playing with the hem. You’re itching to take it off of him, and he seems to understand what you want, because he pauses kissing you to help you take off his shirt.

Now shirtless, you bring your hands up to his shoulders and then trail them slowly down his torso, nails ever so slightly scraping against his skin. You can feel each ridge and bump from his abs before your reach the hem of his sweatpants. Your fingers graze over his happy trail before you start toying with his sweats.

You run one finger along the hem of his grey sweats, then ever so slightly, your finger enters his pants, you run your finger under his sweatpants. You’re teasing him, and you can tell he’s getting antsy by the way he shifts as your finger runs along the band of his briefs.

As you continue to tease him, you trail or lips over his chest. Your lips wrap around one of his nipples, the unpierced one, and you softly bite him before you run your tongue over his nipple, suckling.

He moans out a gentle “Fuck,” and one of his hands comes up to grasp your hair.

You move over to his other nipple, the pierced one to be exact, and you once again softly bite him then suck. You make sure to spend your time here because you know this is one of Simon’s favorite thing during foreplay. Once he’s taken care of there, you continue to trail your lips down his abdomen, and now you’re finally at his center.

You get off his lap and sit on the floor in-between his spread legs. You place your hands right above his knees, and you look up at him with your swollen lips.

“You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?” You rub your thumbs in soft circles on his legs, waiting for his answer.

You see him gulp as he looks down at you, and then his lips quirk, in a smirk.

“What do you say?” Your hands stop their ministrations and you tilt your head, understanding what he wanted.

“Please.”

His smirk deepens, “Good girl.”

At his greenlight, you come up on your knees so that you can reach him better. Your trail the hem on his sweatpants one last time before you start pulling them down off his hips, making sure that his briefs come off too. He lifts his butt to help you, and now you’ve successfully taken his pants and underwear off.

You greedily take in the size of him. His dick is hard and slightly curved as it lays against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick that your hand doesn’t close around it the whole way. You pump him slowly, as you look at him. His eyes are blown out and he leans his head back against the couch. You smile at him before you lower yourself. You link one strip up his dick, making him squirm underneath you. You then you bring up your hand to start pumping him. As your hand moves up and down, your lips come up to kiss the to crown of his dick.

You look up at him again, locking eyes and then wrap your lips around him. Once your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan. You continue to sink down on him. You move your head up and down, trying to adjust to his size. The part of his dick that you can’t fit into your mouth, you cover with your hand, pumping him up and down.

Your hair falls around you, and at this, Simon carefully takes your hair into one hand, putting it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck, baby that feels so good.”

You continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks. You know he’s close when you see his abs start to clench and his legs start to stiffen.

The moans he lets out has your getting wetter and wetter by the minute, and you squirm, trying to ease some of the pent-up tension you’re feeling.

Your unoccupied hand comes down to play with his balls, gently squeezing them and that is what does him in. He lets out a louder groan and you feel his warm come shoot down your throat.

You keep your mouth on him, cleaning him up before you slowly take yourself off him. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and you sit back on your heels, smiling at him.

He runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a low chuckle.

“Damn, you really did a number on me there.” You laugh yourself and you come up to the couch, sitting beside him so you can turn his head to give him a lingering kiss.

You give him a few pecks, “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” Your eyes are bright as you look at him, and his hold the same amount of affection and adoration.

His low voice cuts through you, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, alright?”

You give him a brief nod, “Please.”

He pulls you back into him, and then starts to push you back so you’re lying on the couch under him. He’s kissing you frantically now, his tongue entering your mouth.

“Take your pants off for me, would you?” His hands make their way to take your shirt off, and while he does that, you slip out of your shorts, underwear gone with them.

“Thank you, baby.”

He keeps kissing you as his hand comes down to your center. He first cups you, and then brings his pointer finger to rub against your clit. As his pointer is stimulating your clit, his middle and ring finger run along your slit, gathering up all the wetness that formed over the course of the last half hour.

You see him bring his coated fingers up to you. “Taste for me,” he breathes. And without any hesitation, you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, making sure to look at Simon while you lick his fingers. He watches you with fire in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing him call you that.

He brings his hand back down to your pussy and then enters two fingers in you, stretching you out deliciously. You whine as his fingers enter you; they feel so good inside you.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend has quite large hands, which equated to long, thick fingers, and he always knew what to do with them.

He starts picking up the pace, and the squelching sound his fingers make is deafening, and the only thing you can focus on as they move in and out of you.

You didn’t even have to ask before he’s adding in a third. You feel yourself clench around him, and you’re already losing your mind and he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet.

He’s hitting you right in your sweet spot, and your hands come up to hold him by the shoulders. He moves down ever just a hair, and you’re not sure why until he lowers his head. He spits, and then connects his lips with your clit, moving his tongue around your sensitive bud.

The addition to his lips on your clit has you seeing stars and you start to feel that familiar build up. You tumble over the edge, a bright warmness spreading through you.

Simon removes his lips and fingers from you and you’re both panting heavily. He’s bracing himself with one arm as he looks down at you.

Your hair is messily strewn across the couch behind you, and your eyes are bright. Your chest moves up and down as you try and catch your breath. You smile up at him, this time your teeth showing.

He gives you a peck on your lips. “How was that?”

You sigh, “Amazing.”

Another kiss is pressed on your lips and you can faintly taste yourself on him.

“I want to properly fuck you, and that can’t be done on the couch. Bedroom, yeah?”

You nod up at Simon acquiescing to his suggestion.

“Alright, up you go then.”

He swiftly pulls you up and off the couch into his arms. You squeal at the sudden movement but it turns into giggles as Simon carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wow, my night in shining armor.” You lazily loop your hands around his neck as he leads you both to the room. He just laughs at your statement.

Once there, he gently deposits you on the bed, and wastes no time picking up where you left off.

He crawls on top of you and starts to kiss you up your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth. His kiss leaves you burning, and your hands eagerly reach for him, pulling him down further into you.

You wrap your legs around his torso, and feel his dick brush up against your center, hard once again.

He pulls away to look at you, eyes connecting. “Do you need any more prep?” He brings a hand up to brush away some of the flyway hairs that covered your face. His hand lingers, cupping your head, and his thumb brushes your cheek in a soothing back and forth motion.

Smiling you answer, “No, I’m good.”

“Ok.”

Bracing himself above you, his hand trails down to grasp his dick. He gives it a few pumps before running it along your slits, and lightly taps it on your overly sensitive clit.

He then slowly guides it into you, the stretch much bigger than what his fingers could offer. You both let out a sigh as he fully sinks into you, eyes connecting at this very moment. Once he’s fully inside, he gives you some time to adjust, his hand moving to hold your hips, thumb moving in circles.

“You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good, you can start moving.”

At your consent for him to move, he does just that. He pulls his hips back before he pushes them back into you. He starts off with a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. You’re surprised he’s not pounding into you relentlessly like he usually does. This time his thrusts are much more calculated, calm, like he’s got all the time in the world. The slower drag of him against your walls makes you roll your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of him.

It’s only him, that’s all you can think about, all you can feel. You let go of the heaviness you’ve been feeling to focus on being with him now. It’s not hard, he makes you feel like you’re floating anyways.

Your fingers run down his face, down his shoulders, taking in as much as you can of him. Then you run your hand down his tattooed arm, mapping the intricate details of his tattoos and running over the protruding veins due to him propping himself up. Simon watches you as you run your hand across him.

He gives you a particular harsher thrust, eyes trained on you when you moan and clutch his arm a harder. He picks up the pace just a little, loving the way you look beneath him, taking his cock so well.

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you breathe. He hits that same spot again, but this time you move up the bed a little from the force of his hips. Your breasts jiggle as you shift up the bed and Simon’s eyes are travel to your chest. He brings his hand up to up one of them, rolling his thumb over your nipple. Simon keeps this faster rhythm with his hips, slamming into your now quivering pussy, showing you no mercy as he pounds into you with force.

His thrusts are powerful that leave the breath knocked out of you.

He removes his hand from your breast to wrap it around your leg. He positions your leg so it’s resting on his shoulder, now giving him a new angle into you. This position allows you to feel him move even deeper inside you, now feeling the tip of his dick hit your cervix, which makes you whine. His thrusts continue their hard motions, but his pace starts to slow down.

Simon’s hips start to falter a little bit in their smooth rhythm, a telltale sign he’s close. At his praising, you unconsciously clench around him, making him breathe out a silent curse as his hand tightens on your leg that is propped up on his shoulder.

“Si, I’m close,” you whine. You feel so full, so consumed by all things Simon, the only thing you can focus on is him and the building orgasm that threatens to spill over.

“Me too.” Simon removes his hand that’s been propping your leg up and moves it down to your clit, and starts to rub slow circles on the bud, making you squirm. You bring your leg down from his shoulder to wrap it around his torso once again pulling him closer to you. You drag your hands down and up his back as his thumb continues to abuse your clit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With a few more thrusts from Simon and the quick movements of his finger on your clit, you feel the coil in you snap, and it snaps hard. Your orgasm washes over you, a blinding white light that makes you feel like you’re going to pass out, and you call out his name one last time.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you see stars, as your pussy clamps down hard on Simon’s dick. He’s a moaning mess above you as he feels your orgasm that’s traveling through your body, your walls contracting around him.

He curses out a soft “fuck baby” and then he’s following just a hair behind you, traveling over his precipice as well, emptying inside of you. You feel his come paint your walls as your pussy continues to clench around him, as you ride out your second orgasm of the night.

He collapses on top of you but is careful not to crush you completely. You’re breathing heavy as you both come down from your highs, both sweaty messes.

He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a soft smile on his face and you smile back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

Your smile falters, “I never want you to leave me like that ever again. Got it?” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying trace of tenderness. Your hand comes up to push his hair back, waiting for his answer.

“Never.”

“Good.” You pull him back down to you for a kiss.

He slowly peels himself off of you and whispers out, “Wait here.”

You lay on your back, legs bent as you wait for Simon’s return. When you hear him entering the bedroom, you slightly sit up and you notice a washcloth in one of his hands.

He kneels back on the bed and gingerly pries your legs open so he can clean you up. He delicately starts wiping your center, his first few strokes making you writhe due to oversensitivity. His hand rests tenderly on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth as he wipes you clean. He must have run the washcloth under hot water because it’s wet and feels warm against your skin.

When he’s done, he pecks the inside of your knee and gets up off the bed to go throw the washcloth in the hamper. When he returns to you, he’s in his boxers, and he has a t-shirt in his hand.

“For you, my lady.” You laugh at him and take his shirt, pulling the soft material over your body.

You both clamber under the covers, and are now wrapped up in Simon’s arms.

There’s no place you’d rather be right now, and you’re so thankful the universe allowed you another chance to be with him like this.

If he didn’t make his way back to you, you don’t even know what you would have done. Probably would have gone mental, but who could really blame you?

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pillow-anime-talk · 6 months ago

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Hii, congrats on 4K followers! May I request 54 nsfw + Louis from Moriarty the Patriot with she/her pronouns? It can be enemies with benefits/or to lovers type of thing. Thank you :)

# tags: scenario; enemies with benefits; kinda pwp; little bit of romance; mostly drama; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, quickie, no condom, no kisses, no after care, cigarettes after sex

includes: female reader ft. louis james moriarty {mtp}

author’s note: thank you too! sorry for waiting so long :(

54. “I’ll kill you next time.”

You and the Moriarty brothers had been fighting anonymously for a very long time. You were an elusive woman with a cunning gaze, a passion for firearms, and the only creature you loved more than life was your cat – Lucius, a black and white stray soul that you found three years ago outside a brothel. You lived modestly, although from robberies, frauds and thefts you had quite a large sum of money saved up; however, for years you had dreamed of moving to another country, hence your frugal and organized approach to spending money. However, you did not spare pounds on your cat, that was an exception to the rule.

Although you and the three brothers had had a quiet war between them and you for years, and although they saw you as an enemy, they never had enough evidence that you were responsible for the aforementioned robberies or bankruptcies of high-ranking people or their businesses. And even if the youngest of the three brothers was incredibly close to you, so close that he was fucking you on your couch, he still couldn’t get confirmation from you that you were responsible for these situations.

Louis was a handsome, calm and composed man, and he was also a great cook and had high personal culture and respect for women or the elderly. Nevertheless, your nature didn’t allow itself even an ounce of feeling towards him, much less confirmation of his and his two brothers’ thoughts. You were like two opposite poles that, if combined, could cause a disaster. At this moment, however, thoughts about your differences were muffled by the sound of bodies bouncing against each other, your moans and the sighs of the man with light blond hair.

“You’re really beautiful when you’re not robbing banks.” He murmured in your ear, and you only rolled your eyes, squeezing his bare shoulder.

“I’ve never robbed a bank, idiot.” You answered falsely, with a hint of irony in your voice, to which Louis only laughed. “What? I’m telling the truth.”

“Sure.” His movements were quick, a bit sloppy, although you wouldn’t argue saying that he was the best lover you’ve ever had. Although he gave you indescribable pleasure, deep down you hated him as much as he hated the other side of you, which was evil incarnate, a cheater and manipulator. That’s why your sex was based only on a quickie, a few exchanges of words, sometimes a cigarette lit together, but nothing more. No kisses, no hugs, no questions if it hurt and if it was good.

When you changed positions and you were on top, Louis only suck your nipples and bite them with his white teeth. Your body went through a dozen shivers per minute. The couch under you was wet, and your bodies were sweaty. Heavy breathing interspersed with orgasm ended this meeting. Tired and with cum leaking from your pussy, you reached for a cigarette and a black lighter. Louis put his clothes on without a word, then turned to you in the doorway.

“I’ll catch you next time, Y/N.” He smiled and leave after a moment.

“I’ll kill you next time.” You replied, blowing out the choking smoke from your lungs.

The truth was, he would never catch you red-handed, nor did you ever intend to kill him. After all, you wouldn’t last longer than three days without each other, because that was your limit when it came to sexual abstinence.

#—🎉#quote prompts #prompts challenge #4k followers #4k special #prompt 54 #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot scenarios #moriarty the patriot imagines #moriarty the patriot x reader #louis james moriarty #louis james moriarty scenarios #louis james moriarty imagines #louis james moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty x you

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communist-manifesto-daily · 5 months ago

Text

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 24

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To the metaphysician, things and their mental reflexes, ideas, are isolated, are to be considered one after the other and apart from each other, are objects of investigation fixed, rigid, given once for all. He thinks in absolutely irreconcilable antitheses. His communication is 'yea, yea; nay, nay'; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil." For him, a thing either exists or does not exist; a thing cannot at the same time be itself and something else. Positive and negative absolutely exclude one another; cause and effect stand in a rigid antithesis, one to the other.

At first sight, this mode of thinking seems to us very luminous, because it is that of so-called sound commonsense. Only sound commonsense, respectable fellow that he is, in the homely realm of his own four walls, has very wonderful adventures directly he ventures out into the wide world of research. And the metaphysical mode of thought, justifiable and necessary as it is in a number of domains whose extent varies according to the nature of the particular object of investigation, sooner or later reaches a limit, beyond which it becomes one-sided, restricted, abstract, lost in insoluble contradictions. In the contemplation of individual things, it forgets the connection between them; in the contemplation of their existence, it forgets the beginning and end of that existence; of their repose, it forgets their motion. It cannot see the woods for the trees.

For everyday purposes, we know and can say, e.g., whether an animal is alive or not. But, upon closer inquiry, we find that his is, in many cases, a very complex question, as the jurists know very well. They have cudgelled their brains in vain to discover a rational limit beyond which the killing of the child in its mother's womb is murder. It is just as impossible to determine absolutely the moment of death, for physiology proves that death is not an instantaneous, momentary phenomenon, but a very protracted process.

In like manner, every organized being is every moment the same and not the same; every moment, it assimilates matter supplied from without, and gets rid of other matter; every moment, some cells of its body die and others build themselves anew; in a longer or shorter time, the matter of its body is completely renewed, and is replaced by other molecules of matter, so that every organized being is always itself, and yet something other than itself.

Further, we find upon closer investigation that the two poles of an antithesis, positive and negative, e.g., are as inseparable as they are opposed, and that despite all their opposition, they mutually interpenetrate. And we find, in like manner, that cause and effect are conceptions which only hold good in their application to individual cases; but as soon as we consider the individual cases in their general connection with the universe as a whole, they run into each other, and they become confounded when we contemplate that universal action and reaction in which causes and effects are eternally changing places, so that what is effect here and now will be cause there and then, and vice versa.

None of these processes and modes of thought enters into the framework of metaphysical reasoning. Dialectics, on the other hand, comprehends things and their representations, ideas, in their essential connection, concatenation, motion, origin and ending. Such processes as those mentioned above are, therefore, so many corroborations of its own method of procedure.

Nature is the proof of dialectics, and it must be said for modern science that it has furnished this proof with very rich materials increasingly daily, and thus has shown that, in the last resort, Nature works dialectically and not metaphysically; that she does not move in the eternal oneness of a perpetually recurring circle, but goes through a real historical evolution. In this connection, Darwin must be named before all others. He dealt the metaphysical conception of Nature the heaviest blow by his proof that all organic beings, plants, animals, and man himself, are the products of a process of evolution going on through millions of years. But, the naturalists, who have learned to think dialectically, are few and far between, and this conflict of the results of discovery with preconceived modes of thinking, explains the endless confusion now reigning in theoretical natural science, the despair of teachers as well as learners, of authors and readers alike.

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#socialism: utopian and scientific #communist manifesto daily #friedrich engels

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interregionalgyminspections · 2 months ago

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You should always pack at least one Escape Rope with you when delving into caves or similar areas.

Escape Ropes are very long, sturdy ropes that have a very elastic middle section. There's a button on one end that contracts the elastic section.

Tie the empty end to something near the entrance, and the button end around yourself. Most caves on Routes have poles near their entrances specifically for tying an Escape Rope around.

That way, you'll not only have a way of not getting lost, but if something happens and you need to make a quick escape, press the button on the end of the rope tied around you, and the middle section of the rope will begin to contract, pulling you towards the entrance of the cave.

While most Escape Ropes are one-use per person, due to you being unable to untie the empty end when you're at the opposite side of a cave, an inventor in Galar recently developed multi-use Escape Ropes. These have a slightly different design, and two buttons instead of one. The bigger button functions the same as a button on a regular Escape Rope, but the other button uses some complicated mechanisms to untie the other end of the rope, so you can pull it back to you. However, due to their recency, and use of much more complex mechanical components than regular Escape Ropes, these are rather expensive to acquire.

If you don't have an Escape Rope on you, and you're going into a cave on a Route, there might be a few spares already tied around the pole at the entrance. Make sure to make sure nobody's on the other end before using one, though.

#pkmn irl #breve

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williaml0ver · 1 year ago

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—♡ Confessions to make: a Kevin Ayuso Valentine's Day Special ☆ <3

[💌] word count: 2723

[💌] warnings: male reader, a little sad/angsty? but ends up very fluffy trust me, my first ever proof read work where is my five minute long standing ovation

[💌] this is my first ever regular fic instead headcanons and my first time writing for a male reader AND my longest work up to date and i am so excited to finally share it!!!! My apologies if there are grammatical errors, english is not my first language. Happy valentines' day guys 💃

💌 💌 💌

You're down bad.

Quickly following your entry to the infamous Manor you had a strong feeling in your guts that your life's about to change for good. I mean, who's life wouldn't change after residing in a big mansion after being invited to live there by some sketchy letter? Who's life wouldn't change after having to play a dangerous game of survival along several other odd, strange people? All that, yet never in your life would you think that those terrifying things would be the least of your worries - as the centre of your worries, fears and delusions was now a peculiar cowboy.

Kevin Ayuso.

That man is about to cause a great commotion in your life.

Opposites attract, they say. You two were absolute opposites. The north pole and the south pole. Two sides of the coin. He was tall, overly brave, outspoken, and, most of all, flirty. Very independent, however clingy. Meanwhile, you were the timid kind. A rather silent person. Looks like destiny was being very cruel towards you - making you much fond of the handsome, lively man. Of course, your instincts quickly came to a conclusion to bottle up your feelings, shove them inside you, thinking it's just a small, temporary attraction.

The plan was simple, right? To gush secretly over "your" Kevin for some time, until later the affection is gone with the wind. But easier said than done. He was absolutely everywhere both in reality and as a metaphore. Him being continuously in your mind, your dreams, but he wall all over the Manor in the real world as well. You just can't bring yourself to not notice him. Sure, because of his cheesy flirting nature he was often made fun of, but still, he is very respected by everyone. Everyone trusts him a lot during the matches, you could always depend on him. You weren't unpopular around other survivors, in fact, a lot of them appreciated you - you'd always listen to their rants and stories - on top of that, you also felt somehow confident in kiting during your games. It wasn't a rare sight to see the hunters simply giving up after chasing you for so long. Your company was very appreciated. You never expected anything in return, you just desired to make others feel better. Little did you know, all those people that you'd spend hours listening to them venting to you, would play a huge role in helping you overcome your biggest fear and dream. You confessing to the Kevin.

You believed you were extremely discreet about all that. It would be so embarrassing if anyone found out! You couldn't be more wrong... when one of the survivors asked you about him post match, you felt like combusting.

At first, you felt shocked. What?! You thought your not so little anymore crush wasn't noticeable. You never confronted any of your new friends about it. You barely even talk about yourself! How would they even know? ...what you did not consider is that they could easily tell how different you acted near him - the gentle blush on your cheeks, shaking legs, your voice more silent than usual. Now when you think of it, it is very true. You always admired him from afar, how he's so much taller than you. You secretly wished for a hunter to start chasing you, just so Kevin would come to the rescue. Whenever he'd carry you to safety, you felt like literally ascending. It was not rare for you to mess up a cipher because your eyes were on him. It truly was THAT obvious.

THAT obvious, but he himself never noticed the pair of eyes on him. Of course, he was busy with trying to flirt with the ladies. You knew that. One of the reasons why you never even considered confessing is obviously because of his ladies man nature. You just didn't stand a chance against all those pretty girls, it did make you feel insecure. All those roses he gave them, the random pick up lines, you didn't know if they made you feel more sad or envious. Despite that, Kevin indeed had nothing against you. He recognizes you as a good kiter, and has heard that you're a great listener to the point that several survivors confide in you. You weren't ignored, on the contrary, you two would actually do some small talk here and there. But that was it. He thought of you just as a normal person. Of course he did. You weren't that special. You knew that if you don't be the one to make the first step nothing really will happen, yet you are firmly unsure. Sure - if you gained some courage eventually the lingering thoughts terrorizing your brain would end - but would you be able to bear the possible feeling of rejection? You felt actually miserable because of this tough decision.

After much consideration, you decided to begin your plan starting with small moves. When Kevin's done with his match you quickly come to him, asking if everything is in order, then, you'd take your time patching up his bruises and wounds. The realization of being close to him felt amazing, and on top of that it made the cowboy be grateful a lot, resulting in him dashing as fast as he can when you get chaired in future matches. Those post match visits became very frequent. Other than that you also stared a lot. A LOT. You go to the nearest corner and just glare coldly at him. You're just so nervous about it all. You don't necessarily realize that slowly your crush becomes even more obvious, just when everyone thought this was impossible. They knew you are trying but just couldn't bring yourself to make a confident move, therefore, they decided help their friend. After all, you've done so much to make people in the manor feel cared for, understood and comforted - it was only fair to help you back in return.

The next day, you wake up to one of the butlers knocking on your door. Once opened, he explains that you're expected to go to the dining room part of the manor. You felt puzzled. Yes, you often were asked by others to support them mentally, but this time it was something diffrent. The butler didn't say anything else. You felt overly curious, maybe a little stressed as well. Finally, you get dressed and leave the dorm, braced for whatever is to come. To your surprise, the group who demanded your arrival was quite large. You see Emil, Ada, Emma, William, Memory and Lily nibbling their meals. If you felt puzzled when the buttler came to you, now you feel like you were a chicken and a truck was about to ran you over. Did they ALL need help from you? Couldn't they ask Ada? And what even is Ada doing here? She wants to vent too? With Emil? Did she bring him for emotional support? You decided to break the silence and ask what exactly is going on. You expect something actually reasonable, but once the answer lands you feel like not ran over by one truck, but by three.

They all came together to help you confess to Kevin.

You felt stunned. Yes, that is indeed a kind gesture! But just the thought of confessing made your temperature rise up. How were you supposed to do that? You felt like burning up and they knew. Through the whole conversation you acted absolutely paranoid, looking everywhere just to make sure HE isn't here. You spoke as silently as you could. It felt awkward here near everyone. The point of the meeting was to come up with a proper solution on how you should admit your love to the cowboy, a conversation in which you didn't take much part in. While you were staring at the ceiling, calculating who would survive if the chandelier randomly fell, they were in the middle of a huge brainstorm. Hmmm... there is just so much options, but which one would be the most suitable? Flowers, a necklace, words of affirmation and a cute place! ... I'm sure Kevin would appreciate something small - says Emma. BORINGGGGGGG - William would reply - a honest confession while being chaired would be the best! The dining room was now full of chaos. Was anyone even listening to each other? Truth is, you've already came up with your own idea. And who were you to not trust your intuition?

You've suddenly stood up from the chair and explained your motives. It was very kind from other residents that they wanted to help you so much, however you came to a conclusion that despite good intentions they won't help much. You stated that you'll do it on your own. Everyone was shocked, silence filled the room until loud cheering could suddenly be heard. Those people really hyped you up because you felt like you can actually do it. The only favour you asked for is for someone to notify Kevin that his presence is expected and Emma to give you a simple flower and leave the garden area of the manor just for you. You wanted to do it today because you knew that you won't be able to sleep at night with those endless thoughts filling your brain.

And so, the times was slowly coming. It was already getting a little dark. You were currently sitting on your bed, feeling like exploding. Your stomach hurt a lot. You had your elegant clothes on, and a small rose from Emma in your palm. Now or never. You took a deep breath and started approaching the garden area. You've quickly noticed the familiar silhouettes staring at you proudly.

"Go go go go go!!!" the Cheerleader yelled.

"If he's a dick towards you I WON'T hesitate to throw hands!!" the Forward said out loud.

You've entered the garden and sat on one of the benches, awaiting your special guest. You'd lie if you'd say you weren't stressed like crazy. You've found yourself in a big turmoil of emotions - you feel excited, anxious, bold and shy at the same time. Will he feel the same? To be honest, you don't feel like that. He just doesn't seem like the type to be into guys, and if he was, he'd probably only have a thing for the adventurous ones. Minutes passed and your self doubt became even stronger, you felt absolutely terrible. Your heart was beating faster than ever from the fear. You felt like on the edge of a meltdown. You decided that this is too much, while you appreciated everyone's will to help, but deep inside you're feeling like it's just a waste of time, none of this is going to work out! With tears slowly forming in your eyes, you head back to the exit, but... before touching the handle, the doors were opened by someone from the other side.

Of course by no one other than Kevin.

When the cowboy was told that someone is waiting for him, he immediately went there, curious about why is he suddenly so needed by someone. You stare awkwardly at him thinking it's all over, you felt humiliated. Kevin didn't exactly pick up on what's happening at first. He thought that since you often helped patch him up maybe you've grew closer to him and vent a little to him. You support others so much and now you are the one in need. If it was someone else Kevin would probably act like nothing is happening to not embarrass the person, but when it came to you, he felt sorry for you. He ordered you to sit on the bench you were previously sitting on. You sat on the left part making yourself as small as possible, meanwhile he sat on the other side, but despite that he is now basically occupying more than a half of it. You always loved how straightforward he was. How kind he was towards people in need how... how... hold on, he is asking something! Just like always, the handsome man made you forget about your worries, and well, the other things too.

Now you knew that this moment is the actual now or never. This conversation can change your life. While avoiding his gaze you stare at the window and suddenly see... Lily and William?! Those people really want to help. You decided that, not to waste their effort, you will say the truth. Once again, now or never. To be or to not be. You turn to Kevin and give him the rose, raising your trembling hand and then, you explain it all: how you perceived him during your early days in the manor, how you developed a crush on him, how visible it became to others, how ashamed and anxious you felt, what you think of him now. All of it. You don't think anyone in this manor has ever seen you this honest, you were shocked a little, too. And Kevin? He felt shocked, but not in a bad way. All those small conversations and patching up sessions were out of your love for him? How did he never notice? Now it was his turn to feel ashamed. Was he the one to make you feel so many bad emotions? He was desperately trying to flirt with women without much in return, but turns out his true love was around him all the time, without him suspicing anything.

You were prepared for the worst, at least God will know you tried, and you did not want to dissapoint the pair of four eyes gazing at the both of you. If anything bad happens, they will blackmail you for the rest of your life! But you didn't care. You did try to stay calm, albeit all of this was just too much. You muttered a silent sorry and started crying again. But Kevin was having NONE of this. He put you on his lap, wiped your tears and placed the rose in your hair. You felt flabbergasted, the man you had so many feeling for you likes you back. Nothing else mattered. You hugged him and you both started talking. Neither of you were aware, but more than two hours managed to pass and it was already pitch dark and on top of that cold. The cowboy noticed you yawning to the point the coldness didn't even bother you, yet he still took of his cowboy jacket and hat, quickly putting them on your body and head. You both stayed silent for the next ten minutes, with you just hiding from the world in his embrace. He was like a human heater.

Kevin asked you something, though he did not receive any response. Little did he know that you actually were pretending. He decided to leave the cold outside and go back to the manor - he picked you up bridal style and started walking towards his dorm. On his way he encountered many other manor residents, sure, some of them indeed were night owls, but did really so many people have trouble falling asleep on the same night? He heard Naib cheekily whistling at the sight of the two of you. He started grinning at the sight of Eli, his owl, Ada, Emil, Emma, William and Lilly smilling and silently cheering - something was up, he just didn't know what... were they celebrating that you've found your significant other, or are they just happy Kevin won't be bothering anyone anytime soon?

You eventually found yourself in Kevin's room, you were gently tucked in, and Jesus, you're surprised how you managed to keep a poker face through all of this. His large bed is comfortable and smells... like him. Finally, Kevin laid next to you and started hugging you. To be frank, you were REALLY tired at the moment, this time for real. You discreetly opened your eyes, which ultimately didn't work out, as he was staring at you and smiling. You gave him a quick kiss on his lips and hid your face in his chest. The last moment you remember before falling asleep was him muttering you a gentle goodnight and the soft feeling of your knuckles being kissed.

You sure were thankful to your friends. Now HE was down bad for you, too.

💌 💌 💌

I'm proud of this work, yet that's my first ever proper fic so i am a little unsure of how it ended up. If anyone has some tips i would like to hear them 😭 I love my silly boy Kevin dhdjskdjsjs. Once again, happy valentines' day to you all!! Together or alone it's a great opportunity to take care of yourself.

#identity v #idv #idv x reader #identity v x reader #kevin ayuso #idv kevin #kevin ayuso x reader #idv cowboy #idv kevin ayuso x reader #posting this at 1am #and streaming bjork #how are you guys doing

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