#avery/reader

[leggerefiore]

Dunno if you’d be interested in writing smth like this since it could get really angsty but how would Cyrus, Colress, Volo, or Avery react to accidentally injuring their s/o during a Pokemon battle?

blonds and scientists...

cw: injuries, blood, hurt, comfort,

characters: Cyrus, Colress, Volo, Avery

What was supposed to be a fun sparring match with your boyfriend had turned into something unfortunate. A slip up during battle – Daring to move just a bit closer to the action due to intense focus. It led to an attack by his pokemon landing on you instead of your own pokemon. You fell to the ground while clutching the part of your body that had taken the brunt of the attack. Instantly, the room erupted into chaos, your pokemon rushed over to your side alongside your boyfriend. The man himself seemed to move at an impossible speed, forcing the pokemon away to assess you himself.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The Night Slash from his Weavile stung horribly as you clutched your arm and doubled over in pain. The poor pokemon looked mortified by what it had done, staring at you with large, red eyes. Your own pokemon desperately tried to help you, too, making a sad cry and nuzzling into your side. The worst of the three had to be Cyrus, who gazed in a nearly frozen state at your bleeding arm. You could already tell that he was blaming himself for what happened to you. His self-deprecation was harsh and unforgiving. You wished for him to say something, but nothing would leave him. It was silent. Weavile even dared come closer to you and started to purr into your side, trying desperately to apologise. You held no admonition toward the pokemon, nor did you its master.

☄️ Cyrus felt completely taken aback by the situation. Certainly, he was aware that pokemon could be dangerous. Injury to humans were not uncommon – There was a reason most people wore repels when they had no pokemon or carried at least one on their person for protection. He was familiar with the fact that even pokemon that were close to humans could cause injury. A certain scar on his body tingled – A past electrical current that had ripped through him and rendered him unconscious, haunting his memory. His Weavile had not intended to do such a thing. He swallowed. Responsibility… He felt a desperate urge to take full responsibility for this. Seeing you in pain… the heart in his chest could not be more despised. These horrible feelings… He should be thinking about how to tend to your injury, not standing stunned into a silent stare.

☄️ “I… I apologise,” the words left him as he finally knelt down, pulling out a handkerchief and applying pressure onto the slash. He observed his Weavile's attempts to placate you with a distant curiosity. The pokemon clearly was upset with itself. He frowned deeper. It was not its fault… “This is my fault–” Before he could begin his repentance, you silenced him. Bringing your hand to genuinely cover his mouth, you shook your head. Instead, all you asked if that he helped to treat the wound. Cyrus nodded. There was no need for any more words to be spoken – no need for further guilt. Insubstantial and fleeting, those feelings faded. He wanted to say that, but his heart felt heavy every time his eyes found your bandaged arm. Only after it healed did he finally forgive himself.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 You clutched your arm as you tried to observe the damage from the Wild Charge of his Klinklang. You felt desperately lucky that it had not been a Gear Grind or that you might have been down a limb. Instead, a nasty burn followed your vein from where the electricity had run through your body. Thankfully, you knew to raise your left arm up so that the electricity did not run there. Klinklang hovered near you as silently as it could, mechanical eye blinking at you, the poor thing looked truly terrified. Well, as much as living gears could, you supposed. Your own pokemon was at your side, letting out sad cries and trying its best to comfort you. Colress knelt in front of you before you realized, tentatively taking your own into his gloved hands and observing your injured flesh. The pain was a strange kind of indescribable. You struggled to comprehend what Colress was feeling.

🧪 A scientist at heart, he had been paying special attention to this battle. It was between him and his partner – How would the bond between his pokemon and his partner play out? What of the ones he held with their pokemon? It was also fascinating to him. Perhaps he had been too focused on that, as this incident seemed avoidable. You should not have gotten so close to the battlefield, but he should not have failed to discern the risks. He would note this for future battles against you. But, his main concern became exceedingly obvious. An electric attack to a human could quickly prove fatal. Thankfully, you understood the path of least resistance and had acted accordingly to prevent lethal damage to your heart. Colress felt mortified at the thought. Losing you was unthinkable… Especially at the hands of his Klinklang. His partner pokemon...

🧪 “… A terrible error,” he mumbled as he drew his finger down the burn and narrowed his eyes. Getting you to a doctor was a high priority. You were stable as it was, but he worried his medical knowledge would not prove well enough here. He was aware that his heightened emotional state made him more likely to make errors. As much as bonds could provide strength, he would acknowledge the weakness they could also provide. “Can you stand? Do you feel stable?” he fell into a questioning mode to determine further his next course of actions. Your answers were carefully noted as he helped you along. In the end, he was unsatisfied with his performance and felt a focus on safety was required. Unleashing potential still mattered the most, but when it came at your detriment… Colress found himself unable to accept such results. He would rerun his simulations and tests. Your safety would be guaranteed.

📜Volo💫

⭐️ Your arm bled as you attempted to compress the large slash that had unfortunately been laid into your arm. Volo's battling style was particularly ruthless, and that meant even a usually gentle pokemon as Togekiss could do some severe damage under his tutelage. The poor fairy-type was pressed into your side and made sad coos. Your own pokemon was in a similar condition. It was honestly more painful seeing the pokemon so upset than from the actual injury that it had inflicted onto your arm. The harsh winds it had cut into you with haunted your mind. Volo stood over you silently with an unreadable expression. The attack certainly not been intended for you, but unfortunately, the desire to get closer to the action had cost you something this time. Togekiss had looked mortified the moment it had realised where its attack was going.

⭐️ There was nothing but a shaking sense of terror in Volo's heart. Perhaps a fleeting moment of the past, he would have desired nothing more than to see you as you were. Beneath him and weakened. Now, he felt sickened. The blood coming from your wound, and the obvious distress of his partner pokemon. Battling was dangerous. Pokemon were dangerous. Hisui was dangerous. His breath hitched. An injury like that could prove fatal. Why…? Why had you gotten so close to the battle? Were you an idiot? How had you survived for so long?! Frustration ate his heart horribly. Maddening… Everything had become maddening as of late. You were being foolish. He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, but that would change nothing.

⭐️ His hands grasped your arm as he pulled out cloth from his bag. He began to wrap it around the wound carefully. Injuries were a frequent thing in the wilds, so he was always prepared – even applying a salve meant to help it heal faster. It was silent as he did this. Words were beyond the situation. He caught your hand after he had finished his work. Lips pressed to your knuckles. He closed his eyes. “… You're an idiot,” he mumbled quietly, “… You, of all people, should know how pokemon are.” His grey eyes stared into your own. You were silenced by his harsh words. There was nothing to say. His Togekiss let out another pitiful cry. You brought a hand to pet its head. Volo stood up and turned away from you. He would be harder on you about battle etiquette – even if he did not really care for such a thing.

🎩Avery🥄

🔮 You felt dizzy after being hit by the Eerie Spell from Avery's Slowking. Sitting on the ground, you clutched your head as you attempted to overcome the effects of the psychic attack on your mind. Thankfully, it was nothing physical, so there was no concern for blood or concerning damage, but you were uncertain as to just how long the effect of the move would be on a human. Slowking was at your side, attempting to make a potion to aid clearing up your condition. It was endlessly distressed by what it had done to its trainer's partner. Your own pokemon sat trying to help support you. Avery stood above you with shrunken pupils and a grimace on his face.

🔮 He felt mortified that this had happened. If this had been an official match, he shuddered at the penalty that might be given to him. You had definitely been too close to the battlefield – Especially for those that held the potential for Dynamaxing, but his Slowking had completely missed your pomemon and unleashed a powerful attack on you. He knew the pokemon had no real intention of doing that, but it still happened. You were clearly dazed by the harsh psychic attack. If only he were more competent with telepathy, he might have been able to negate the effects. He felt frustrated by the situation. It only got worse when his Slowking tried to offer you a potion it had created. The chances of something good coming for it were not exactly something he wanted to risk.

🔮 Avery instead sat beside you and let you rest yourself against him. His arm was around your shoulders. He tried putting all his focus on anything related to telepathy – Desperately, he wanted to see some kind of effect. Nothing came, but you slowly came back to your senses from the odd effect of the trance. Blinking a few times, you met Avery's gaze. He let out a received sigh. Then, you started laughing. His heart raced. Was this another effect?! Panic rushed into his mind. “Wh-what!?” he managed to ask, quite inelegantly. Through your laughter, you managed to get out, Slowking and behind him. You pointed. He turned around. His top hat had apparently flown off in his panic to get over to you, and now his Slowking donned it. He was silent as he stared at the sight. You were okay, it seemed.

[ifwdominicfike]

feel free to come any time !!!!!!!!

[maladaptiveobsession]

“Magic pocket pussy”

Synopsis: DOL NPCS acquiring a magical pocket pussy synced to you.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, discipline, multi penetration, noncon, overstimulation, somnopihlia, toys

Words: 588

A/N: I only differentiated yandere!sirris from his normal conterpart as he is the only character I can imagine having drastically different behavior for this particular prompt. You can’t convince me Gwylan isn’t cooking up magic (probably illicit substances as well) in their shop. Something about them feels underlined with nefarious intent. I’d like to flesh out this concept with some of the characters at some point; there’s so much nuance and potential.

Abuses the hell out of it

With access to your cunt at all times, your pussy will be consistently puffy and raw from abuse. He’s stuffing you with cock whenever the urge strikes, torturing you with toys when his dick can’t keep up with his libido. He purposely teases you at inconvenient times. Watching you struggle to maintain composure in public is his favorite pastime. Most nights you wake up to the feeling of an invisible cock dragging along your gummy walls. If for whatever reason he can’t torment you at night, the pocket pussy is being stuffed with a vibrator so you wake up drenched in the morning. He’ll insert random objects throughout the day of various sizes and shapes, all to watch you squirm. Sometimes he’ll cram the largest dildo he can find inside to see you waddle around town in discomfort. He’s likely to fill the silicone hole with a dildo or vibrator of some sort—possibly both or even multiple of each—and then fuck you for real with the toys still inside. Really though, seeing your reactions is his favorite part of all. While your real pussy will always reign supreme, there’s a charm to watching you break apart without even actually touching you. The fleshlight is just so convenient.

➥ Anxious Gaurd, Briar, Kylar, C!Sydney, Leighton, Morgan, Quinn, Scarred Inmate, Whitney, Wren, yan!Sirris

Generally only when you’re not available

He doesn’t usually care for toys (why bother when he has you), but this one is an exception. It’s hardly a replacement for the real thing, but he can at least admit the convenience is alluring. It’s not all too often it gets used, but there are times when he misses you and can’t resist. It’s just so easy to punish you for being away for too long or simply to remind you of them. He could always just shove a vibrator inside and forget about it if he feels like it. Watching you fall apart without touching you proves enjoyable, as well. There’s a possibility he could even order a custom dildo, a replica of his length, to stuff the silicone cunt with, so you seek them out sooner. No chance you can forget about him when you can’t even sit. This opens the possibility of double stuffing you using only their dick. The longer you avoid them, the less patience and willpower they’ll have, therefore being less likely to wait.

➥ Alex, Avery, Bailey, Black Wolf, Eden, Great Hawk, Gwylan, Harper, Landry, Methodical Gaurd, Niki, Relaxed Gaurd, Remy, Veteran Gaurd, Zephyr

Only once in a moment weakness

He’s rather unlikely to use any toy, let alone a magical onahole. Just owning the thing feels like a breach of trust, but they can’t risk having it fall into anyone else’s hands. It sits in a drawer, hidden away until he eventually forgets about it. It’s not until he’s humping a pillow in the pitch dark of his room that he remembers it exists. He’ll scold himself, suddenly too ashamed to feel horny. Days will go by, constantly plagued by curiosity. When he finally concedes, apologies will spill from his lips as he rocks his hips into the silicone. It feels so good, and he wonders if you’re feeling the same. More than that, he wonders if the real thing—the real you—feels this good. His orgasm is the most intense he’s ever felt, electricity taking over him and his essence flooding the silicone imitation of you. The post-nut clarity is potent, mortifying. He’ll avoid you for some time after that, unable to even look you in the eye for even longer. Shame creeps along his spine like a parasite, vowing never to lose control like that again. Below the guilt, desire grows and bites at his willpower. Who knows how long it’ll be before he gives in again?

➥ Charilie, Darryl, Doren, P!Sydney, Jordan, Mason, Mickey, River, Robin, Sam, Sirris, Winter,

Bonus

The likely creator of said pocket pussy

➥ Gwylan

[rueclfer]

avery requests fwb fratboy touya 😜😜 and maychance he ghosts u bc hes catching feelings maychance

(ur the goat btw)

hi (🐐) avery and hello frat boy touya fanatics ehhehsjs <3

fuck around and find out // touya todoroki

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - IV"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 4.8k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Non/Con, Mental Breakdown, Hallucinations, Implied rape of a background character, Virginity Kinks, Age Gaps, Choking, Gagging, Bondage

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

It is Saturday, the 10th of September, 2022.  -It has been 6 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,799 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are troubled Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You clock into the spa as soon as it opens, your mind a haze as you greet the receptionist. 

Then, you blink, and you’re outside. It’s dark.

…What?

You turn around. You’re right outside the spa, but the closed sign is up. Furrowing your brow, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. 

21:06

Something else catches your eye.

Current funds: £1,799

Woah, you must have worked all day. But you don’t remember even a single client. You check your current condition again, but you aren’t under the influence of any drugs or alcohol. Could it be psychological? Could it be that your stress has been rising, causing you to disassociate and lose time? 

You should probably check yourself into a hospital, but that’s not exactly an option here. Feeling tense and nervous, you put your phone back into your bag, only to brush your hands against something cold and metallic. You pull it out, and it’s a watch. It looks expensive. 

Fuck, did you steal this? You shove it back into your bag and feel your hand brush against even more metal. You duck into an alleyway and empty your purse. Aside from the watch, you found a ring, two necklaces, and another less-expensive-looking watch. You bite your thumb as you check your journal. 

You are carrying:  £3,210 in stolen goods. 

Your eyes bulge. You have to return these, you have to—

You hear a loud crash from somewhere not too far from you. Startled, you whip your head up to see a hooded figure standing over an overturned trashcan. The figure is walking your way, so you grab the stolen things off the floor and run.

You aren’t sure where you’re going or for how long, but by the time you’re finally sure you lost them, you’re standing on Cliff Street. You use a streetlight as support while you catch your breath, trying to think of what you can do. 

First, you’ll have to go back to the spa tomorrow. You’ll have to come up with something, some excuse or reason or justification, and get the receptionist to go back and check who came in that day, call each of them and then ask if they’ve lost anything, and then- 

You hear a sniffle and look up. It’s coming from the pillory. There’s a woman locked there, her bottom half completely exposed. She’s trying to stifle her sobs, trying to make herself look smaller. She’s trying to hide. 

Your heart throbs as you approach. She hears your footsteps, and a look of sheer petrification overcomes her expression. You still your movements. 

>Help the girl —Trauma ++Stress >Leave +Trauma +Stress

“It’s okay,” you say softly. The woman looks up at you with a scared expression, and you realize you were wrong in your description. This isn’t a woman, but a girl your age. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She eyes you warily, and you look around. There’s no one here, so you pull your shirt off and approach the girl, who looks like she might be on the verge of a breakdown. 

“It’s okay,” you say as you kneel to tie your shirt around her waist. You notice something sticky on her skin, and you feel your heart sink even further. You feel your face crease as you imagine everything she must have gone through until now. You want to help this girl. 

You brush yourself off as you stand, suddenly aware of your shirtlessness. There’s still no one around, but you know how dangerous this is. You’re basically a sitting duck, as things are. ++Stress You smile at the girl. “I’ll be back,” you say. She nods slightly, looking confused. 

You all but run back to the orphanage, where you change your shirt and grab some spare clothes. Then, you head over to the local convenience store to pick up some water and snacks. It only takes 15 minutes, and soon, you’re back in front of the girl. 

“I brought you some food and water, as well as some actual clothes. I, uh, also brought some underwear in case you wanted some. It’s clean, but I get it if you don’t want to touch it. Oh! I picked up some wipes, too. I’d have to clean you, though.” Your face feels a little hot with embarrassment, but you try not to show it. 

The girl, looking quite bashful, nods with a pink face. “I’d really appreciate that,” she says. You nod and begin to wipe her down, avoiding the sensitive areas. Then, you help her put on your clothes and help her with the snacks and water. She looks much better by the end of it.

“Thank you,” the girl says softly. “I’d almost forgotten there were nice people in this town.” You smile at her. “You don’t even know what I did, but you helped me anyway.” 

“I don’t need to,” you say firmly. “No one deserves to be treated like this.” She smiles at you. A real, genuine smile. You feel like you’ve done something worth doing tonight. —Trauma

“Thank you again,” she says, looking at the ground. 

“Of course,” you say. “How much longer do you have to be in there?” 

“Still another two hours. I’ve been out here for eighteen already.” She looks to the side. “Got caught stealing.” You feel a chill wash over you as your bag seems to double in weight.

“...What did you steal?” 

“A watch, among some other things.”

“Huh?” Your heart begins to beat violently in your chest as pressure engulfs your head. You can’t move. Oxygen becomes hard to come by as your ears ring and your head spins. You feel dizzy like you might fall. But your body doesn’t move. 

The girl’s face contorts horrifically as she screams out in agony, her skin melting and bubbling. You see horns begin to poke out from under her skin as her eyes fall back into her head and disappear. You hear fire crackling in your ears, your eyes so wide they’re sore as the scene in front of you plays out. There’s fire everywhere, the girl looks like the devil and—

She stops convulsing, and the world goes quiet. The last thing you want is to get closer, but you’re not in control of your own body. You approach carefully, hesitantly. The girl’s head snaps to you.

She’s wearing your face. +++Trauma +++Stress

You start screaming. You scream and scream, your lungs burning and every muscle in your face throbbing as sheer and utter terror overtakes your senses.

You’re still thrashing when you finally come to your senses, your mouth open in an ‘O’ shape. Your jaw is sore, and you’re in an alley on the ground, drenched in sweat and dry heaving. 

You check your phone. 

21:11

Feeling battered and exhausted, you stand up and brush yourself off before heading home, where you take a long, hot bath. By the time you’re out, it’s nearly midnight. Already dressed in your pajamas, you drag yourself back to your bed and collapse into it. You think about everything you’ve been through since coming here—those damned fragments you have to collect and now a psychotic episode.

You think about the fragment you just collected and the pandora’s box of worms that comes with it. You open your phone and stare at the screen, your mind both empty and overflowing as your eyes trail the words in front of you. You feel numb every time you look at it, a sinking feeling in your stomach you’re becoming all too familiar with. 

Sighing, you push the racing thoughts out of your mind, knowing you’ll get no answers tonight.  

You roll over and go to sleep, though you sleep very poorly. 

—————————

It is Sunday, the 11th of September, 2022.  -It has been 7 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,799 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are disturbed Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You’re awoken by a loud rapping on your door. You blearily get up to check, but the nuisance has already barged in. 

“Time to pay up,” Bailey says. You nod and hand him the money. 

“Good. You came through. Next week I want £300.” 

You nod slightly, and he leaves. You roll over and go back to sleep. By the time you wake up, it’s 09:36, and the spa is open. You debate in your head over whether or not you should clock in, knowing what happened yesterday. You have enough money to be good on the payment for next week, and even the next two weeks after that, but complacency could get you sold as pudding if you’re not careful, and you have no idea what kind of expenses you’ll run into in the future. 

Feeling a little like you might be making a bad call, you ready yourself to go to work. When you enter the spa, the receptionist greets you cheerfully. 

“I’m glad you came in today,” he says. “Business has really improved since you started working here. People keep asking for you.” 

“They do?” You feel like someone just dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. You know they aren’t asking for your skills. The receptionist is about to answer when he gets a call and shoos you away, so you decide to drop it and head in. 

Your first client is obviously eyeing you up, but doesn’t try anything. He tips okay. +£60

Your second client tries to get you to undress with her, but doesn’t do anything when you refuse. She tips well. +£120

Your third client doesn’t even greet you before he’s trying to take off your clothes and touch you! He lunges for you and grasps your arms in his hands as he pushes you onto the table. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he says, raspy and lowly. “Waited for hours just to reserve your time. This is happening.” ++Stress

You struggle under his arms, but he’s too strong. He leans in for a kiss, but you turn your head away. 

Not one to be discouraged, however, he goes for your neck instead, licking and sucking on your skin in a way much worse than if he had just kissed you normally. 

You go limp, and he moves a hand from your arm to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to expose your panties. You use your now-free arm to poke him in the eyes, causing him to stagger back off of you. You waste no time jumping off the table, grabbing your bag, and running outside. 

You duck into a nearby alley to catch your breath.

You hate this place. You hate this place so much. You need a break, you need to go somewhere. Do something. You need to—

Your mouth is cold. You blink, and realize you’re sitting in a booth, ice coffee in your hand and the sounds of a cafe buzzing around you. 

Shit. You just lost time again, didn’t you? Furrowing your brow, you rummage around your bag for your phone and check the time. It’s only been half an hour. Half an hour in which you could have done literally anything and would have no idea. 

…You need to relax.

You lean back in your chair, forcing your muscles to relax as you try to take in the aroma and atmosphere around you. You take a slow sip of your coffee, but your stress doesn’t fade. There’s a slightly tingling sensation across the back of your neck, something you’ve felt before. Something is watching you. +Awareness

You glance around the cafe. A hooded kid in a medical mask is sitting across the cafe, seemingly engrossed in his phone. It’s Kylar. 

You finish your drink and leave quickly, hoping Kylar won’t follow you. 

The hairs on your neck stand up the whole way to the pub, and don’t leave until you’re sitting down across from Landry. 

“This is quite the haul,” he says, handing you £3,210. “I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I hope so, too.” 

—————————

Standing outside the pub, you stare down at your quest menu.

Side quests >Buy a better bed Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

You need that stress and trauma decay. You don’t know if it’ll help with the amnesia or dissociation or whatever it is, but it’s the only thing you can think of, so you buy a bus ticket to the shopping center, making a beeline straight toward the furniture store. 

The bed is easy enough to find, there’s only one two single models. You buy the more expensive one, since it’s the only one labeld as comfortable. You look at the bedding next, comparing various blanket textures and sheet designs. You try to envision what everything would look like together, and eventually pick a set you think mix well. Wallpapers and posters are next. You try to pick out designs that aren’t phallic, but they’re a little hard to find. Still, you’re starting to have fun, and you feel the ghost of a smile form on your lips as you picture what your new room will look like.

Thinking back, you’ve been doing a pretty good job for yourself. It’s been a whole week, and you still haven’t been assaulted. You managed to establish dominance over Kylar and gain a steady supply of pepper spray at the same time. And now, here you are, doing something completely domestic in a depraved game modded to be even worse. You feel proud for having adjusted so well so far and confident that you’ll finish your quests and make it home in record time. 

You pick up a few other things you like and have room for and then head to the register to check out. The entire purchase is £2,709, leaving you with £4,780 left over. Not bad. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Quest completed! Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside. Congratulations on completing your quest! Your new bed will be installed automatically, but bedding, posters, and the like will need to be installed manually. 

So this game grants small mercies after all. Getting the bed set up would have been the hardest part, and by leaving the rest to you, you get full creative control over where you want things to go. Smiling, you climb onto a bus and head back to the orphanage, where you spend the next few hours setting everything up. 

You step back and admire your work. It isn’t perfect. There are things you had to compromise on, ideas you had to discard. But it’s good. It looks like something you would’ve liked as a kid, back when you didn’t have as much freedom to decorate your room as you did after moving out. It’s nostalgic, in a way. 

You feel refreshed. -Stress -Trauma

Your tiny room has now become a tiny home. You may now “reminisce” once a day for a small decrease in stress and trauma.

You lay down on your new bed, muscles finally relaxing after days of being on edge. You allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of being comfortable for once. You know you aren’t safe here, not really. You could wake up to someone on top of you at any time, but right now, that possibility feels so far away. -Awareness

Your eyes droop, and you soon enter a deep slumber.

—————————

Blearily, you open your eyes to a dark hospital room, your phone on the desk beside you. Though still a bit sore, you roll over and grab your phone, checking the time.

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022.  -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £314 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are placid Trauma: You are disturbed Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged 02:07 You’ve unlocked a fragment.

Your eyes land on the notification under the time, and you open it.

Fragment 3:  Your recent encounters with so many people have opened your eyes to the way of the world. The attention focused on you is not normal. Your special trait has become visible. +++Awareness

Special trait? This probably isn’t good.

Your stomach drops.

Cursed - Something special has taken an interest in you. Your luck depends solely on this entity’s whims. Purity is drained nightly.

Some…thing? Something like what? Is it the Wraith? Something else? 

What does it mean? Is it related to the temple? You feel like there’s something you’re forgetting, but your head hurts too much. There’s a pressure in your head, like you’ve just been plunged underwater. Everything is quiet around you, and yet things have never felt louder. The sensation drowns out anything else, and you collapse onto the ground, somehow having moved from your place on the bed.

You think you dreamed of something, but the details are lost. When you check the time it’s 19:38. You slept for six hours. You feel refreshed, though a little thrown off.

Deciding that you need to stretch your legs, you put on your shoes and get up. The walk is nice enough, though it’s a little chilly. You’re about to turn around and head back when a fancy car stops by next to you, and the driver's side window rolls down. “I was hoping to spot you,” Avery says. 

For fucks sake, it’s a Monday. He’s only supposed to bother the player on Saturdays. 

“I’m going to…an event tonight. Would you care to join me?” Fuck, that’s not one of his lines, is it? You smile awkwardly. 

“Is it formal? I’m afraid I don’t have anything to wear.” 

“Well, it helps that we’re right by the shopping center then, doesn’t it?” 

“Huh? But-” Avery has already turned off his car and hopped out. 

“Why don’t we have a look around together? Don’t worry, I’ll pay.” You stare at Avery. He smiles at you. It’s all you can do to smile back.

“...How could I say no?” 

Avery takes you back into the shopping mall, where you enter the clothing store. He picks out a skimpy leather dress for you and asks you to try it on. You don’t want to anger him, so you put it on. When you emerge from the changing room, he’s holding up two pairs of heels.

“These have a strap, so they’ll stay on easier,” Avery says, holding up a pair of kitten heels. “On the other hand,” he picks up a pair of court heels. “These are preferred amongst certain company. Both are acceptable, however.” 

“Couldn’t I wear flats?” You ask. Avery barks out a laugh. 

“My dear, you simply don’t wear flats when you’re out with me,” he says. You don’t press the issue. As you try on both heels, Avery moves to look at the lingerie. +Stress He pauses as he browses through the various panties and stockings. “On second thought,” he says. “Perhaps you don’t need anything under it.” +++Stress

Avery buys the clothes and makes you change into them, instructing you to fold your old clothes and hand them to him with your underwear on top. You do, feeling absolutely humiliated. -Control

You let Avery lead you back to his car, where he drives both of you to the flats. You recognize this event. Suddenly, you wish you had chosen the court heels. At least those you could kick off and make a run for it. 

Still, this isn’t the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, you suppose. Of the several ways this night could end, many possibilities don’t include brutal rape and violence happening to yourself or others. You just have to shoot for one of those, you think to yourself, trying to breathe. 

Avery leads you to the apartment building with a lotus knob and knocks. Bailey answers the door, and Avery brings out his hand to shake. Bailey takes it, but his eyes never leave your form. No one says anything as Bailey leads you and Avery inside to where Quinn and Leighton are already sitting.

From there, the date goes more or less how you remember it happening in the original. They ask you to fetch drinks for them. You smile and nod.

"Brandy," Quinn says. "Just how I like it." + Love -Quinn's card skill

Bailey sniffs his drink before taking a sip. He doesn't comment. Leighton takes a sip of his without looking. Avery is the last to drink. He peers at the liquid and takes a sip. 

"A good choice," he says to Bailey. -Avery's card skill +Endearment

Everyone bets £100. Bailey takes a sip of his drink. Avery, Leighton, and Quinn fold immediately, and you wonder if this is one of Bailey’s tells. His hand is good but not great. A bluff, then. 

"It's proper the first win should go to the host," Quinn says. "The night is young yet."

Bailey instructs you to make yourself useful and clean something. You polish the silverware behind Avery. It’s pretty fancy stuff. You resist the urge to make a comment about how glad you are that your rent is being used on such worthwhile expenses. Avery and Leighton chatter about some party behind you. When you’re done, the silverware looks no different, probably because you did it wrong intentionally. Fuck you, Bailey. 

A snake slithers out from some crevice somewhere. You would have jumped, but you had seen it out of the corner of your eye earlier. Avery, Quinn, and Leighton aren’t as lucky, however, and their chances of winning soon plummet as they fluster. Bailey explains the snake is for catching mice as it slithers onto the table and coils around itself. Everyone but yourself and Bailey seem to be a bit more on edge for the remainder of the game. ++Bailey’s card skill

Bailey glances at the clock. “One more,” he says. “I have somewhere to be.”

"If this is the last game, we should make it interesting," Avery says, throwing a large wad of cash onto the table. Quinn and Leighton match the stack, but Bailey shakes his head. 

“I don’t have cash to spare,” he says. Quinn coughs, and looks at you. 

"The girl is with me," Avery says, voice nearly trembling from barely-contained rage. 

"The girl is with you," Bailey says. "But she belongs to me." No one says anything for a moment until Quinn breaks the silence.

"We're friends here," he says in a lower tone, leaning towards Avery. "Let's not ruin it." Avery’s gaze remains fixed on Bailey. 

"Fine, are you wagering the girl or not?" Bailey hesitates, looking from the cash on the table to the cards in his hands. You suppose you should be flattered he’s considering not prostituting you. 

"I'll wager the girl for one evening. Deluxe rules." He looks at you. "Climb on." Already having predicted this, you shrug and hop up. 

The game is unnaturally tense, even considering all the money on the line. Each player continuously glances up from their cards to look at you. They seem focused on something, but neither the cards nor the money seem to be the object of their attention. 

Feeling uneasy, you begin to debate how likely you’d be able to successfully undo the straps to both your heels, kick them off, and then run all the way from the flats to the orphanage at night, where everyone knows you’ll be heading towards. 

You stay seated. Bailey wins.

Avery looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel, with an actual forehead vein bulging on the side of his head. Quinn looks dispirited, and Leighton looks annoyed. No one so much as glances at the money they’ve lost, their gazes all transfixed on you, even as they walk out the door.

Once everyone is gone, Bailey gestures for you to follow him. He brings you back to his car, holding open the door for you. When you look at him as if he had just grown three heads he simply smiles. The expression doesn’t suit him. “So you don’t run away.” +Stress

Fighting the urge to bolt in heels, you force a nod and step in the car, warily eyeing Bailey as if he might attack you. 

To your surprise, the normal event with Bailey never occurs, and he simply drives you back to the orphanage without any stops or detours. When the car is parked, you unbuckle yourself and try to open the door but are met with resistance. 

“You locked me in,” you say, smiling awkwardly as you gesture to the door. Bailey smiles. 

“I know,” he says, getting out of the vehicle and walking over to your side of the car. ++Stress

You’re on your feet before you even register the sound of the door being unlocked, scrambling backward into the driver’s side seat, not caring if your heels scratch the expensive leather. It’s all in vain, however, as Bailey catches your foot and drags you out of the car. You’re thrown onto the ground by Bailey’s feet, where he then grabs you by the hair and lifts your head up. 

“I’ve been meaning to replace those seats,” he says, face close to yours. “But I could never justify spending the extra cash. But now, I don’t have to. Since you’ll be paying for it,” he growls, grip on your scalp tightening. 

“And I know just how to make you pay,” he says, dragging you by your hair into the orphanage.

He leads you to your room. The one you just finished setting up. You don’t even have time to react before he’s slamming the door behind you and throwing you onto the bed.

It hits you, then. Just what he was planning to do to you. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. 

Sure, it’d be out of character, normally, but you aren’t in the normal game. You feel lightheaded as he pushes up your leather skirt, revealing your bare cunt. “No panties? Guess you were planning on working hard tonight,” he says, breath on your ear. +Jealousy

You feel frozen, and it isn’t until a sizeable drop of saliva hits your clit that you jump up into action, immediately thrashing in his hold and screaming for help. 

He’s faster than you, though, and catches your mouth before you can so much as get a word out. With his other hand, he loosens his tie and removes it from his neck. He stuffs it in your mouth and restrains your arm with the one he’d been holding your mouth with. You try to wriggle out of his hold, but soon, he’s got both of your arms tied behind your back with a belt. He looks down at you, face inches from yours, with a blank expression. “Behave,” he says. “Don’t make me hurt you.” You manage to spit the tie out into his face, and he slaps you hard. 

“I don’t have to be nice,” he reminds you, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He releases you, and you try to scream, but his hand is already on your neck, pressing down hard against your jugular. You struggle against your restraints, but it’s no use. You can hardly breathe. You flail wildly from underneath Bailey, but the pressure on your neck makes it hard to think coherently. Bailey seems to have no trouble fending you off, even finding time to push down your top and reveal your breasts, leaning back to admire them before giving them a quick slap. You now lay under him, completely helpless and exposed. And as you realize that you’ve spent all your air fighting, you hear the sound of a zipper being undone as your vision blurs.

—————————

<Prev Next>

[b1rds3ye]

Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[shelbgrey]

I NEED some of those smutty/fluffy head cannons for that beautiful sexy hot cake of a man named Jackson, Plz Pookie!!!

Poison(Jackson Avery)

Paring: Jackson Avery x Sloan!Reader

Summary: ever since the hospital merge Jackson and y/n Sloan didn't get along and would often bit each heads off dispite the growing tension. Then one day they both snap in a unexpected way

Warrings: SMUT! Enemies to lovers Smut, unprotected sex, sorta hate sex.

A/n: I'll do you one better, Pookie, I'll give a whole damn story.

MasterList ML2

Jackson wasn't expecting to see her in the on-call room, but today wasn't his day. Deep down he didn't mean to scowl when he saw her, but after losing his patient, Mark and his mother being on his ass he just wasn't in the mood. He wasn't even in the mood to make a sind comment when he see saw her. He just rolled his eyes and sinp out a comment “Great, just what I needed!”

Jackson and y/n have been working together for a while now and they could never stand each other. Everyone could see that, but everyone(aside from Jackson and y/n) could see the sexual tension that grew stronger every day.

She looked up from the chart she was studying and roll her eyes and got up from the bed. Her day hadn't been the greatest either and she had a long day. She wasn't on the mood to deal with him. “don't worry I was just leaving” she frowned and grab her lab coat that was crumbled up on a chair.

He looked almost amused as he watches the fire grown in the eyes he secretly loved. “Seriously, why do you always have to be so difficult?” He walks towards her, his body language aggressive, but still controlled by his emotions.

She took a deep breath and walked around him. “Seriously, Avery I'm not in the mood”

“I can see that. What's got you all riled up?” His voice drips with sarcasm as he steps infront of her, blocking the exit of the on-call room.

“Don't patronize me, we all know you hate me... Just as much as I hate you” that wasn't true, she didn't hate him. But she wasn't about to get used or her heart broke by him.

He stops, looking down at her, anger and jealousy clear in his eyes. “Fine, let's play it your way. If you hate me so much, maybe we should just get it over with” He steps closer.

She immediately back up until my back hits the wall of the on-call room, her heart is pounding. “g-get what o-over with?” I stuttered.

He smirks, taking another step closer. “I think you know...” his beautiful eyes stared into her soul as stepped closer, leaving nothing more than an inch between them. “You always know how to push my buttons.” He leans both palms against the wall, trapping her between him and the hard surface.

Her breath hitches as she stared at him with doe eyes. “the feeling is mutual Avery” she said, trying to stand my ground. Jackson smirked, capturing her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “which part?”

Jackson chuckles the dryly and grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. “oh, I do know... since we're both feeling it, we might as well do something about it.”

She suprised herself when she did't fight him, she stood still and watch him as her heart pounded against her chest “Avery...what are you doing?”

“His face is inches from hers as he leans in, his breath hot on herskin. “I'm taking what's mine.” he said roughly then he crashes his lips against hers in a possessive, demanding kiss.

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened at the unexpected contact. She pull away, staring into his beautiful eyes with determination. “you don't own me, I'm not yours to take”

He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “Oh, but you are, and I plan to prove it.” He kisses her again, harder this time, his anger and jealousy fueling the intensity. Her lips smashed against his, it was fueled with all her frustration. The first moan of this whole situation fell passed her lips as she felt his tounge brush against her lips demanding entrance. Feeling brave she doesn't, closing her lips denying it entrance.

He groans against her lips, his hands traveled down her waist to her ass, gripping it hard. She gasped at his roughness, giving him the opportunity to slip his tounge passed her lips. Their tounges fought for dominance, but she let Jackson win. As he deepens the kiss. His anger and jealousy start to mix with desire.

Y/n gripped his scrub top in her fist and and pushed him towrds the bed in the on-call room with force. Jackson stumbles back slightly, hitting the bed. His heart is racing as he looks at her. “You really want this?” He asks, his voice rough from the kissing.

“Shut up” she said roughly and stratled his lap, slamming her lips to his for a rough kiss.

Taken completely by surprise, Jackson groans into the kiss. His hands roam down her sides to her ass, pulling her body flush against his. “You're going to regret this when we're done” Jackson murmurs against her lips.

“Probably” she whispered then nipped as his jaw as she pushed him flat on his back on the bed.

“Fuck” He groans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands slided his large hands under your lab coat, gripping her hips. Y/n quickly tugged her lab coat off and drop on the floor, his breath hitched as he watched her grind her hips against his.

“Fuck, Jackson” she moaned his first name for the first as she grind her hips a little hared. She let a moan slip past her lips when his growing erection pressed against her core.

Jackson groans, arching into her. His hands roam down your his, cupping her ass through her scrubs. “Fuck, I want you” he growls, biting his lip.

Jackson sat up, keeping her trapped in his lap as his lips trail kisses down her jaw and neck. His hands move to the hem of her scrub top, tugging it over her head. “I've dreamed about this for so long.” He whispers, grabbing her hips to control her movements against him.

“M-me too” she accidentally admitted.

His fingers brush against her bra, tracing circles against her clothed nipple with his thumb. “Then stop fighting me” He growls, capturing her lips once more in a hungry kiss.

“What's the fun in that?” she asked breathlessly as her fingers play with his short hair.

He chuckles against her skin, the sound vibrating deliciously. His hands slide underneath her scrub bottoms, caressing her ass. “You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” He teases, his lips trailing down her callorbone to the top of her breasts.

She bit her bottom lips so didn't give him the satisfaction off hearing her moan. She huffed, tugging at his scrub top, wanting it off. Feeling the tug on his scrub top, Jackson smirks against the skin of her breasts before pulling back slightly. “Impatient, aren't we?” He teases, helping to remove his scrub top, revealing his toned torso.

She gulped when she saw his chest, her eyes traveled down his toned torso and bit her lip again, stopping a moan as her hands instinctively traveled down his chest.

“slower,” he sighs, loving her delicate touch. His lips trail kisses up your neck, stopping at your ear. “Take your time.” He whispers, his hips pressing against her's again.

Her finger traveled down his chest slowly till she found the drawl strings of his scrub pants. He groans, arching into her touch. He moans as he watches her hands undo the strings and slide the pants down, freeing his cock. “You're so fucking sexy,” he whispers.

“you're driving me crazy,” he growls, his hands trailing down her sides, pushing her pants along with her underwear off. He discarded them then slides off the bed, pulling his boxers off. He climbs back on top of her, his erection pressing against her slick core. “Tell me to stop”

She shook my head no as pulled him down for a kiss. “Good girl” He whisperes, kissing her deeply. His hips start to rock against her, making he moan. He slowly pushing into her tight heat. He kisses down her jaw and a crossed her collarbone, sucking lightly as he continues to thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, his eyes locked on hers. His thrusts become faster, harder, as he loses control. “You're mine,” he growls, biting her bottom lip.

She wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him closer against her. “s-so good” she moaned an incomplete sentence, too distracted by the way he feels against her.

“I'm going to make you scream my name” he warns, his eyes burning with lust. He picks up the pace, driving deeper into her wet heat. His body shudders with the effort to hold back as he feels her clenching around him.

“Harder, Jackson... Please” she moaned desperately.

“Fuck” he hisses, slamming into her over and over again. His mouth finds her neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he loses control. He groans her name as he feels his impending release, his hips bucking wildly.

“jackson!” she screamed against his shoulder as she bucked he hips up, trying to meet his thrusts. He cries out as well, his entire body tenses, shooting his seed deep inside. He holds himself over her, panting. “Holy shit.” He groans out, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

A loud moan leaves her lips as his climax ignited hers. She held onto his shoulders, cumming all over his cock “J-Jackson” she panted as held on to him.

Jackson kisses her softly, his heart still racing. Slowly, he pulls out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on his member. “God damn it,” he mutters, clearly frustrated with himself.

She look at him with a confused when she saw his expression. He runs a hand over his short hair, trying to calm himself down. He climed off the bed and slipped his boxers on. “I'm sorry. That was... I shouldn't have-” He trails off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

Her heart crumbled. “I knew it” she mumbled, shaking her head. She had let her guard down and it was like he's already trying to hurt her. Did he hate her that much? This this all just a joke to him?

He saw the pain in her eyes. “No, baby,” he says, pulling her into a tight hug. His heart aches at the thought of hurting her. He knows he's messed up before, but he never meant to make her feel this way. He holds her close, breathing in her sweet scent.

She pushed him away gently. “don't call me that” she mumbled and quickly put her scrubs back on.

His heart sinks when he felt her push him away. He wasn't handling this well. He watches her put her scrubs back on silently, trying to maintain some semblance of distance between the two of them. “Look,” he starts, taking a deep breath.

“No! you got what you wanted” she started as tears pricked her eyes. “you can go back to hating me... I'm glad you got your frustration out” she gritted her teeth as the sarcastic comment fell out.

Jackson's eyes widen at her response, shocked by the harshness in her tone. He didn't expect her to react this way. “I... I didn't mean it like that,” he says, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. “I'm just...”

She shook her head as a single tear fell down her cheek. “J-just stop... Please” she whispered, shaking her head. She refused to look at him.

The sight of her tears only serves to further torment Jackson. He hates knowing he's the cause of her pain. But he also can't seem to control his jealousy. “Fine,” he snapped, having too much pride to tell he how he truly felt.

“I'm gonna go” she croaked out and grabed her lab coat, leaving.

As she walk away broken hearted, Jackson watches her, feeling a mixture of anger, frustration, and guilt. He knows he needs to deal with his jealousy before it destroys everything, but right now, it's consuming him. “God dammit,”

She quickly wipe away her tears and walk down the hospital hallway, trying to keep it together. Jackson remains where y/n left him, his fists clenched at his sides. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. This isn't like him – he's usually the one offering support, not causing pain.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Mark continued to talk, but Jackson wasn't processing any of it. He felt too terrible about how things ended with y/n, even worse he didn't know how to tell his best friend who just happened to be y/n big brother. Mark stopped and looked at him. “Avery, are you even listening?”

Jackson quickly looked up. “hm? Oh yeah... Burn unit right?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, he couldn't help but chuckled. “your way off... What's eatin' you?”

Jackson knew he'd be dead where he stands if he told mark the truth. “nothing”

Mark put his hand on Jackson's chest, stopping him in the middle hallway. “your distracted... What's going on with you?”

Jackson pushed his hand away and looked way, shaking his head. Mark caught sight of a red mark on his neck. Mark chuckled, grabbing Jackson's chin and turned his head to the side to see the hickey on his neck. “so you got laid and it ended badly, so what”

Jackson gulped and moved away from Mark. He felt terrible about y/n and what made things worse Mark ment alot to him. He pushed Mark away, but Mark wasn't done teasing. Mark grabed the collar of Jackson's Lab coat and pulled him back, his smile dropped when he saw the name on Jackson's lab coat wasn't his, but his little sister's. Jackson and y/n must have gotten their lab coats mixed up.

The color in Jackson's face drain as Mark let go of him. “you slept with y/n?” Mark said, his voice dropping. “my little sister”

“Mark I'm so-” Jackson was cut off by mark grabbing him by the collar of his scrubs and slamming him against the wall. Jackson was shaking and his heart pounded with regret. Mark raised his fist and Jackson flinched, but nothing happened.

“Mark, what the hell?” Derek asked, separating Mark from Jackson before he could get punched.

Mark ripped himself out of Derek's grasp. “the basterd screwed y/n”

Jackson was once again shoved against wall. This time he had Derek's arm against his throat. Y/n was just as much as Derek's sister as she was Mark's. “you what” Derek said through his teeth.

Jackson's regret tunred into rage, he shoved Derek off of him. “you don't think I regret hurting her?! She won't even talk to me now!”

“well fix it Avery! Before I knock your teeth out” Mark growled.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Jackson finally got away from both Mark and Derek, he wanted to find y/n and explain everything and mend what he broke. He couldn't find her anywhere and knew knew she wouldn't awnser his pages. He was about to lose hope, but as he tunred the corner he ran right into her.

He stares at her for a moment before his expression softens. He sees the tears that she's trying so hard to hold back, and his heart aches for her but he can understand she was so angry. He slowly moves in front of her, putting his hand on her arm. “Please... can I talk to you for a minute?” He whispers, not wanting anyone to hear what he's going to say.

I have nothing to say... “she said softly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“y/n, please.” He gently brings her into one of the supply closets, locking the door behind him. He gently pushes her backwards, pauhing her back against the wall. Jackson leans his forehead against her's, holding her face in his hands. “y/n, I know I've hurt you, more than once. I know you probably don't want to hear what I have to say... but I need to say this.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as he pressed his forehead against her's “jackson...”

“I regret everything I've ever done to hurt you, the way I've treated you... I-I'm just...” he takes a deep breath. “I love you, I really, really do. I don't know how many times I've tried to tell myself that I'm not the man for you, I always believed you'd be better off without me, but god damn it” He leans down to gently holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, lifting her face up so their eyes met. “when I see your beautiful face I get so... lost.”

The tears wouldn't stop, her heart pounded against her chest from his confession. Y/n looked into his eyes and saw nothing but the truth. She couldn't hold it back any longer, no matter how badly he hurt her “I... I love you too” she said softly.

“You do?” He asked, his eyes searching her's for any sign of sarcasm. After a beat of silence he leans back down and presses his lips against her's, kissing her softly. Y/n kissed him back, holding his face in her hands. This kiss was a lot more gentler and more loving than the first. It was a sign that the odds were in their favor.

“Yes... I forgive you” she said softly, giving him and loving smile.

[starfulani]

the things I would let juju, rayah, paige, nika, azzi, kk, ice, dominique, emily, diana, jana, kiki, ayanna, jada, aubrey, kennedy, avery, kayleigh, aaliyah, maila do to me are so crazy

my legs have been spread open

[ambiguous-avery]

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You x Sam Winchester

A mini-series about Sam and Dean both falling for the same girl and thinking she should be with the other. Little do they know, she's got some feelings of her own for them. Both of them. No wincest

Main series complete, may add stories to it in the future

Universal tags for the series: SMUT 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, no wincest, pining, no beta we die like men Each part will have its own list of tags included in it.

Read it on Ao3

Careful Stares - SMUT 18+ MDNI, Sam's POV, mentions of Dean

Sly Grins - SMUT 18+ MDNI, Dean's POV, mentions of Sam

Untamed Soul - SMUT 18+ MDNI, Reader's POV

Tangled Sheets - SMUT 18+ MDNI, Threesome

[pwettybbybunny]

Mean tops who drags you into an alleyway and rail you hard against the wall whenever they're in the mood and spot you in public or see you cozying up to someone else.

Mean tops who like stripping you almost entirely during the action while they are almost entirely covered up (except their dick duh), loving the way your skin flush up, and the tiny whines of fear of someone walking in (most of them don't care).

Mean tops who let out a laugh as you ask them to pull out before they climax, hah as if they ever will, silly you, you should know by now they won't be listening. Tho they looooove seeing you beg.

Mean tops who send you back home with a final spank on butt, as you redress, their cum still filled up inside you, dampening your underwear as you walk, while they merely go on about their way. If they are feeling extra and/or have time they might escort you back themself, a smug look plastered on their face as you squirm when a bit of their cum drip down your thighs.

Mean tops who later bring you your favorite desert or take out and give you cuddles at night cause despite being a meanie in bed they still care for you a lot.

(HSR) Jing Yuan, Bladie, Sampo, Dr ratio; (GI) Kaeya, Dottore, Wriothesley; (WUWA) Scar; (DOL) Whitney, Avery; (SW) Alex (ROW by @rotting-ink) Emil Rawllin, Simeone Della Rovere, Saleos

[kendyzzlewp]

please, I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy

jackson avery x fem!reader

summary: you watched in horror as the bus exploded, jackson no where to be found

type: angst - love confession - friends to lovers

The world around you seemed to slow down, each raindrop hitting your skin like a heavy weight as you watched in horror. The bus, engulfed in flames, painted a terrifying picture against the dark, rainy backdrop. Your heart pounded violently, a painful rhythm matching the chaos before you.

"Where's Jackson?" Your voice cracked with fear, desperation creeping into every syllable as you searched the chaos for him. "Torres, where's Jackson?"

Calle rushed past, her face a mask of grim determination as she shouted back, "He's right behind us!"

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you closer to the inferno despite the danger. "Jackson!" The name tore from your throat, a primal scream of terror and love.

But before you could reach him, Owen's strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back with a force that matched the explosion that followed. The world seemed to explode around you, the heat searing your skin, the sound deafening as flames licked at the sky.

As you fell to the ground, the world became a blur of agony. The image of the burning bus, the screams of pain and fear, all merged into a cacophony of despair. And then, as if from a great distance, you heard it.

A gut-wrenching scream, raw with agony and loss. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was coming from you, ripped from your very soul as you watched, helpless, knowing that you were losing the person who mattered most to you.

You looked up at the sky, tears mingling with rain as you pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening. "Please," your voice was a broken whisper, "don't take him. Let it be me. Take me instead."

But the sky remained silent, offering no solace as you were left to face the devastation before you, a world shattered by flames and loss.

Through the raging flames, a silhouette emerged, barely visible amidst the inferno. It was Jackson, his figure illuminated by the flickering fire, holding a little girl close to his chest. Tears welled in your eyes as relief flooded through you, mingling with the haunting specter of what could have been.

With each faltering step, Jackson battled against the relentless blaze, his determination a beacon of hope in the darkness. You watched, heart in your throat, as he drew nearer, the flames licking dangerously close to his weary frame.

As he finally reached you, his breaths ragged and labored, he gently passed the trembling child into her mothers arms. She clung to her desperately, her tiny fingers digging into her skin, seeking solace from the nightmare that surrounded her.

With tear-filled eyes, you looked up at Jackson, his face streaked with ash and exhaustion. "You're an idiot," you whispered, the words a fragile prayer of gratitude.

He nodded weakly, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his soot-stained lips. "I know," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fury surged within you, mingling with the overwhelming relief as you looked up at Jackson, his face etched with exhaustion and soot.

"You can't just do that!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if you didn't make it out of there?"

Jackson's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze searching yours for understanding. "I... I needed to save her," he murmured, his voice strained with emotion.

“And what about me?" Your voice cracked with emotion as tears spilled down your cheeks. "What would have happened to me if you had died in there?"

For a moment, Jackson seemed at a loss for words, his eyes wide with realization. And then, as if a dam had burst within him, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your tear-stained cheek.

"I... I didn't think," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't realize..."

"You idiot," you breathed, your voice softening with love and exasperation. "I love you, you moron."

And as you melted into each other's arms, surrounded by the remnants of the devastation, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that could withstand even the fiercest flames.

[leggerefiore]

Archer, Volo, and Grimsley reacting to the reader having a crush but not knowing it’s on them? In the mood for some silly miscommunication rn and I’d love to see them all be like “idc who you like haha” (actually cares very much)

I saw ur other ask so I got you lol

cw: confessions, jealousy, misunderstandings

characters: Avery, Archer, Volo, Grimsley

🎩Avery🥄

🔮 When you began seeming more out of it during your times out together, Avery first worried that you were no longer interested in being friends with him. He was fully aware of, while trying to ignore, the way he felt about you. But, it was soon obvious by the way your eyes lingered on your phone that it might be something else. He was quite a bit oblivious, in truth. The idea of you having a romantic interest in anyone did not cross his mind until you plainly said that you did to apologise for your absent nature while being together. For a moment, the psychic screamed in his mind for the abilities that the rest of his family had. Who? Who could you have interest in? He desperately needed to know – his heart raced in response to this, and his laser focus on telekinesis slipped.

🔮 “Well, there is someone I like… They've been on my mind a lot lately,” you told him simply while having tea with him. Avery's glasses could have fogged up from the temperature shift of his, quickly his face warmed. He nodded for a moment, taking in your words. Silently, he pleaded for you to continue on and tell him. For once in his life, he bit his tongue. Part of him desperately wanted to know, while the other half screamed for ignorance. You were too flustered, it seemed. He felt himself slipping. His feelings for you… Were they not obvious? His focus was almost entirely on you – despite his ego, he let you remain at his side so openly (granted, you did often feed said ego with compliments). He tried to think of anyone you could have mentioned that you would have feelings for. He even tried to turn back to telepathy, but he was still quite unable to read minds despite his desperation in that moment.

🔮 Eventually, you spoke again, seeing his intense reaction. His face shifted into an almost pitiful expression. Smiling at him, you shook your head. “I like you, Avery,” sublity was not an art best used on the blond. His slight inferiority complex did not allow for himself to put himself as your first option, despite wanting that most of all. His face became even more mortified for a moment… Pupils shrinking from the shock. Then, he felt his smug expression return. He blinked. Of course, it was him. Who else would it be? All his previous worries flew out the window in the face of this. Instead, he accepted your confession with ease. It was like he was never panicked in the first place. Avery knew everything would end up like this… A Future Sight told him, of course… He will never admit to his immense worry that you had feelings for someone else.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ The merchant is observant of everything. His eyes took note of every little thing – It was part of what made him good at being a salesman and his hobby of history. That eye for detail let him catch on quite quickly to who was a threat to his plans or who was not. You ended up being on the threat side – naturally, since you fell from the sky and seem to just have everything fall into place for you to dismantle everything he worked so hard to create. But, whatever bitter feelings were held mixed horribly with this strange affection in his chest. You were an outsider – like him. You both shared such horrible experiences of being othered. He felt this sick attachment grow deeper and deeper as he spent more time at your side. Your trust… He adored it more than anything. How you looked to him for aid… Which is why he felt himself pause when you suddenly exclaimed that you had feelings for someone.

⭐️ “I… I have this person I love so dearly,” you had told him, while staring into his eyes, “I don't think I can tell them. I doubt they return my feelings…” The first thought in Volo's mind is he certainly hoped they did not return anything you felt. Cruelty meant nothing to him – He did not want anyone else to be with you aside from himself. His new world… His initial intentions to remove you entirely had shifted into keeping you at his side. That was your place. It was with his usual amicable facade that he smiled at you and inquired simply into who that might be. He could give you advice, he claimed. He was familiar with a lot of different people, after all. You refused, saying it was too embarrassing. Volo sighed. Forcing you to admit it might ruin the precious trust he worked so hard to build with you.

⭐️ He then found himself stewing on it for days. Who? Who could it be? The Diamond Clan leader? He always seemed popular. That professor? It was unlikely, but he supposed not impossible. He found himself following you more often, trying to figure it out. Nothing came to him. Who could it be? It was rare that something was so well hidden from him. How could your supposed romantic interest be more elusive than Arceus itself? It was maddening. That was, until you caught yourself alone with him again. You shifted uncomfortably before declaring your feelings… for him. “I… I like you, Volo!” Those words… He felt taken aback for a moment before he could not help but chuckle. Of course… Right… He happily reciprocated your feelings. This was how it should be, after all.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ The gambler would consider himself a master of reading people. You, in particular, were an easy read for him due to your closeness. He understood you well. Which is why he noticed quite quickly when your behaviour shifted. It was not like he was intentionally paying too close attention, but whenever he invited you out, he quickly spotted how distant you seemed to be. The first few times, he shrugged it off as off-days, yet it was unchanging. He felt himself growing concerned before it hit him. Teasing you, he asked first, naturally. Though some part of it was definitely sick curiosity. He was well aware that he was straightforward in his attraction to you, but there was an obvious rejection of his advances on your behalf. He wondered who had caught your attention.

♡ “Who's on your mind, hm?” the gambler asked with a teasing lilt while he leaned against the table across from you. Your reaction was to shoot him a glare and refuse to answer. The subtle shift of embarrassment in your expression was noted by him. He wanted to chuckle. Really, who? He wanted to know. It would be a gambler to prove himself a better option, especially with his reputation and vices, but he would try. Giving you up would be a mistake that he would never forgive himself for making. His eyes narrowed as you simply denied that anyone was on your mind, despite it being obvious to him. He gave a smirk in reply.

◇ It did weigh on him despite everything. Really… He was trying far harder than he did for anyone else to charm you. He did not understand what would appeal to you. Truthfully, he was at a loss. Part of him needed to meet whoever interested you so he could grasp what they had that he lacked. (Integrity, he assumed.) But, it barely had time to fester before you caught him off guard for the first time in your time together. “It's you, Grimsley,” you said simply after he pushed you to tell him again. He stood stunned for a moment, mouth falling open and brows going up. Him? Really? Why had you…? He barely had time to consider it too much before chuckling. Well, whatever. He would figure out that later. It seemed that you were not immune to his charms, at least.

🐕Archer🚀

��️ It was rare that he felt any kind of attachment towards anything unrelated to Rocket or Giovanni. But, you certainly had managed to keep his attention. An annoying rival – a nuisance to everything he worked so hard for. He only agreed to be around you to keep an eye on you. It was obnoxious, observing what you did and listening to what you said. He despised the idea of you pulling a fast one on you. Despite this, the Rocket Executive supposed it was not the worst experience. There were definitely worse tasks to be assigned, he knew. He knew you somehow had come to view him as a friend – how, he did not know. And, well, unfortunately for him, his own feelings began to make him react strangely to you.

♦️ “There's this person I'm interested in,” you told him during one of your various outings that you bad invited him to join you on. Those simple words had unleashed a strange sense of madness in his mind. Interested in? Who? Part of figured it would be good to use against you if you kept being a nuisance for Rocket, but the other half genuinely seethed at the thought of you liking someone. Why? Were they as good a trainer as you? He only wanted someone worthy to be with you. … And he only found one person worthy. Though, he dared not admit that to himself. He bit his lip and kept his cool facade to ask who it was. He simply needed to know.

♦️Your gaze shifted onto him as you smiled far too sweetly. It was not something that he often saw in his line of you. “… Well, it's you, Archer,” you admitted. He blinked. For a moment, he has heard your words but failed to process them. Yes… Him, right. That makes sense. Then it hit him. He blinked. Him? You were interested in him? It was like… a golden opportunity. He could hardly believe it, but he supposed you found him to be a friend despite everything, getting a crush was not so far off. He swallowed. The idea of being with you did not bother him as much as he expected, either. It was with a trained ease that he accepted your confession. This might prove fruitful in actually stopping you… And he supposed he was allowed to indulge himself now and again.

[ifwdominicfike]

OHH I NEEDDDD THATTTTTTTT

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part one

⤷ “can you see me? im waiting for the right time. i can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.”

summary: you and grayson hawthorne’s friendship is one that stretches over a long time. its a friendship that you cherish with your heart, and it’s also one that can be far too confusing for your own sake sometimes. warnings: glasses!grayson, reader & grayson are so oblivious it hurts a/n: new possible grayson childhood bsfs-to-lovers series??! wc: 1.5k masterlist || series masterlist — other parts!

you lay on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with your face in your hands.

next to you was grayson, sitting up against the headboard, typing up something as he listened to you rant about your day. 

“he’s genuinely the worst teacher i’ve ever had, you know what he told me on the last non uniform day we had?” your legs were bent at the knee, swinging back and forth in the air as you ranted, your eyes on grayson, as his eyes were on his laptop. 

“he asked me if i got into a bike accident on the way to school, because i wore ripped jeans.”

grayson hummed, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to his laptop. “ignore him, he’s trying too hard to be funny,” he commented with his voice taking on a hint of disgust,, “and miserably failing.” he added, as he adjusted his glasses on his nose bridge. “you have better things to focus on than strange men with their strange humor.” 

you let out a chuckle through your nose, “yeah, i guess. very strange men indeed.” 

you didn’t really wait for a response, as you continued to talk about your day and little things that happened. “oh!” you piped up,“and guess what?” 

that’s how it always was with you and grayson, you talked — a lot, and he listened. 

—

you walked over to the corner where a little blonde boy sat, sorting a puzzle by himself while all the other kids sat in the middle, a big bundle of chaos, toys, giggles, and shouts. 

“um, excuse me? i have a question.” you stood, your hands clasped behind your back as you swayed gently side to side. 

the boy— who you later learned to be grayson hawthorne, didn’t answer, only looking up at you in curiosity as a puzzle piece fell out of his hand. 

you took that as an invitation, clearing your throat before you spoke, “why don’t you play with everyone else over there?” you asked, pointing to where all the other kids sat. it was halfway through the year, and he never once sat with the other kids, even when teachers asked him to. 

you always found yourself absentmindedly looking at him as you played with friends, wondering why.

he was silent for a moment, and you debated going back. “i don’t really like kids.” he said quietly, his eyes back on the puzzle as he looked for the next piece. 

you giggled like he had said the most outrageous statement ever, “but you’re a kid, silly.” you said, taking a step closer and sitting down next to him unpromptedly.

“well, i don’t like those kids.” he said, eyes meeting yours and then he looked you up and down, surprised at the fact that you were sitting so close to him. 

“why are you sitting next to me?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise and question as he looked at you. 

“um…” you trailed off, “because we’re friends now, duh.” you flashed him a big smile, shrugging your shoulders. 

—

he also made you laugh, and was there for you, and gave you advice, and helped you when you needed it, and he —well, he was just a really perfect friend in general. he always has been, since you were in the second grade. 

“i’m getting glasses,” you said in a singsong voice, “isn’t that crazy?”

“you’re getting glasses?” he arched a brow up at you, with an almost-barely-there smile.

“yeah,” you said through a chuckle, “i think it’s the universes way of getting me back for making fun of you, way back when you first got them.” 

grayson let out a breathy laugh and looked down at you, his gaze unwavering. “i distinctly remember you telling me how thankful you were to have 20/20 vision.”

“yeah, well…” you stifled a laugh, “you know what?” you voice perked up, a hint of humor present. “at least i know i’m gonna look better than you in them.” 

a smile found your face as you teased him— though deep down his glasses were one of your favorite things about him. 

the funny thing is, you distinctly remember teasing him about them to cover up just how much you adored them on him. 

—

“we aren’t friends. i don’t know you.” the little furrow in his brows only deepened as he looked at you.

“okay, well, i’m your friend. you don’t have to be my friend.” you shrugged simply, as you searched for the next puzzle piece on the floor, putting it into place once you did.

he watched you in silence, like you were saying something completely foreign to him, “but that’s rude of me, and it’s unbalanced,” his brows furrowed, his lips almost in a pout like he was severely stressed about this.

“okay, then just be my friend!” you smiled brightly at him once again, “problem solved.” you added, the look on your face a complete contrast to his — which was very confused. 

“but, friends are people who just want something from you. family always comes first.” he replied, like it was a rehearsed line he had heard a thousand times from someone else in his life. 

you wondered what kind of monster told him that, and you were determined on changing his mind. 

“what? no! friends are the best people you can find in the whole world. they’re your ‘family number two.’” you told him, but he didn’t seem convinced as he stared at you. “can i make you a proposal?” 

his blonde brows shot to the top of his head, “you want to marry me?” his eyes went wide as he slightly scooted back from you. 

“no, dummy! i meant like a deal,” you hummed, “i think i meant proposition…” you mumbled under your breath, more to yourself than to him.  

—

grayson smiled at you, his gaze unwavering. “oh, surely. without a doubt.” 

you gasped in mock offense, bringing yourself to sit up fully as you looked at him. “is that sarcasm you’re giving me, hawthorne?” 

grayson didn’t say anything in response, only laughing under his breath and shaking his head, returning back to typing whatever he was doing earlier. 

“you’re so rude, i don’t like you.” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest, sitting so close to him that you could rest your head on his shoulder. 

his eyes found you on his shoulder. though you didn’t meet his gaze, you definitely felt it. “well, i’m stuck with you forever, aren’t i?”

“yeah, unfortunately for me.” you said through an exhale. “i’m deeply regretting my choices right now.”  you mumbled , but you both knew that wasn’t true.

—

“deal? what deal are you giving me?“ 

“you just have to be my friend until friday! if you don’t like it, i’ll never talk to you again. i pinky swear.” you swore seriously, raising your eyebrows at the end to add to that effect. 

“buuuut,” you added, your voice taking on a complete 180. ”if you like it, even just a little, you’re stuck with me.” you paused for dramatic effect, adding in a singsong voice. “forever and ever.”

—

you felt him chuckle and you found yourself smiling at the mere action. he seemed to never laugh around anyone but you. “you know, that may have been the single choice in my life i don’t regret making.” 

the way he said that nearly undid you. you lifted your head, sitting upright to see him fully. 

your voice came out quieter than you thought it would, with a smile on your lips. “are you being serious?” your eyes searched his face, looking for any signs of teasing, even though you knew you wouldn’t find any. 

his answer was short, but it packed so much. “why wouldn’t i be?” there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face anymore, and his eyes stayed locked on yours, apart from when they flickered down to your lips for a millisecond. 

“i…” you trailed off, literally at a loss for words as his eyes looked into yours. “i don’t know,” you managed to come up with, eyes glued to his for far too long. 

“sorry,” you said through a laugh, “i don’t know what that was.” you shook your head as you looked back at the bed beneath you. 

you adjusted the way you were sitting, perhaps subconsciously putting a little bit of space between you. well, you had to. 

you couldn’t ruin your friendship because of your silly feelings. it’s part of the reason it’s lasted so long. better to have hidden your feelings and still have him, than speak them aloud and lose him. right? right. 

—

grayson’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched you, noticing the little bit of space you put in between you two as you quickly switched the topic, noticing the way you didn’t look straight up at him for more than 2 seconds, and the way your fingers fiddled with each other. 

he said something wrong, didn’t he? 

in all honestly, he wasn’t listening to a word you said, albeit, you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying either, just letting the words fall of your tongue without even thinking; trying to fill the awkward silence you had put there. 

as he nodded and gave vague responses to you, he replayed all the other moments he had come so close to saying something, something about the way he felt for you, and had felt for god knows how long.  

—

you left his house a few minutes later, pretending to get a text from your friend asking for you urgently. 

in all realness though, you went straight home, lay in bed, and screamed into your pillow. 

‘why did i say that? why can’t i just speak about my feelings? why am i like this?’ were some of the many thoughts that ran through your head like clockwork. 

next time, you promised yourself. next time you would talk about your feelings — or — next time you wouldn’t slip up in the slightest, so that tiny crack that led to said feelings wouldn’t ever show.

you weren’t entirely sure which one of the two you were promising. 

a/n: this was honestly more of a prologue to set the scene, the real stuff comes soon i promise!!

part two

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @taysbrina

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you. 

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa? 

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work. 

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself. 

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75. 

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside. 

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone. 

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle. 

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket. 

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen? 

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40%       Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% 

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress 

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand. 

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward. 

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.” 

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off. 

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone. 

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready. 

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline. 

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells. 

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out. 

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out. 

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you. 

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.”

“Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness 

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence. 

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of. 

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status 

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery.

You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time. 

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind. 

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person. 

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush. 

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse.

Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.” 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word. 

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position. 

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up. 

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed. 

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came. 

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not. 

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about. 

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them. 

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion. 

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed. 

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships:  Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.              Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%  Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55%        Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20%        Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70%  Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute.     Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back.     Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation:  The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe. 

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning.

You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots. 

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods. 

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests. 

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.” 

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.” 

“You should, I come here more often than I-” 

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.” 

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you. 

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?” 

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say. 

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says. 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.” 

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?” 

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod. 

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.” 

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand. 

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.” 

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip. 

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor. 

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor. 

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly. 

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.” 

“Do you own the farm?” 

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile. 

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders. 

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and  run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it. 

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now. 

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait. 

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water. 

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in. 

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving. 

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late. 

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while. 

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

—————————

<Prev Next>

[b1rds3ye]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI,  awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist