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ghostsbaby · 1 year

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pairings - ghost x fem!babygirl reader

word count - 1.8k

warnings - smut smut smut and barely a plot. unprotected piv, oral sex slightly, fingering, name calling, spanking, daddy kink, age gap probably. babygirl is in her early twenties and ghost is ghost.

a/n - who proof reads so don’t message me about my mistakes or if something doesn’t make sense cause i’ll look at it later. maybe 😅 this will probably have more parts but for now this is your introduction to babygirl and her big bad ghosty 🥰

“You wanna act like that in front of them again?”

Ghost had your back pinned against the wall, your body pressed tightly to his you swore his heart was beating a million stars. The others were seated at a table with a few empty rounds and all cups half full. Nobody at the table even noticed you and Ghost had left or that your glasses were still overflowing the top with foam leaving both the glass and table underneath sticky.

“Didn’t like the show Lieutenant?” you gave him that stupid smile he wanted to fuck off your face.

Maybe it was the way you were grinding in Price’s lap that finally got you the attention you wanted. It only took him 2 years. Or how you whispered in Soap’s ear that you weren’t wearing any panties under that dress and he repeated it out loud being the final straw to break the camel’s back. Ghost never looked more angry to be left out of your pretty little parade around everyone’s dick but his.

“Sure, you made everyone load their pants just by being a slut at the table but it’s gonna take a lot more than that for me Sweetheart.”

Ghost grabbed your cunt through the opening of your dress and carried you into the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door behind him. Anyone coming close to that hallway would be able to hear his cock splitting you in half and know what they’d be walking into and he’d have to bite their head off.

Jealousy wasn’t something he ever thought was apart of him like that. Especially with a young pretty girl like you, but you drove him mad. Couldn’t get you out of his head and he tried, knowing it was getting bad when it started to affect his work, not being able to concentrate every time you opened your mouth.

Price started to notice something off, but only making it worse for giving in to you himself as Simon could only sit and watch you tie tongues with the captain one night.

“I think I need another.”

Ghost watched as Price pointed to his cheek from across the table, hinting for you to give him a small kiss. It only made the Lieutenants blood boil that all he could do was sit and watch the girl he’s been obsessing over, go and kiss someone else. Worse was looking back over to find you seated in Price’s lap occupied by his tongue and muffled groans, leaving before he could witness you sit back in your own seat and look for him.

Innocent girl like you, or so he thought. Always pushing his buttons and making him mad and you weren’t even his. That was the problem. Every guy he knew seemed to want you. Making it obvious and watching you eat it all up while sitting in the laps of men he now despised because they had their hands all over you. His. He knew what they were thinking and it made him wanna snap necks even more.

“Don’t like seeing Price’s cock stand when he looks at me? You know what he likes being called? Daddy.”

There it was.

Ghost pushed you hard against the bathroom sink, bending you down while your short dress slid up exposing your dripping cunt. Looks like you weren’t wearing any panties just like Soap announced, not being able to stop staring at your already puffy pussy.

God, you also have a mouth on you that makes him wanna sink his cock into it.

“Don’t fucking call him that.”

He snarled.

“Don’t call him what? Daddy? But he likes it.”

You were just pressing every button. He didn’t wanna know how you knew that about the captain. Little did Simon know, you were joking.

A surprise sting to your left ass cheek had your mouth open in shock. Another. And another. By now with how hard his hand made contact with your skin it would be a miracle if his hand print wasn’t permanently fried into your skin.

“Daddy!”

His ears perked up. You were calling him that.

Ghost quickly focused back to your glistening cunt, taking another moment to stare. He was hoping every drop of you was because of him and not the others. The grip on your hips tightened, playing scenarios in his head about them being the ones making you soaked like this and it only made him wanna fuck you harder, make you forget about them.

You noticed the moment he had, no other movement than his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes almost looked like they were glowing, wiggling your hips eagerly to get his attention and he growled, slapping that painful spot again harder before spreading your pussy lips with his fingers. Fuck.

Opening you up for his cock, sliding his index in and out a few times before slipping in his middle to hear you moan while stretching you with two digits.

“More.”

Your voice was soft and needy. He wasn’t going fast enough, didn’t know you wanted him to break you in half so quickly.

“More baby?”

Ghost questioned, not hesitating in pushing his ring finger inside your wet hole before noticing the little noises he was bringing out of you. He was bringing you pleasure, not anyone else and it only made his pants tighter, fucking his fingers and curling them inside you. His calloused thumb easily found your swollen clit and rubbed circles, eyes lighting up at the way you would react.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck don’t stop.”

His fingers started to soak, listening to how wet your pussy was. He wanted to take his time with you, pry you open like the last present on Christmas morning, but he was already past that and your sounds weren’t helping.

He kept you still against the bathroom sink while unzipping his pants and undoing his belt. Your head snapped back to look behind you, searching for it. You would never be able to count on your fingers how many times you’ve wondered what it looked like, smirking as he watched you now try and stare.

His hand brought it from the confinement of his pants, long and rock hard. It hung off his body, swaying with each movement closer to your needy pussy. Thick, wider than a pop can and longer than your entire leg. You didn’t know how he walked with that trunk between his legs, but you never heard a complaint.

Your cunt squeezed around his fingers and his eyes blew up, pulling them out after your pussy molded to them. He was about to nudge at your entrance after stroking his cock with his wet fingers, coating the head but you squealed. Holy fuck it was massive. Bigger than most mens forearms and he was about to stuff it inside your tight cunt because he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Rubbing the tip of his swollen head against your soaked cunt he coats his cock with more of your arousal and slowly dips in. The helpless whimpers leaving your fuckable mouth had him trying not to buck forward all at once and just sink right in to watch you squirm, whither away and make pretty noises for him.

“Ghost please.”

You panted under him. His head pushed past your entrance and stopped, leaving you to focus on the stinging pain he left your hole.

He snapped back into reality that this was real. His hips go forward as yours go back both impatiently, feeling all of him at once while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Fuck you looked so cock dumb in the mirror before him and he started to pound viciously.

“Fuck!”

Ghost grunts, feeling your walls slowly stretch around his heavy cock. He’s never felt anyone this tight before, not even thinking if you needed more time. It was long enough for you to get used to his size, right? You were like a dream that he never wanted to end and he was about to show you just how rough he could get. Your noises and movements made him only go faster, fuck you harder.

You made noises he’s never heard of, only driving him deeper. Ghost had his hands on your hips just about the entire time until you felt them trail up your side, one grabbing your breast through your summer dress, pulling the fabric down to expose your hard nipple to play and squeeze.

Simon was so lost in just looking at your swollen pussy that a condom didn’t even cross his mind, wondering what kind of game we would be playing if you weren’t on a contraceptive and blowing his entire load inside you.

Your hands squeezed the bathroom sink so hard you thought it would have broken from the wall by now. Not to mention the giant in a balaclava who you’ve never actually seen before pound into you relentlessly. You wondered if anyone was outside the door listening to you scream the word “Daddy!” Over and over again while your cunt got impossibly tighter around his cock.

“Fuck baby, never felt a pussy this tight. Being such a fucking good girl for Daddy.”

You almost came from his low growl in your ear, his hand pushing your jaw to look towards him in the mirror. Only looking into his eyes, the only thing you could see.

A wail left your lips, crying at the growing friction between your legs and the desperate need to let the pleasure build and completely come crashing down. Ghost took notice to the slack in your body, hand firmly placing around your throat and squeezing.

“Come all over Daddy’s dick, baby.”

He snarled in your ear while his pace quickened, holding you down while the other plays and toys with your clit in circular motions. Ghost feels you tighten, whimpering for release and doesn’t stop when you death grip his cock.

“Daddy, Daddy I’m coming!”

He doesn’t let up, fucking faster and harder into your pussy while you cry for him to slow down, releasing your hands from the counter to dig into his arms. His thrusts started to get sloppy, bucking every few times until he leaves your cunt gaping, pulsing around nothing, pushing you hard to the bathroom floor on your knees.

Ghost had a perfect angle to your face, stroking his cock against your already open mouth until thick ropes of hot cum painted your delicate face. You’ve never heard him moan and grunt like that before, making your pussy flutter for him all over again.

He pushed the tip of his cock into your mouth, watching your eyes meet his while his head leaned back, your lips closing in to suck any extra cum from his hole, swirling your tongue around it a few times, hand coming to wrap around the base of his cock before he slaps your hand away.

“Fucking slut.”

Simon grinned, pulling you off your swelling knees. He already had the door open, cold look in his eye that he wasn’t going to let you wash your face.

a/n - OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. SHOULD I WRITE MORE OF THEM. DO WE LIKE IT. It’s an introduction so there will be lots lots more. 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

#b writes #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #ghost x babygirl!reader #captain john price

6K notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 7 months

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Mafia Sebastian Vettel Headcannons

Warnings: Mean!Mafia Seb, he’s such a fuckin prick, very very Dom, just fuck he’s hot, choking, hand necklace, THIS IS SO DRITY AT THE END I'M SORRY I GOT SWEPT UP IN IT. Also not your typical headcannon I normally do because yeah it got away from me but whatever, I love this

Trope: Forced Marriage, Acts like he doesn't care about you, but does, age gap, innocent reader who just wants to please her husband, yeahhhhhh I'm going to hell

A/N: thank the queen of DILFS herself for this one babies @multiversesweets

If there was one thing you've learned about your husband

its that he hated when you interrupted him

vjv,k

Sebastian wasn't even supposed to be married yet

here he was tied down to some little girl

who was far too innocent that he had to keep

his ownself on a leash when around you

he loved teasing you, picking on you, critiquing you

once you made his favorite and he took small bites

and just kept picking on it

you of course took it was a smile kissed his cheek and said

you'd do better next time for him

it pissed Sebastian off to no end that you never once let

his words get to you

Mark and Kimi his closest friends judged him like crazy

whenever he'd lay into you, especially in front of them

Kimi would glare while Seb glared back saying you were dressed

like a whore, little did he know you were wearing the clothes

he bought you when you two first got married

yet again you kissed his cheek and said youd do better next time

Mark and Jenson would also come around and Jenson

loved flirting with you, so did Mark

your eyes would get wide and glossy hearing their praise

Sebastian would come in snarling like a dog, barking at them to

get out of his house

Youd smile at him and bring him snacks during meetings

everyone loved Sebastian's good little trophy wife

You'd be his arm candy and when he spotted someone else

he'd dump you on Kimi and the poor man just melted

when you stare at him with wide eyes asking him to

teach you how to play poker

you clean him out, only for Sebastian to come back with lipstick stains

As the marriage went out you were told you needed to provide

Sebastian with an heir and that's when he started to share a bed

with you, just to make the elders happy but he refused to touch you

He'd shove you away but you'd smile and go to sleep jsut happy

to have your husband sleeping next to you

woken up far to many times to you in his arms and Sebastian

hates the stupid smile that graces his lips

he'd fallen in love with you the first time those wide eyes looked at him

Once you both went to a fundraiser and in attempt to get him to

touch you, you wore this gorgeous red dress his favorite color

of the small years

flirting with him you'd touch his tie and kiss his cheek but he'd just

smirk at you, looking you up and down like a little girl

huffing you look over and see Mark, you knew he hated when

Mark would give you attention

Giggling you smile telling Seb you'd be back and walk over to Mark's

table and tap his shoulder, Seb watches you closely eyes narrow

but he about snaps his chair in half when you sit down on

Mark's lap

He bolts up chair falling as you giggle, and play with Mark's hair

the older man smiles hand moving lower and lower until

you yelp being yanked up by your husband

Growls out we're going home and drags you away

he was furious, how dare you do something like that

throwing you in the car he drives like a mad man

you sit there, watching him as you bite your bottom lip

"Come here," Seb reaches over and pulls you over his lap

making you sit on it

"The only fucking lap and cock you're sitting on is mine, understand?"

You lay your head on his shoulder, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and

giving him that innocent look that makes him want to ruin your pussy

arriving home he moves carrying you over his shoulder and throwing

you onto the bed, practically foaming at the mouth with hand

"Such a bad girl, that hungry for cock you go to Mark? Pathetic."

He spits, ripping the tie off and throwing it somewhere

"I'm a good girl," You sass back, barking out a laugh he leans down

clamping your throat, arching up you whimper

slowly spreading your legs open the dress falls down

revealing your bare pussy to him

Sebastian moans, seeing it

He's fucked you once you were tight and warm and he could

pump you full for days

"Good girls only come to their husbands for their cock, not their friend." He growls, squeezing as you whimper loving the feeling

One hand he undones his pants and smirks,

"Now, be a good girl and take daddy's cock"

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phonydiaries · 7 months

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In the Heat of Battle - P x Reader

Requested by @amethyst-huntress

Notes: The premise of this fic was requested by Amethyst-Huntress and I started absolutely foaming at the mouth at the idea, so huge thank-you’s are in order for that nugget of inspiration. Unfortunately, same as last time, I have still barely progressed through the game thanks to my lack of patience and skill, so please forgive that both of my fics take place extremely early in playthrough. Other than that, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

—

Where is that damn puppet? You think to yourself, teeth gritted at the deadly inconvenience standing in front of you.

In the dark and the rain and the constant buzzing noise of Krat, you admit it's easy to get turned around. Even traveling with a companion -in your case, with Gepetto’s puppet- it’s easy to lose track of which gloomy alleys you’d already traversed. Even standing back to back, nudging each other with your elbows, even checking in every so often,“You still with me?” It was easy to get lost. But now, standing face to face with a candelabra wielding automaton and a rabid mechanical dog, you’re not feeling very generous towards your puppet companion. He’s probably searching for you in a frenzy at this very moment.

Ha.

Fat load of good it does you.

The automaton winds up and its eyes flash red across your face. Target locked. The candelabra comes crashing towards your head, but it's met instantly with the clanging cold steel of your sword. The automaton stumbles backwards. Its head cocks unnaturally to the side and you hear something whir, as if in frustration, beneath its face. It winds up again to strike you, but you’re quick and clever; you land a blow in the dead center of the loathsome thing's torso. A sick crunch of metal echoes as you draw the sword out of the brand new gaping cavity in its chest. The automaton sinks to its knees. You look down your nose at it, satisfied at your own skill. The enemy looks to be shutting down, but in a quick, almost desperate motion, its hand shoots towards your foot, grasping wildly. It's cold fingers close around your ankle, but you quickly stamp it out with your free foot. The automaton lets out a weak mechanical wheeze as its hand is crushed beneath your boot. For good measure, you take the hilt of your sword in both hands and slam the base through the miserable things forehead. It crackles, then collapses finally on the ground. You smile darkly at its now lifeless shell. Perhaps a little early.

A sharp bark cuts through the air and your head snaps to attention. Shit. You forgot about the damn dog. Before you have the chance to raise your sword again, the dog lunges at you. Razor sharp teeth clang dissonantly together and the sound ripples against the glistening walls of the alley. In an instant, you’re knocked to the wet, muddy ground; the iron paws of the mutt are already upon your chest. The mongrel snarls mere centimeters from your face, black oily fluid spilling from its mouth as if salivating. You groan and struggle beneath its weight but regain your grip on your sword just in time to catch its rabid jaw. The dog bites down on your blade, thrashing its head to either side. You strain against its unnatural strength, attempting to pull your weapon free. In one fell swoop you’ll rip it free and decapitate this fucking thing. Your fingers curl tighter around your hilt, you ready a strike, suck in one sharp breath and then-

You freeze.

A second blade appears, glinting in the gaslight, right between your eyes. Thick black fluid goes splattering across your face. The mutt goes limp, its full weight crushing your lower torso. A gasp is pushed from your lungs and you roll to the side, quickly shoving the robotic corpse away from your body. You kneel, palms pushing into the slick ground. Your heart is thundering beneath your shirt as you swallow frigid air hard and fast. When you finally catch a breath, you turn your head towards the owner of the blade; Pinocchio, your companion. He wipes the rapier against his trousers, cleaning the sludge from its razor sharp surface. You huff, blowing matted wet bangs out of your face.

“I had that under control.” You say sharply. P cocks an eyebrow at you, unconvinced. You feel your face burn in annoyance. “I did!” You insist, “Had you given me just one more minute I would’ve been fine. And probably less covered in this.” You jab your weapon in his direction, flecking dark oil across his shirt. He shoots you a slightly apologetic smile.

He knows you can handle yourself, he does. He just worries. You can’t blame him; you do the same thing. You’ve gotten quite close on these arduous journeys, saving each other's skins more times than either of you can count. As you wipe the sludge from your face, P extends his hand to you and begrudgingly you take it. Swiftly, he helps you to your feet. His eyes flicker up and down your face, narrowing on your cheek. He licks the thumb of his legion hand and streaks it across your cheek, lifting the remnants of black. You scrunch your nose up at him.

“Eugh- enough-” You whine, swatting the hand away. “Where did you run off to anyways?”

Pinocchio’s legion arm gestures behind his head. You squint through the darkness at the distant yellow lights of Hotel Krat up ahead. You grimace. It’s further still than you thought. “I don’t suppose you found some kind of underground shortcut?” P shakes his head apologetically. You both sigh, knowing you’ve got plenty of dangers yet to face before you’re given any time to rest. These days spent traveling have taken their toll on your bodies, but you’re at least grateful to have a friend in the gloom of Cerasani Alley. Your sword slides neatly into your belt as you walk ahead of Pinocchio. “Back to it then.”

As the two of you push forward, you notice a concerted effort on your companions' part to stick close to your side. At any strange noise or eerie shadow, P reaches for your hand. You squeeze back in reassurance that all is well. A bit unnecessary? Sure. But you don’t fight it. It’s much preferred to losing the poor boy again.

Drawing closer to your destination with only a few minor scuffles to slow you down, you reach a dilapidated fairgrounds. Sickly yellow light bulbs buzz overhead and cast an ominous glow across the entire scene. A ghostly music box melody plinks and permeates the air. You look to P quizzically.

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

P takes in his surroundings and gives you a curt nod. You grimace in reply. This decrepit place gives you the creeps.

Together you silently weave through wooden cutouts of circus performers, checking carefully for hidden enemies. It's suspiciously quiet, save for the phantasmal carnival music that grows louder as you approach an iron gate. Another barrier. Excellent.

“P?” You step aside and gesture to the locked gate. Pinocchio smiles slyly at you, boyishly pleased that there’s still a few things you can’t do without him. You want to roll your eyes, but you watch reluctantly impressed, as deep violet energy crackles around his fist. In one swift swing, he punches through the gate and leaves a smoking crater where the lock once sat. He shoots you a sharp smile, satisfied with himself.

And then you feel something. A great mechanical thud rippling beneath your feet. Your heads snap in unison towards the source and your eyes go wide at the sight of the staggering monster in front of you. At least 3 times your size looms the Parade Master, constructed of decaying parts and craquelured paint. Its massive fist alone is as wide as your body, and sways heavily at its side.

You unsheathe your blade, and its weight sinks your shoulders. It's not ideal for speed you admit, but the vindication after landing those obliterating killing blows to your enemies is unbeatable. Keeping your eyes locked on target, you whistle to catch Pinocchio’s attention. You started doing this early on. Whistles were a good line of nonverbal communication when you couldn’t afford a glance in each other's direction.

“Flank him?” You suggest. Pinocchio whistles quick and sharp in agreement. Your fingers tighten around the great sword and your chest thrums with anticipation. You jut your chin in the direction of your common enemy. “After you.”

Without looking, you know his brows are furrowed together in deep focus. You can perfectly visualize the way he lures the puppet away, his steps meticulously timed and graceful. As you wind your way behind the thing, you hear the clang of P’s rapier against tarnished metal. Your enemy rears its arm back, and you follow suit striking its vulnerable back with a satisfying SHUK! You yank the blade out of its now damaged shell and catch the briefest glance at your companion and oh. Oh. The way he looks at you.

With fascination?

Admiration?

It’s something greater, deeper than that. Your heart skips. But you shake yourself out of distraction, startled at the sound of your own voice calling out. Your lips move before your mind has time to catch up.

“MOVE!”

Exactly as you shout it, P dodges a strike from the Parade Master. The brute’s fist lands in the brick pavement, blowing a hole through it instantaneously. You gulp at the thought of your companion lying there instead, crushed. Your skin goes cold.

No. Never.

Knowing neither of you can afford another lapse in attention, you suck in one long loud whistle between your teeth. The Parade Master whips itself around to face you. Two huge lamp-like eyes glow sickly in your direction. This was intentional. You can distract for now and give your ally a moment to catch his breath. You ready both hands on your weapon and take a step back. The monster lurches forward, its steps accompanied by a horrid clanking sound.

“Get over here you fucking rust bucket…” You mutter grimly under your breath as the space between you and the looming threat of death shrinks. You breathe deeply and steel yourself, heels digging into stone. You watch carefully as the puppet rushes towards you, arms swinging wildly. Just when the behemoth is about to crush you beneath its huge frame, you duck between its legs and emerge from behind. There’s just enough time to land a solid blow. P’s rapier crosses with your greatsword, both your weapons plunging into the deteriorated creatures back.

“This one’s mine, P.” You snap, pulling your blade from its fresh wound.

“Mine.” P parrots with a smirk, retrieving his rapier as well. Being a man of so few words, you can't help feeling amused even given the circumstances. This is good. The beast is growing weaker. If you can both keep level heads this will all be over soon, you think to yourself.

At least until your enemy decapitates itself.

Your jaw drops as the Parade Master rips its own head from its massive shoulders. It wields its shiny new weapon like an enormous mace and swings it your way. It makes contact with the ground, and the impact alone is enough to shake your balance. You dive to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. You struggle to recalibrate, to size up the situation while keeping yourself out of the range of attack. You hear P whistle pointedly across the arena, waiting on your instruction. Your mind races for a plan and comes up blank.

“Hold on!” You shout, “Just- Just hold on, I’ll think of something.” You’ll have to if you want to leave this place in one piece. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. All you can think to do is attack. And you do; your blade leaves white hot gash marks on the enemy, but it hardly seems to be enough against such a terrible and towering foe. You’ve angered it now, and it’s in a total frenzy. The Parade Master swings its massive head in your direction again and you raise your sword to block it. Half a second too late.

As your weapons collide, the impact sends you to the ground. You gasp at the sharp pain that shoots through your skull. There’s a ringing in your ears and a soft dark edge to your vision. You struggle against unconsciousness and fight to keep yourself upright. Things are moving slow; trails of light obscure the events unfolding in front of you.

You comprehend something catching the Parade Masters' attention, you watch the goliath wind up, you hear something cry out, and then hear nothing at all. A sick feeling churns in the pit of your stomach and bile rises in your throat. Something’s wrong. You search the scene frantically for your ally. Your line of sight flickers from the Parade Masters head to the ground slick with rain. Your throat tightens. With his face turned to the ground, his eyes fighting to stay open, lies Pinocchio. His rapier skitters across the stone, coming to a sudden halt beneath the foot of the Parade Master.

Something flashes through you, anger, grief, adrenaline; whatever it is, it propels you forward. Your weapon is suddenly weightless as you skid between the monstrous puppet and your companion. The head of the Parade Master collides with your sword and the sound echoes through the arena with an arresting ring. You breathe hard in disbelief of your own courage. Your teeth are bared and your furrowed brow is sticky with sweat.

“Don’t. Touch him.” You command, and you swear even your mindless enemy hears it. A deep guttural sound is forced from the very bottom of your lungs as you thrust your weapon through the center of the automaton's body. It doesn’t die, but you hear something inside it break, and the creature slows significantly as if becoming too heavy for its own armature.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. P looks like absolute hell, covered in grime, barely staggering to his feet. Your chest tightens at his condition, but he’s alive.

Alive. It’s enough.

The enemy screams in frustration, rippling orange flames and black smoke billow from the place its head once sat. You stare at the hilt of your great sword, still lodged in its heart.

“P, your sword-” You start, but your ally is already on it, your strategic minds miraculously attuned. He sends the rapier sailing -now free of the parade masters foot- towards your open hand. It whips past your head and slides perfectly into your grasp. With what's left of the enemy in your sights, you take a running start.

Time seems to slow; the taste of victory teases you. Your head is about to collide with the hulking hunk of metal just as you raise your boot and dig its heel into the hilt of your great sword. Its placement serves as a stepping stone, and you scale the furious beast. You clamber up its torso towards its shoulders and feel heat radiating from the inside. It burns your hands, which grip the edge of the cavernous socket of its missing head. The monster thrashes beneath you like a wild bull, desperate to throw you off. You tighten your grip, the white hot metal searing your palm. You force yourself to ignore the pain as you raise the rapier and plunge one final devastating blow into the blazing cavity. You feel the rapier obliterate whatever mechanism kept the Parade Master alive, and it crumbles finally beneath you.

Atop the shoulders of your freshly slaughtered enemy, you fall forward with a deafening CRASH. Your body tumbles to the ground. Your grip on the rapier goes slack. Exhaustion ripples through you, and you surrender to its sweet embrace.

You hadn’t even realized you’d lost consciousness until your eyes flutter open, met by the stunning blue gaze of your companion mere inches from your face. For a moment you forget yourself, the urge to sink into his arms is so tempting. But your pride wins out and you scramble into an upright position, barely awake. Pinocchio lets out a sigh of relief and you see his shoulders relax. Had he been just as terrified as you were at the prospect of losing him? Did that same dread sit in the pit of his stomach?

Your head swims with what-ifs, but you have no energy to find their answers. With strength that you’re shocked to still possess, you throw your arms around the puppet. Your fingers clutch the wet fabric of his shirt as if he might disappear the moment you let go. His body tenses at first, then melts under your touch. You feel his head settle between your neck and shoulder, solid and secure. Silently breathing in the smell of him feels like waves of relief crashing over your head.

You wish the journey could end here in the peace and quiet of this embrace, but you feel him begin to pull away and your heart sinks. Face to face with you, his eyes search for signs of damage, for something to mend. His hands find yours and you hiss involuntarily. His eyebrows knit together in concern. You try not to grimace.

“It’s nothing.” you promise, “Burned my hand, that's all.”

P looks down at your hand and cradles it gently in his own. With painstaking care, he lifts it to his mouth and places a feather-light kiss in your palm, then on each of your scraped and bleeding knuckles. He looks up at you through those thick raven-wing lashes and you notice a trace of your blood left on his lips. The sight makes your head swim and it takes the entirety of your willpower not to catch his mouth with yours. Your posture stiffens as you try to regain your composure.

“Well it’s not far now, is it?” You ask, deflecting back to the mission at hand. “There will be plenty of time to patch each other up at the hotel. Right?” You offer, already stupidly aching for the return of Pinocchio’s delicate touch. He blinks a few times, as if he were struggling to focus himself. But he nods enthusiastically. You feel a smile creep across your lips.

As you leave the destroyed fairgrounds behind, you let your good hand slip into that of your companion. The two of you venture forth, certain to never lose track of the other again.

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If you read this and enjoy it please let me know! Seeing your positive comments and tags absolutely warms my heart and motivates me to keep writing. Thank you so much to those of you who took the time to leave me some kind words on my last fic <3

#this was so fucking fun to write #lies of p #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #lop #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #pinocchio x you #lies of p x reader #my writing

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weird-an · 9 months

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Fear is a shitty advisor.

Anger is a better one. The problem is that Billy is afraid all the time. When his dad comes home and he's snapping at Susan for asking how his day was, Billy is scared. When he has to flirt with a girl, he's scared, because it doesn't feel right and the implications are terrible. Billy tries not to think about it.

The scariest thing of all is how his stomach feels when Steve Harrington sits next to him in algebra class, brows furrowed and scribbling down equations. When he's in the shower with him and Billy is hot and cold at the same time.

So, Billy tries to fire up the anger. Looks down at Harrington and scoffs, spits around pretty boy and tries to make it sound like an insult, like it isn't an understatement because Harrington is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Unfortunately, anger and fear together are a disaster. Especially because Harrington isn't only a pretty face, but can bite back. It makes Billy's skin crawl.

"You know," Harrington says to him one day, under showers of all places, massaging the shampoo in his hair. "Pretty boy always sounds like a compliment."

It feels like the water has turned ice cold. Billy can only hear the thunder of his pulse, nearly drops the soap he's holding. It's a secret, a shameful one. One he's so fucking scared of. The water washes away the anger, too.

"What?" Billy laughs and it sounds even more fake than usual. "Keep on dreaming, pre-"

He cuts himself off.

"Just sayin'." Harrington snorts and washes the shampoo out of his hair. The foam runs down his chest, along his stomach and - Billy stares at the wall.

"I don't mind it," Harrington says. Billy looks back at him, hands closing into fists. He has to keep up the act.

"I don't fucking care what you think," Billy snarls.

"Oh, of course." Harrington doesn't sounds convinced. His brown eyes are fixed on Billy.

"Do you need help with that?" He points at the soap. Billy's stomach sinks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He clutches it tighter. The scent of Irish Spring tickling his nose.

"No," Harrington says. "Let me."

He grabs the soap out of Billy's hand. "Turn around."

Billy clenches his teeth so hard it hurts. He tries to look for the anger, but it's gone. Fear clogs his throat.

Harrington's hand is on his shoulder. Squeezing a little. "Relax."

Billy turns around. Harrington's hand is warm, guiding. It's almost easy. He shouldn't give in, he thinks.

"I think you're pretty, too," Harrington says. He runs his hand down Billy's back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "Especially like that."

Billy wants to sneer, but the noise that escapes his mouth sounds almost helpless.

Billy's head spins when Harrington's hand rest on the low of his back. His thumb presses against Billy's skin.

Billy knows he should be afraid. He just can't remember why. Harrington's finger wander down to his ass cheek. Cupping and kneading it, greedy and sure.

Harrington laughs in his ear. "Oh, you're perfect."

#this shower is driving me crazy #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

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chubs-deuce · 3 months

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Hough I haven't been hyperfixated on a specific character like this in a hot minute, send help

Aggressively rotating the dastardly deer man in my brain like a microwave with lethal intent

Characters like him are like a goddamn drug to my character analysis loving brain, the way he's so transparent and yet mysterious, cunning, observant and merciless-

How he manages to have such an impossibly large presence and yet flies under the radar just enough to collect information unnoticed, stacking the cards in his favor one carefully spun advantage at a time. Every detail is considered, taken into account and, if needed, subtly nudged into a more advantageous position.

The way he gives just enough information about himself to give others a false sense of security but not enough to actually let them win the game, relishing in their ignorance as he lays out the trap in clear fucking view until all that's left to do is set out the lure and wait for the perfect moment to snap it shut.

I want to study him in a lab, put him into a little glass bottle, then shake it and throw it into the fucking sun-

This isn't a "I can fix him" or a "I can make him worse" hyperfixation, but a secret, third thing (I wish to pluck him apart into tiny pieces to then scrutinize under a microscope)

Biting snarling foaming at the mouth

#Alastor #hazbin hotel #Hyperfixation #chubs rambles

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shiyorin · 4 months

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The Imperium Shelter

Adoption Poster: Angron

Name: Angron (he refuses to answer to anything else)

Species: Primarch

Breed: World Eater

Age: Approximately 3 weeks (though he's been through a lot, so his physiology has aged faster than average.)

Background: Found this one half-starved and raging in the pits of Nuceria. Covered in scars and barking about some nonsense. Took a lot of tranquilizers just to get him home in one piece, let me tell you! His previous "owners" clearly abused him. Poor boy. Or so I suppose…

Anyway, we rescued Angron and have been rehabilitating him through positive reinforcement techniques (definitely no mood-altering neurotransmitter adjustments used, no sir!). No wonder he developed some, er, behavior issues. But with plenty of tender loving care and training, I'm sure he'll learn to curb those homicidal tendencies. I mean, normal primarch tendencies!

Personality: Angry would be an understatement. This one is pure rage walking! Snarls and lunges at anything that moves, frothing at the mouth like some rabid animals. Absolutely no social skills, nearly took my hand off just for trying to give him a treat! I'd be wary leaving small children unsupervised around him, if you catch my drift. Let's just say he takes "aggressive" to a whole new level.

But give him a chance to warm up to you, earn his trust, and I'm sure he'll calm down! Sure, he may try to bite your face off at first, but I promise once he gets used to you he'll stop seeing every interaction as a threat or challenge. Might take a few… I mean, a lot of training sessions. But he means well deep down, the poor dear just wants to be loved!

Skills: Surprisingly dexterous for one so enraged. Could probably handle advanced weaponry or driving vehicles if provoked, so keep an eye on the car keys for sure. He already knows basic commands like "attack," "kill," "Skull for the Skull Throne!" No, strike that, I have no idea where that came from! He's a quick learner regardless. Also seems preternaturally strong, literally ripped the bars off his cage on the first night! And could wrestle a grown man to the ground, break his spine with a chomp. Of course, he would never do that!

In summary, Angron is one angry boy with a lot of special needs. Strict owner only, with experience handling extreme cases. Lots of patience, training and muzzles required. Adoption not recommended for the faint of heart! But who could resist that underbite… He just needs the right home to reach his true potential as a war machine! I mean, loyal primarch. Who's a good boy?!

Signed,

The Emperor

(Angron tries to bite his hand as he says that last part)

Comments from the employees:

M*******: I wouldn't recommend adopting Angron. He tried to bite my arm off during feeding time.

Big E: Nonsense Malcador, I'm sure you were provoking him. Angron just wants love, you'll do fine!

V*****: With respect sir, Angron is dangerously unstable. He killed three of our security measures. Even with sedatives he's too risky. Perhaps a more seasoned professional handler could manage him, if anyone can.

Big E: Quit scaring people Valdor, he was just playing! Weren't you boy? Angron foams rabidly See, happy as a clam. Next!

O*******: I understand the desire to rehabilitate him sir, but adopting out Angron could endanger lives. For the safety of the public and his own well-being, long term confinement and treatment seem best.

Big E: No Ollanius. Angron just wants someone to show him love. I'm sure with the right owner he'll come around, won't you boy? Angron bites his pants leg Down boy! So what do you say, is he yours?

#space marine husbandry #Guess who found this tag?#primarch husbandry

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featherandferns · 11 months

Note

JJ smut with prompt 19 plsss

19. Make me.

Hi lovely! Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience! This is a little short but I hope you like it <3

Content warnings: sexual content

storeroom - prompt 19

“You’re such an asshole!” you seethe at JJ.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, petty to the max. “And you aren’t?”

“Why can’t you take your job seriously?” you hiss. “They’re actually paying a decent wage and folks here are paying a lotta money for a decent meal, and you’re slacking on the job.”

“You’re not my fucking manager, okay?” JJ snarls, stalking towards you. “You don’t getta tell me what to do and what not to do. You’re a waitress, alright? So you better pucker up princess and pull the stick from out of your ass.”

“Watch your fucking mouth blondie,” you spit.

You square up to him as if you could lay him out in a second on the storeroom floor. Clearly sending the two of you to top up on supplies for the function tomorrow, after hours, wasn’t the smartest move from your supervisor.

JJ Maybank was a dickhead. He seemed to know which buttons to push with you to have you foaming at the mouth and blowing steam out your ears. He seemed to enjoy pushing them too. Did so until you were at your breaking point with him and his stupid face.

“What? You want me to stop putting you in your place?”

“I want you to stop talking full-stop, so I can get maybe a moment of peace in this Goddamn restaurant,” you bite back.

JJ smirks, cold and cruel. “Oh yeah? Make me, princess.”

You glower at his face. His stupid, handsome, gorgeous face.

You can’t say why, or when, or even how, but you and JJ are suddenly kissing. He seems taken aback, stumbling forward, pushing your back against the precariously balanced boxes of napkins and tea lights. Pulling back, eyes wide and mouth somewhat agape in shock, you and JJ regard each other a moment. Eyes flicking over features; breathing heavy and disjointed. There’s a moment where you both seem to debate whether or not this is the right thing; debate saying this out loud; then simultaneously agree on one common thought. Fuck it. You’d always thought JJ was kind of attractive. Well, more than kind of, but there was no way in hell you’d ever tell him so.

The make-out that follows is filthy and messy and confusing. JJ ends up with his back against the wall with you pressing against him. You both groan as his hard-on rocks against your crotch.

“This is a bad idea,” JJ says. His hand creeps under your shirt, messing to undo your bra.

“Definitely,” you pant. Your eyes are fixated on his lips and you can’t help but kiss him again, sinking your teeth leisurely into his lower lip for just a second.

“Fuck,” JJ groans. He yanks your shirt over your head and you shuck off your unfastened bra. Impatient, JJ palms at your breasts. The fact that both of you are on the clock, in the restaurant’s storeroom seems to be of no concern to either of you. “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” you mumble. You unzip the fly of his work pants (they’re so fucking tight on him it’s almost criminal how good they make him look) and slip a hand hastily into his boxers. JJ stammers out a moan as you rub at his erection. Something shoots through you, be it attraction or hate. The two lay on a thin line.

“I don’t even like you,” JJ stammers.

You look up at him with that. Hooded eyes and swollen lips, he’s rosy cheeked and overtly horny. Squeezing at the head, making him moan, you can’t help but smirk.

“You sure about that, blondie?”

JJ stares down at you. His white button-up is still fastened and it’s unfair. You want to see him – all of him. Nobody should be allowed to be this attractive and this much of an asshole. The world is full of cruelties.

You continue working him with your hand, grinning malevolently when you feel him throb under your hold, already getting close. Men are so fucking simple.

JJ sighs. There’s a twitch of a grin to his lips, mirroring yours, and there’s this thrilling, terrifying thought that comes to your mind as he takes you in, like a predator observing its prey.

He’s going to wreck me.

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #drabbles #prompts #19 #obx #obx drabbles #outer banks #outer banks drabbles #obx fic #outer banks fic

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