#cursed vest with mouths on it

[purelyshreksexual]

Random cursed image dump because I feel like I need to dump some cursed images :>

Also, did you know dolphins cut the heads off of small fish and masturbate into them sometimes? Now ya do :)

[satoruly]

𝘿𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙐𝙋 .ᐟ.ᐟ

costumes that the jjk men would wear for halloween

includes. toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

tags/warnings. fluff, no curse!au, i like to think gojo's is a college au too, suggestive, mentions of oral in toji's, gojo is called a slut (jokingly), fake blood.

a/n. i love satoru i swear and suguru's is so cheesy idk if i cringe or not idc i think he's lovely. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

got a request? click here !!

𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻 '𝗴𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁' 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆 ₊˚⊹ 𝘁. 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼

“I look ridiculous.”

“I bet you don’t,” you spoke from where you sat on the bed, legs crisscrossed as you waited for your boyfriend to come out from the bathroom “Just show me”

He had taken longer than you thought to get ready, longer than you had, but in retrospect, you guess you should’ve seen it coming with the amount of belts you had handed to him and no instructions to work with, you guess it was really on you. 

“This was a mistake.” He mumbled through pursed lips once he came out, looking off to the side, his slightly overgrown hair obscuring his eyes. Without the vest and belt, it was practically an everyday outfit for him, a navy blue hoodie with a pair of blue cargo pants. The latter did differ from his day-to-day wear but it was okay, he was gonna wear his New Balance sneakers once you were ready to leave so it cancelled out. 

“I want to suck your dick so bad right now.” 

“I look like a glorified back-pack”

“Where did you learn the word glorified?” You joked, though only half-heartily because you were too busy staring at your boyfriend’s thighs concealed by not only way too tight pants but by very tight garters. You wished he would keep them on the daily. Luckily though, your primitive brain had no completely taken over and so you were able to process his lack of response to your off-handed blow job proposition.

“Im wearing kneepads like a fucking loser.” He raised his knee to emphasize his point, letting his foot rest on the ottoman at the end of the bed and practically throwing the skeleton mask you hadn’t noticed he had been holding on top of the covers. 

You stood up, gave him a once look over and walked towards him cupping his face with your palms. One of your thumbs rubbed the skin of his cheek now coated by a very subtle pink, one you’d only be able to notice if you squinted. 

“You don’t look like a loser, personally I think you look very very hot,” you assured him, “but if you really don’t like it you don’t have to wear it, we can find something else for Satoru’s party.”

He huffed, unconsciously leaning against the warmth of your palms, eyebrows still twisted into a frown. “It’s not that, just— you’d really suck me off dressed like this?”

You hummed, giving him a light peck on the lips before trailing your hands down his chest, ignoring the plate carrier that bulked him up more than he already was. 

“Like now?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, the usual sultriness it carried back where it was meant to be.

“Depends,” you pondered, biting back a smile at the suggestiveness. “How long ‘till we have to leave?”

He cursed at the number of pockets he had to go through before finding his phone stashed on the back of his pants, eagerly examining the time and then showing the lit-up screen to you. “Like 30 minutes.”

“Then sure,” you looked up at him, not breaking eye contact as you undid his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor before slowly working to unzip his pants. “I’ll be quick."

𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

“I was gonna buy the tights but the imprint of my d—”

“Okay! We are changing the subject…” You almost slapped your palm over your boyfriend’s mouth before he could continue. Successfully [stopping] Shoko and Utahime from hearing the not-so-safe-for-work details of your costume shopping trip.

Looking back, it was kind of funny. Satoru wasn’t all that fond of superheroes but one singular video of a hot guy on his fyp was more than enough to convince him he was willing to commit to the transformation. In reality, you’re sure he just wanted to wear the tights. That's why he almost cried when all the ones at the costume shop turned out too small to cover his ankles.

He had tried his best to make it work but to no avail and had settled instead for a black pair of cargo pants, and though they weren’t the classic Nightwing tights he had envisioned, you swore they were so much better.

“It’s nice,” Shoko pointed out, taking a drag of her cigarette, directly juxtaposing her surgeon costume. The scrubs and lab coat she wore were likely taken from the faculty of medicine last minute. “Thought you’d use Halloween as an excuse to dress up sluttier though.”

His offended gasp almost made you burst out laughing, the hand you had used to shut him up still muffling his dramatics.

“Oh, he’s a slut alright.” You joked, now resting your hand on his chest and taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile as your boyfriend decided to run with your joke.

“Yeah exactly,” he chuckled, leaning against your head and smushing his cheek in the process and circling one of his arms around your waist. He couldn’t spend a single moment not touching you, and though you played tough, you couldn’t help but lean against his touch every single time. “It’s the energy.”

And it sure was. Even if his current costume was way more tame than the bunny boy one he had chosen last year, he was still giving ‘slut’.

Although you were quick to shut down his previous comment, you’d be lying if you said the mildly accurate costume didn’t do things to you. For one, props to him for making progress at the gym. The loose material stretched out over his thighs every time he made the slightest flexing motion. Sitting, standing, going up the stairs, no matter what he did was a sight for sore eyes. Then, you had the compression long-sleeved he wore. Though it technically was a “costume” and not a compression shirt, it still hugged his arms and chest so deliciously you swore you could moan. 

And of course, how could you forget about his ass. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Utahime asked, looking at your pleated pants, loose light blue shirt with most of the top buttons undone, and a pair of sunglasses.

“A slut.” You shrugged, enjoying their confusion until it finally clicked.

“You’re dressed as him!”

𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗼

“Nope, we need another one.” 

Suguru groaned in dismay, so close to banging his head against the door frame as you rejected yet another costume you had suggested, or more so, insisted he should wear. At this point of the day, he was sure his skin was sore from the constant friction of multiple garments’ fabrics. 

“Why? I think this one’s good.”

You tilted your head, looking him up and down before pursing your lips. You won't deny he looked good. He always looked good. But, “We’re going to a costume party.”

“So? This is a costume.” 

“Yeah but…” You trailed off, wondering if he’d take personal offense for the comment you were about to make regarding his fashion sense. “It kinda just looks like you.”

Now it was time for him to tilt his head in confusion, squinting at you as if to prompt you to elaborate and you sighed before continuing, “Besides the boots, actually, no, you do use those, it's pretty much a normal outfit for you.”

He looked down at himself, eyes meticulously scanning every inch of his body to then look up at you. “I’ve never worn a poet shirt before.”

“But the vibe,” you pointed at him up and down with your hand, “is there.”

“What vibe? Suguru Geto from the 19th century?”

“Ish? Yeah.” You agreed, standing in front of him to fix the collar of his shirt. “You look like you belong in a romanticism painting minus the high-waisted pants, which fyi make your ass look great.”

He chuckled, turning around to stand in front of the full-body mirror next to your vanity to check himself out, subtly taking a peak at his ass. It did look really good in those pants.

“Let me try the necklace and you can decide.” He grabbed the thin chain and gave it to you for help. Holding his hair up, he couldn’t yet again chuckle at the reflection as you tried to stand up on your tip toes to hook the clasp around his neck. 

It added some depth, he thought. The white shirt and black pants combo was something he would wear. The added jewellery made it look a little less like him, but the matching earrings were still missing.

“—and I know what you’re thinking, so I got these.” 

You stretched your palm in front of him, a pair of new gauges resting on it. Unlike his, they weren’t black, more so a pale golden color. 

“They match the color of the necklace and if you want to wear the earrings you can loop them through there.” You pointed out, and upon closer inspection, once he held them in his hands, he could see there was a little hole at the bottom of them. “But you can also not wear them if you don’t wanna, thought it'd be a nice detail.”

“I thought you weren’t sure about the costume,” he kissed the top of your head, mumbling ‘thank you’, and carefully slipped off the ones he was wearing. The way you beamed as he started doing so didn’t you escape him, and it made him all the more eager to try them on even if they felt cold against his skin and were out of his comfort zone. He had never really been a fan of gold on himself.

“Eh, I might’ve been more committed than I let on.” You hugged his waist, looking at him through the mirror as he grabbed Howl’s dangly earrings. He looked pretty. “What do you think? Looks good?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly and chuckling at the earrings swishing against his skin. He wasn’t used to wearing those, it felt funny. “It’s still missing something though.”

“What’s missing?” You asked as he moved fully in front of you. He pressed his thumb in the middle of your furrowed brows before kissing your forehead and then giving you a quick pick on the lips.

“The matching promise rings.”

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝗸. 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶

“You’ve always wanted to murder your coworkers, now you can pretend you have!”

“I’m never wearing this outfit again.”

“See! You can even make the references, it’s perfect.”

But you had to give it to him, it would be much more of a costume if he wasn’t wearing a suit that closely resembled what he used to wear for work. A fitted black suit, a crisp, freshly ironed shirt and a red tie, everything covered up by a transparent raincoat. And to be fair, the plastic did make a funny noise whenever he walked. 

The only missing piece of the costume was the blood, which led you to where you were, standing over old newspapers in case you stained the kitchen floor. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He shook his head as you walked around him with a bottle of fake blood, excitedly pouring the runny liquid into strategic places for it to look organic like he had actually killed someone. He wasn’t a Halloween nor a dress-up fanatic per se, but the promise of a good costume party had set you off into a never-ending search for the perfect costume until you had finally settled on one. The perfect one.

You nodded at his words, carefully creating a couple of splotches with a paintbrush before you could finally admire your masterpiece. “Now the only thing we are missing is your face?”

“Pardon?”

“We gotta put some blood on your face.” You said sitting up on the counter, careful not to knock down the FX makeup kit you had gotten. Making space between your legs, you pulled him from his belt loops towards you, and automatically, his hands positioned themselves right on top of your hips. Without you needing to tell him, he leaned closer to you, lowering his height just enough for you to reach his face properly.

“That was not part of our deal.” Yet, he stayed as still as possible as you used a smaller dropper to carefully apply the liquid to his temple close to his hairline. 

“Close your eyes.” He did as you said, and you proceeded to imitate the splotches without staining his whole face, just his forehead and cheeks. Some of it dripped down his eyebrow and towards his eye, but you caught it fast enough for it to not stain his lashes. Hopefully, that’d be the only ‘liability’ you’d experience for the night, you really didn’t want his shirt to stain. “And we are done!”

You grabbed your phone and turned on your front camera for him to look at himself.

“What do you think?”

He stared at his reflection for a couple of seconds trying to figure out if he liked it or not. While he did so, he couldn’t help but subtly flicker from you back to him a couple of times, looking at your eyes creasing in excitement. The warm smile on your lips was contagious, the way you scrunched your nose when he kissed your forehead as if scared he’d get ‘blood’ on you too cute, and so he couldn’t help the gentler one that appeared on his. 

“I like it a lot.”

© all works belong to satoruly

[softshuji]

Mikey's voice is light.

It's tinkly, a little melodic, a little soft, airy- sounding, like a breeze coming through an open window.

You like how it sounds when he speaks, when he laughs, and especially when he says your name, the little 'chin' at the end he hasn't quite dropped despite being well into adulthood.

You like it even now, a thousand miles away, the tinkly breeze of his voice inundated by the crackle of the receiver, and the occasional shuffle as he takes another bite of a snack on hand.

And he always hums between it, changes position in his bed, an occasional "oof" as he turns over and presses the phone to his ear.

He likes your voice but he's not half as good with the words to describe it. He says it's "pretty" that's it - he likes your accent, the way your mouth forms certain words, the lilting foreignness of his name on your tongue, when you elongate "manjiro" to get his attention.

He's never said it mind you, but he thinks you know it already- or at least he hopes you do. You talk a lot with him, and he's surprised by how much he likes listening.

He's never been the type to slow himself down for anyone, take such a vested interest but it's different with you. He likes the wait, the "uhm" you do before you answer a question, the hum that often accompanies your thoughts.

Like now when you're quiet and he can tell that you're thinking, can almost imagine your eyes fixed to a spot with a frown.

'Hey 'jiro, can I ask a question?' you say now and your voice is punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the washing machine in the room adjacent.

It's a nice sound, helps to ground him sometimes. These almost nightly calls where you're letting him into your space even if it isn't physically. A reminder that you're there, that you're always there.

'Mhm? Yeah?' and he takes a bite of steaming hot taiyaki, winces when the steam seems to burn his tongue and you suppress a laugh at how he curses a "shit that's hot" and takes a swig of juice.

It's almost too comfortable at times like this. You could easily get lost in it- moments that never seem to end, the atmosphere punctuated by a tension that never breaks, a siren somewhere that reminds you of how far the two of you are, the lull in the line where the signal breaks.

And it's almost too easy to say, when you whisper a 'What would you do if you were in love with someone?'

And the silence is palpable, terrifyingly loud.

He stops chewing, eyes widening, a hand half halted in the air as he stares at the receiver, a sinking ache that settles in his tummy.

But he's Mikey, he's manjiro. And he's always known what that meant - the type that never lets anything bother him too much- the type that never cries in front of others- the type that has to be the man you need even if you don't feel like you need him.

'Huh?' he says, a little forced, a lump of taiyaki suddenly caught in his throat. 'You in love with someone or something?'

'Maybe I am. And maybe you know them.'

He lifts an eyebrow, the ache snaking towards his ribs. 'I know them?' and then, a sudden burst of noise. 'Is it ken-chin?! Oh you know ken-chin is in love with Emma-'

'No dummy! It's not ken-chin! I know he's with Emma, I'm not that mean that I'd go after your sisters boyfriend y'know.'

And he laughs unexpectedly at your sudden outburst, and it makes the tension a little easier to bear despite what he knows is coming, a rejection and hurt that he's spent a long time preparing for.

'Oh so not ken-chin,' he says and rolls over, propping his chin up in a hand that now discards the taiyaki wrapper on the bedside table. 'So do I get a clue?'

'No,' you say now, your voice broken by the pop-pop of a car exhausting it's engine outside. 'I didn't say I would tell you who it was y'know. But think...a little closer to home maybe.'

'Oh.......'I get it.' A beat. 'You're in love with Emma!'

'No?! When I said closer to home I didn't mean it like that!' You huff in faux annoyance, and he smiles to himself, the tug of his lips instinctual when he senses the irritation in you, and it hurts to prolong this kind of pain, to slowly tug the band-aid.

'Mhm, you could just tell me yknow, maybe I could help set you up.'

And you roll onto your back, stretch out a hand to the window where the moon sits on a branch, the white ivory of it cracked by the grey mist of the clouds.

'I do not trust you as far as I could throw you when it comes to matchmaking me manjiro.'

'Hey!' he says, a familiar pout as he stretches his hand towards the window on his own side, the edge of his white tank top riding up as he shifts onto his back. 'I'm not that bad. You saying I couldn't find someone who treats you like a princess?'

I could.

You giggle, a slip of a laugh despite the brewing tears. 'I don't doubt it, but no, I don't need you to matchmake me. And besides you're getting off topic. I asked what would you do if you were in love with someone....someone you knew.'

And you sigh, a half stifled thing that you hope he doesn't notice, hope is lost somewhere in the end to end encryption. And he pauses in thought, turning it over on his tongue, the familiar ache, the pain that never ends when he speaks to you, a dread that always follows the searing hurt of your smile across his chest. 'Mhm, depends who they were. Someone close?'

'I guess so. We're...best friends. At least I'd like to think so.'

'Excuse me, you have other best friends that aren't me?!'

You stiffen, pull back a little, a dangerously close dip to the truth. 'I didn't - that's not the point!' you huff, hoping it hides enough, hoping you're still elusive. 'Would you tell them?'

And his heart thunders across his ribs, a plummet into his stomach, a redness that spills across the ivory of his skin. He lapses into a silence then, a quietness punctuated by the thwack of the branches on the window.

'Jiro?'

'Huh? Oh yeah sorry, got distracted by something.' And he clears his throat, swallowing the ache, the spiky slice of a knife edge across his chest. 'I would only tell them if I knew they liked me too, if I was sure.'

'And....how would you be sure?' A whisper dripped down the line.

His tongue is heavy, clinging to the roof of his mouth, a weight that's heavy and suffocating. 'I don't know, I don't think you could be without being honest.'

'But being honest means you might be wrong, because what if they don't like you back? Especially as your best friend.'

You muffle the sniffle, time it perfectly with the roll onto your side, the moon now falling and hidden entirely by the trees, a white ring of light that cracks through the branches.

'Yeah....' he says, a trail of a murmur that's soft and silky. 'I guess you don't really know unless you try.'

And he hates that he holds out hope, that he wishes he could hear it even now, knowing what he knows, and hoping to hold on anyway.

'Mhm...yeah you're right.' A crash, a crescendo, an end. 'Anyway, 'Jiro, it's late, I gotta go okay?'

'Yeah, yeah me too,' he says, a disappointment crashing through his bones. 'I'll see you tomorrow yeah?'

'Mhm, goodnight 'Jiro.'

'Goodnight Princess.'

And he holds the phone to his ear long after you're gone, watching the moon fall further down, a hand of his stretched out towards it, knowing somehow somewhere you're doing the same.

Reblogs appreciated

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (3)

summary. there’s no better position for daryl than when his girl is in his lap 😉🥵

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, handjob, cursing, fluff

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

prison

Her hips jolted in adjustment atop of his own, driving his cock deeper within the depths of her arousal glazed cervix, pulling a long drawn moan out from Daryl’s parted lips, as his eyelids fluttered in an abyss of euphoric peace. It was all he needed, to be within her, to feel her perfectly close, and he hadn’t needed to drive a hard bargain to have her crawling wantonly on his lap. Y/n’s fingers wove in his hair that had grown since the survivors of Woodbury had amounted to the numbers of the prison, relieving the stress that Daryl felt to provide for the increased population.

She was stressed too, working her ass off as she watched Rick potter about in his little farm, almost oblivious to the subsequent efforts the rest of them strived through to salvage supplies - he needed a rest though after everything, and this was y/n and Daryl’s own substitute of that. Their lips messily moulded together, drinking up the others escaping sounds, neither of them wanted to attract any peepers to their intimacy which was hard to come by with the afflicting chores that had to be completed.

“Ya feel so good girl.” At the sound of his gruff voice, y/n mewled lightly, burying her rolling-eyed face in his shoulder, as she wiggled insistingly against his lazy thrusts. It was midday, however despite that they were fuelled with the weakness of exhaustion, using the last of the energy that they had reserved for one another. “Thatta girl.” Daryl placed his large and rough hands on her hips, moving her in unison with his sloppy thrusts that somehow managed to hit the perfect spot even with his tired exterior.

“Dar-“ a yelp stifled in her throat as she clasped a hand over her mouth to block it from reaching any passing ears, as she chose to bite lightly on his still clothed shoulder, scratching lightly at his leather vest in sexual distress; her peak was coming closer and closer with each passing second, and so Daryl leaned back against the wall in their cell that was their escape from everything outside, and brushed his tingling fingertips against her angelic face. “I love you.” Her confession that had been spoken many times before came out as a whisper, as his heavy lidded eyes met her watery orbs.

“Love ya more sunshine.” Daryl muttered, his breath hitting her lips as he raised his hips so that it was easier to increase the pace in which his cock was moving inside of her, his head resting against the grey bricks that supported his position. “Gonna have ta pull outta ya soon.” He reminded her, watching y/n screw her face up at the concept, however it was the safest option considering Glenn and Maggie had used up the supply in the stores that were nearby to their location. “Ya gonna cum first girl, don’ ya worry.”

To emphasise his point, he reached his hand down so that the pad of his thumb was swirling disoriented circles around her clit, and y/n all but launched herself at him as she passionately joined their lips again, muffled moans spilling out occasionally for their lack of required air. “Fuck- I’m, I’m gonna-“ She had no time to finish her sentence as she threw her head back as a reaction from the rush that flowed intensely throughout her body, and Daryl leaned tentatively forward, chasing her lips, as he lifted her a little so he could pull out from her sweet cunt.

As soon as he did so, y/n in her fucked out haze grabbed his erection that was covered in her essence in her hand, stroking him at a desperate pace, biting his lip to catch the tracker off guard. “Shit.” Daryl closed his lustful blue eyes as his face became slack, all of the sensations that he was experiencing driving him wild. It wasn’t long before he came, spilling his seed across the expanse of y/n’s naked thigh, and he could finally catch his breath. “Ya jus’ can’t get ‘nough, I swear.” There was a dopey smile on his face, one that he reserved solely for his girl, and he caressed the back of her neck, before pulling her closer, until she was once again on his lap.

[ghosts-cyphera]

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions

╰﹒ the reader gets hurt on a mission-gone-south, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is not having it.

content/warnings: mentions of blood and injuries; slight arguing and ghost being a bit of a meanie—all for a good reason; hurt/comfort; gn!reader; wc 1.8k

a/n: thank you so, so incredibly much for the love and support for my previous story! I was nervous to post it, so the warm welcome meant the world to me. I hope you enjoy this one too. ♡

“Take off your vest and jacket.”

Had it been under any other circumstances, the sheer dominance in Ghost’s voice would have left you weak in the knees. It would have made your breathing catch in your throat, and your head spin: your forehead to glisten with sweat, and your teeth to close around your bottom lip.

You did all the things listed above, but it wasn't because of the depth of his voice. Right now, as you cursed under your breath, your panting, sweating, and cursing were brought on not by Ghost, but by the excruciating pain on your shoulder.

“Sarge, take off your fucking jacket.”

He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor of the dim shack, his fingers fumbling for his med kit. For nearly a year you had known the man, yet not once had you seen his hands shaking.

Not until now.

“For fuck’s sake, sergeant. Do not make me pull fucking rank here. Jacket off, and sit your ass on the fucking couch.”

Like from a snap of a band, you seemed to stumble back into reality. Your senses sharpening, you rushed into action—shaky curses passing your lips, as your fingers worked on your buckles and zippers.

Jesus fuck, did it hurt, yet suddenly—for a fleeting moment—you nearly forgot all about your pain.

Because on your jacket, you only saw one hole.

A single hole.

“Ghost?” 

“Sit down, sarge.”

“There’s no—,” you hated the way that your voice cracked. The way that your eyes searched for his, as the fear settled into your chest. “There’s no exit wound.”

“I know. I need to dig out the bullet,” he nodded his head, his voice strained. “But I can’t fucking do that if you keep standing over there, now can I?”

Fucking hell.

Swallowing, you forced your feet to carry you onto the dusty old couch, the springs creaking as you did.

“If I fall through this fucking couch, I’m blaming you.”

“If you had listened to my fucking orders—“ He left his sentence hanging, as his fingers moved to investigate the wound on your shoulder. “Can you fucking stay still?”

“I didn’t move.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I was fucking shot, Ghost.” Your words, despite being laced with a touch of annoyance, were spoken as a breathless laugh. “I can’t fucking help—“ Your eyes squeezed shut, as he rested the palms of his hands around the wound and pressed down. “Fucking hell—“

“Bite down ‘em moans, love.” His brows were furrowed with his concentration. “I see the fucker.”

“Intact?”

“Can’t tell.”

Fuck.

“Pass me 'em tweezers.”

With quivering hands, you did as you were told. “First time fishing out a bullet?”

“Not even damn close.”

“So why are your hands shaking?”

From your words, he paused: his gaze meeting yours for only the briefest moment, as he spoke. “I’m your only fucking chance at getting this bullet out fast enough to avoid infection, so how ‘bout you keep your mouth shut and let me focus?”

With an arched brow, you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth—only to bite down, hard, as he dipped in the tweezers.

“Jesus—“

“I know, darlin’.” His voice was deep, as his other hand moved to massage your shoulder. “Just breathe for me, yeah? In and out.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your heavy breaths, yet his hand on your shoulder helped.

His voice and the familiar depth of it were grounding.

“Keep talking,” you managed, brows knitted. “Please.”

“I don’t—“

“Tell me a stupid joke, or—or fucking yell at me for not listening to your orders. Whatever gets you talking.”

“Fine.” Ghost cursed under his breath, as his fingers kept on working on your shoulder. “So there's Bob, yeah?"

“Who the fuck is Bob?”

“Just—fucking listen. Bob hasn't got any arms.”

“What happened to his arms?”

“Sarge.”

“Sorry.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Not Bob.”

"I—" Your laugh was breathless, as you shook your head. “I sort of wish you had yelled at me instead. That was the worst fucking knock knock joke I’ve heard since—“

“Yeah, well. It was long enough to keep you distracted.” He lifted up the tweezers, between which a small bullet glimmered in the dim light of the shack. “Intact.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathed out, as he dropped the bullet on your open palm. “I’m so keeping this as a trophy.”

“It wasn’t your fucking first one, was it?”

You arched a brow with a warm laugh, fingers now playing with the bloodied piece of metal. “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

“Doubt luck had much to do with it.” Though his eyes did not meet yours—he was busy looking for a gauze to bandage you with—you could hear the touch of annoyance in his voice.

You had fucked up. 

“Look, Lt.—“

“I gave you a simple fucking order to fall back.”

“Ghost, I—“

“A fucking rookie would understand what it means when their superior tells them to fall the fuck back.” His fingers kept fumbling with the med-kit, despite the gauze being right beside his hand.

He couldn’t even look at you, could he? 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck did you not fall back?”

His gaze avoiding yours had been hard to handle, yet as he lifted his head and his eyes met yours, the anger, and frustration, and goddamn desperation in them was like a dagger through your heart.

“Because there were too fucking many of them, Ghost.” Your brows knitted, as you shook your head with your frustration. “Because if I hadn’t stayed, you would have been the one to take a fucking bullet for some simple goddamn A-to-B mission.”

“As your superior, it is my fucking job to evaluate the situation, sergeant.” His voice was laced with the same frustration that played in your voice. “The last fucking place I wanted you to be was—“

“Beside you, when everything went south? There were fucking six of them in full riot gear and a basket full of grenades as if they were goddamn apples. There was no fucking way you were going to walk out of there without—“

Without getting hurt. 

“Why the fuck do you think I wanted you gone?”

So that you would be safe.

So that one of you would live.

“You knew we wouldn’t make it,” you managed, your voice cracking with your realization. 

“I knew one of us could.”

Fucking—

“Asshole.”

Ghost snapped his gaze up, his brows furrowed. “Wanna fucking repeat that, sarge?”

“I called you an asshole. I—” You shook your head, frustrated, as an unbelieved laugh bubbled from your lips. “Let me get this straight. This entire time you were mad at me because I took a fucking bullet saving your ass when you were planning on doing the same for me? Do you fucking—do you hear yourself talk?”

“That’s not the fucking—“

“So me refusing to leave the side of someone I care about is the biggest goddamn crime out there, but you expected me to just—what?—continue my life out there after losing you like nothing fucking happened? Like the person I love didn’t just fucking die protecting me?”

“It was you or me, sarge. It was—“ He paused. 

A second passed, followed by another.

And that—that’s when it hit you.

You let it slip, didn't you?

He blinked. “What did you just—“

“Don’t,” you managed, your eyes blinking shut as your breath clung to your throat. “Ghost. Don’t.”

“Repeat what you said, sergeant.”

“No.”

“That’s a fucking order, sarge.”

With a deep breath, you spoke. “I asked you if you expected me to continue my life as if the person I loved didn’t just die—“

“Protecting you.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you mean it?”

“Ghost—“

“Answer my fucking question.”

“Yes.”

Even with your eyes remaining closed, you could hear the deep breath that passed his lips. 

“Fucking hell, love.”

“Can we just forget I—” You shook your head. “We could just forget.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the way he swallowed, thick, as he shifted on the floor of the shed of which silence was suddenly deafening. And then, he continued. "Yeah. Or we could just fucking stop pretending like this hasn't been—" He blew out a deep breath. "It's been fucking months, love. We could forget, or we could just fucking stop pretending like we didn't have it in for each other from the first goddamn moment you walked in. Like it hasn't been months of wanting to—"

Kiss him.

Touch him.

Scream the three little words at him.

And despite the spinning of your head, your chuckle was warm as it passed your lips. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say I had it in for you from the moment I saw you. It did take somewhere between one to twelve hours for—" 

From the feeling of his hand reaching for your cheek, the words died down on your lips, now slightly parted.

"For—?"

"What?"

"You didn't finish your sentence," he mused. He was closer now, as the back of his hand caressed your skin. Soft and gentle: so at odds with the roughness of his voice, and the size of his hand, slightly calloused. 

So at odds with the way that the two of you had been going for each other's throats for ten months.

So fucking welcome of a change.

"I think I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"That's a first," he chuckled. "Think I like it more when you talk."

"Think I like it more when you shut the f—," your brows furrowed, as your words were cut off. Yet this time, it was not because you did not know what to say, or because he was too impatient to let you finish. 

This time your words were cut off by Ghost’s lips on yours.

You knew better than to open your eyes, as he moved closer to you. You knew better than to push it, as his fingers closed around your wrist and brought it to the side of his neck.

Permission to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin against yours, as your lips deepened the kiss. Warm and passionate, driven by months of built-up frustration and yearning, and something so much softer and gentler. 

Something loving.

Something meant to be. 

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 16)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,641

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

When the scent of coffee hits your nose, you’re instantly invigorated.

You’d thought about canceling meeting up with Lucien this afternoon after your morning from hell. It had taken the fire department half an hour to arrive at your apartment building and another ten minutes to pry the doors of the elevator open.

By then, you and Azriel were no longer speaking, after agreeing to go to his exhibition with him, so you’d occupied yourself with reorganizing your papers, now half crumpled from their fall to the floor. You’d propped your sketchbook up on your knees and made sure you were careful enough not to flash Azriel any of the drawings.

When the doors had screeched open, there were three firefighters staring up at the two of you. Turns out, the elevator had halted halfway between two floors, and you’d had to nervously slide your body from the floor of the elevator to the landing below.

Even Azriel looked less that pleased, crouching close to you as if he was going to jump forward and snatch you should you slip. The firefighters helped you gain your footing before helping Azriel out, questioning you and asking if you needed to be looked at by an EMT.

The man asking was a handsome one. In fact, all three of them were, but there was something about this one’s deep, smooth skin, his dark braids pulled back from his face. His white teeth gleamed with the grin he sent your way, offering his help. You couldn’t help but smile back, and once the firemen had made sure that the area was safe and clear for the elevator maintenance and parted with cheerful goodbyes, did you realize that Azriel was gone.

You should’ve gone back upstairs to your apartment, but the incident left you too wired. Instead, you took a few calming breaths, shot a look and cursed at the devil elevator, and took the stairs the last two flights down.

You’d already missed your morning class, but you could still make it to your mid-morning one, Art History. The worst class you think you’ve ever signed up for in your college career thus far. But, it’s mandatory, and better to get it out of the way now instead of when you’re a semester away from graduating. The teacher is an older, knowledgeable man, but the entirety of your grade is made up of only three tests, and all of the art he’s showing you looks awfully similar to one another.

You might be fucked if you can’t figure out a way to discern one cathedral from the other.

“Hey,” Lucien greets, eyes roving the packed coffee house before settling on you. He’s dressed in a pair of loose, gray trousers, and instead of his usual sweater vest that makes him look like the most good looking TA around, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt. It’s different, seeing him in a color darker than the gray that makes his copper hair pop. The deep black of his shirt looks painted on his skin, and you’re used to seeing him in looser fabrics.

It doesn’t stop you from brushing your gaze across the musculature of his body.

His hair is pulled back from his face this afternoon. A few long strands framing his face. He brushes them back with a strong hand as he grins down at you and his bicep flexes with the motion. Your mouth dries, and you’re suddenly thankful that you’re at the coffee house, needing something to wet your throat.

“Hey,” you stumble over the greeting, stomach flipping as his ying-yang eyes gleam down at you.

“Missed you this morning,” Lucien says, ushering you into the line. It’s longer than you’d expected it to be, but with all of the pre-weekend partying that seems to go on around your University, you suppose all of the hungover students like you need their pick-me-up to make it through the day so they’re once again ready to drink themselves stupid tonight.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I got stuck in my elevator this morning,” you huff, shuddering at the thought of being trapped in that metal container once more.

Lucien’s jaw drops and you nod, grimacing at the memory.

“Oh my Gods, are you okay?” He can’t help but to laugh and the smile you’re trying to keep tucked away breaks free. “You made it out, obviously, but holy hell, (Y/N), how are you even here right now? I’d have gone right back to sleep.”

Azriel’s uncommon niceties and disappearing act had kept you from doing just that.

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing playfully. “I couldn’t miss Art History. I have no idea what’s going on in the class and Professor Harvey sucks ass! I couldn’t tell you the difference from a Gothic or Romanesque cathedral if I’d built it myself.”

Lucien snickers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to take that. Instead, I get to enjoy History of Architecture and Urban Design. So, when you think about it, is pretty much the same thing you’re taking.”

“Sounds easier,” you grumble, glaring at the backpack of the person in front of you. “Plus, you’re naturally good at this stuff, Lu. I’m sure you’re killing it.”

The freckles on Lucien’s cheeks glow as his cheeks pinken with a blush. “I wouldn’t say all that,” he trails off, and it’s obvious that he’s being modest. 

You take a step forward with the line and count the number of customers that still have to order before it’s your turn. Behind the register is a guy who looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and when you catch sight of the letters stitched into his shirt across the chest, marking him a frat member, you understand why the line is so long.

Behind the frat bro are two girls scrambling to make drink after drink. Unlike the boy at the register, they seem like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other as if making cappuccinos and lattes is a graceful dance. You feel a twang of empathy for them even though they seem like they’re thriving back there. You have no idea how they can memorize the different drink orders, making them as efficiently as they can and giving them out to the customers within a short amount of time.

This is the kind of pressure you would crack under.

You turn back to Lucien with a playful glare. “Oh, come on. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red with your slew of compliments. He looks up as if nervous, while you continue. “It’s one of your better traits.”

This gets his attention. He blinks down at you. “I have bad traits?”

You elbow him teasingly. “While your intelligence is admirable, your sketching could use some work,” you poke fun at him, referring to the last time you hung out to work on your drawing projects. Instead, you had spent the night watching a terrible reality show with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Lucien had followed you to your room where you were supposed to gather your drawing supplies. He had made a joke that had you laughing so hard you nearly cried. Your stomach had ached too much to get up after that, the wine making you boneless in your comfortable bed, so the both of you spent the rest of the night there, laughing and not working on your drawing projects.

Lucien quirks a brow. “Is that so? Are you offering to be my model?”

It’s your turn to blush now, cheeks hotter than the steaming milk screaming on the other end of the counter. Your mouth parts though your tongue is a twisted mess from his flirting, knotted and thick. You don’t know how to respond, but you’re saved by a very punctual throat clearing that comes from the frat boy behind the register.

“Are either of you planning on ordering?” He asks lazily, tapping a blunt nail against the cash wrap. He wears a backwards cap, white hair poking out from the sides. You don’t miss the way that his pine green eyes drag down your body and back up, ignoring Lucien completely. You shudder in response. “Or was it your intention to hold up the line?”

You shut your mouth, teeth clacking together. So eloquently put for a boy who probably has pre-workout and pron coursing through his veins.

Lucien ushers you to the counter, apologizing for the both of you. “Sorry about that, man.”

The boy behind the counter looks as bored as ever, though his green eyes brighten when they settle once more on you. He leans forward a little, mouth tugging up in the corner in a smirk that twists his face in an unsightly maneuver. “If I offered you the moon on a string, would you give me a kiss too, baby?”

You’re surprised with the composure it takes you not to bite back at the jock, but Lucien uncharacteristically leans forward to snarl in the boy's face. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Frat Douche leans forward, flashing his teeth in a taunting grin. He’s slightly taller than Lucien, and wider. He’s probably on the football team or something. Not that you concern yourself with his extracurriculars.

One of the barista’s spins around on her heel, gauging the way the two boys are sizing each other up. Her blazing blue eyes glare daggers between them, as if the look alone can tear them apart. Her auburn hair is slicked back perfectly, and you wonder how it stays pinned so well when she’s running around slinging coffees all day.

A crash draws your attention away from the boys squaring up before you. The other barista behind the counter is frowning, staring down at the shaker she’s dropped to the floor with a clang. The entirety of the coffee house goes still for a fleeting moment, everyone wanting to see what’s going on, but within seconds voice’s carry throughout the space as the barista swoops down to scoop the shaker from the floor, dumping it into the sink.

“Ro, quit it,” she barks, a can of whipped cream still poised and ready to add to the Frappuccino in her hand. Those icy blues flit across yours and her mouth tightens sourly. “Excuse him, sir.” 

Lucien glances at her and seems to back down a little, shoulders strained as he rolls them. “(Y/N), what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you nearly spit in the frat boy's face. “Iced.”

With a soft nudge at your lower back, Lucien guides you away from the conceited frat rat at the cash wrap. You slide down the counter to pick up area while Lucien pays for both of your drinks. He joins you a moment later when you’ve managed to take a few deep breaths. You will not let him ruin your mood.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, cutting Lucien off. “Don’t apologize for him. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was the least I could do,” your friend replies, almost bashful at your thanks.

While you wait, you scour the shop for somewhere to sit. Booths are packed full with studying students, miss-matched chairs at tables stacked with people and their friends. It’s a frenzy if you’ve ever seen one, but the coffee house is a sanctuary for the university students, especially during the afternoon hours.

Tonight, the shop will be barren, with all of the patrons getting their caffeine fixes through vodka Red Bulls instead.

“You’re taller,” you comment, “Do you see any open spots that I can’t?” You ask, because there should be more seating behind the loitering line.

Lucien’s colorful eyes scan the coffee house as one of the baristas brings your drinks over to the counter. It’s the one with piercing blue eyes and copper hair. She’s staring you down, a hard look on her face that you can’t discern is concentration or annoyance. You can’t blame her if she’s either, concentrating on the tasks at hand, making coffees left and right. She has every right to be annoyed with the customers who ask for thirteen extra shots of syrup or her coworker who apparently doesn’t know how to speak to women. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made comments to the two girls he’s working alongside, but you think that the one who slams your cups onto the counter with a little too much force can hold her own. And so can the one with white as bone hair and goldenrod eyes. Those sharp, long nails dipped in metallic are enough for you to know that she doesn’t fuck around nor let anyone fuck with her. You make a face but the barista is already turning away, beginning to work on the next order.

“There’s a table open by the window,” Lucien points to the corner of the room to a table in front of the large windows. You lead the way, a bounce in your step as you move quickly so the table doesn’t get snatched.

“What a day,” you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushy seat. You place your coffee on the low table between you, and while it’s not the best seat to get work done, you’re happy to be relaxing and chatting with your friend right now.

Lucien snorts at you, taking a sip of his drink. You watch his throat bob with the swallow, and you avert your gaze, looking outside of the window. 

There are students walking by in a flurry, a third of them trying to stuff themselves through the coffee shop doors, needing a shot of the drink to make it through the afternoon.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” you start with, mentally reprimanding yourself for staring at his bobbing throat. You play with the straw in your drink, swirling the ice around to give yourself something to do.

Lucien lets out a long suffering sigh that has you looking up once more.

“I’m supposed to be having family dinner this weekend, but I’m dreading riding back with my father and brother.” 

“I’m sorry,” you offer sympathetically that Lucien shrugs off. It’s not a topic he favors talking about, but you’re curious. “A brother? Does he go here?”

Lucien sets his cup down on the table between you, wiping his palms down his trousers as he clears his throat. He looks like he’s preparing himself for war, with the way that he’s acting, and you almost feel even worse for asking.

“I have six brothers, actually,” he says, and you nearly spit out your drink. Six brothers? Holy crap, that’s a lot. “And half of them go or have gone here,” he trails off, and you can’t do anything but stare at him in shock.

“Wow, your family really likes this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well. My father is the Head of Civil Engineering.”

“Oh, so you’re like Vulcan University royalty,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shooting you a playful glare. 

“If I went into engineering, I would’ve been,” Lucien answers, glaring down at his cup. His shoulders are rigid, and you’re sensing that he doesn’t care to talk about this, but he continues nonetheless. “Eris, my eldest brother, is getting his Masters in Civil Engineering, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m going into architecture, which, and I quote, ‘is for those people who can’t solve a differential equation.’”

You don’t say that you have no idea what that is, but Lucien must see it on your face because he cracks a smile. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, you’re telling me that all of your brothers are engineers?” you ask, because the odds of that happening must be some crazy statistic. Almost as crazy as having seven sons and no daughters.

Across the shop, the bell chimes again, signaling the arrival of more students. It’s as if you can feel the air shifting, becoming more electrified. The feeling draws your attention to the door, where Azriel and Mor have just walked in.

Like a magnet, Azriel’s gaze meets yours, bright and gold.

It makes you want to shrink back in your seat a little, with the way that they flick over to see who you’re with. Your stomach flips with nerves but you’re not even a little ashamed of who you’re with, so why is that happening? The gold splinters, and you can see the way his shoulders tighten from across the room. Mor senses the shift in Azriel’s mood and scans the shop, caramel brows pinched together in a threatening way, as if she’ll verbally spar with anyone who makes Azriel feel this way. 

When her eyes snag on yours, her red lips part in a genuine, red smile.

All you can muster is a soft smile and a lame wave, stomach flipping like you’ve been caught having public sex with Lucien under that harsh gold gaze. 

Dragging your eyes from the sight of them, you focus on Lucien with all of your might as you feel him watching you, reading you.

“Not entirely,” Lucien shrugs, scooting his chair closer to yours now that the coffee shop has gone up in decibels with all of the post lunch time rush. “Eris is studying for his masters. Pyrolas is on scholarship at St. Bryaxis’ University for wrestling, but on paper he’s a communications major, which is funny because everytime he talks to someone in the family they’re always arguing,” he rolls his eyes, but the smile that accompanies it tells you that he’s close with Pyrolas. “He’s never cared about what anyone thinks about him anyway, which is a trait I wish I had,” Lucien admits, and you’re agreeing with him. 

“Me too,” you sigh, placing a hand on his knee empathetically. “Are you close to him?”

“Used to be,” he shrugs a little. “Oak is the smartest, he’s a senior, getting a physics degree, which my father couldn’t complain about. Conleth is in the Netherlands, taking the semester to study bridge structure. Boring, I know,” he laughs at the face you’re making. “And the twins are juniors here, Foxe is studying Mechanical Engineering and Finch is studying Chemical Engineering. Always sucking up to dad, those two.”

“Damn,” you curse low, shocked. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that your entire family is a bunch of geniuses or that two of your brothers are named after animals.”

Your joke seems to crack the heaviness of the conversation. It’s clear that whatever kind of relationships he has with his father and brothers is strained, but Lucien allows the feeling to fall off of his shoulders as the two of you burst into fits of giggles.

“See, this is why I like you, (Y/N). You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Don’t forget funny,” you chuckle, grinning wide.

“Right, how could I forget. Funniest person I’ve ever met,” he jokes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” you whine, shoving right back, “It’s true! I would never lie about something like that!”

Lucien smiles broadly, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re right, I’ll give you that one. What about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of your plans for the weekend. You’re going to Azriel’s exhibition tomorrow, someone who you’ve been beefing with since the start of the year. Why had you said yes? You really want to spend your Saturday night with someone you’re not even sure you can make it through the night without arguing with? 

Parting your mouth to answer Lucien, you’re cut off by a looming figure. Looking up, you notice Azriel. His jaw is set in a firm line, golden eyes blazing like a thousand fires. There’s a steaming hot coffee in his hand and you find yourself wondering what he’s drinking, but you assume that it’s plain black coffee like the attire he’s dressed in. Mor stands a step behind, a sly smirk she’s clearly trying to hide on her lips.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night.” Azriel’s voice is cold as shadows, and you frown in response. Lucien looks confused, staring up at your neighbor as if he recognizes him somehow.

You nod shallowly, cheeks hot at the look on Azriel’s face. You don’t know why you feel like you’ve been caught in the act, but him interrupting you like this is none of his business. He could have asked Cassian for your number or told you this morning if he thought you needed the reminder. “Okay.”

Azriel stares at you for a moment longer, then twists on his heel and stalks away, completely ignoring the hard look on Lucien’s face and forgetting Mor.

You follow him, the way he moves with such grace. The crowd parts for him, more sets of hungry eyes trailing after him like yours. It makes something hot twist your gut, and you’re tearing your gaze away to Mor, who beams brightly.

“So nice to meet you last night, (Y/N),” she winks, looking like she knows something that you don’t. “I hope to see you again soon.” With a flourish of her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Mor trails Azriel out of the coffee shop, just as many eyes following her as there were following Azriel.

“I thought you didn’t like that guy,” Lucien says, slumping back in his chair a little. You’d complained when he had come over to your apartment to study, when he’d told you that he ran into Cassian and his moody roommate in the hall. 

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, reaching for your coffee again. The words taste funny on your tongue as they come out. “I don’t.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19

[essektheylyss]

“Your delinquent child is outside, and I have assured him that he is very, very grounded.”

Between Yeza and the campers still waiting for their parents to arrive from around the coast to collect them, Veth wasn’t sure any of them saw her move between the dining room and the foyer before she’d thrown the front door open.

Outside, Caleb held Luc by the back of the vest, neither of them looking any worse for wear. Behind them, Jester and Fjord looked a bit sheepish, though not nearly as sheepish as her son, who had almost curled into himself beneath the venomous look she’d given him.

“I thought you were dead! You're never leaving this house again! I couldn't get in contact with anyone and I thought you were fucking dead!” she screeched, before any of them could move, but Luc almost kept pace with her, slipping from his godfather’s grasp and, to her surprise, likely to the others’ surprise as well, threw his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I should’ve listened to you, I’ll stay grounded for as long as you want—“

Veth spluttered for a moment, though her arms wrapped around him in return. This had not been how he’d returned under Kingsley’s grasp, caught by the ear and cursing up a storm.

It took a long moment to realize that Luc was trembling beneath her grasp. Very faintly, but definitely trembling.

She looked over his shoulder at Caleb, then Fjord and Jester. “There have been… several lessons learned in the past thirty-six hours,” Caleb said, his tone even stonier than his expression.

Fjord nodded slightly in agreement, carrying the weight of agreement. Her grasp on her son tightened, and she kissed his hair. Her sharp tone felt empty and hollow even to her own ears.

“Don’t you ever run away again— Don’t you know what I’d do if you were killed—“

“I know, Mom,” Luc interrupted, and for the first time in weeks— months— a long fucking time— he didn’t sound petulant.

He sounded like her boy.

“I kept him safe,” Caleb said flatly, also without any defensiveness. There was, even for Caleb, a dark flame behind his eyes. It felt like a spark she hadn’t seen in quite a few years.

“He was very particular about it,” Jester agreed, and then, in a poorly-disguised whisper, “Trent.”

Veth’s grip tightened, and she pulled Luc aside, away from the doorway. “Come in, tell me all about it—“ she pulled back and checked him over as Caleb nodded and passed inside. “You’re all in one piece, you’re alright—?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he agreed, with exhaustion. “Uncle Deuce made sure we were all in one piece.”

Jester pouted as she passed. “I also made sure you were okay, alright, but Caduceus is so helpful, you know, and honestly, in the end, it wasn’t even that bad— we saved most of the town, and we had a great party, and—“

She stopped her rambling in the middle of the doorway and clapped both hands to her mouth as Luc ducked under both of them into the house.

“Oh. My. Gods, Veth, you will not believe— Fjord proposed to me—“

With the number of things Jester had just imparted to her, it was honestly a testament to her own intelligence that Veth managed to process them in time to turn to Fjord just as he started up the steps, stopping him in his tracks.

“You what? And I missed it—?!”

"You know, Jester, I think we can let Caleb debrief the Brenatto family alone—"

She had him by the ear before he could move, which was an impressive feat considering he was over half her height, but he was almost as slippery of a bastard as she was.

Within an instant, he'd turned to mist in her grasp and vanished to the other side of the street, Jester complaining behind her all the while. Veth shrieked after him. "You piece of shit!"

In response, he yelled, "That's soon-to-be Admiral Tusktooth-Lavorre to you!"

[clairdelunelove]

Things Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Finds Attractive About You Pt.II

simon 'ghost' riley x reader, mentions of soap, price, gaz, and alejandro 

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing 

synopsis: a couple more cute quirks that you possess that ghost can’t get enough of! headcanon edition! 

a.n. was this on your christmas list?? if it was then santa’s back in town babes :P but seriously, I hope that the holidays have been treating you well. stay warm! if you can, pls consider checking out my kofi and thank you for your continued support <3 

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when you glance at him and smile 

you were doing it again 

it was the fifth time ghost caught your bright eyes glancing in his direction 

and it wouldn’t have come to his attention, after all eye contact was given in accordance to common courtesy if you were discussing matters with someone, but you were lounging halfway across the room 

ghost sat alone at the main table 

a couple members surrounded you,, occupied in light banter and small talk 

alejandro lightly nudged your shoulder, murmuring a casual joke that has soap roaring in laughter 

their boisterous voices carry throughout the room which causes ghost to peer up at them 

he couldn’t afford to lose concentration,, needing this alone time to debrief about the previous mission (i.e. which formation was most efficient, how many soldiers he still had left, if there were enough food rations) 

but 

taking a sneak peek couldn’t hurt 

fiddling with the strap of his holster, he wordlessly tightens the garment along his waist and watches as the corners of your lips curl into a polite smile while engaging in small talk with the group 

he spots soap place a gentle hand on your shoulder, the male twisting himself closer to you, as a way to balance himself while heaving over in laughter at another quip that alejandro shares 

before he can think better of it, a ragged breath leaves ghost’s lips at soap’s blatant display of physical affection toward you 

fortunately unfortunately his balaclava doesn’t muffle the noise of disdain which causes soap’s attention to snap to him 

“somethin’ you want to add, Lt.?” soap challenges with a raised brow, “might need to come closer so we can hear ya.” 

soap graces a sly smirk, inadvertently mentioning how ghost was literally the only one that strayed away by being halfway across the room 

and soap’s attempt at pestering the other male is glaringly obvious,, especially from the way his hand still lingers around your shoulder 

there’s a soft chorus of chuckles that erupt from the rest of the members but you simply await the lieutenant's reaction to the lighthearted prod   

ghost doesn’t take the bait though 

“I’ll bear it in mind,” he bluntly acknowledges while readjusting in his seat  

he wasn’t entirely against the idea of mingling but found that restocking/readjusting his equipment was the first priority 

the lieutenant’s casual response leaves the squad speechless,, most expecting him to reprimand soap from the insinuation and their astonished gazes are fixed on him 

ghost, however, continues to nonchalantly estimate the amount of ammunition left in his weapons 

that is– until a subdued giggle fills the empty air 

and he’s aware of that specific sound, doesn’t need to glance up to affirm his belief because it always tugs at his heart in an unfamiliar way

yet, his dark gaze still deviates to find yours 

“my apologies. it was just really quiet.” 

your voice is meek in comparison to earlier now that ghost’s scrutiny is trained on you and the detail leads to him raising a light-toned brow 

the top of his balaclava crinkles due to the action,, a small humane feature that you desperately cling onto 

soap also dropped his hand in response to your small outburst and satisfaction creeps up at ghost 

he nods once, ease swelling within him at the sight of your untouched shoulder, before returning to concentrate on the equipment in front of him 

“yer aff yer heid, bonnie,” soap whispers to you once light chatter erupts again, “I’d sure fix his problem.” 

“what’s his problem?” 

“the mask,” the scottish male huffs like it was obvious, “it’s always on–” 

“I quite like it.” 

you quickly interrupt soap’s rambling and he groans upon seeing your infatuated smile and usual faraway glint in your eyes that you adorn whenever you stare at ghost 

much like you were committing now 

“it’s the mystery,” soap wildly runs his fingers through his mohawk while attempting to explain your interest in the lieutenant, “that’s why the bonnies like him.” 

“well,” ghost’s listless eyes reach yours and you finish your confession in a wishful exhale, “I don’t blame them.” 

and ghost recognizes the look you’re casting him 

that bashful yet alluring glimmer in your stare that has him placing down whatever equipment he was holding so he could rightfully return your gaze 

and of course he hears your breathy disclosure,, revealing more than he’d bargained for 

but he’s steadfast, not planning on tearing his gaze away, when you abruptly break eye contact with him 

ghost blinks– once, twice, three times– upon losing your heated scrutiny an emptiness threatens to swallow him,, his body maneuvering to repose in your direction

legs stretched in front of him, he edges closer to where you stood while crossing his hulking arms  

but you’re caught in conversing with someone and his finger taps idly on the table to patiently await the moment your gaze sweeps over to him again 

it’s almost pathetic how he waits for your eyes to fix on him 

however, when it does, he almost lets out a frazzled breath from beneath his mask 

restocking his equipment could wait for another time because you grace him with one of those beguiling smiles that beckons him over– inviting the tempting risk and enticing danger that accompanies ghost wherever he goes 

he catches you red-handed when you give him a slow once-over,, dragging your half-lidded eyes across the expanse of his massive physique but finishing your scan with an appreciative simper 

and that’s when he finally moves 

firmly pushing out the chair from beneath him, his robust legs carry him towards you in a resolute stride 

a knowing grin dances on your lips due to his advancing,, the sight as clear as day when ghost shoulders past the members surrounding you 

he doesn’t mumble any apologies 

instead, he presses himself so close to you that he can distinguish your rapid heartbeat from beneath your fitted shirt and the cadence causes his head to tilt 

his ebony eyes narrow upon seeing the growing blush, a shade of rouge, overtake your cheeks and the innocent reaction would’ve fooled him if he didn’t know what you secretly were 

a vixen 

he dips his head lower and the next words he utters drips from his tongue like smooth ambrosia 

“see somethin’ you like, doll?”

-

your voice 

ghost had a love/hate relationship with missions 

on one hand, he was going in blind about the amount of recruits he’d lose

It was a constant risk of precious lives, one’s that had family/friends/people waiting for them back at home, with every mission 

yet, leading the squad through missions kept his mind still,, rendering him too busy focusing on basic survival than fighting the incessant thoughts within his mind that strangled him during his free time 

the loneliness, mental exhaustion, and emptiness eating at him until he could no longer stand it 

but there was also you 

“bravo 0-7, how copy?” 

filtering through the radio’s static, your voice is carried through as a gentle melody in ghost’s tactical headset 

the question cuts through the debris that he crushes beneath his heavy boots 

he recognizes a heavy exhale from one of the recruits following behind him and he raises a hand to silence them 

hearing your voice directions is crucial 

but secretly, he’s glad that the higher ups invested in the latest technology so he could hear your voice clearly 

especially the soothing inflection of his alias 

“this is bravo 0-7,” he replies, never one to delay his responses to you 

“lieutenant.” 

and he’s familiar with that pleased tone that’s shared in the troop’s comms 

the teasing purr of his rank visibly causes some of the newer recruits to freeze in their movements,, mind straying to less than innocent scenarios from the way you uttered it 

before he can control himself, he casts an annoyed glare at them that (of course) goes unnoticed by you 

his haunting eyes narrow considerably to wordlessly serve as a threat for their childish behavior 

“(y/n),” he directs his attention to the seedy enclosure before him, “give me a reading.” 

there’s a minute of silence, which ghost anxiously listens for any background noise that indicates if you’re in danger, before your voice crackles, “enemy ground cluster spotted. wiped them out asap.” 

“atta girl.” 

unbeknownst to him, your finger hovers above the communication button so the shaky exhale you let out from his praise isn’t heard 

and he’s aware you had to excuse yourself due to his subtle approval 

“target destruction confirmed,” captain price’s authoritative voice reminds ghost to refocus on the task at hand, “heading to the next destination.” 

the squad synchronizes their movements to head south, in accordance to the enemies’ location 

“where are your sights at, (y/n),” ghost implores while readjusting the mic so it sits snugly over his mask 

unfortunately, his finger unknowingly bumps against his equipment and puts the two of you in a private channel 

which you decide to take full advantage of 

he casts a cautious glance in all directions before gesturing to the recruits to fall in behind him 

it’s silent besides the branches that ghost prods away while he trudges through a clearing 

steadying the throwing knife in his hand, he recognizes the cool metal while the weight of the weapon is slight in his grasp 

as light as a feather 

he’s more than accustomed to the ridges, grooves, and feel of the knife,, using it in necessary combat situations

but his dependable grip, the one that’s effortlessly shoved the weapon into countless enemies, falters when you answer his inquiry in a breathy voice 

“my sights are locked on you, lieutenant.” 

and it’s a line that could be taken two ways: you were watching ghost’s six or you were solely engaged on him for personal reasons 

the fact was– your gaze was trained on him 

it causes satisfaction,, scorching hot which spreads through him and keeps him warm in the chilly weather 

and your utterance is as sweet as sugar that ghost is certain that you spout liquid honey when you part your lips 

he reasons that’s probably why your lips are always so glossy whenever he sees you 

ghost shifts, eyes trailing to the distant watch tower that you’re situated at, and slowly shakes his head 

you were up to no good 

“you’re trouble,” he reprimands but there’s no bite in his tone, “be good, will ya?” 

“and if I’m not?” 

there it is again, the sultry tone that drips from your voice to infer that there’s a double meaning 

he halts to a stop, dragging a gloved hand over his face in an attempt to regain his self-control, and fights back a strangled groan 

“come here then, pup,” his voice is so low-pitched that it serves as an inviting taunt, “say it to my face.” 

and his self-restraint is thinning, becoming nonexistent because of the dangerous game you were playing

the desire to remind you of the high risk that accompanies cheeky comments floods within him 

turning away from the other recruits to maintain some privacy, he’s initially pleased when he doesn’t hear your immediate retort 

it seemed like you were finally learning that fueling fire wasn’t always the safest decision 

but goodness did it create an indulgent buzz 

and he curses under his breath when your brazen response crackles through the comms 

“you serve our country,” your lips curl at the ends as you breathe out, “I just want to serve you.” 

-

when you laugh at his jokes 

honestly ghost wouldn’t coin himself as being a “jokester”

prefers if the other members told jokes to keep the mood lighthearted,, which he knows is essential to keeping up morale during missions

but if the time comes then his quick thinking is perfect for him to conjure up a joke or two 

granted, it wouldn’t be the best jokes 

ghost’s humor could be described as— interesting 

very interesting 

and a consensus that the other squad members agree with is that his jokes lean more towards dark humor >.> 

like don’t get them wrong! dark humor could be used to transcend heavier emotions and share stronger emotions,, which is especially the case for ghost but they prefer to keep the jests easygoing (for the most part) 

and ghost doesn’t really mind when his humor is overlooked in most situations since he understands it’s an acquired preference 

but boy do you live to test him 

“please? can’t you tell me at least one?” 

you were at it again,, forcing your hands together while you conjured up all your effort to make your bottom lip quiver in a dramatic pout 

leave it to you to corner ghost in the hallway right when he exited the maintenance room 

caught him by surprise too! had to abruptly halt to stop the front of his tactical vest from bumping into you since he almost didn’t spot you because you were tucked so close to the doorway 

he had raised a single, sharp brow to wordlessly ask if you needed anything from him,, mostly expecting that you’d usher him somewhere else to gather next mission’s intel 

but ghost didn’t predict that you’d practically raced across the base just to ask him to tell you a joke 

“just haven’t heard you tell one to the task force,” you casually explained which only added to his confusion 

and he doesn’t know what aided in your curiosity to hear one of his jokes since you never disclosed how it had been a topic discussed among the group,, about how hearing a joke from ghost was a rarity 

a part of you wished to prove them wrong 

so you drew your lower lip between your teeth and dragged your eyes up until they were leveled with his��

“please? for me?” 

he can hear the lighter pitch of your voice when you’re pleading like this but he remains unmoving,, only crossing his arms to watch the act you put on

the corners of your mouth fall almost unceremoniously upon noticing ghost’s impassive front,, the goal of hearing one of his jokes slowly floating further and further away from your grasp  

when you press yourself close enough for him to get a whiff of your sweet perfume, however, he rasps, “don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“you think every time you say, ‘please? for me?’ I’ll do whatever you want,” ghost chides while slowly shaking his head, “well, not this time.” 

because he knows better than to give in to your every whim– no matter how insignificant it was 

it would build a bad habit if he always agreed to taking on your work or tasks,, which would evolve into small demands that he’d be burdened to complete along with his personal work 

at least, he thinks he knows better 

but then you nibble on your bottom lip and softly ask again, “please? for me?” 

and he finds himself huffing out a heavy breath, dragging his gloved hand across his face, and uttering, “fine.” 

so he stiffly stands there, lost in thought, until a couple awkward moments of silence pass

by this time you weren’t expecting much, assuming that ghost would rely on a cliche joke to tell you since you hadn’t given him much time to prepare in advance 

but his throaty voice knocks you out of your stupor, “what do you call someone who just got run over by a tank?” 

and there you go– you had all that you desired since ghost managed to tell you a joke 

he observes how you tilt your head,, mind racing in response to his joke before you ultimately give up with a small shrug 

his eyes follow the gentle curve of shoulders before meeting your gaze again 

ghost figures that he’d answer for you 

“crunchy.” 

a beat of silence,, ghost glances away  

there’s no way he would’ve envisioned the feedback you’d give him in return to his (rather) dark humor but hearing your overjoyed giggles made him think he’d hit the ultimate jackpot 

“that’s a good one,” you manage to compliment between your fit of laughter, “I liked it.”  

your hand outstretched to gently shove at ghost’s arm,, aware of the solid mass that served as the top of his bicep and you immediately withdraw your hand at the realization  

peering back at you, he recognizes the mirth that swirls in your eyes and notes the pride that swells within him 

because you’re laughing at his joke 

the intensity grips at him,, threatening to never let him go so long as you’re next to him 

it’s addicting 

he quietly continues staring at you as your mouth curves into a delighted smile 

and he tries to memorize the action,, comparing your smile to the brilliant half-moons that he’d spot in the dark skies during nightly missions,, and the sight is almost too beautiful to avert his gaze from 

similar to how a person that enjoys art ogles at intricate and exquisite paintings 

before he rethinks his decision, he decides to speak up 

“don’t smile at me like that.” 

and although it sounds like a reprimand, the words leave his lips almost tenderly as he gazes at you 

-

saying “please”

you weren’t typically one to complain about a long, drawn-out day because learning how to cope with them was part of your job 

but today just wasn’t your day :( 

from hauling extra equipment across the base, getting a light scolding from the higher-ups, and waiting for directions while in the frigid air– it was exhausting 

not to mention that the oncoming headache, as well as chills, indicated that sickness was upon you 

and as the back of your head hit the couch’s plush pillow,, your relieved exhale was a huge indicator that relaxing was the dream for you 

yet, having time to rest was too good to be true 

as price ushered the rest of 141 to gather around, there was a debate to enforce lookout duty for the night 

just the usual scouting for any navigation marks, ships, or hazards,, which was more difficult to spot in the dark 

there were clear directions given to the members on who would be put on lookout duty 

and what do you know, it was your turn to lead 

so you’re absolutely dreading your shift, desperately attempting to shrug the burden off to someone else 

“soap,” you hesitantly call out before the task force members could waltz to their own rooms, “do me a solid and trade shifts with me, will you?” 

there’s a flicker of consideration in soap’s cerulean-colored eyes when he notices your lack of energy and enthusiasm towards lookout duty but he’s unwilling to give up his few hours of rest as well 

“am pure done in. I can’t stay awake,” soap explains with a grimace, “sorry ‘bout that, bonnie.” 

forcing the frown on your face to turn into a stiff smile, you allow him to brush past you while you reassure him, “I understand.” 

then you were onto your next victim comrade 

“how about you, gaz,” you shift closer to the sergeant just before he leaves, “mind taking lookout duty from me?” 

he pivots using the heel of his foot, not quite expecting that you’d ask because you were usually the first to volunteer for the shift, and raises his brows 

gaz tips his cap in your direction to serve as an apologetic gesture, “afraid I can’t, (y/n).” 

and just like that, the entirety of the squad leaves you standing in the main room 

defeated 

your eyes catch the burnt-orange hue casted along the horizon, signaling that dusk was upon you and your stalling would be inevitable 

with a huff, you’re about to leave the room to situate yourself at the observatory deck when you catch sight of a lingering figure 

“lieutenant?” 

upon hearing his rank, ghost glances up from his task of dusting off his handgun and crumples the dirty rag in his hand 

he’s leaning against the edge of the table, feet spread apart to stabilize himself 

his dead-set eyes wordlessly prods you to continue talking and you force down the lump in your throat, “sorry. I was just surprised to see you still here, that’s all.” 

he’s clearly exhausted 

the usual tenseness in his shoulders has slowly diminished to where he appears withdrawn 

yet he thumbs at the weapon’s magazine and your eyes watch as the design on his gloves seem to dance at the action 

ghost nods once,, not one for small talk and you internally groaned at that late realization

silence ensues  

when an idea pops into your mind– why not ask ghost to take your watch duty? 

he’d understand, right?

inklings of doubt begin to gnaw at you but you were utterly desperate for rest tonight and your headache was worsening by the second 

“sir,” you meekly initiate before you have the chance to back down, “would you be willing to take my lookout duty shift?” 

your voice wavers, it’s blatantly obvious, and the anxiousness urges you to ramble on, “sorry! I don’t usually ask others to switch with me. it’s just been a really long day and I think I could benefit with some sleep. which, now that I’m thinking about it, anyone would benefit from sleep since everyone’s exhausted from the mission but what I’m trying to say is–” 

ghost raises a gloved hand

it’s a silent command to get you to halt and he rises to his feet 

you note the way his eyes deliberately scan the room before taking a step in your direction 

his tactical gear rattles,, the clasps slightly swinging due to the movement but he crosses the space between the two of you with ease 

the close proximity is perfect to get a glimpse of his opaque eyes which are obscured from smudged eye paint 

tucking his index finger underneath your chin, he lifts your face so you’re forced to maintain his stare, and his pale lashes flutter when he narrows his eyes 

“use your words.” 

the command is throaty, gruff, and deliciously low 

it takes you a second to regain your composure, inwardly stunned at how enticing his voice sounded, and decide to take a moment to gather your thoughts 

his touch is warm 

and ghost’s gaze was specifically fixed on you 

however, his hard stare flickers when your teeth gently tug at your bottom lip while you ponder the most effective way to get your point across 

you would need to use your final resort to sway ghost into covering your shift!

“I’m just not feeling the best right now and would really appreciate it if you took lookout duty instead.” you explained in sincerity 

it’s a good tactic– great even, but it wasn’t the final trick up your sleeve 

but it didn’t matter what you were explaining to ghost (whether you were giving him a half-assed excuse or ultimately feeling unwell) because he wasn’t listening,, too focused on the glimmer that shined within your wide eyes  

and the sparkle became more apparent under the dim light

ghost’s grasp tilted your chin upwards,, he’s silent and awaiting your next ploy 

he, however, wasn’t expecting the next word to tumble from your lips in a soft, pleading whisper 

“please.” 

his restraint runs alarmingly thin,, his finger that’s tucked underneath your chin twitches and the desire to encourage you to say it again is evident

“what was that?” 

the question is uttered so dangerously low that you gulp before softly repeating, “please, lieutenant.” 

and goodness did you look alluring while voicing it 

he’s at a standstill 

not to mention that he delights in the unwarranted swipe of your tongue over your plush lips,, wetting them just enough to shine 

and as he’s staring down at you, you’re peering up at him but he’s so unbelievably tall that you crowd yourself closer 

bloody hell 

the warmth radiating off your body reminds him of your proximity and before he can fall victim to your coquetry he reels back

who was he to tell you no?

“fine.” 

it’s a simple response uttered by ghost that immensely pleases you and you can’t help but wonder how permissive he was about it 

“really?” you question, brows shooting up in surprise because it was rare for the lieutenant to willingly volunteer to cover someone else’s lookout duty 

he drops the hand holding your chin and nods once 

busying himself by rechecking his handgun for full ammunition, he chastises how easily he made his decision 

can’t blame him though

ghost would’ve been a goner if you continued pleading to him using your expressive eyes,, the ones that cause his fingers to inch closer to hold you 

the most dangerous weapon he’s faced (in all honesty) 

and he’d rather NOT be rendered speechless in front of you 

he tucks the gun into the proper spot on his holster and turns to leave in accordance to his end of the compromise 

but not before he coolly mentions, “you should do that more.” 

you’re confused but ultimately satisfied to have finally issued your shift to someone else 

head tilting due to ghost’s comment, you decide to clarify what he meant 

“do what more, lieutenant?” 

“beg.” 

[exactlyyoungchaos]

Loss of my Life.

Husband Simon X Reader.

My first time writing here!!! Please don't mind the mistakes as I'm writing this at 5 in the morning. enjoy!!!

TW: loss of a relationship, hurt, angst, little comfort, cursing, trauma(loss of family, mention of miscarriage), "its not you, its me bullshit" let me know if i missed something!

You used be a medic working with TF141 for years before you retired. that's how you met your now husband Simon Riley. he was the most loving, attentive and responsible partner you could've asked for, he was ghost to everyone but not you, never you. But something's changed recently.

ever since his last mission eight months ago, he's been detached, not talking to you properly, coming home extremely late and drunk. he hasn't even touched you since he came back and its saying something for a guy who used to be attached to your hips whenever he could.

you tried talking to him, tried asking what's wrong but you always got the same answer, " you're thinkin too much lovie, nothings wrong."

but you know your husband so you start digging, and that's the biggest mistake you have made.

you found a note in his vest pocket, where he keeps his wedding ring during missions that read " be safe and come back to me" in a handwriting you knew by heart but it wasn't yours.

it was of his childhood best friend. she was in the special forces as well, and recently worked with Simon's team on the last mission.

you knew then and there, the reason of the detachment, the curt responses. your husband was in love with the woman he told you not to worry about.

your eyes blur with the realization that the life you once knew is soon going to come to an end, the man you're in love with , who's ring you have been wearing for years is not yours anymore or maybe he never was.

you sat there in your closet, tears streaming down your face, gut wrenching sobs coming out of you mouth. he isn't home, like usual so there is no one to witness the loss of your life.

your brain conjure up all the good times you had with him but now all of it is tainted by the realization that none of it was true.

you remember every time you caught both of them looking at each other, the friendly adoration in Simon's eyes now looked like longing, with his hands still around your waist.

every time he said to you "you're the love of my life" with his lips on yours, was he wishing it was her? all these years, you were so in love, so blinded by the rose tinted glasses you had over your eyes that you never saw it?

you sat there for hours, mulling over your whole life. how the one person you thought was yours forever was never yours. so you got up, eyes hollow, bloodshot and puffy, your form trembling. you put the note back where it was and go lay on your bed.

you stare at the wall for hours, around three am, your front door opened and closed. you felt him as he walked in the bedroom and slipped under the sheets next to you.

for the first time in weeks, he put his arms around your waist and pulled you towards himself, " you awake love?" he murmured in your neck.

all that came out of your mouth was, " Am I not enough?" in a rough whisper.

his arms tense around you, he knows that you know. before he could say something, you turn to face him, still in his arms.

you look at his face, and trace his scars with your fingers as tears fell from your eyes on your pillow.

his expression is tortured, " Its not what you-" but you cut him off with a soft shush and a finger on his lips. the lips you called home for as long as you remember.

you don't want him to lie to you anymore so you smile, the same smile Simon has witnessed when you lost your whole family in an accident as he stood next to your shaking form during the funeral, the same smile you gave him when you had a miscarriage as he stood next to you on the hospital bed holding your hand, grieving with you.

his heart was breaking, he was cursing himself for doing this to you. but you don't blame him, you haven't said anything to him except "will you hold me for the last time? please?" and you bury your face in his chest, taking in his scent for the last time. feeling his erratic heartbeat for the last time.

Simon's hand tightened around you, he doesn't want to let you go. the only good thing that happened to him. he destroyed you, like he always does to anything he touches.

he knows he cant fix this, nothing he could say would fix this. so he held you, with all his might, for the last time.

part 2?

[raitonsfw]

Hello ,

I would like to request dazai Osamu with a reader who is a virgin a d having sex for the very first time and he goes into corruption mode and is soo feral with her teasing and all but still takes good care of her after it .

you can ignore this if you want

thank you

𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞

synopsis: You wanted him in his entirety and you made sure you were well prepared for your first time with Dazai, but what you weren’t prepared for was how much he wanted you in your entirety. Once he sunk in, his mind went blank and it was over. All you could do was take it, every inch, every thrust, every dirty mantra, everything. And you loved every second of it.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, smut, virgin!reader, dick drunk!reader, pussy whipped!dazai, corruption kink, first time, consent, cursing, fingering, grinding, p in v intercourse, breast play, teasing, praising, dirty talk (lots of it), aftercare (he runs a lil bath for her), a smidge of pain, slight overstimulation, feral dazai fucking reader mercilessly into the mattress, reader does wear a skirt and works at the ada, bit of a bandage obsession (he’s so goddamn pretty with them), pet names (darling, princess, sweetheart, baby), possibly my best work? idk i fucks with it.

a/n: ty to my wonderful anon for requesting this, it was so entertaining to write cuz not me having to take several breaks to recollect my thoughts every time i wrote a piece of dazai's dialogue (he turns me into putty, i swear🧡), also, if anyone understands the manga reference in the very beginning, ily lots. wc: 2.9k. m.list

now playing: oxytocin by billie eilish

divider credit: @benkeibear

It was the day, you thought meekly as you mentioned something about leaving early to the bandaged boy that sat at Kunikida’s desk reading a new manga issue. 

“Huh? You want to go home now?” He asked, pulling one of his earbuds out and looking at you with a confused face. Dazai’s fingers played with a page hosting the demise of a beloved character and you instantly thought, maybe it wasn’t the time to bother him about cutting his day short. Not when his manga issue had been so grim, the remainder looking quite halved.

“Dazai…” You locked eyes with him and he slid the book into his bag wearily, reaching for his coat that he hung on the back of the chair. He pulled it on quickly, the edges flowing against him like waves and you admired how it fit him, the natural curves of his body did wonders within your mind. 

“Fiiine, but I want to finish this issue by tonight.” He complained, taking your hand as you two walked out of the office. 

Dazai and you had been dating for a few months, coming up close to a year and you made sure you had enough time to prepare. Prepare for your first time with Dazai, of course. You weren’t stupid, you’ve been thinking about it for months now– about the way his fingers lightly ghosted over your thigh as you two made out, the way a tiny groan would slip from his mouth when you gently bit his lip, the way that his cock would perk up when you managed to run your palm down his chest.

But that’s as far as you went. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just weren’t ready for that type of intimacy. Dazai never rushed you, the comfort of his cuddles were very pleasing when he noticed your lack of forwardness after you felt you went too far. But the aching between your thighs lately had been getting to you as your eyes washed over Dazai’s lean build, taking in how his black vest hugged his waist with little effort and the tactical bandages adorning his body– you wanted them off. Off and hanging from his flushed body, fucking you mercilessly into the pillows that surrounded you.

Dazai twirled the key around his finger, opening the door to his apartment and ushering you inside with his hand against the small of your back. You entered before him, taking in the warmth of the tiny apartment that seeped into your bones. You wanted to jump straight to the evening, but you honestly didn’t know if you could even wait that long as you glanced at Dazai. He was taking his coat off and he had his manga in hand already, ready to finish it at the drop of a hat. 

“Dazai, I had something to ask you.” You started as he made himself comfy on the edge of the sofa, his legs crossing promptly and you second guessed yourself again when he propped the book open to resume the gory mess of the chapter. 

“Yes, darling?” He glanced up at you, trying to read your expression and he made another confused face when you didn’t answer. “Y/N?” 

You didn’t know how to tell him, the question on the tip of your tongue but not quite leaving. All you wanted was him on top of you but how were you to initiate it when you’ve never done this before? All of the other times, Dazai had kissed you first with a gentle hum and guided you into the confidence of taking the lead if you ever wanted to. It was genuinely sweet that he’s so willing, so patient with you, and your head spun a bit as you looked at him with a blank face.

Dazai put the book down on the armrest of the sofa and you knew you took too long to respond. He reached over, his legs uncrossing in their position and pulled you into his lap with a gentle tone evading his lips. “Are you okay? You’ve been off all day.” 

As you straddled him on the sofa, your impatience got worse when you felt the swell of your cunt press directly against his cock. You just wanted to sink onto him right then and there, the size of him basically teasing you and your entire face flushed red. You avoided his gaze as he tried to gauge what was wrong, his hands coming up to hold you around the waist steadily. 

He pressed a tiny kiss against your cheek, muttering into it. “Seriously, what made you wanna leave work early? I mean, not that I minded. We basically had nothing to do with Kunikida and Yosano out on a mission.” 

As Dazai continued talking, he shuffled his leg mindlessly and you dropped down further into his lap with a squeak. You slick rubbed up against the seam of your panties, nearly flooding through the thin material that sat so perfectly flush against his clothed dick and you were sure he noticed it by now. You were sure he noticed the heat of your cunt, warmer than usual, wetting the front of his trousers as he soothed kisses down your neck. The unmistakable bulge that pressed up into you made you dizzy, he knew why you were acting so off now.

“Is this why?” Dazai tutted, his eyes coming up to stare into yours as his fingers trailed down towards your inner thigh underneath your skirt. “You’ve been hot and bothered all day, huh princess?” 

“Yeah, been thinking about us…” You trailed off as you met his eyes finally, the muddled brown looking darker than usual. 

“About us? Did you want– Are you ready?” He stammered a bit, his face going red along with yours at the thought then a playful smirk played on his lips “Oh wow, can’t wait to tell Fukuzawa why we left early.”

“Dazai, don’t you dar–” You were cut off by a moan as his fingers pressed into the soaked material of your panties. You clutched at his bandaged wrist, grinding down onto them as he looked back at you with wide eyes dumbfounded that you didn’t shy away from the action. Sure, he’s grinded against you before with his dick but this was different, you were practically begging for his fingers in you.

“Y/N…” Dazai suddenly breathed out, his fingers slipping into the lace deftly and you felt him brush up against your clit. He studied your face, readying for any drawbacks as he went further with you. This was new to him after all, normally you’d tell him if he went too far. He wasn’t thinking straight when he pressed them against your cunt the first time moments ago and definitely not now as he slid them into you with ease. 

You jolted, the foreignness of it startling you slightly and he stopped moving them in. “Are you okay with this?” 

You nodded as you gasped breaths into his hovering lips, pulling him into a chaste kiss. His fingers curled in you slightly as he slid his tongue into your mouth, lapping at you breathlessly. You whined into the kiss, his fingers dipping in and out of you shallowly and the discomfort dissipated after a few seconds. You glanced down at where he had pinned with pleasure and you vaguely registered how he so painfully strained against his trousers, his wrist resting lightly against it as he thrusted into you. 

“D-Dazai…”

“What is it, princess?” He cooed, kissing the side of your lips as you tilted your head away from him. One of his fingers started to rub circles into your clit and you couldn’t remember what you had to say, the words disintegrating for your tongue. “You okay? Fuck, you’re so tight around my fingers… Can’t wait to get you around my cock.” 

That’s what it was, his cock. That’s what you wanted. 

But before you could yearn for it, his fingers slipped out quickly and you were being picked up by slender arms. The manga book dropped the armrest of the sofa and Dazai sighed as he noticed he had lost his page, but he didn’t move to pick it up as he brought you down the hall towards his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed carefully, tugging at your shirt with questioning eyes which you answered a quiet ‘yes’ to.

Dazai raked it up, marveling at the way your breasts bounced in the lace bra that matched your panties and he kissed them tenderly while he unclasped the back, letting them spill out. “So pretty for me, Y/N.” 

He wanted to take this slow, he didn’t want your first time to be rushed after all. After all, Dazai had been waiting for you to express you were ready and if you trusted him this much, he was going to make sure everything went right. He sucked a light hickey into the top of your breast while pulling off your skirt, his tongue basically melting the bruise into your skin as you huffed out a tiny whine. 

His dick felt so heavy against the seam of his trousers as he slipped your panties off, gazing in awe at how beautiful you looked exposed underneath him. Dazai slipped his vest off and his shirt all in one go and you crossed your legs together self consciously as he undressed. But before you could fully close them, a steady hand came to rest around your knee as he slipped out of his trousers clumsily. It was endearing to watch him almost trip against you as he shakily took them off. “Don’t be shy, darling, you’re perfect. Everything I imagined, okay?” 

‘Okay…” You breathed out, letting him slot himself between your legs and he immediately captured you in a kiss, his fingers lingering everywhere they could reach. You keened into his touch as he gripped your thighs, pulling you right against his confined dick and you wanted them off already. “D-Dazai?”

“Yes?” He murmured, rubbing his length against you and watching your arousal slick a dark patch in his light blue boxers. A quiet groan slipped out of him, his mouth slightly open and his eyes half lidded and honestly, you’ve never seen such a fucking sight in your life. His bandages wrapped around his forearms but his upper arms were exposed, his neck bandage connecting down some of his chest but not all. It was taut against his skin and you just wanted to pull at it til it broke, til it ripped and laid tangled against you too. 

“Be gentle?” You pouted, shrugging your shoulders up with a nervous expression. He gave you a quiet scoff, his hands coming to rest on both sides of your body and you felt him shuffle out of his boxers. 

“Who do you think I am?” Dazai chuckled, prodding the tip against your clit and rubbing it slowly. You gasped out at the sensation, squeezing your eyes shut. “Of course, sweetheart.” 

He moved it down towards your entrance and everything suddenly felt so real. Dazai sank in slightly and he cooed at you when you let out a quiet noise of discomfort, kissing you promptly as he pushed the rest of the way in. You felt the wave of pain thicken as he bottomed out, but you breathed through your nose, your mind guiding you to remember that you two were finally connected. He had buried his face into your neck, nipping at the flesh lightly as a drawn out moan came from him. 

Dazai honestly felt like he short circuited, you wrapped around him so well, so fucking tight. Yeah, be gentle? That was the last thing on his mind now as he felt your walls clench around him tightly, waiting for him to move. He didn’t know where these thoughts had come from, but all his brain was mustering up was ‘fuck you stupid into the mattress,’ or ‘make you cry his name between sobs,’ the absolute filthest things. He wanted to corrupt you, your virginity flowing like invisible threads between his fingertips as you whimpered out his name, urging him to move.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Dazai groaned, his hips snapping into you harshly and you let out a shocked cry as he barely gave you time to adjust. “Fuck, fuck, ‘M sorry, needed to have you right now.” 

He gripped your thighs, leaving crescent shaped imprints as he pulled you onto his dick more. He thrusted into you with a sharp pace, quickly leaning up to gain more control over your body as he set a rhythm. His eyes nearly rolled back as he watched you struggle to hold onto his biceps, tiny whimpers coming from your lips and there were tears collecting in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill. He watched, his pace never slowing, as your breasts bounced with every vigorous draw of his cock and your hands flew towards the sheets instead as he plowed into you with harsh breaths.

‘God, so tight, so good for me. Seems like your pussy was made to fit around me perfectly, was made specifically for my fucking cock, princess.” Dazai teased, gaping at the way his cock slid so wonderfully into you, the base of it wet with a creamy ring already and you felt him twitch with ecstasy inside you.

You had no idea what had gotten into him, those words you whispered to him before abandoned and was this really your partner? Had you been holding back from him for too long? Maybe you should’ve given yourself to him sooner. 

It didn’t matter anymore, your brain had been frazzled beyond belief as pleasure sparked up your spine viciously, shocks and tingles overtaking every part of your body. You had your back arched upwards, bracing yourself with every ruthless thrust into your cunt and you had to make sure you didn’t knock your head into the bedframe. 

“Arch some more for me, beautiful.” A gentle palm came to rest underneath you, lifting you up some more and you shuddered at the feeling of his dainty fingers spreading against your back. 

“Look like such an angel for me. Guess I’m the devil huh?” Dazai taunted with a wry smile, whining each word out with eyes squeezing shut for a moment as pleasure coursed through his cock as you clenched around him again purposefully. “Wrecking you like this, I really shouldn’t have but, God, you looked so innocent underneath me…” 

Fuck, you should’ve done this a long time ago. He hit your sweet spot with relentless aim, ramming into it and you let out another loud cry, your mouth dropped open and you felt you were on fire as he laughed dryly at your jolt from his movements. 

“Gonna cum on my cock, baby? Look at me, princess.” You opened your eyes lazily, his experience making you numb to the touch and his hips became sloppy with each thrust now. He rolled them into you, his other hand gripping at your waist as he tilted his head back slightly. He whimpered out with a quiet slur, “So close...thank you, thank you…” 

His name became familiar in your mouth, nothing but it escaped in a frenzy of moans and you felt your orgasm surging, the feeling reaching higher and higher and-

You came undone underneath him the same time as he did, cumming all over his cock who painted your insides white with his. He pumped himself through it, collapsing against you afterwards. You whined out at the aftershocks, shaking slightly as Dazai pulled out of you. Immediately, you felt his hands against your thighs, caressing them after every jerk and twitch of your abused cunt. 

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He apologized all in one breath, his voice wavering slightly and you placed one hand on his back, smoothing it over once. 

“It’s okay.” You said once you caught your breath and by then, he had kissed you silly and massaged every single ache in your body away. The feeling of his touch calmed you into a state of exhaustion and with every gentle kiss, he whispered sweet nothings to bring you back to reality. 

“Want me to run a bath for you, sweetheart?” He asked once you could answer his questions, rubbing circles into your hips and lapping at the bruises on your breasts lovingly. “I’m going to carry you, so don’t worry about walking. I was so rough, wasn’t I?”

“Dazai, honey.” You whined, the pet name falling from your lips and he looked at you with his eyebrows raised. You smiled warmly at him. “You’ll fuck me like that everytime?” 

“If you want me to.” He grinned into the side of your thigh as he moved downwards to get off the bed, wiggling into his boxers during the process. “I’m running the bath.” 

Dazai bounced away and you stared up at the ceiling contentedly, a deep sigh parting from your lips. You never had expected your first time to be that intense, but you were so glad that it was, the feeling of him ghosted through your body and you hummed to yourself happily. You didn’t know why you waited so long, especially if that was how he was going to react. It sent arousal flooding through you again and you knew there’d be more than one round tonight by the looks of it.

You heard Dazai’s voice sing his way through his apartment, like honey dripping by the spoonful. “Darling, would you like a bubble bath instead?”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[dorkszn]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ✧ 𝐦. 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭

— nsfw under the cut; dom reader, sub!mike, movie!mike, begging, cumming in pants

“get up.” mike says sternly, glaring from beneath you. you scoff and lean in a little closer to him. you straddle his legs, your arms crossed on his chest, pinning him down.

“you said you were off tonight,” you ignore his order. he said he was off tonight then you saw him dressed with his security vest on. “you lied to me and abby.” you add. mike sighs, glancing away from you before looking back into your eyes. the eye contact immediately falls as he looks away once more.

“i know. i just… i have something important to do.” he explains, looking everywhere except at you.

“so me and abs aren’t important?” you murmur, slightly tilting your head to the side. his eyes widen a bit.

“i didn—“ mike’s words break off into a soft whine as you slowly push your hips forward; grinding yourself onto his cock through your thin shorts. a smug grin covers your face as he pulls himself together. “i didn’t say that. it’ll be quick, promise.”

“you also promised you’d watch a movie with me.” you hum, rolling your hips again. you watch as his eyes squeeze shut.

“i know. and— i swear we will, as soon as i get back.” he nods.

“mike…” you whine. you feel his dick twitch in his pants when his name rolls off your tongue. “can’t you stay just one more hour?” the soft drawl of your smooth voice forces mike to gulp, feeling himself starting to get hard in his jeans. you press harder against his growing erection.

“y/n, please.” he groans in a low voice. you don’t answer and repeat the movements of your hips. a shaky breath followed by a quiet moan leaves his throat.

you lean down, ghosting by his lips and to his ear. “i know how sensitive you are, mike,” you murmur against the shell of his ear. you press a kiss on his skin. “just one more hour. please?” you plead.

you continue the push of your hips; grinding your core on him. you begin kissing him all over. moving from his ear and down his jaw; whispering a small “please” between each kiss.

“fuck, y/n. i gotta go.” his hands find your hips but don’t stop you, simply holding you.

“so… stop?” you halt your movements, seeing that expression on mike’s face. as much as you wanted this, you had no problem leaving him like this. on the edge. and he knew it. his grip on your waist tightens when he comes to a decision.

“no… no, please, don’t stop.” his short brunette curls move slightly as he shakes his head. you smile before going back to leaving kisses everywhere and softly sucking on his skin. he begins to desperately rut his hips, meeting you halfway each time.

“see? you can be such a good boy for me.” you whisper. his lips part, nothing but a strangled moan coming out. eventually, even you’re letting out small whimpers.

he babbles hundreds of incoherent words, most of them being curse words. “ngh- shit y/n, get up.” he whines.

“but you’re so so close,” you mumble, moving more erratically. mike’s hold falters as his eyes roll and he quickly shuts them.

“y/n. oh fuck. y/n, i’m gonna—“ you capture his words in a kiss. you take in the sweet sounds he releases into your mouth as cum finally spills from his tip. his flowing seed stains his boxers; pooling onto the fabric.

you sit there as he pants, chest heaving up and down. he forces his breathing back to normal, coming down from his high. his sensitive cock now buzzing in his jeans.

a few seconds later, he grabs your waist again, pushing you off him. you roll onto the bed, bursting out into a giggle fit. mike sits up, glaring at you. you yelp when he pokes you before standing up from the bed.

“when i get home, you are dead.” he threatens, searching for a new pair of clean underwear.

“i love you too, mike.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

How To Weaken a Man

Summary - you were going to get what you wanted, Daryl however was going to have to wait. He was deserving of a taste of his own medicine, after him constantly being in charge, it was time for a change (3.3k)

Warnings - 18+ MDNI, smut, brat taming, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, teasing, daryl being a total boob man, hair pulling, spanking

daryl dixon + norman reedus works main masterlist

It was an obvious distraction, or at least Daryl thought; it was in fact life threatening for you to be wearing a low necked vest that accentuated two of the greatest curves of your body.

He was going to die. That much was clear.

The archer dryly licked his lips as he avoided studying your silhouette, knowing that if he aimed his eyes in your direction, he wouldn’t be able to focus on Rick’s plans to reinforce the walls of Alexandria to stop another swarm of walkers breaking through.

This was important! It was the same thing he kept reminding himself, as he listened to the chiding voices eliciting ideas, and he was consuming the words through his ears, until your own unmistakably broke in, causing the man to gulp.

He was weak, despite being one of the strongest survivors in the room, and your body was his kryptonite. Sure, it was a warm day, however he was mentally cursing your choice of attire.

Your decision of clothing was cruel, more so as you leant across the table, talking away as you watched as Daryl stared at the ground. The act made you smirk - you had clearly affected him, and whilst that hadn’t been your original intention, you were still sure as hell going to take it as a victory.

He had to look, he could never help himself and this time would be no different. The man was stuck in his ways, and whilst he was attempting to postpone caving to them, you knew his weaknesses far too well.

And you felt pride swell in your chest as your lover slowly drew his wolfish eyes in your direction, tracing the outline of your body with his intent pupils, the meeting was almost over, and he was aware that he would soon be met with his demise. And then his control would too be gone, vanquished to less than dust due to your vixen like ways.

But you wouldn’t be as kind as he anticipated, you were going to make him wait until he had turned into a completely feral man, whom would do anything to touch your flesh. It was a taste of his own medicine in which he would receive, and boy was it going to be sweet!

Blindly you plucked your bottom lip between your teeth, grazing it with the edges of the porcelain within your mouth as you maintained eye contact, for just a moment longer, until you returned your attention to Rick, brushing your tied up hair that had grown out a little longer than before across to your opposing shoulder, exposing your right collarbone.

You were a damn tease, Daryl thought, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t insisted that you had gotten your ass up and out of your house to attend this meeting. And then it clicked in his mind, this was your revenge.

He had practically dragged you here, and now he was the one suffering from the effect of his own actions. Perhaps he deserved it, he sure as hell knew that you had a tendency to be sly when it suited you, surviving had moulded you into a malleable creature who could adapt to her surroundings. And you were adapting into a distraction for him, he gruffly shuffled in his seat, adjusting his legs beneath one of the tables in the room to soothe his growing erection.

It needed to go away, sooner rather than later. The last thing he wanted was to be humiliated by his apocalyptic peers for being attracted to his damn wife. It’d be something he’d never hear the end of, and some of them such as Eugene, were annoying enough without picking fun at things that were out of his control.

And so he cast his eyes away once more, prioritising his line of sight upon the floor, and more importantly, out of your direction. “Okay.” He heard your voice speak out, and as he briefly glanced at you, he noticed how you were now stood upright, with your arms folded across your chest, pushing your breasts subtly together. “Me and Daryl will see what materials we can find, we’ll take a truck and see if we can salvage anything from nearby.”

“Sounds good.” Rick nodded at you, completely clueless to your underlining schemes, as both you and the archer had done the same previously when you were upholding yourselves in the prison. And that, now that Daryl remembered that past experience, was of a similar nature.

You had seemed completely innocent the first time you had suggested that you and Daryl trekked out to scavenge for building supplies, however that hadn’t been your only goal. Due to the ever growing population of survivors that had been allowed to thrive beyond the fences, it was difficult for you and the brooding man to ever get some alone time, so when you had seen an opportunity to, you took it.

It appeared to be brewing from the same source within this instance, considering that work within Alexandria was infinite, more so now since the walkers had effectively flocked through. There had been some makeshift barricades put in place for the time being, however there was need for it to be reinforced to the maximum security so that the parade of the dead didn’t force themselves through an encore.

He expected you to wait as the attendees of the meeting, however you left with the rest of the flock, leaving him to his lonesome as he then was in an empty room, with the exception of Rick who confusedly watched him. “Are you okay brother?” He enquired, a soft frown attuning to his features.

“Fine.” Daryl responded, thanking whatever force above that his problem had returned to its unaroused state. He clapped his palm on the table as he stood, nodding to his friend before he bid him a short goodbye in the words, “I’ve gotta catch up ter y/n/n.”

Rick was silent as he watched his friend leave the room, chasing after his wife which made the man smile. It was a strike of luck that they were both here, and that they had each other to rely on, even when it came down to something as simple as finding anything useful to reinforce the borders of the place that had become their entire group’s home.

The man however didn’t know that this was just a fraction of a drawn out game that the woman was playing, although Daryl could see right through you as you swayed your hips with every step that you took towards the gates, Daryl’s crossbow on your hip prompting the notion that the two of you weren’t going home before your trip and resolving your lust for revenge.

“Oh. You’re finally here.” You stated, practically undressing him with your eyes as you looked Daryl up and down, prior to shoving his weapon into his own hands, and picking up your own where it was laying in the trunk of the pickup.

“Yeah. I ‘m.” He responded, squinting as he looked down on your conniving form, untrusting of your avid bluntness towards him. After all, the only thing that he was guilty of was dragging your body down the mattress to ‘entice’ you to comply with your attendance of an important matter. “What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you coyly cocked your head, an almost invisible smirk stringing itself on the corner of your lips.

“Nothin’. Now come on Dixon, I know a good place…” you lightly patted the side of the empty truck, swinging the drivers door open, not feigning any attention to the small furrow of his brows. “Get in, today you’re my passenger princess.”

Before Daryl had time to argue with your assumption of being the one behind the wheel, you had already slammed the door behind your figure, giving him no space to argue. Otherwise he was certain there’d be whispers among the Alexandrians if he were to haul you to the other side, as none would have the confidence to defend one Dixon against the other.

“Passeng’r princess my ass.” He mumbled as he trudged to around the front of the vehicle, making sure to slam the opposing door shut after he had seared himself. “Yer up to somethin’, and I dun know if I like it.” Daryl spoke to you, crossing his arms as he watched you turn the keys in the ignition, and without much wait, you were already steering out of the gates after they had been opened for your departure.

“You’ll like it, trust me.” You shot your husband a wink, seemingly knowing exactly the route of your journey. He silently sulked in the seat, kicking his legs slowly out as he decidedly chose to ignore you and focus his eye sight out the window. He was mildly ignoring you, and his behaviour only made you more eager to get him in the position that you wanted.

He said nothing, muting himself for the entire drive, with the exception of a grunt every time that you placed your hand on his thigh, which ended in him shrugging you off. You leant forwards, taking a risk and driving off road, which made the vehicle jut up and down, and with each disturbed movement, your chest rapidly rose and fell in a pattern of bounces.

That was what drew his curiosity, and he realised as soon as he noticed your breasts lifting out of the truck’s rocky accord, that this was all still your attempt of teasing him. His elbow rested against the bottom of the window on his side, as he brushed some of the hair that was falling in his face to the side.

“The hell ain’t you on the road?” He huffed, aware that your route of feminine prowess could cause a flat tire. As he glanced to the back seats however he noticed a spare shoved behind his chair, and so once again, you continued to be one step ahead of him.

“Told you I knew a good place, you should have more faith in me baby. It’s an old garage, we can strip the walls there,” or yourselves, you thought pointedly, slowing down the speed in which you were going as you grew closer to the coordinates that you had visited a couple times to bring home additional fixtures for his bike.

“Do have faith in yer, when ya ain’t focused on seducin’ me in the middle of nowhere.” Daryl knew that he wouldn’t be able to deny you for the entire time whilst you were alone. It was never his strong suit, and he could feel a primal pit in his stomach stirring as he imagined all of the ways that he would put you in your place and remind you that you weren’t as clever as you were convinced you were.

Most nights when the two of you had the chance for some alone time, he would have you writhing beneath his fingertips, physically drooling and being vocal in your need for more. “Seducing you?” You laughed, your mouth crooking as you contained a maleficent smile. “I hardly have to seduce you Dar.”

He felt him sinking into his seat as he grunted softly towards you, as he was all too aware that it was the truth. After all the hunts that he would return from, he would come home, and prove how much he had missed you, even if that meant awakening you from your slumber to lay some love on you.

“Whatev’r.” He replied, throwing open the door on his side when you had pulled over, and heading straight to the garage that was no doubt located to help lost travellers between towns. “Can’ blame me for findin’ ya attractive. But ya can blame me fer punishin’ ya later for this behaviour.” He threatened you, allowing you to catch up to him, before he undid the latch on the small garage, hoisting the metal door open.

He had his crossbow ready, in case there were any walkers lurking within the depths of your location of impure fantasies, noticing there being bikes tossed on their sides, numerous parts missing. “This where ya find all my parts?” He quietly questioned, as you held your own weapon next to him, eyes scanning every inch of the undisturbed atmosphere.

“Obviously.” You responded, going through the entire mass of the abandoned workplace, until the both of you were certain that there were no undead inhabiting the interior.

“We should’ get tha’ door,” Daryl gestured to the entrance that you had closed behind your entry, however you gripped his arm, taking a couple steps back until you were cornered by the benches that were decorated with askew tools. “Ya don’ think that’s a good idea, princess?”

“Not yet.” You confirmed, seating yourself up on the workbench, pushing some of the metal utensils out of the way as you lay your gun down flat on the cold side, eyeing Daryl as though he was your last meal. He looked obscurely at you, gulping as he walked between your legs, crossbow slung over his shoulder as his rough and expended hands played with the bottom of your tank top, his azure gaze now locked onto your chest.

The top of your bra was visible, the fabric of your shirt having heaved itself down as you pulled yourself atop of the unit to sit, as you swayed your legs mindlessly, brushing your boots upon the side of his legs. “And why’s that, huh?” He asked, all knowing of the reason, unfazed by the mud that was now being sketched along his trousers.

“Because I want you.” You answered him, eyes boring into his face as you blocked your vision for only a moment to bring your shirt over your head. “And I know you want me too.” His hands had crawled searingly up your sides, to your back where he unclasped your bra and tossed it onto the ground, leaving your breasts bare for him to take in.

Daryl could feel himself ignite into a state of arousal again, as he covered your chest with his palms, squeezing at the supple flesh. It had been all he tried to keep off his mind during the excruciating meeting, and now he was finally alone with you, everything he wanted right in front of his eyes.

“I always wan’ yer.” He replied, leaning forward to press his mouth against your own, circling your nipples with his thumbs, his brows shooting up as you wasted little to no time in pushing your tongue into his mouth. He released a groan, drifting his hands down to pinch at his thighs, but as he did so, he felt a sharp tug to the roots of his brunette locks.

You had just pulled his hair. “Well if you want me that bad Dixon, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” You demanded, your fingers still entangled in his hair as you pushed the man’s face down your sternum, his lips tracing every millimetre of your flesh until he reached your hardened buds, excitedly enveloping them within his mouth.

“I’ll do wha’ I wan-“ you had cut his argumentative rapture of dominance short as you once again pulled sternly at his roots, forcing a whine to escape the burly hunter. He was going to do what you wanted, and clearly your insurance of enforcing your husband was working.

“Well, what I see what you want is to make me your very happy wife.” You enticed him, holding your hands upon your partner’s shoulders to descend him to his knees in between your legs. The peripheral that you had was one that lived within your personal fantasies, and something that you had never revealed to Daryl. But it appeared that he was on board with your reversal of roles, as he pawed desperately at your jeans, and you aided him by unbuttoning them, the two of you working as a team to pull the worn denim down your legs.

“I do.” He bespoke, pressing hungry kisses along the inside of your thighs, his nose running along the damp cotton of your panties. “Want to make yer the happiest wife in the world.” Daryl slid your underwear to the side, revealing your already wet core to his glazed irises, as he hardly gave you a moment to order him around before he dove straight in, tongue first.

“Fuck, Dar.” You keened, running your hands down to have both of them gripping wantonly at his hair. “You’re so good at that.” You reassured him, pushing him between your legs further, your thighs squeezing either side of his head. He suctioned your clit between his lips, causing you to lean your back against the wall behind you, your head lightly hitting it too as you lived through the pleasure that ran through your veins.

You were growing closer to your release, however despite your body prompting you to chase it, your mind made you push Daryl away, and when he looked up at you, there was disdain written in his eyes. With shaky legs you managed to slide down from where you had been sat in your ecstasy, and pushed Daryl in your place. “It’s your turn now baby.”

He rubbed at the scratchy hair at his chin, accidentally spreading your wetness across the lower half of his face, as his chest rose and fell as he watched you until you were now on your knees. His hand ran through your hair, patiently waiting as you unbuckled his belt, and proceeded undressing his legs until all of him was on display, his hard cock bobbing on its own accord in your face. “Do-“

He had no time slot to give you commands, as you had already engulfed his cock within your hollowed cheeks, allowing the tip to hit the back of your throat. His hips followed your rhythm, chasing after the warm and suffocating pleasure that your mouth provided his length with, and as he gazed down at you, he felt proud. You of all the surviving population within the messed up world were his wife, and from before you had gotten married to the present, you always had the habit of surprising him.

Daryl knew that he could be a difficult man to put up with and understand at times, but you never needed an explanation to know what was running through his mind. He felt disappointed as you removed your lips from around his cock, however he had learnt previously from your attitude not to voice. Instead he was just going to do what he wanted, and as he watched you stand, in the midst of a second, he had you bent over the workbench, in a vulnerable position and at his famished mercy.

He clicked his tongue, as he leant over your form, one hand beneath you cupping your breast, as the other warningly stroked your ass. “As fun as tha’ was sunshine, I ain’t gonna let yer be a fuckin’ brat whenever ya please.” His voice was husky with his southern accent as he spoke dangerously in your ear, his cock pressed up against your backside, as you huffed frustratedly.

“I’m not a brat.” You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see, however your entire body jumped in surprise as he clapped a hand firmly down on your ass, and your breathing increased. “I-“

Much like how you had been silencing Daryl’s defences, he had repeated your actions, exonerating a moan from your throat as he slid his cock through your walls, filling you up perfectly. Any confidence you had from previously having power over him had vanished, as it was all too clear that Daryl had gained back his control.

“Yeah, ya are. Bu’ you’re my brat.” Daryl grunted, finding satisfaction when he heard nothing in reply other than your moans and the sound of his name tumbling from your lips. A smirk found prize on his lips as a thought slunk into his mind, and his hand raised, tugging at your hair. “Now be a good girl and do as I say.”

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End 2

HOTD Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, mentions of a minor in a pleasure house, maiming, blood, violence, victim blaming, self blame, and other very dark things. 

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4,7 k

Notes: Ufff It seems I can’t do one shots anymore, I think this required another third part because I didn’t want to make it so long.

They say that when you are dying, all your life passes right through your eyes, making you relive all those moments, and the way you felt

Now you are able to say, that it wasn’t that accurate

Because all you could see was HIM

His head on your lap while you read to him in High Valyrian under the heart tree 

You turning to him with a smile on your face the first time Karnax obeyed your command, the way he smiled back

The time you grabbed his hand and patted Karnax’s snout making him purr 

But suddenly you were that frightened little girl in that tunnel in Driftmark

“no! stop it!”, you screeched, as Aemond had your older brother grabbed by his vest and he held a rock in his hand

“stop it!”, you begged him again, he threw his hand back to gain momentum and he hit you in the face with the rock

You wailed and cried, your face burning, a warm liquid filling your mouth with a metallic taste, blood pouring from your nose 

Because of you your brother grabbed the knife, to avenge you, because of you baby Lucerys jumped at Aemond and slashed his eye off of his face

Soon you were not the only one crying bitterly

Soon some gloved, adult hands grabbed you and lifted you from the ground and took you to a maester 

Soon you were seated across from Aemond, as the maester sewed his missing eye shut, his remaining eye didn’t leave your face, his mouth twisted in a dark mock

He didn't even blinked, he barely reacted when the needle pierced his skin over and over

While you only got a bloody nose.

Deeper into the night, after the maester sneaked you a bit of milk of the poppy, you woke up when you could no longer breathe, feeling a weight over your chest, when you opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Aemond’s scowl, the slash on his face still bright red. 

“Aemond?”, you called, then he took a knife off his belt, you screeched but he placed his hand in your throat, “what’s happening?”, you cried, “I want my mom”

“Why was I the only one who lost something?”, he asked bitterly, “the only one scarred”

“You have Vhagar”, you whined

“I didn't stole her”, he clarified

“I know”, you said

“perhaps I should scar you too”

“You mom scarred mine”, you whined, a tear falling down your cheek, “please don’t”, you cried 

Aemond looked down at you, you didn’t know what he was thinking, you only stood still, afraid. Your uncle seemed to ponder about something, thinking, analyzing, and then , with the hand that hold the dagger, he grabbed the covers and retired them, you were sleeping only in your loose nightshirt, 

You were eight and he was ten, he grabbed the dagger, you were so scared you didn’t even move, you only cried and whined when he carved an “A” into your thigh

“Now you are scarred like me”, he said with an even voice, and an uneven stare, looking down at you like he was bored.

Even though you thought the Red Keep was your home, you were so relieved when your mom told all of you that you were going to live in Dragonstone from now on. You were now scared of your own uncle, of your friend, and therefore you managed to conceal your mark, never showing it to your parents 

The next part of your memories were only a few weeks back, when you return for the first time to the Red Keep, to defend your own right to inherit Driftmark

You were lucky you were the only one that looked like a Targaryen

But Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s words still hurt 

As he screamed bastard and whore to the entire court, you couldn’t help but look up at your uncle, feeling his gaze on you.

And before that in the training yard

That is when the uneasiness began, his gaze on you, that same smirk, like he was mocking you, and Jace, you were barely a year younger than your brother, he was only a year younger and yet, it seemed like Aemond was ages your senior, in abilities, in knowledge, in maturity, in everything

Perhaps that is why he was so amused

He seemed to mock you, to pity you, to be amused of how much of your childhood you still carried with you

You hugged yourself as Vaemond cursed you and your mother, and you felt his gaze on you the entire time

But then Daemon slayed Vaemond in front of all of you, Jacey, before you could see anything, he grabbed you and hid your face on his chest, to prevent you from looking at your now dead great uncle 

Soon the impression on Aemond passed, as he watched in anger that bastard touching you, protecting you

He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else other than him.

That’s why he asked his mother, to ask Rhaenyra for your hand that very afternoon, right before the dinner 

You couldn’t even eat, not with his gaze on you, you kept looking up at him, as he drank you in your black leather dress at the same time he drank from his cup. He didn’t not even for a second, let his gaze off of you.

You mother saw this, and grabbed your arm gently, and whispered to you what he wanted, that he asked for your hand 

When your face twisted in fear and anguish, your mother’s changed to that of concern, then you both looked at Aemond across the table, and he could see in your faces, what the answer was going to be.

So fueled by anger and resentment, he stood from his chair and toasted to the health of his Strong nephews, and he looked directly at you when he said this.

“To the health of my nephews and sweet niece, my the gods keep them handsome, wise and Strong, she will need her strength, to bear my children after we are married”, he said with a smirk, and the entire table shared concerned looks

“WHAT?”, growled Daemon, looking at Rhaenyra

Whole hell broke loose

You tried to stop Jace, but he wouldn’t hear of it, he went for Aemond to defend your honor and he pushed him away like he was a doll 

“Stop it!”, You begged him, after helping Jace on his feet you put yourself in between them Aemond walked towards you and grabbed you by the neck, he didn’t squeeze, he didn’t choke you, but you could see the anger in his eye

“You think you have a choice?”, he whispered to you, “I think you should see the scar in your leg to remind yourself of who you belong to”, But a leather hand grabbed Aemond’s arm roughly, you looked to the side and there was Daemon

“Get your hands off my daughter”, he whispered dangerously, and in the background, you could hear everyone screaming in desperation, specially Alicent 

You were already crying, but he released you, smiling wickedly.

He had a face to face with Daemon, who put you behind him to protect you

“Over my dead body you will marry her”, he promised, Aemond only looked at you, and then he exited the room 

Your mother send you home with your siblings that very night, scared of her own brother 

And then as you took to the skies in the night you were suddenly transported to the last time you saw him

Aemond standing in front of you, 

You were still in Storm’s End Hall, but there was no one else besides the both of you, you were alone. You wanted to speak, but couldn’t 

“My beautiful, bastard, niece”, his words made you wince

You didn't know why you were here, is this what it was like to die? it felt like you were dreaming

“Why?”, you whispered, he tilted his head, amused, “Why do you hate me so much?”, you manage to ask, “I never did anything to you”

“I don’t hate you”, he said simply, “I’m just treating you like you deserve to be treated”, you frowned, “you are just a bastard, mine to toy with, mine to torment”

“Nobody deserves to be treated like that”, you fought, “is not my fault”, you whined, he only smirked, with a smooth movement he retrieved from inside his leather vest the dagge 

“You are nothing, only the bastard daughter of a pretender who will never be Queen, strutting around the keep, with your bastard siblings”, a tear fell down your eye

“Is not my fault”, you cried, you believed him, a sadness taking a grip on you, you gasped for air as an inexplicable sorrow took a hold on you, “is not my fault!”, you cried, soon you couldn’t breath, you felt someone had a tight grip on your throat, you couldn’t breathe

You gasped for air, but something was preventing you from taking the oxygen you needed, you dried heaved, until you managed to throw up

Your body convulsed trying to expel the water from within your lungs, you tossed and turned until you finally manage to turn in the sand and threw up the salt water from within you 

That is how you came to your senses again, disoriented, feeling sick, and clouded, and cold

So so cold

“So cold”, your voice sounded like a broken bagpipe, you tried to grab onto something, but your hand grabbed rocks and sand, you could barely see around you, it was all dark, it was late, and it was cold

You were soon aware that you were back in the land of the living, if you were dead, you wouldn't be in pain, you wouldn’t be so aware of your numb extremities, from the cold, the adrenaline, and the fact that you felt like you had been ran over by a herd of horses 

You took your time to gather your bearings, to take deep breaths and expel the salty taste from your mouth, so sharp it clouded your mind even more 

For some reason, even the stranger had forgotten you

once you managed to regain the mobility of your arms and legs, you turned around 

“Karnax?”, you called, as you whimpered, feeling your loss in your chest, making it tight and hurt, as memories of the last moments coming back to you

“KARNAX?”, you called desperately, but you knew it was of no use, your dragon had been ripped apart by Vhagar, and it was a miracle that you were still alive 

Then you stopped, maybe shouting and drawing attention back to you, wasn’t the brightest of ideas. But as you looked into the stormy sea, bitter tears fell down your eyes

Your baby dragon was gone, the one who had been with you since you were born. 

You couldn’t stand on your own legs, you tried to, but failed.

You shivered, and tried to hug yourself

it was some miracle that the waves and current had dragged you to a small piece of beach with dark sands, rather than the rockery all around you 

But you soon realize it wasn’t a miracle 

You saw something, someone moved in your peripheral view, and you got a feeling…

Aemond walked towards you slowly

It had stopped raining but he was still wet as you were, his wet silvery locks stuck to the edges of his face and his clothes, all leather, protected him from the rain, he had taken off his eyepatch, and the sapphire gleamed even in the dark

You haven't yet recovered the feeling to your legs, but scared out of your mind you tried to crawl back, away from him. he smiled, wickedly, as he walked towards you 

“Get away from me!”, you whined, but he stopped on your leg meanly, preventing you from advancing away from him. He only hummed, entertained

He looked like a creature that had come from the bottom of the ocean, front he pits of hell, he had resurfaced just to drag you back with him. He had come from your deepest nightmares

He leaned down towards you, you tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t budge, he grabbed you tightly, roughly, tears fell down your eyes when he dragged you to him in a wicked embrace 

“NO!”, you screamed squirming, trying to get away from him, “Why would you do that?”, you cried, bitter tears that burned your cheeks fell down your eyes, “My Karmax, my dragon, he was gentle, fair tempered, he never hurt anyone! He was good! Why did you do this? HE LOVED YOU AS HE DID ME! YOU KILLED HIM!”, you screamed, desperately fighting against him, to release yourself from his grasp

“He was weak and small, so are you”, he mocked in your ear

“WHO CARES ABOUT THAT?”, you felt physical pain in your chest, “he was my soulmate”, he manhandled you until he was face to face with you, he grabbed your jaw forcefully

“You have other things to worry about”, he growled, and you whimpered in his hold, trying to get away from him, but still you couldn’t, he was stronger than you, and you were completely destroyed 

“please”, you whimpered, “you killed my dragon…”, his eye darkened even more, his expression was now the one of a man enraged 

“Don’t you dare to even think we are even”, he growled, he then smirked darkly, “but after this we might”

The night was awfully calm, strangely so, and it was ridiculous you would think about something like that in a moment like this, but here you were 

Because you knew what was about to happen

You only cried when Aemond threw you on the sandy floor, the hit numbing you partially, more than you were already. Aemond looked down at you for the very first time, in all this years, you saw him smile, he didn't smirk, he smiled widely, openly, you could see his teeth

“Please”, you begged him, to just leave you alone

“I love it when you beg”, he ceremoniously removed his long leather jacket, and left it gently on the floor 

“I never did anything to you”, you whined, tears kept falling from your eyes and he finally jumped you, like a lion to his prey.

You tried to fight him off but you were so tired, so drained of all your energy, you couldn’t

You whined against him, but he didn't care, he never did, why would he do now?

He took the dagger off his belt, and for a fraction of a second you felt relieved, he was going to slice your neck and be done with it, but no, he sliced your riding pants instead, you tried to kick him, but barely moved him.

He got tired of your antics and grabbed you by the neck roughly

You whined and trashed, but he wouldn’t let go, soon the inability to breathe make you dizzy, losing the little strength you had left 

“Please Uncle”, you managed to let out, cheeks wetted with your tears, the salty air making your skin burn

But he wouldn’t let go, he looked down a you with a sick satisfaction that make you whimper once more, as you were bare from the waist down

You never had high expectations regarding your first time with a man, you had heard from the Septas that it was your duty as a wife to please your husband in that matter, they had also said that it won’t be pleasant, that pleasure is not something you must seek

That the act of bedding was only to produce heirs

But with your sibling, Jace in particular, you had seen and read things, fueled by your curiosity, and you found out that it was quite pleasurable, for people that worked in the skin trade anyways…

You knew you had no expectations, but still

You never expected this

He undid his pants, releasing his manhood, it was big, thick, long, the tip red and angry, and even looking at it make you cry even more

“No please”, you managed to say, Aemond could see you were running out of air, so he released you just a little

He needed you conscious

“Please don’t do this, please”, you begged and begged, and he rebelled in it, he placed himself between your thighs, making you hurt

But the worst part was yet to come

“Why wouldn’t I?”, he mocked

While he still had you by the neck, the other went between your legs, yout thighs shook when you felt him, trying to introduce one of his fingers, it was uncomfortable, and it burned 

You were dry

And he seemed to enjoy it

“Noooo”, you babbled, as you started hiccuping because of your distress, he only hummed. Pleased, with the situation, with you, or whatever

He fisted his cock only a couple of times, and gave you no reprieve.

He give you no space to move, no space to escape, 

You shrieked in pain, the burn felt like nothing you had experienced before, you cried out as he ripped you open for him 

“No! it burns, please”, you begged, “it hurts!”, you cried, you scream bloody murder

“Fuck”, he cursed, a sick smile on his lips

“Why?”, you cried, tears falling, whimpers being drawn, “Why?”, he paid no mind to you, only retrieved yourself and you almost thought that he was going to free you from this torment

Only for him to thrust into you even more roughly than before 

You shrieked, as Aemond looked down for when your bodies were united and smiled when he saw the blood pouring from you. But he almost caught a glimpse of the mark he had drawn in your skin all those years ago. 

“Now you are just a whore”, he said, satisfied with himself, again thrusting into you, “do you think Cregan Stark will want you now?”, he mocked

He kept fucking you, raping you, and the only thing in your mind to distract you from the pain was… why? Why did he hate you so much? if your dreams were to give you any clarity… which you doubted 

“I’m sorry uncle”, you whispered, as he retrieved himself from you and then pushed again inside you, making you cry out

“I don’t care”

“I’m sorry”, you repeated again, and then again, like a mantra while he defiled you, while he took you against your will in that beach 

“Come on, come for me, like the little wanting whore I know you are”, but you were far from it, you were still in pain, and your body reacted accordingly, trying to soothe you, lubricating itself to help you cope. He found your clit, pinching it and rubbing it roughly, too rough to be pleasurable, but it still helped. 

Your head fell to the side, looking at the waves, so far yet so close, you wanted to get lost in them, as the rough sway of Aemond against you, you saw the waves coming and going with almost the same speed.

Until he grabbed your jaw and make you look back at him

The unhinged look in his eye, his growls and gasps 

You grabbed the wrist of the hand that had you by the neck and you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly, and what you found in them scared you even more

You felt him deep in your belly, your insides were on fire you wanted to throw up, but the salty taste of all the sea water you drank was still present, giving you no reprieved

“Please stop”, you begged one more time, “please uncle, it hurts”

“Shh”, he only shushed you, he leaned in and kissed you, for the very first time, ever

His wet lips were a welcoming distraction, but not even in the kiss you felt relief, feeling only dread, desperation and anger 

He bit on your lower lip, apparently the blood of your maidenhead wasn’t enough, he needed to taste it in his mouth too

You thought it was never going to end

Until finally his movements became sloppy, his eye rolled and he grabbed your neck even tighter 

You felt him, deep inside you, ropes of his seed filling your womb

You cried even harder, moving more than before

He stood planted deep inside you for endless minutes, looking down at you, analyzing your face, and every expression on it, you only cried softly, your body tight with pain and trauma.

“i have to make sure it takes”, he mocked, and your shrieked shortly, “I told you I was going to give you my bastard”

You looked away from him, barely imagining how it was going to be like to bring shame to the family in that way.

Weak

You had let him do this to you

If only you were stronger

He finally released you, you whispered one more time when he took himself off of you

You felt a thick substance leaking off of you, and you could only imagine what it was

Aemond stood up, as he fixed his pants, you barely could roll to the side, hugging yourself, to look at the waves

You felt dizzy, nauseous, in pain and cold

And if you had something in your stomach you would have throw it out

But you didn’t 

You felt his gaze on you again, you tried to ignore him, thinking faintly on how you are going to survive this, how you were going to go back home

To your family

They were going to love you no matter what, you knew this, and if Aemond tried to say the opposite, you were not going to believe him

Aemond didn't move, he only looked at you, the soft, musty wind hit your face, making you whimper in cold, but still, you laid there, unmovable, you could feel him moving, placing his jacket back on him, taking his time, and yet, you didn't move. Then he leaned in, and you tried to squirm away, but he grabbed you easily

“You either come with me, or I leave you here”, he whispered in your ear, you didn't move, you just stayed there, laying in the sand, he came into your frame, as you stared down at the beach. You were not an idiot, if he left you here, it is probable you were not going to make it, you were far away from everything, you had no dragon, another storm was coming

But going with him is unthinkable

Yet you didn't move 

You saw his boots walking away from you, and then, they stopped

He looked back at you

You were stubborn

“Your Grace”, greeted the woman shakily, bowing to the Queen. Rhaenyra had unshed tears in her eyes 

Daemon barely managed to get her out of her chambers. They had no news of you, and that is what scared them, they assumed the worse

“You are Lady Alyne Felwood, are you not?”, she asked, she did not mind to present herself like this, she hasn't brushed her hair, she hadn't even bathed, she wasn’t wearing her crown, still crying in front of that woman, a woman whose family was of the Stormlands, sworn to House Baratheon

“I am, indeed”

“Are you not sworn to House Baratheon?”, spitted Daemon by her side, looking as imposing now that his sweet wife couldn’t 

“I was”, you whispered, “I was a part of the court of House Baratheon, and I was there that day when…”, Rhanyra’s gaze that had been on the table looked up at her, alarmed

“You were there?”, she asked, tears falling freely, the lady barely nodded

“I was”, she whispered, she looked within herself, to tell the tale as softest as she could, she did not want to bring her more pain, “I was there when the princess entered the Hall, unfortunately, Prince Aemond…”, she stopped to see their reaction, Daemon grabbed the pommel of his sword tightly, and Rhanyra whimpered, “had been there for hours when she arrived”

“It was him?”, she asked, Alyne barely nodded 

“She made her case to Lord Borros, but one-eye had already made his own, offering his own, or his brother’s Daeron’s hand in marriage”, she said, “Lord Borros mocked the princess when she had nothing of the sort to offer him, and that is when…”, she paused, she might lose her head for this, in a “kill the messenger” situation, but she came her for a reason, “Aemond interrupted”

“What was said?”, asked Daemon impatiently, tired of the pauses

“He said that her brother had a debt to pay, that he wanted her to pay instead” 

“What debt?”, she asked

“He said that he wanted a payment of blood”

“He slayed her…?”, cried Rhaenyra, but the lady shook her head

“He said he was going to take her maidenhead, and send you their sheets with her blood in it”, Rhaenyra whimpered, grabbing onto the painted table, “he tried to go to her but lord Borros intervened, he commanded her to be taken back to her dragon, she exited hastily, but so did he…”

“He demanded her maidenhead? And they let him go after her?”, she cried

“The guards on the battlements told Lord Borros that they have heard shouting, laughs and screams, and… a shriek of a Dragon”, Rhaenyra covered her mouth in an attempt to swallow her cries

“my little girl”, she cried, and Daemon hugged her tightly, hiding her face on his chest 

“Why?”, asked Daemon, angry at this woman, who brought Rhaenyra sordid details about that day

“I’m a mother to a girl too”, she whispered 

Then she was dismissed 

“My girl!”, Rhaenyra cried, when they were alone, “my little girl”

“Shhh, my love, we will get her back, whatever it takes” 

Taglist!

@lightdragonrayne @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @twobluejeans @toodlesxcuddles @sassysaxsolo @thearchitectoflove @maidmerrymint @floralsightings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @glendarollitkatharinesanders @ruhjkie @starkjedi @baconturtle

[realmofimagines]

Don’t Make A Habit of Dying (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

follow @cowboybxtch (my other account) for more ghost content, as i will not be posting on this blog anymore <3

Wordcount: 3241 Content: swearing, near death, graphic depictions of gore, blood, injury, ghost is in love with u, soap is oblivious, heroic ghost, pre existing relationsip, tension  Request: no Note: *just wanna preface this by saying it is not proof read lol* i am absolutely unashamed to be jumping on the ghost bandwagon. i finished the campaign yesterday and honestly i sort of rushed through it bc it was a lot of fun so this is sort of based on one of the missions but it’s all from memory so if anything is wrong or out of place just ignore it and lets call it canon divergence AO3 version here

“Fox, how copy?”

You grunted, clawing at the rain-soaked concrete and grit beneath your fingers as you stretched to reach your communications device. Your head was still spinning from the impact, and your eyes blurred as if you were lying underneath a moving river staring at the wrinkled water surface above. A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, and you are intensely aware of the urge to vomit.

With a sharp breath, you are able to level yourself onto your knees. Your hand closed around the slippery radio, and you pulled it toward your mouth whilst collapsing your back against a slick brick wall. Your free hand pressed against the sharp, pulsating pain in your abdomen.

“(Y/N), I repeat, how copy?” Ghost’s voice crackled.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, before pressing the voice activation button on the radio. The strong rush of adrenaline burned in your chest, but it didn’t match the wash of relief upon hearing and recognising Simon’s voice. You closed your eyes and relished in the sensation for a moment.

“I read you.”

He audibly sighed. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Nearly did.”

“You injured?”

You stared down and shakily inspected the palm pressed against your wound. Your fingers came away glistening with rain and blood, and your undershirt was soaked a deep red around the site of the injury. You replace your hand on the wound, applying as much pressure as you can muster with a heavily clenched jaw. As much as you wanted to be honest, you knew that due to the personal obligations Ghost felt toward you because of your secret relationship, letting him know just how hurt you truly were could compromise his position. He would, without a doubt, make his way straight toward you.

“I’m alive.”

“That’s not what I asked, Sergeant.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Good. Are you in sight of the church?”

You blinked hard to clear your vision and glanced around your surroundings. Through a rusted, paint-chipped iron gate, you could see the distant glow of the religious building and gathered that it was about half a mile away. You weren’t sure how much steam you had left in the tank, but you sure as shit were going to use every last drop to get your ass to that church.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“We’ll RV there. Johnny’s on his way now.”

“Copy that.”

“Do you have a weapon?”

You fumbled with your gear, cursing to yourself when you found nothing but empty holsters. All that remained on your person was a singular, small combat knife hidden within your boot, and you silently thanked yourself for taking such precaution.

“A knife.”

“That’s all you need. Stay safe, Fox.”

“Sure, Ghost.”

You released the radio trigger and clipped it back onto the front of your tactical vest. With a deep breath, you managed to pull yourself to your feet with the solid support of the brick wall. Your bloodied hand mixed with the rain, dripping down your chilled fingers and spreading the blood down your arms. You looked like a damn mess. You felt like a damn mess.

You first attempted to push through the iron gate but found it chained and padlocked from the other side.

Never the easy way, you murmured to yourself.

Turning back on yourself, you stumbled through a fruit market. Bruised and trampled limes and apples rolled across the puddled floor, seemingly abandoned in a hurry rather than packed away in their crates. Upon leaning on a stall for aid, you noticed that the civilians, presumably the shopkeepers, had been shot dead in their stalls. It was bloody and gruesome and told the tale of just how relentless the military-for-hire group were.

Your wobbly vision was clouded, and your lashes were thick with rain droplets concentrated with the blood dripping from your head. Your lips and fingers were icy cold, and each breath felt like the air was taking shots at your lungs like they were punching bags. You pressed onwards, however, knowing that if you wanted a chance at living that you needed to make it out of the Shadow’s web, and you could only do so by pushing yourself forwards.

The detour through the fruit market leads you to a couple of Shadow mercs, who chatted idly amongst themselves as if they weren’t standing upon the consequences of their war crimes. Families, including children, cried and screamed in the distance. Gunshots followed, and you tried not to flinch against the sound.

The mercenaries were armed, and they were blocking the only route you had. There was no easy way around this, but you had to improvise given your lack of weaponry and physical power. Your body was betraying you, and try as you might, you’d never be able to take these men in your current situation.

You tossed a beer bottle down the alleyway, hoping to distract them enough to get the upper hand. The left merc stubbed out his cigarette with a sizzle under his boot, before trailing down in the direction of the smashed glass in pursuit of the sound. Noticing your chance, you steadily crouch-walked your way over to the lone hostile and plunged your knife into his side and then into his neck.

“Just an empty bottle. It’s nothing,” the other merc stated, then turning on his heel with a final glance at the broken glass before he whipped his head around with a double take to notice his friend in a gargling heap on the floor, and you standing above him. “What the fuck?!”

He raised his gun toward you, leaving you no choice but to slam straight into him to throw off his aim. His gun flew upwards as he pulled the trigger, spraying an arc of loud, bright bullets into the air whilst you attempted to disarm him. He retaliated with a hard shove, though not before you were able to get your hands on the pistol in his hip holster. You flew to the ground with a thud and splash, but before he had the chance to regain composure and take aim at you again, you’d blasted two rounds into his chest, and then his throat. He collapsed on top of you in a heavy heap.

Another soldier rounded the corner, but you didn’t quite have the energy to recognise the threat before it was a second too late.

You were just lucky that Soap barged through the cafe door on your left and took him down with a clean shot straight through the temple. He turned his gaze from the man on the floor after confirming his death and reached over to you on the ground. He heaved the dead mercenary off of your chest and offered you a strong hand. You grabbed onto him and groaned as he yanked you upright, a firm hand on your shoulder to steady you as you fell towards him. With a concerned eye, he straightened you with a gentle nudge.

“Christ, Fox,” Soap murmured, eyeing the wound on your side. You immediately clutched at it defensively. “You’re not lookin’ so hot.”

You wheezed a breath and mustered a smile. “I’m running on fumes, but I’ll be fine. Let’s just get to that church.”

“Aye, Sergeant. I’ll take front.”

“Be my guest.”

You trailed sloppily behind Soap, cursing yourself for your inability to be as sharp as you usually were. You hated being a burden, but you hated letting the team down more. Your carelessness in the fight that broke out with Graves had cost you a life-threatening injury in a team that refused to leave anybody behind, even if it got them killed. You only worried that if you weren’t going to make it, you wouldn’t be able to see Simon before you went and that you wouldn’t be able to tell him you were sorry.

Your heart ached at the thought.

You and Ghost had been dating, briefly. It happened slowly. First, there were inside jokes, and then there were gentle teasing pet names, and then more than friendly touches… until one night the tension seemed to break, and you slept together, which was just a week ago now before everything went to shit. You almost regretted doing so, for fear that now you’d never get to see him again, to touch him again.

You stumbled to your knees and caught yourself barely by planting your hand solidly on the gravelled floor. Soap spun around and cursed under his breath before reaching for his radio.

“Ghost, we have a situation here.”

He leaned forward and grabbed at your biceps, throwing your arm over his soldier for support.

“What situation?”

“Fox was WIA,” he grunted with a low voice, pulling your body towards cover as a squadron of Shadows passed by in pursuit of the gunshots from only a few moments prior. Any second now, they would find the bodies and be alerted of your presence.

“Don’t piss around the bush, Johnny. How bad?”

Soap studied you with an uneasy glance.  “We’re gonna need backup if we’re gonna get the lass outta here.”

“What’s your location?”

“Uh—” Soap paused and checked for any noticeable landmarks. “We’re at the coffee shop just a ways from the fruit market—”

“Hang tight. I’m on my way.”

“What about the RV?”

“Stay put, Serg.”

“Yes, sir.”

The distance from the church to the market was about ten minutes, but Ghost cleared the distance in about four. His eyes were cold and steely behind his mask but became soft and expressive upon noticing your strained face and bloodied abdomen. He was gentle when he leaned for you.

“Jesus Christ, Fox,” he murmured, his tone an edge softer than usual. He leaned toward you to help stabilise you on your feet and apologised under his breath when you yelped in pain. “Who did this to you?”

You grunted and leaned against one of his large arms for support. You blinked the rainwater away from your eyes and maintained eye contact with him. Even now, at a time like this, you felt your stomach flip. You were so in love with him and that somehow made everything scarier.

“One of Graves’ boys. Not sure who. Didn’t get a good look before I killed him.” You answered.

“Atta girl,” Ghost praised. Your heart clenched.

Soap stared on with a worried look, his back tense with stress.

“Hold up,” Soap said, raising a fist before lifting his gun to level his eyes with the sights. mercenaries stormed past the windows, and there was a sudden series of heavy bangs on the cafe door that Soap had barricaded with bar stools. “We’ve got company, Ghost.”

Ghost nodded, and then turned to you with an urgent look in his eyes. “Can you walk?”

You cringed at the stabs of pain and clenched your jaw. “Simon, I’m a liability. Leave me here and I can hold them off—”

“I am not leaving you here!”

You blinked in shock at the intensity of his tone. His eyes beyond the mask seemed desperate, and he clutched your face in a gloved hand as if uttering his silent pleas through his palm. You truly believed him and his words, for there was no reason for a man like himself to lie to you at a time like this.

“I said, can you walk?”

You nodded stiffly.

“Then let’s fucking walk,” Ghost answered, tossing your arm over his shoulder to carry the most of your body weight as he essentially dragged you toward the exit point of the cafe. His other hand gripped his pistol so hard that his knuckles began to numb beneath his glove. “Cover us, Johnny!”

Soap tailed your backs with a raised gun, and Ghost was just able to tug you out of the door before the hostiles blasted through and started swarming the place with bullets. Ghost seemed to lug you along with desperation, as you were practically limping at this point.

“You stupid girl, getting me all worried like this,” he cursed, turning briefly to shoot one of the incoming adversaries before continuing onwards. “Do you know how lucky you are that I’m here?”

He was acting characteristically sharp and dry, but you knew that it was just to glaze over his worry. Ghost didn’t often lose his cool, but you were certainly shaking his faith. You couldn’t judge him for his words and simply offered a weak smile in response.

You heaved a laugh. “Let’s just say I owe you one.”

He seemed to soften. “Let me take you to dinner when this is all over. Call it even.”

“It’s a date,” you wheezed, your words accompanied by laboured breaths. The pain was intense and radiated in waves of white-hot pulses and aches that made you limp and shudder in the agony. Your feet and hands were starting to feel numb, and your head felt like it was full of TV static. You just needed a short break, and then you would be able to continue.

You began tripping over your feet, and albeit he tried to keep you upright, Ghost’s strength wasn’t enough to counter the sudden push of gravity as you slumped to the floor.

“(Y/N)!”

Your face was white, and your eyes rolled back. He was immediately at your side, grabbing your face in his hand to inspect your breathing, and then the pulse on your neck with fingers that he’d torn a glove from. He was momentarily relieved when he felt the feedback of your heart, regardless of how faint it was. It was enough to keep going, to revive the easily extinguishable flicker of hope.

Soap rounded the corner, seeming urgent as he fired shots down the alleyway.

“Ghost, they’re gaining on us!”

“Shit!” He cursed.

Without a second thought, he unsheathed his pistol and handed it over to Soap who took it without question. Simon scooped his arms under your legs and back and held you securely to his chest before nodding at his comrade.

“You keep us safe. That’s an order, Serg.”

“Sure, LT, but we need to get a move on— now.”

“Let’s go!”

You jostled in and out of consciousness. It was soft and gentle, like a slow beat of butterfly wings. You would open your eyes momentarily, but there wasn’t enough adrenaline supply in the world to keep you awake, and things would quickly return to darkness. Your grasp on reality started to slip when the blood loss became critical, and the only thing you were aware of was the bruising grip Ghost had on your flesh and the overwhelming fear that you were about to die.

You vaguely notice the sensation of cold marble on your body, and then the tightness of gauze and tape being wrapped around you.

Ghost was manic as he watched your pale, lifeless body show little to no reaction to his movements. He’d torn your battle vest off and inspected the damage beneath your vest. He’d swallowed his anxiety and wrapped you up as best he could with what little supplies himself and Soap had scrounged from the village and proceeded to perform CPR on you when he noticed your breathing had come to an abrupt stop.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You couldn’t move.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Crack.

A blooming pain in your ribs.

A warm press of lips on your own, and the uncomfortable sensation of being filled with air.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The thrum of helicopter blades. Distant shouting. Ghost’s voice.

Ghost’s voice.

“Simon…?”

——

When you next woke, it was a slow and unpleasant sensation. White, fluorescent lights pierced through your eyelids, which felt heavy to open. The sharp sensation of the gunshot in your side felt dull, and you could tell by the swimming sensation in your head that you were drugged. You vaguely recognised the sound of a beeping monitor, and you flinched. The smell of bleach filled your nose.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wincing against the harsh ceiling lights. You turned your gaze to the figure hunched over in a small brown chair— a heavily-built man, adorning a balaclava with a skull painted on it. Ghost.

“Simon.”

“(Y/N).”

You attempted to lift yourself into an upright position, and immediately felt a flare of agony that had you coughing out a broken sob.

“Hey, hey, take it easy there, Fox,” Ghost murmured, immediately reaching forwards to settle you back down. You grit your teeth together and blinked away the sudden onslaught of tears that were born from the shock of the pain. He tried to sit back down, but you caught his gloved hand before he could leave and he didn’t have the heart to pull away. His stature immediately softened, and his thumb smoothed over your fingers and knuckles in an attempt to comfort you.

“They outta put more drugs in you. They sure did a number on you. Surprised you’re still with us.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

Simon huffed through his nose and tugged the chair closer so that he could sit beside you and hold your cold hands in his. “I thought you were, too, sweetheart.”

“How the Hell did you get me out of there?”

You couldn’t see it, but by the wrinkle of his eyes, you knew he was smirking. “This old dog still got his ways.”

A concern suddenly popped into your head as bits and pieces of memories began to slot together. “And Soap?”

“He’s fine, unfortunately.”

You smiled gently, feeling yourself relax a little. You turned to him and held his gaze, suddenly feeling intimidated by his sharp eyes. The heart monitor next to your bed began to beep at an increased pace, and your cheeks flushed.

Ghost seemed bemused. “Am I makin’ you nervous, darlin’?”

You buried your face in your hands and only dared to peek through your fingers when you heard him start to laugh.

“Don’t hide from me just yet. You still owe me a date.”

You threw your hands down to your sides and smiled. “Look who’s gone all soft. I wonder what the boys would think of you right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“Don’t kid yourself, LT, you loved playing hero,” you retorted, a glimmer of mischief sparkling through your grin. You suddenly felt the atmosphere become slightly tense and heavy with the weight and reality of the situation. You could’ve and likely should’ve died back there. You weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to remember just what Ghost and Soap went through to get you out, but you could only imagine.

“Thank you, Simon.” You said, more serious this time.

He glanced away as if embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

You reached closer and grabbed his masked face. In private, he would remove his balaclava just for you. You felt the selfish desire that he would do so just now so that you could kiss him but swallowed your urges for you knew he couldn’t compromise himself in the med-bay. Too many prying eyes.

He grabbed your hand from his face and kissed it, the warmth and pressure of his lips still present even through the fabric on his face. You were butter in his touch, practically melting through his fingers.

“Just don’t make a habit of nearly dying, you hear me? Nearly gave me a bastard heart attack.”

You smiled, staring at him dazedly. “Yes, sir.”

[riverbutghost]

Guilty Eyes

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After getting(definitely not getting)your lieutenant shot, you felt guilty and didn’t leave your room or interact with anyone. But eventually, it had to be stopped.

Warning: Mentions of wounds, burns, curses… again rushed

“No-“

Simon pushed you out of his way pretty harshly, not even considering it in the first place to be honest. You stumbled and fell down, shrieking at the sight of your lieutenant getting shot.

“Ghost!”

You shrieked again, quickly getting up and rushing towards him. He closed his eyes for a second before holding his vest.

“I-“

He cut you off, his eyes shot opened as he heard your voice. He took a breath in.

“Don’t Sergeant. We’ll talk about your fuckin’ stupid behavior later.”

You were dumbfounded at his comment. What did you do?

“Wha-“

He cut you off again, making your headache worse.

“I said don’t.”

You shut your mouth and looked down. Maybe it was your fault that he got shot, and he was angry? You weren’t sure.

“Soap, right here!”

You yelled at the sight of your friend, who seemed scared just like you for his lieutenant. You looked down at his wound, holding it tightly just in case.

“Please…”

You mumbled to the air. You were scared, he could’ve let you save him and maybe get shot in the arm? But no, he was Simon fucking Riley, a stubborn ghost.

“M’fine.”

He muttered angrily, his voice cold towards you. Soap came right next to you.

“Oh my heavens, LT!”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty all of a sudden. If you were more persistent about saving him, he shouldn’t have been shot.

“M’sorry.”

You sniffled, and Simon’s eyes shot up to you.

“Don’t cry, m’fine.” His eyes softened, and his hand came right up to yours. He squeezed your hand and you shook.

“Heli is on the way.” Soap informed you two. You knew he would survive, but the guilt would never leave.

-

It had been a week since you last saw any of your teammates. You were in your room, constantly reading books or doing nothing at all. You would wake up earlier than them, eat anything you could find and work out. You would get a few snacks as dinner.

Today was the same.

You woke up around 5. You crept down to the kitchen and grabbed an apple, eating it while making your coffee. Putting your apple in the trash, you grabbed your hot Americano and turned around.

“Fuck!”

You shrieked as your hot coffee was met with a muscular chest. The person in front of you hissed, making you panic and put your mug down.

“Fuck- I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Fuck- I didn’t know-“

Your breath hitched as you made eye contact with Ghost. Your heart clenched. You closed your mouth and stared up at him.

He looked good. He looked healthy, almost like his usual self. But his eyes were heavy, with..sleep?

“Does it burn?”

You asked stupidly and he tilted his head. You just gulped and took his hand, guiding him out of the kitchen. Simon followed you like a lost puppy, eyes never leaving your hand on his.

As you were thinking about where to go, he took a quick left and slammed you into the wall. You gasped, heart pounding. It was like his mind switched off from being startled to angry.

“You didn’t visit.”

Your eyes dropped to the ground as his eyes were too much to handle. They were raging, but a little hurt was there too.

“I-“

You pursed your lips, looking up at him again.

“And wait, you tried taking the bullet? What the fuck were you thinking? You think it would be better? Fuck nah..”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, not daring to look at him in his eyes again.

“I’m sorry-“

He slammed his fist into the wall next to your head. You flinched, eyes closing in an instant.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie. If you were sorry, you could have come and visit me.”

Your eyes started watering after his last words, because of the hurt and betrayal he had experienced.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry now. Jesus fuck..”

You looked down, even if he was right he was hurting you.

“I- I felt guilty. I feel guilty.”

You admitted after seconds of silence, and broke down sobbing.

Simon stood there, trying to process what you had said.

“I-I tried to take the bullet! You pushed me, Simon. I’m sorry but yo-you-“

Another hiccup stopped your sentence, snapping Simon out of his mindset.

“Why didn’t you come?” He rolled down after you, and you sniffled.

“I told you!”

Simon just shook his head, all the thoughts that were made up left his mind.

He took your hands off of your face and pushed them aside. He cupped your chin, stroking it gently. You looked up at him with soft eyes.

“I’m sorry, I thought you didn’t care about me. Because I care about you. A lot, sweet girl.”

Your eyes widened at the sudden confession, making Simon nervous about the thing he had said.

“I do. A lot, Simon. I’m sorry I should’ve came. Forgive me?”

Simon’s eyes softened a little, head tilted to the side as he got up and pulled you into his arms.

“I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive me.”

You chuckled a little, voice still hoarse.

“Okay,”

You smiled at him, throwing your arms around him as he started walking.

“Your coffee wasn’t hot, by the way.”

[webslinger-holland]

Nearly Drowned | Hunter from The Bad Batch

Summary: Going down with the cruiser, Hunter saves you from nearly drowning.

Warning: spoilers from episode eleven, the title gives you a pretty straightforward warning, mentions of reader not having a pulse/heartbeat, our sergeant performs CPR to save a life, also...mutual pining and kissing

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.3k words

It was a mistake to think you could make it into the cockpit before the cruiser crashed into the water. You had held on just a moment longer than anticipated, but once your grasp slipped, your body fell into the state of free fall.

The exact moment your body struck the water, all the air was knocked out of your lungs and replaced was frigid water. The waves quickly engulfed your entire body, roughly dragging you deeper with a force that couldn't be fought. You tried to resist the initial pull with arms failing desperately to bring yourself to the surface. But the fall also managed to steal a lot of your energy and you fought weakly against the water.

All that remained was a spike of fear; more water began filling your lungs until you couldn't breathe anymore. You felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, surrounded by the water's darkness.

At some point, your body stopped fighting against itself. You grew too weak to move your arms and legs. The soothing movement of the water lured your mind into the state of unconsciousness without your willingness. Your eyes grew heavy as you drifted deeper; your mind succumbing to the darkness just as your body was.

A mysterious arm had wrapped around her waistline and began tugging the body towards the surface of the water. The sergeant fought bravely against the water's clutches, straining to hold his breath for just a little longer. He needed to save her even if it was the last thing he did.

Just as Hunter broke through the surface of the water, the sergeant desperately began gasping for the oxygen to refill his lungs. He sputtered slightly as the waves lapped against him. He held her body tightly against his own, double checking to make sure her head was above the water. He treaded water with her in his arms.

It was an incredibly long swim back to the shoreline, especially when guiding an unconscious body alongside him. He had to have been at least half a mile out from the shore when the cruiser went down. He swam to the best of his ability.

Once Hunter's feet found the solid purchase of smooth sand, he quickly readjusted her body in his grasp. He held her up with both hands as the water line sank lower with each step. The waves helped encourage him to draw closer to the shore until he was basically crawling out of the water.

With great caution, Hunter lay the unconscious body onto the top of the sand. He hadn't even bothered to pull the both of them out of the water all of the way; the waves coming to gather around her shins, but never traveling past that point. He quickly turned her over until she lay on her backside.

After mindlessly ditching his helmet into the sand, Hunter quickly began undoing the vest that clung to her chest. He needed clear access to her chest if he was going to save her. Any regular person would have leaned down to press their ear against the unconscious person's chest to see if they were breathing or if their heart was beating. But Hunter didn't need to do that.

Hunter knew she wasn't breathing. It pained him even more when he couldn't hear her heartbeat.

Without thinking, Hunter went to open her mouth wide with two fingers. He pinched her nose shut and leaned down to press his mouth against hers. He breathed two puffs of air into her mouth, pulling away just a moment later.

With shaky hands, Hunter intertwined his hands together and centered them on her sternum. He began to administer chest compressions, counting them in his mind. He briefly glanced at her face with the hopes that she'd come back to him, but he only cursed under his breath at her motionless form.

After a number of compressions, Hunter had to give her more breaths of air. As his lips pressed against hers again, he tried to ignore how cold they felt. He breathed into her with a silent plea.

Drawing away, Hunter returned back o his spot beside her. His hands came to the center of her chest, continuing to do chest compressions with rough presses. He silently wondered if the skin beneath his hands would bruise.

"Come on. Come on," Hunter whispered more to himself than anything. He fought against the tears that threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. "Come on, mesh'la. Don't leave me now," Hunter begged.

His hands moved skillfully with each compression; his lips molded against hers to introduce air back into her lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out his own pain, pleading now more than ever for her to come back to him. His desperation grew with each passing second until...

A strong joint forced your body back into a conscious state of mind. You began coughing up water, which flowed out of your mouth freely. You weren't able to register the hands that grabbed you. and rolled you onto your side in order to help you expel the water from your throat. Those same hands began to brush the wet strands of hair from your face.

After coughing up the water in your lungs, you were slow to roll onto your back once again. Your throat burned badly and your chest was incredibly sore, which you imagined was from breathing in so much water. Once you were able to regain your composure, your eyes fluttered open and weakly took in some of your surroundings.

Carefully, you eased yourself into a sitting position with the help of those mysterious hands. You winced at the soreness you felt throughout your body. But all your worries disappeared as your eyes landed on the person who had saved you from the water's deadly clutches.

"H--Hunter?" Your words came out raspy and dry. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion. "I--Is that you?"

He was certainly a sight to behold.

His hair was drenched from the waves with strands of hair clinging to his face. A few stay beads of water rolled down the length of his nose, dripping over the edge consistently. His chest heaved under his armor from the adrenaline that spiked through his veins.

All of the sudden, Hunter took your face into his hands and held you there tightly. He looked ever so deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of pain or misery. But all he found was the exhaustion from nearly drowning.

"I--I'm fine," you tried to reassure him breathlessly. You gave a wave of the hand to dismiss his worry; your hands moving up to clasp his wrists with the intent of pulling them away from your face. But he didn't budge.

His lips didn't hesitate to capture yours in a needy manner. He stole your breath away, which was the second time that happened tonight. With bodies pressed together heatedly and lips moving a sync, the both of you breathed heavily against one another. His hands moving to circle around your waist and draw you into closer to him.

His mouth moved with such feverish desperation, claiming dominance over you. His tongue pressed between your parted lips, searching and exploring whatever he could reach. You moaned against him, which prompted him to pull away from you so that you were able to catch your breath.

Panting heavily to regain your stolen breath, you searched his eyes for some type of explanation to his sudden expression of love. His dark and heavy eyes eventually met yours; his shoulders heaving dramatically with his own breaths. He held your body close to his as if he was threatening the world to try to take you from him again. Because the world won't succeed.

"Don't...you...ever," Hunter pronounced each word carefully so that you'd hear him clearly. "Scare...me...like that...again."

The deepness from his voice and the threatening look in his eyes made you agree to his demand. You didn’t even want to think what would happen if you dare oppose him.

THAT WAS MY SHORT ONESHOT! HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!