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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

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You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

#Sever oc #terato tag #monsterfucker #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster x reader #monster x you #minors dni #not sfw

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fluffylino · 5 months

Text

hyunjin will do anything for your attention (psst maid dress ehe)

-contains mature themes

your eyes landed on your boyfriend who was all dolled up. wearing a flimsy little dress. his milky white thighs exposed even more when he crossed his legs.

ignoring him, you walked into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. you couldn't help but steal a couple of glances.

he had pretty pink bows in his hair. a cute bell around his neck.

quickly pretending to rinse the glass. when you saw how he quietly walked upto you. sitting himself on the kitchen counter. a few inches away from the sink.

right next to your standing figure.

you simply gave him the cold shoulder, walking right past him to place the glass back on the stand.

he let out an almost inaudible whine and you mentally smiled to yourself.

two days ago. the both of you had an argument.

it was pretty petty. yet you were still giving him the silent treatment. hyunjin had been busy. no doubt. however it always felt like you were the only one putting effort to go on dates with him.

of course he too would also. but it had been 2 weeks since their comeback. and he had a lot of free time. and whatever. the point was, it was mainly you getting annoyed to the extent you didn't pay any attention to him. it was mean. and maybe a bit funny. but you genuinely were a little hurt.

you had stuck a tiny note on the fridge the night before. after he had fallen asleep.

it read :

"i'll only talk to you if you actually try to and make an effort for me to forgive you. i don't care if it embarasses you.

- :] "

he seemed to take it seriously.

in the first 24 hours he bought all your favourite dishes and cooked up some spicy ramyeon. adding an egg on top because thats how you liked it.

of course you ate it. eagerly. not leaving a thing behind. you were annoyed.

but your love for him was still stronger. you couldn't possibly hurt him by not appreciating the effort he took. however you hummed casually. not giving him any response. simply brushing him off like he was non existent.

washing your plate and his before walking away to shower. hyunjin sat at the table, head down.

almost like a attention deprived puppy.

today though was different.

you looking forward to his next attempt.

the tv playing on thr background while you sat on the sofa. not a single thought in your head.

except for the images of your beloved boyfriend in that skimpy dress. not to mention thr fact that he was still loitering around in the kitchen.

you stared at your chipped nail. trying your best to make it seem like you didn't see how he carefully trodded across the room. choosing to sit in the space between your spread legs on the ground.

he sat sideways, long legs awkwardly placed on the floor.

his dress riding up his thighs. just maybe a centimeter more and you'd see his panti-

was he wearing pink lace panties?!?!?

you bit your lip subtly, tilting your head to the side, to peek at what was under his dress.

you were right. he really was all dolled up. not to mention the perfume that radiated off his body.

making you want to pounce on him.

shit you were looking. you averted your gaze so fast you felt dizzy. luckily he was too busy pulling the straps of the outfit up his shoulders to notice.

you could feel his gaze on you. so strong. so captivating. you were sure his lips would be jutting out.

was he wearing your lip gloss??!!!?.

the extra shiny pink shade that you'd only wear on extremely special occassions. damn, you were screwed.

you wanted to take him right there and then.

in the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see him looking up at you.

and you finally spared him a glance when he placed his head on the inside of your thigh. rubbing his cheek affectionately.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples. heart shattering upon seeing the way his expression dropped. eyes growing sadder. and slowly he moved away.

like a kicked puppy who was mistreated and ignored.

"come here" you quickly let out before he could get up. he scrambled up to his knees. elbows digging into your thighs.

"where did you get this?" you asked, carefully tucking a strand of his hair behind.

"online" he mumbled. leaning into your touch.

"m'sorry"

you couldn't stay mad at him. honestly you were fine. just driven by curiousity. "i know" you let out, sitting up to kiss him on his forehead. his eyes still closed as you pulled away. lips parted.

god, he was so cute.

"c-can't i can't hhnggh-" hyunjin cried out. bent over the short table. your strap pushing into him. it was a bigger size. the one that he was begging you to use on him.

"you can." you stated. raising your hand to adjust the cute pink bow that was clipped into his hair. it had come undone.

the sight below you sending waves of pleasure through you. his hole sucking you in.

lube all over his thighs. staining his pretty lace thigh highs. the bows had come undone. hanging down.

his dress pushed up on his back. displaying all his parts to you. dick hanging between his legs. leaking all over the floor.

"you're my pretty maid, aren't you" he panted, shaking his ass onto you. as if agreeing to you.

"y-yes...always at your service"

you smirked, kneading his plush skin. loving the way his lace panties were still on. torn from where you entered him.

"anything for you m-master"

"anything? careful what you wish for baby"

"i can take anything and e-everything you give aahh mhm...m-me"

i wanna write some more...but maybe with j-jisung........?

#hyunjin is so cute #maid dress hyunjin #skz maid dress #stray kids smut #skz smut #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #sub!hyunjin #sub!stray kids #sub!skz #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #bang chan smut #fluffylino works

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darkshelbyfiction · 8 months

Text

forced to serve (p.1)

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Forced Prostitution, Dub-Con, Butt Stuff, Ass to Mouth

Written for and with my sexy wife @queenshelby, luv you bae

Summary: Your husband forces you into prostitution and your client is Thomas Shelby 👌

After you were told to prepare for your first client that evening, you found yourself nervous about what would come. This wasn't how you wanted things to turn out - not by a long shot! It was your very own husband who forced you into prostitution and desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You somehow had to feed your young child.

Dressed in your most provocative attire, your heart raced when you heard someone approaching your door – it was him. Tommy Shelby. A man whose reputation preceded him. From stories whispered around town, he always demanded something different and intense from those he interacted with. He enjoyed intercourse that was rough and forceful and demanded complete submission from those who served him.

He paid well and he was informed by the madam of the house that you would be obedient and allow him to penetrate you in whatever way he wished, for at least two hours.

It was all part of the deal you had made before entering this world where men like Tommy Shelby roamed free, dictating others' lives, desires, destinies.

The moment he entered the room, he immediately began taking off his shirt, exposing himself without shame or embarrassment. His muscular body gleaming under dim lights only intensified the raw power emanating from him. There was no mistaking whose presence filled the room now.

"Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here, my pet!" Tommy commanded without bothering to formally introduce himself.

"You want me to crawl towards you, on the floor?" you asked hesitantly, unsure whether you really understood his request correctly.

"Yes, Love," he barked back at you impatiently. "And don't ask questions. Just do it."

Your heart thumped rapidly against your ribcage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, heightening your senses. As you scrambled across the floor, getting closer to his towering frame, a strange mix of fear engulfed you.

"Good pet", he growled softly, taking notice of your compliance. Then, gripping your wrist tightly, he pulled you up onto your feet and led you towards the bed, commanding you once again to get on your knees, facing away from him.

Without waiting for your response, he spanked your bottom harshly, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your entire body. As tears welled up in your eyes, you felt a sudden surge of anger rise within you.

"Your safe word is red. Use it when you can't take it anymore and I will stop," Tommy spoke, his voice hoarse with lust. "I am not going to be gentle. In fact, I am going to hurt you, but this is what I am fucking paying you for, eh?"

As he roughly grabbed your hips, lifting you off the ground and positioning you into a standing doggystyle, you couldn't help but feel utterly overwhelmed by his brute strength. With one hand firmly grasping your waist, he used the other to pull your skirt higher, baring your bare behind for him to see.

Your stomach twisted with nerves as he swiftly removed his trousers, releasing his enormous erection from its confines. It stood tall and proud, almost taunting you.

Tommy reached forward and, without warning, he pushed your head down onto the mattress. "Open your legs wide and stick out your ass, sweetheart," he ordered.

Reluctantly, you did as instructed, feeling humiliated and afraid of what might happen next. Toying with your tender flesh, he slapped your ass repeatedly until it stung fiercely. He then took hold of your waist once more, pulling you further into the position he desired. Your face flushed crimson with anger and shame, yet your resolve remained unbroken. If anything, these brutish acts fueled your determination to endure. Tommy leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps along your neck.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered huskily, "This won't last forever." He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass cheek, eliciting a whimper from you despite your best efforts to suppress it.

"Now tell me how badly you need my cock inside your cunt, little bird," he said in a low, threatening tone.

"Please, sir..." you murmured, trying hard to maintain composure. "Just please make sure it doesn't hurt too much…"

At this point, his expression changed, morphing into pure malevolence. He knew just how far he could push you without crossing the line marked 'red'.

"That's my good pet, eh" he snarled approvingly, rubbing his cock against your still dry entrance.

Realising that you were not ready yet, he removed his cock temporally and spat some saliva onto his fingers and pressed them against your moistening hole, massaging and stretching it slowly while occasionally glancing at you with a look of hunger. You clenched your teeth together, fighting back the urge to cry out from the burning sensation spreading through your insides.

Finally, he stopped and held his manhood upright, his gaze fixated upon yours. "Are you ready, love?" he questioned with anticipation evident in his voice. You nodded mutely, unable to find the courage to speak aloud.

Unable to bear the intensity of the pressure building inside you, you finally gave consent, letting out a soft whimper that seemed to excite him even more. Grabbing you tighter by the waist, he thrust violently into you, causing you to gasp involuntarily.

Despite the initial discomfort, the familiarity of the rhythm gradually allowed you to become accustomed to his size. However, you struggled to regulate your breathing, hyperventilating as you tried to keep pace with the increasing speed of his movements.

Clutching the sheets tightly, you winced every time he drove deeper into you, the pain shooting through your loins growing stronger with each thrust.

Tommy loved watching his partner squirm beneath him, submitting to his every desire.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" he taunted, pounding into you relentlessly.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity continued to increase, leaving trails of salty residues on your skin. Each stroke felt like an invasion, deepening the connection he sought.

You bit your lip, determined not to let your cries escape. Instead, you focused on counting the number of strokes, trying to block out the searing pain with numbers. Your throat became parched as sweat trickled down your forehead, making it difficult to swallow.

"You are married aren't you?" Tommy suddenly interrupted your internal struggle, his heavy breath echoing in the silence of the room.

"What makes you think that?" you managed to choke out, trying to hide your feelings behind innocuous indifference.

"The ring on your finger gave it away," he replied smugly, continuing his thrusts, groaning loudly.

"Y-yes, sir. I am married" you mumbled weakly, your whole body trembling slightly from the assault.

He paused briefly, admiring your vulnerability before continuing mercilessly.

"Tell me Love, does your husband fuck you like this?" he crooned, driving his hips harder into you.

You cried out involuntarily, overcome by the intensity of his movement. Your legs quivered with fatigue, your arms shook as they supported your weight precariously on all fours.

"Answer me, love," he growled, pushing deeper inside you, his member pulsing against your wall, filling you completely. Your throat burned with the effort of holding back your cries.

"No," you whispered hoarsely, causing Tommy to smile maliciously as, unexpectedly, he started to probe your anal opening with his finger while continuing to thrust into your sore pussy,

"Does your husband ever touch you here?" He breathed heavily into your ear, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes, struggling with the urge to both answer him honestly and to deny him altogether.

"Answer me, love," he repeated forcefully, pushing his index finger into your anus with such precision and ease that it surprised you greatly. You cried out in astonishment at the sudden intrusion.

"No," you answered eventually while crying out loudly.

His laughter resonated around the room, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. "So, has anyone fucked your ass yet? Tell me, sweet thing."

You cringed internally, mortified that he would ask something so personal, but knowing it was part of the game, you mustered enough courage to respond truthfully.

"N-no," you stammered quietly, the word nearly escaping your lips before you could catch yourself.

"Well, we'll rectify that today, shall we?" He purred menacingly, slipping two fingers into your wet, gaping anus, stretching and teasing you slowly.

Your muscles contracted involuntarily in response to his fingers penetrating your rectum, making you writhe underneath him. Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, emitting silent gasps.

"Good pet," he whispered, withdrawing his fingers slowly and methodically from your anus.

"I think your ass is ready for my cock now," mockingly, reaching for the bedside table and retrieving some Vaseline.

Fearful and hesitant, you lowered your head submissively. He ignored your reluctance and quickly covered his cock in the creamy substance.

Without waiting for your permission, he positioned himself over you again, guiding his engorged tool toward your aching anus. His grip on your hips was ironclad, refusing to allow you to escape or resist his assault. You writhed helplessly underneath him, struggling to accept the impending invasion. Despite your protests, your body refused to comply, betraying your resistance as he slowly inserted his length into your rear passage.

"Remember your safe word love," he whispered softly into your ear. You bit your tongue, willing yourself to remain strong.

As his full girth filled you up, he began moving within you, his powerful hips bucking against your own, his hands pressing harshly against your shoulders, pinning you in place.

The world around you blurred, and the only sound you heard was your labored breathing combined with his savage grunts of pleasure. Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks, unnoticed by either party involved in this perverse act.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Having my thick cock in your smallest hole? I can feel how much it aches you when I slide in and out," Tommy gloated cruelly, his breath ragged and heavy against your shoulder. His cock throbbed steadily inside you, reminding you of his sheer power over you. It felt like he had no regard for your limits, your needs – he simply possessed you, taking whatever he wished, whenever he chose.

"Tell me, do you like feeling my massive rod buried deep inside your bowels?" He asked playfully, his voice carrying a sinister undertone that made your stomach turn.

Swallowing nervously, you managed to gather enough strength to utter a faint yes. It wasn't a complete fabrication though, as you did enjoy feeling full. This admission served as further encouragement for him, prompting him to continue his brutal attack.

With each new entry, his pace increased incrementally until you found yourself lost in a haze of desperation, pain, and arousal. Your walls seemed to close in on themselves, creating a claustrophobic environment where you could neither scream nor beg for release.

In this moment, Tommy realized that he was approaching his peak - the culmination of his dominance and control over you. Increasing his tempo exponentially, he used his considerable strength to propel himself deeply within you once more, ignoring your frantic attempts to pull away.

His hardened pelvis rubbed against your tender entrance, forcing you to succumb to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body despite your best efforts to maintain distance.

Every thrust reverberated throughout your entire frame, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your system, making it impossible to hold back your orgasm. As you approached climax, Tommy increased his vigor, grasping your hips firmly, rocking your body against his rhythmic pace.

With every thrust, your moans grew louder, feeding off one another. Tommy couldn't help but be proud of his mastery, reveling in your submission. You were a delicious treat he didn't want to end too soon. Your breath quickened, and your nipples hardened under his gaze. As your excitement reached its peak, the walls around you disappeared, replaced by the intense heat of passion. The sensation of his hand cupping your breast brought forth a surge of electric energy, heightening your already spiraling awareness.

The rhythm of his thrusts intensified, mirroring the rapid beat of your heart. With each motion, you could sense the pressure building within, threatening to erupt and consume you entirely.

Your nails scratched furiously at the sheets, seeking some kind of anchor amidst the storm of emotion and physical stimulation consuming you. The taste of salt lingering on your lips only added fuel to the fire, and you found yourself begging for him to take you even further.

"Please, please don't stop!" you pleaded. Tommy laughed triumphantly, a devilish glint dancing in his eyes.

"Do you truly wish for me to push beyond your limit, my little pet?" He taunted, grazing his teeth along your neck, sending shivers racing across your flesh. Unable to suppress your desire any longer, you nodded fervently, meeting his challenge eagerly.

"Then open your mouth wide, my dear," he instructed, loosening his grip just enough to grant you a brief reprieve as he pulled his cock from your ass and pushed you onto the floor.

"You are going to swallow my cum without spilling a drop," he commanded sternly, towering over you.

Feeling violated and humiliated, you dropped obediently to your knees and took his rigid erection into your hungry mouth. Tears streamed down your face as you performed this degrading task, your pride battered and bruised beneath his feet.

Despite the overwhelming shame and embarrassment, you tried your utmost to satisfy him, hoping to regain even the slightest fragment of dignity that remained intact.

His manhood twitched visibly in response to your efforts, provoking him to grab your hair roughly, pulling your head closer to his groin.

"Keep it up, open your throat," he threatened gruffly, reaffirming his absolute control over you. Panicked, you obeyed without question, not wanting to anger him further. Every caress of his fingers through your strands sent shudders of fear down your spine, yet you continued to service him dutifully.

His member grew heavier in your mouth, swelling impossibly larger still as you worked harder to accommodate its size. You fought the urge to gag, concentrating solely on staying true to your promise to him. The struggle became evident in your reddened eyes and quivering jawline. Desperate to avoid his wrath, you tightened your grip on his length, sucking harder, and increasing the intensity of your movements.

Tommy let out a low growl of satisfaction, pleased with your performance.

"Here it comes, love. Feast upon my essence, my precious pet," he said, allowing his seminal fluid to pour forcefully into your awaiting mouth. The salty liquid flooded your palate, filling your mouth completely. The bitter flavor caused your lips to pucker. Still, you valiantly kept your mouth closed, determined not to defile his command.

Still holding your hair tightly, he allowed you to come up from your knees, bringing you into a standing position.

"Open and show me your tongue, I want to make sure you swallowed it all." Obeying, you extended your tongue to meet his inspection.

"Very good, my pet. Now get back on to your knees and clean off my cock properly," Tommy ordered coldly, releasing his grip on your hair. Observing his reaction, you hurriedly knelt before him, carefully opening your mouth to receive his cock once more. His phallus emerged from your mouth, wet and sticky, leaving behind traces of his seed.

"Lick it clean, come on!" he demanded brusquely, eyeing you critically. You complied immediately, not wanting to upset him anymore today. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you meticulously cleansed it, paying special attention to any lingering residues.

"That will do," he conceded finally, stepping away from you. Exhausted, you sank down onto the floor, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the events gradually subsided.

Looking up, you noticed Tommy surveying you with a mixture of admiration and contempt.

Clearly satisfied with your obedience, he smirked, wiping the remaining evidence of his domination from your lips with a smile.

"You did well tonight, pet," he admitted grudgingly, turning to leave. "And I cannot believe that your husband would share someone as divine as you are, sweetheart. I certainly would not share you with other men if you belonged to me, which makes me wonder what sort of man he is..." Tommy leered at you suggestively, his tone oozing confidence and superiority. You flinched involuntarily, unsure whether to feel insulted or intrigued by his brazen assessment. Feeling emboldened by his apparent interest, you sought to learn more about the enigmatic Mr. Shelby. "My husband... He is quite peculiar, sir," you hesitated, casting your eyes downward thoughtfully, without telling him that he was forcing you to do this for money.

#cillian murphy #cilliean murphy smut #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #tommy selby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby fanfic

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areislol · 5 months

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men i trust

ft— various male genshin x gn! reader

warning — mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, modern! au, mentions of sex (it's a party/club), mentions of drugging/spiking drinks, mentions of a junkie

a/n— they're the men you can trust fr, another shitpost of mine....

wordcount. 1.9k

synopsis. an alternative title, them holding your drink at a party.

In the midst of pulsating music and vibrant laughter and chatter at a lively party, you along with a friend you've bought stood next to one another near a couch, dancing to the beat with just a little effort.

The thumping bass and flickering lights seemed to swirl around them as they engaged in a conversation, after a couple of minutes you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Hey, do you mind holding my cup for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled over the loud music and chatter, pointing at your cup to indicate something to him just incase he didn't hear you.

He gave you a swift nod in response, "sure, take your time," he replied, extending his hands to accept the cup. You left him momentarily, weaving through the vibrant crowd toward the bathroom.

He stood by the couch, holding your cup as he eyed his surrounding, silently judging the swirl of people around him that were fucking on the couches.

the overly cautious/chivalrous pal, the type to grip onto that cup like his life depends on it. he will shoot glares to whoever's way if he needs to he is NOT messing around.

he takes the responsibility seriously and might even accompany you to the bathroom to ensure a safe return but since you insisted on going alone, he (reluctantly) let you go alone.

his palm is covering the top of your cup (don't worry he washed his hands) as he watches the people in his area like a guard dog, he won't even hesitate to threaten and fight whoever asks to take YOUR cup with absolutely NO shame whatsoever.

but his aura and built itself scares off people (which is why nobody disturbed the both of you) so he doesn't really have anything to worry about but even so, it won't hurt to be cautious.

he watches the people like a HAWK, it's scary actually. to see someone already (somewhat) intimating watching their every move, it ruined their vibe. but if ruining the vibe to make sure no creep does anything to him and your drink then so be it, not like them scurrying away will affect him in any way.

he treats your cup like it's precious jewel, so what if you could go get another if he accidentally dropped it? (he didn't, somebody bumped into him CURSE THEM which resulted into him dropping it by how big the impact was) so what if it was just a cup? it's YOUR FIRST cup!!!

oh did i mention how they won't hesitate to threaten and or fight somebody? oh well they would if they have to, not that they WANT to but the thought of a free man roaming around and spiking people's drinks doesn't sit right with him, what if you were a victim? he would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

which is why he always accompanies you to parties/clubs and nearly EVERYTIME you go out. not that you're complaining though

"hey, you there. pass me that cup.. ya know, from a guy to a guy, eh?" a drunkard 'pst'ed at him, eyeing the cup in his hand that he knew was yours. the drunkard really didn't think he couldn't see the shameless stares he was giving at you, did he?

he only glared at the drunkard (who by a coincidence looked like a junkie as well, it really pulled the pieces together), his eyes narrowing at him. he stayed silent, not wanting to even speak to him and answer, he wasn't worthy anyway.

as the drunkard kept on persisting and was inching closer and closer to him he knew enough was enough and would not allow that man to take one step closer to him and your cup (i mean it held your favourite soda so). "take one more step and i swear you will not live to see another day." the man, clearly confused and scared, stopped in his tracks.

"oh you're their boyfriend, uh? .... that shouldn't matter. you know what to do to help a man in need right? no need to threaten me!" the drunkard let out the most disgusting, vile laugh he had ever heard. he was now irritated. "you think i'm joking huh? would you still think i'm joking if i fought you right now?" his tone was sharp and lethal, he was not having any of it.

that man dare would spike your drink and even shamelessly ask him (not your boyfriend sadly) to pass you your cup? abso-fucking-not. before he knew it the drunkard was on the ground, and although drunk and dazed, was pleading for him to not have mercy on him. "p-please! have mercy on me i swear on my life to never do that ever a-again p-please!" it was a funny sight to say the least, to see him cry and beg for mercy. as he should.

"you better swear on that life of yours, if i ever see you in here asking another man to spike someone's drink you bet i'm beating your ass again. and i promise i won't let you live to see the light."

— ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, diluc, WANDERER, pierro, DAINSLEIF

the reliable one, he is never drunk, barely really. even if he did drink he knew how to control it, he makes sure he's sober when being with you!!! he's fierce when protecting your cup and tries to be friendly/passive but if he needs to be, he will be violent, sigh... they were asking for it.

you know your cup is in safe hands. he is trustworthy and reliable when it comes to protecting your things when you ask for it.

he is positive that nothing will happen, for the couple of hours you've been there no trouble has stirred in the club so he was sure that nothing would happen as he patiently waited for you.

he sits up straight on the couch, holding the cup with his hands, his foot tapping on the ground. as he waits he notices from the corner of his eye someone scooching closer to him. at first he wasn't worried although he was a little on edge but you know, nothing much. but when they got too close for comfort he moved to the side, now focusing on the man.

"uhm, if you could please not come so close to me, thank you." he tried to polite, not wanting to anger the man. he looked sober, so he wasn't drunk nor on drugs. "why not, young man? hey whad'ya say..." his gaze drops to the cup in his hands, he immediately clenched the cup, creeped out. "$10 for that cup?"

"... you.... you do realize that this isn't mine right? why do you want the cup anyway?" at this point he wanted to walk away and never see him ever again but he was in too deep now, plus, he needed to wait here for you. the man chuckles and dismisses his question. "you needn't worry young man, take it or leave it."

without any hesitation he immediately refuses his offer. "no." his answer was blunt and cold, he wasn't messing around. the man slowly backed away upon hearing his tone, grumbling about how men these days don't take the bait.

he takes their role as the holder of your drink very seriously. you can trust that he'll keep a keen eye on it until your return.

but.. if by any chance they are drunk and the only person you trust to hold you drink, you still have faith in him of course! but to be honest when they're drunk they're a little bit... too much so it's okay, nobody will dare to come and talk to him.

— TIGHNARI, KAVEH, xiao, ZHONGLI, THOMA, pantalone, kazuha, AYATO, baizhu, albedo, gorou, NEUVILLETTE

the photographer guardian, they're armed with their phone and take a snapshot of your drink, proclaiming themselves the official cup guardian. they protect your drink yet ensure you have a visual record of your drink's momentary protector.

when he sees that your back is towards him he wastes no time in taking out his phone and snapping a picture of the cup before taking a selfie of him holing the cup to his face, just barely covering half of his face. he took many photos to say the least.

he posted it on his instagram story as well, to the poor soul's finger, take it easy on yourself as you vigorously tap on the screen to get rid of all of his stories.

and the captions? my god the captions. "haha guess who's the cup guardian rn?" "?!?!?! i wonder whose cup this is..." "look at me and this cup, wow... i'm like guarding it so hard rn"

what did "guarding it so hard" mean? no idea. obviously he takes his job seriously as well, but why not have a little fun? i mean you trust him of all people to hold your cup, to protect your cup from being tampered with. so yes, of course he will protect it with his life! if anyone was to come too close for comfort and eye your drink suspiciously, even just a little glance at your drink will put him on high alert.

he tries not to ruin his vibe at the club and refrains from arguing with the person but will not hesitate to throw hands if necessary!! he mumbles under his breath about how annoying this woman was, she randomly walked up to him and began to flirt with him in the hopes of inching closer to him and then maybe spike your drink.

trust me, he has a lot of experience with these types of people, people who flirt or make small talk in order to get closer to the person and then spike the drink without them noticing, unfortunately many people fall for their trick.

"ah, no. what are you trying to do? do you take me for someone stupid?" he's clearly offended that this person thought that they could really trick him. "you really think flirting with me will do you any good? spiking drinks are we?" he tsks, glaring at the woman. she scoffs and gets up from the couch and walks away angrily, her plan had failed.

when you come back and see him taking photos of him with your cup he immediately puts his phone away and acts like he did nothing. "huh? photo? pfffffff WHAATTT no never. no." you know he's lying. like c'mon you LITERALLY caught him in the action.

but please ignore all the notifications on your phone where he mentioned (@ed) you in the pictures he took, it was stupid, yes.

— CYNO, CHILDE, dottore, kaeya, LYNEY, heizou

begins to act feral and barks.. i mean it works so... that's all that matters right?

.... honestly, don't even ask me why or how. they saw one tiktok of someone barking at a man to scare them off and it worked so why not try it out? the second the suspicious man begins to make small talk with him (he looked around 40 years old, a junkie? mayhaps) he doesn't pay too much mind, if anything he exchanged a couple of words

but when he senses that something is off he tries to steer away from him, pointing at random things and trying to get the man to focus on another thing but alas, it did not work. he would do everything to keep your cup safe, so even though his way of keeping your drink safe is a bit silly he only means the best.

"WROOF BARK MEOW GRRRR" oh my days the attention he brought to himself when he began to bark? hello? it's so embarrassing but aye, it worked! the man, clearly terrified now began to back away and cursed at him. "you weirdo!" he yelled before running off. he only laughed it off, yes, he had no shame.

— ITTO, VENTI

note: i just woke up and i forgot i needed to write (9 am help)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

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roosterr · 4 months

Text

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

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bones-aa · 1 year

Text

Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (platonic)

warnings; obv possessiveness, creepy shit, Miguel 'feral' O'hara.

i just watched ATSV and I am OBSESSED with the thought of Miguel being this overprotective dad for a spider-kid. so here's a lil oneshot for you :))

Obviously SPOILER WARNING FOR ATSV, so shoo shoo if you haven't watched the movie

Miguel watched you, it's wrong but he had been watching over you since he had first asked you to be in the spider society. He watched you as you strolled through the Spider-society, laughing as Hobie told you a joke, your smile. it was warm and wide, your laughs could easily melt anyone's heart. And it melted his cold, hurt heart. He felt protective of you, how a father would for his child.

And ever since, Miguel felt protective and he obsessed over you. From your health, to how you were doing, things he would normally never care about. Especially when it came to teens, usually he would leave it up to Jessica to deal with the younger spiders. But with you, he felt like he had to protect you. And that he did.

When he first found you hurt on a mission, he felt something snap, it was as if he was possessed. He tore into the villain as if they were nothing.

Ever since then , you couldn't see him the same, every time you saw him you hid. You noticed how he changed around you, the amount of times that he had benched you because of some minor injury that wasn't even related to the missions he sent you on. Miguel became suffocating.

He noticed it, he noticed how meek you were around him. Your sunshine personality toned down around him as you timidly bowed your head around him. You were the closest thing to a child he had, ever since he let his daughter slip through his fingers. There was no way he would let you do the same.

This time was no different, he had called the 5 of you down to his space for a mission briefing.

"Fuck, I really don't wanna go." You whined as the hologram of him went back down in your watch. "I mean, we can ditch if you want. Y'know I'm down." Hobie said as he shoved his hands into his vest.

"Ughhh, I've missed like 3 of his dumb meetings, Jess said if I didn't want to get kicked out of this society I'd have to attend this one." Hobie shrugged.

"And? The entire point of being a spider-person is so that you could do anythin' you want. So fuck him, let's ditch that prick, alright?"

You laughed but then sighed, your shoulders sagging. You were going through something similar to what Gwen was going through. Your parents had found out that you were the spider-person in your dimension, when Miguel had found you, you were on the bridge of getting thrown in prison for being a vigilante.

He took you in, and your were stuck in HQ's dormitory for the time being. You were terrifed that the moment you went back home you were going to get thrown out on the streets or arrested by your dad.

"You know why I can't just ditch." You said, Hobie nodded. "Right, yeah I forgot. Sorry you can't just stay at my place, Gwendy took the only other shitty mattress I have."

"Eh, don't worry about it." You said as you kicked the non-existent gravel away. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, they're just finishin' up some mission, said that they're coming a little later." Hobie said as they got to what Hobie called Miguel's 'cave'.

"Y'know what lil' spider, Imma get goin', can't stand that knob right now." You rolled your eyes at that nickname as he ruffled your hair. He walked away, giving you a two fingered salute. "Yeah, yeah, what a great friend you are for abandoning me."

"You'll survive mate, you're tough like me." he says as he disappears into the brightly colored portal. You grumbled to yourself as the portal closed behind you.

"Tough my ass, god I hate that British asshole sometimes." You grumbled some more, you fiddled with your watch a little before a small hologram of Jessica pops up. "Heeeey Jessy-"

"Oh so you finally decided to show up hm?" You wince slightly at the tone and laughed it off awkwardly. "Harsh, but, valid. Sorry for missing all those briefings Jess, can you let me in...?"

You saw as the hologram sighed and the giant doors open, a gust of wind hitting your face. You sputtered a little before walking into the cold room, you walked up to the intimidating Spider-woman and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Finally listened to me, the threat worked right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely, scared the shit outta me." You nodded aggressively as you said it, Jessica let out a little laugh. "I was kidding by the way, Miguel would've murdered me if I kicked you out." She whispered as she walked up towards the platform as it descended.

You shivered. murder. You always heard, at least in your time at the spider-society, that superheroes never killed. But what you saw, what he did, it was burned into your head.

"Where are the others." Miguel's deep voice boomed, interrupting your thoughts. "We sent Pav, Miles and Gwen on a mission, they said that they would be here in a few minutes aaaand Hobie...?" Jessica turned to you.

"Oh!- Oh right uhm he said he didn't wanna come." You trailed off, Miguel sighed and muttered a few curses under his breath. "Y/n, you can inform him of the mission right?"

"Totes! Ahem I mean, totally yeah." You coughed, you felt as your face heated up. You wanted to curl up and die right there and there, why couldn't a portal open up below you and transport you literally anywhere else.

Miguel on the other hand thought you were adorable, how embarrassed you looked as you tried to hide behind Jessica. He wanted to scoop you up there, hold you close to him. He had to be patient.

"Alright," The platform finally descended down to the ground, allowing Miguel to walk down and near you. Yay, the last thing you wanted. He easily towered over you, his hulking mass of muscles were intimidating.

"You're not going on the mission." He says after he stares at you.

"...What?!" You exclaimed, earning a confused look from Jessica as well. "Right, we need all of them for this particular mission. Miguel, what are you talking about?"

"I've made up my mind, take Ben with them." He says to Jessica, his tone firm. Jessica wants to speak out but she shuts her mouth, walking out to talk to Ben.

"I- wait, no this is wrong, I've been benched for the past 3 fucking weeks-"

"Language."

"What?- That doesn't matter, just listen to me." You practically begged him. He let out a long sigh as he walked away, you followed behind him. "I swear I won't do anything reckless on this mission, I haven't been on a mission with my friends in too long. I'm missing on things."

"It doesn't matter, mi hija, it's too dangerous." He slightly turns his head. You scoff. "What, you think I'm not strong enough? I'm as much a spider-person as any other fucking spider-people in this society."

"LANGUAGE." He turns around sharply, fangs bared as he yelled at you. You flinched backwards, stumbling a little at the harshness of his voice.

"Mierda- sorry, I didn't mean to-" He says, you were backing away from him, memories from that night came back again. "Sorry for scaring you, I didn't mean to hm?" He tried going closer to you, he could see the fear in your eyes, how you cowered from him.

"Please don't look at me like that." Now he was begging you. He stalked closer to you, grabbing onto your arms harshly bringing you closer to him.

"N-No, stay back. You killed- you killed that man I-" You were hyperventilating, you couldn't catch your breath as the memories came back.

"He hurt you, I did it to protect you." He muttered darkly, but it still had an eerie hint of softness behind his words. He admitted it, he fucking admitted it. "And this, this is also to protect you, you'll understand in time, kid."

You were too busy struggling to notice what he wanted to do, he barred his fangs again and bit your neck, you gasp sharply at the sudden pain in your neck, you felt the feeling in your upper body start to lose control. You fell limp in his arms, you could feel him brush your hair from your face.

"I'm doing this to protect you, every time you come back from missions with injuries my heart aches." Miguel says as he brushes away the tears from your cheek. "That's why I've benched you, I can't lose you, you're mine."

You looked up at him as he looked back down at you lovingly, it was sickening. You couldn't move, the pain from the bite was throbbing as you felt yourself being lifted up. You felt small as his figure dwarfed you as he stood up, cradling you to his chest.

"I'll protect you, no matter what it takes." He whispers into your hair.

A/n: Ok this got out of hand, I am extremely inspired though I might make a follow up to this :))

we love a crazy dad around these parts, also hi i didn't die, i'm back with a new obsession teehee

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #x gn reader #yandere spiderverse #parental yandere #pls forgive me for being quiet for so long #only to come out with random shit #also #this shit is not proofread sorry for any mistakes in this

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serawritesthings · 11 months

Text

CRAVE THE ROSE

summary: you were Arthur’s own slice of heaven in a world where it felt like everything he did brought him a step further to hell. pairing: arthur morgan x fem! reader tags: content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex word count: 6.1k

a/n: hello, lovelies! I'm finally done with my first fic; I hope it's worth a read. Please let me know what you think; I would much appreciate it!♡

Most nights at Horseshoe Overlook were quiet, ignoring Uncle's snoring and the girl’s quiet gossiping. Often, you joined them, finding their conversations amusing. You discovered that Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen had a wild imagination and a wilder sense of humor.

Unfortunately, they decided you would be the object of their gossip lately. More so, you and Arthur. Your relationship appeared to be very interesting to them, and they weren’t shy of making it known as they teased you for the man’s apparent infatuation with you.

Because of that, you remain behind a tree by the horses, mulling. You had no interest in speaking to the girls tonight, scared they would bother you. You didn't wish to be the center of gossip instead of the one chitchatting.

Sitting alone for the first time in a while allowed your thoughts to take over. You worried for him immensly, just like you always did when it came to Arthur. It wasn’t like your concern came from nothing, finding that trouble always followed him.

More times than not, he came home bloodied and bruised, and sometimes he didn’t come home at all. It made you feel useless to only stay in camp and think of every what-if that could happen to the unpredictable man, but you couldn't help it.

There was a lingering feeling of certainty when you met Arthur. You knew you were the same - you bruise a little easier than most, though in different places. The hurt manifested somewhere far inside of him, a place where his walls were so high you weren’t sure even he could put a crack in it. But something about him wormed itself into your heart and manifested the passage that led to your deepest thoughts and feelings.

"Whatcha doin' out here, honey?" A voice strapped with roughness spoke out behind you, surprising you. You glanced at Arthur towering over you, granting him an exasperated stare, although your heart sang at the sight of him in one piece.

"I'm hiding." He raised his eyebrow, looking entertained, settling his hands on his belt.

"Now, what are you hidin' from?" A smirk appeared on his lips while he shook his head.

"The girls." A melancholy expression appeared on your face.

"Your hiding from… the girls?"

"Well, yes. It seems gossiping about us has become their favorite amusement." To speak about it made you scrunch your nose. You knew it was childish, but you were too irritated to care.

"I guess women never change, eh?" He studied you with a knowing smile while crouching down, touching your knee tenderly. You only scoffed at him.

"You gonna stay cooped up here like an angry little ball of fire all night?" He offered you his hand, snickering.

"Yes." Peering forward with sharp eyes, you avoided his hand.

Arthur chuckled as he gently placed his hand under your chin, gazing into your eyes. Your pout made him frown, and swiftly he tossed you over his shoulder and began walking.

"I ain't lettin’ you linger out here all night. " You gasped, eyes facing the ground, feeling his shoulder jab into your stomach with every step.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?!" A screech escaped you while Arthur only laughed, giving your rear a playful slap.

"They'll see us!"

"They're drunk and asleep; calm your horse's missy."

Your eyes grew small at his comment, and you tried thinking of a way to make him release you. Lifting your hands, you grabbed the back of his pants, trying to push them down his hips. He chuckled at you and kept walking.

"Now, what do you think you're doin´?" He readjusted your squirming frame against his broad shoulder.

"It's okay, though; I like you a little feisty."

"Oh, I'll show you feisty." You continued trying to push his pants down further.

You kept bickering on the path to Arthur's tent. He was correct; there wasn’t a single person awake. You could see the smug smirk on his face when he realized he was right, but he focused on keeping his pants up, which proved futile. What a sight you two were.

He chuckled as he placed you on his bed, standing tall over your small frame. Amid your anger, now forgotten after your lighthearted bickering, you had failed to remember how much you missed him. Arthur had been away for a long time, leaving you to worry about him constantly. It made you feel useless, never knowing where or what he was doing. But he was here now, which instantly lifted your spirits.

Raising the corners of your mouth into a soft smile, you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing his gun belt and bringing him closer to you till you felt the chilly surface of his buckle against your cheek. Putting your arms around his waist, you rested your cheek against his middle and sighed.

"Are ya done trying to pull my pants down now?" Arthur only raised his eyebrow, wondering where the feisty girl went.

"Mm." The fabric of his jeans silenced your voice as you relished in what was solely Arthur.

"I missed you so much." Your tone suddenly wavered, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him. It felt like he would disappear from you.

Feeling his coarse hand land softly on your head, he ran his fingers through your hair that was soft under his palms. Arthur wasn't good at feelings and often found himself tongue-tied when you spoke to him like this. His heart churned at your sudden display of emotions.

He missed you more than you could possibly know and spent most of the chilly nights in the wilderness, missing your soft voice and warm hands he had grown accustomed to. Before you, it didn’t matter where he was since his home was where he put his bedroll.

Now, though, his home was in your warm embrace. The ghost of your eyes tormented his every move, prodding him to return to you so the glimpses he thought he caught of you would become a reality.

How well you knew your Arthur. He was always quick with words but never with you. When you started paying attention to one another, dragging the words out of him required much effort. Stubborn as a mule, he was.

"Ah, I missed ya too, honey." His voice grew rough as he looked down at you. A warm feeling coursed through you at his words, pressing your cheek further against the cloth of his jeans, face illuminated by the lamp on the worn bedside table. The light bounced off the closed tent, creating a warm atmosphere.

Keeping close to Arthur, you looked up at him and staring back at you was a man with warm, soft-blue eyes and tousled honey-blond hair escaping his hat, looking slightly longer since you last saw him. Your chest tightened at the look he gave you, making you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

Now, standing between one of your legs, you felt small beneath his tall frame. He felt many things watching you beneath him, face resting on the side of his hips, face too close to his guns for his liking, but he didn't move away. He felt all his limbs grow heavier when he observed you, finding only you to have this effect on him.

Your palms grazed the guns at his sides, being careful when lifting them from the holsters. They were heavier than you expected, not familiar with holding the weighty metal of a gun. The coarse leather of his gloves grasped your hands and lifted them with you, putting them on the bedside table.

A shrill ran through you, watching him grab them. He looked intimating, handling them like second nature compared to your unsure hands. It reminded you of the kind of man he was, or rather the man he had to be.

He could tell you felt wary; a familiar feeling of protectiveness he always directed towards you surging through him. You smiled slightly and stared at him through your lashes, palm stroking his thigh gently. He could feel himself melt at your behavior, realizing you were teasing him; testing the waters.

Most times, being intimate together went about the same way as you were inexperienced, and Arthur not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But he could feel the air had changed, making him stiff with intrigue and curiosity.

The tension in the tent was searing as you unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You were used to him taking control, but you felt unusually bold in his presence this night. Suddenly, Arthur suddenly lifted you to stand on the bed, making you tower over him as a breathless laugh left you.

Putting both of your hands on his stubby cheeks, he wrapped his arms around your middle, breathing in your sweet scent as he pulled you closer. Your stomach churned at having him this close, feeling his warm breath fan over you, making your nipples stiffen against the closeness of his mouth.

Slowly, he enclosed his mouth around your nipple, covered by the fabric of your blouse–being this close it proved hard for him not to. You closed your eyes at the sudden feeling, thumbs gently stroking the scruff of his beard as he grazed his tongue over your clothed bosom wantonly.

You lifted your trembling leg to rest at his side, his arm immediately coming to rest on your backside, bringing you closer to him. He caressed you tenderly as you felt him press his tongue over your thin blouse, making you moan slightly under your breath.

Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, the sight more erotic than anything you have ever seen. He held your gaze through hazy eyes, his reddening lips glistening slightly with saliva, resting on the now wet patch on your shirt. You lifted your hands, grabbed ahold of the hat almost falling off his head, and dropped it to the ground.

Running your fingers through his tousled hair, you brushed the wild pieces behind his ear, unkempt by his hat. He rumbled appreciatively at your action and you felt the rough leather from his gloves sneaking under your shirt that was folded into your skirt, finally touching your skin.

You were always so soft, and most of the time, he felt undeserving to touch something so perfect with his rough, unlawful hands, roughened by the hardship his life had brought onto him. Never should anyone who has done such malicious things put their hands on you–yet here he was, soiling you.

Your soft skin felt heavenly under his rugged palm as if delicate hands sculpted it with adoration so stout there couldn’t be a more beautiful creation than the one standing before him. He felt shameful but didn't have the strength to pull away; he never did. It felt too good to touch you, almost bordering on torture, the way he kept crawling after you like a starved man never getting enough.

Arthur tightened his grip on you, paying attention to your other side with his mouth, moving slowly as your breath hitch. You let your head fall over him, resting your cheek on the top of his head that you now cradled, enjoying the moment while wishing you could be in his arms forever.

Running your hands over his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt something wet touch your fingers. You perked up, looking at your hands. Covering your fingertips was a dark red substance. It was sticky like it had been there for a while.

"Arthur." You murmured, a light worry detectable in your voice. He didn't answer you, instead grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up his waist, burying his head in your chest. You wanted to giggle at him and probably would have if concern didn't seep into your mind.

"Arthur" Your voice was low, this time sounding more collected.

"It ain't my blood, darlin’," he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. You felt yourself relax, content no one had hurt him, but it left you wondering whose blood it was. "Don't you worry your pretty little head bout that," he said, like he could read your mind.

Arthur sat on the bed and it creaked under his weight, keeping you on his lap with your legs at either side of his thick thighs. He pushed your hesitant hips snugly against his, letting out a hum of appreciation, finally feeling your weight where he wanted you most.

Lifting his head from your chest, he gave you a look-over, and what a sight you were. Blush covered your cheeks as you looked at him with blissful but still worrisome eyes, a slight pink shade running down your neck into the cleavage of your blouse.

You brought your face close to his, feeling the roughness of his beard scrape against your cheeks as you leaned in, the worrying thoughts long gone as you felt his large hands slither into your skirt, kneading the soft flesh harshly under his palm.

You squeaked quietly, surprised by the sudden contact, your lips pausing, barely touching as you breathed in each other's air as your head spun in anticipation. The feeling of Arthur's warm hands so close to your exposed core made heat form in your lower belly and in your moment of bliss, you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

"Arthur." You whimpered against his mouth. Hearing his name from your mouth so pleadingly made the ache in his chest cramp at his heart, feeling the familiar warmth of pleasure spread. Amid his tongue massaging yours so sweetly contrasting the harshness of his hands, you lowered your hips softly.

The roughness of his jeans touching your center made a shockwave of rippling pleasure spread through you, making you choke out a mix between a moan and a cry. You lifted your chest slightly, leaning your head backward, making your hair fall in waves behind you.

Hugging Arthurs's head to your bosom, you felt his mouth on your breast once again. The feeling was too much, making your whole body tense as you tried to bring him closer. He hastily grabbed your blouse, dragging it out from the top of your skirt, and seeing he couldn't lift it over your head without unbuttoning it, he held the fabric in the middle, ripping the buttons quickly and exposing you to him. You wanted to complain, but feeling his mouth wrap around your now-bare nipple made you lose your train of thought.

They grew hard under the assault of his tongue; Arthur was sure he would’ve bitten them if he didn’t control himself. You were breathing frantically over him as his mouth moved against you, and he could hear how fast your heartbeat was.

He nuzzled the soft flesh, teeth grazing on the round bottoms of your breasts until he sucked on the peaks. You unknowingly motion your round hips in his lap, clearly getting worked up from his touch. His hand engulfed your hips, helping you rock back and forth on his lap.

The added pressure his hands brought made the rough material against your undergarments feel delicious as he moved his hips with yours, pushing you down every time you met his pelvis. The action was desperate, a silent plea for the bittersweet pleasure you sought within each other. His hands ran up your back, caressing the soft skin that shivered. Despite the chilly night, you were warm under his hands, calling for him to put his hands on you. You were beckoning him closer.

The moment was tender but filled with desperation that always seemed to linger around you. You ran your hands over Arthur's back, feeling the rough fabric of his worn-out shirt you knew so well. His broad shoulders bulged under your soft caresses as you could see his muscles tighten at your touch, his movements growing bolder as he once again placed his hands under your skirt, letting the fabric rest above your hips, exposing you to him. You felt him knead the warm flesh under his palms as he pushed you against him harder than before, pushing his crotch into yours, feeling the delicious warmth of your core against his bulge that strained against his pants. You could feel him under you, your face growing hot as his prominent member sat hard against you, pushing against its confinements.

"Oh," You could not help letting out a quiet moan as heat traveled through your body when you felt him. He stopped and looked up at you, leaving a string of spit between your breasts and his swollen lips. The look in his eyes made your breath hitch, his eyes hazy with a glint of warmth in them.

"Something wrong, honey?" His voice was low, almost sultry, and his hands softened against your bottom, no longer continuing his harsh treatment. The blush warmed your cheeks, realizing how exposed you were next to the fully dressed man. Having been lost in the moment, you hadn't noticed. But you did now. Arthur did, too, and praised the almighty; he didn't care if Colm O’Driscoll himself came and shot him right at this moment because he could die happy.

"No, I…" You tried to explain, but he seemed more focused on removing the ruined blouse from your arms, unable to help himself as he placed a few more kisses on the underside of your breasts. “I… uh…” The words were stuck in your throat, turning your brain into mush.

He took your hand, placing it on the lower side of his stomach, showing where he wanted your touch. You were timid, careful, and softly caressed the part over his waistline. You could tell he was growing impatient. His hands returned to your backside as he placed more kisses on your neck, slowly inching closer to your warmth while lifting you slightly, leaving room for your hand to travel further down. Cold fingers ran along the sides of your throbbing heat, teasing you and making you stiff with anticipation. Reaching your mouth, he placed his chapped lips on your soft ones, humming as he claimed you in the kiss. Thinking he would finally touch you, he suddenly lowered his hands and caressed your inner thigh, running his hands up and down. He then grabbed your hand, fitting it against his rigid member.

A relieved sigh left his body as he felt your small hand finally touch him. The relief only lasted so long before he felt the immense pleasure striking through his body at your soft caresses, hands leisurely moving up and down. They were unsure as they caressed him, but oh, they felt so good. Arthur felt his body go limp, almost like his muscles turned into heavy stones, as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

You let out a breathless giggle as you grew more confident when you saw his desperation for your touch. Hugging his head to your chest with one hand embedded in his hair, the other continued to move against him. Slowly, you took one finger and stroked the tip that strained against his pants. A heavy groan left his throat when you touched the sensitive spot, although the feeling felt muted from the layers of clothes.

You looked down beside his head to unfasten the suspenders holding up his jeans. You let them hang over his shoulders as your hands unzipped his jeans, unbuttoning a few buttons on his union suit so you could wriggle your hand inside.

First, your fingers touched a patch of hair under his belly button that led down to his member, the muscles tensing in his stomach. You followed it down, feeling Arthur’s warm breath against your shoulder.

"Christ alive!" The words wormed their way from his throat, sounding strained. You had winded your nimble fingers into his pants, fingertips feeling over the ridge beneath his cock. The touch alone sent a white flash of pleasure through his whole body. Smiling sheepishly, you rubbed your thumb up against the frenulum of his member, coaxing harsh noises from the man.

His head lay limp on your shoulders as his now sweaty hair tickled your skin, your actions turning his brain into mush. Your hand leisurely pumps his cock, going as slow as he can take it as you feel something warm start sliding down the back of your hand.

Curiously, you tried to look between your tightly knit bodies, leaning slightly away from Arthur for a moment. Although you didn't get the chance to look before his arms wound around your waist, bringing you closer to his broad form yet again. He lifted his head like he had woken from a deep slumber, lids heavy as he spoke.

"What kind of spell do you have me under, woman?" He rolled his hips up to meet your hand as it descended at the base of his cock. You readjust on his lap, scooting back slightly to gain more leverage for moving your arm. Arthur's eyes shut tight; his brows furrowed as you brought your other hand to his cheek, caressing it lovingly with your thumb as you gazed at him with warm eyes.

Being this close made you see him more clearly: the slight sunburns on the tall places on his face from being out in the sun all day, the lines on his forehead permanent from his constant frowning, and the thin layer of dirt covering his skin from the endless hard work he put up with. Too focused on what you were doing, he didn’t notice your stare, but his eyes found yours already looking at him when your hand slowed down.

At that moment, his lust drowned in his love for you.

Sometimes, he found you looking at him like that, and it was safe to say it baffled him. The tenderness in your eyes made him tense, unsure. He wasn't used to your affection, but your every move was an act of pure fondness for him. Although it puzzled him, he craved your attention at him at all times and boasted at having such a woman at his hands. A woman no doubt many men surely dreamed of for the rest of their lives if they ever got the chance to lay their eyes on you.

He felt your hand release the grip on his member, letting its now red, swollen tip rest against his stomach. Nimbly, you unbuttoned the other buttons on his union suit, your other hand sneaking under the fabric to touch the revealed skin, caressing his chest slowly as you reached the last button.

Running your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you let the fabric fall on his arms as you stroked over the broad muscles of his thick arms, appreciating their size. He noted that your wandering hands had grown bolder and relished in your touch. You leaned into him, his arms tightening around you to help you closer as you scooted up in his lap so you could reach his neck with your lips.

You heard Arthur grunt as your exposed cunt made contact with his cock when you raised your hips slightly, dragging your wet folds to his tip, letting it rest there as your warm lips put nimble kisses on the sweaty skin under his jawline. His shaft twitched when the muscles in his stomach clenched, the tip dripping precum on his skin as he felt his sack tighten.

"Do you want to kill me?" Breathlessly he spoke to you. Smiling through your kisses, you relished the power you seemed to have over him. "Maybe." You giggled against his skin, continuing to place timid kisses along his neck and pretending to bite him with your teeth. He scoffed at your playfulness, grabbing your bottom and grinding you over his swollen head.

A startled moan left your wet lips, surprised by the sudden contact. The pleasure that shot through your body was sweet but laced with a sharpness that made you quiver in his grasp. It felt delicious; the anticipation of the movement filled every inch of you with deep shivers that racked through your already shaking body.

Your mouth was left gaping against his shoulder, your lingering kisses paused by Arthur pushing you against him in small motions so he could feel the delicious friction your swollen lips created against his rigid member.

"You want me to touch you, darlin'?" His gruff voice spoke. You mewled against him, all traces of the dominance you thought you had for a second go, and he didn't even have to try. It made you realize he only let you because he wanted to.

Calmly, his fingers eased toward your wetness that now almost seemed to drip down your thigh in complaint at being untouched for so long. Two of his fingers parted to stroke either side of your lips, almost throbbing as you clenched around nothing. The strokes continued, never touching you where you wanted him to. You were going crazy. How could he tease you so?

"Arthur." Your voice was quiet and begging, an undertone of wholehearted want seeping through. He hummed against you, lifting your head to place his lips on yours as his fingers finally disappeared beneath your wet folds, gliding toward your clit and resting there. He began drawing small circles that blur your vision as your eyes rolled back, letting out ungodly sounds muted against his lips. His lips continued to move against you, but when he noticed yours weren't, a low chuckle escaped him. Seeing you sitting on top of him with your blouse discarded and skirt lifted to reveal the tempting flesh to his eyes, as your face showing nothing but pure pleasure, drove him mad. The pads of his fingers are rough against your delicate parts, only adding to the bliss surging through your body. As he stroked you gently, your back arched as your hands frantically grabbed his arms. You feel your hands shake, your grip tight on his biceps as his two fingers sink into your hole. You gasped at being filled, clenching your walls tight around his fingers. The stretch burned, his fingers thicker than yours.

Sweet moans reach Arthur’s ears as he moves against your spongy walls, the squelching sound of him entering you filling the quietness of the night. Knuckle deep in you, he bends them expertly, causing your breath to hitch, making you spread your thighs wider for him as you grind down on his hand. His motions were rapid as he dove deep into your heat. Your thighs contracted as you felt your whole body tense, his arms moving underneath your touch.

“Oh, Arthur, please.” You spotted his warm eyes staring into yours when you turned your gaze up at him. Your eyes were pleading with him to take you, tears brimming at the intense feelings he filled you with. He knew what you wanted but had to ensure you were ready, knowing you would hurt otherwise.

“I know, honey, just a little more.” Arthur caressed your hair softly as his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his forehead as his eyes were stuck on you. He felt hopeless when you looked at him like this. You could get him to do whatever you wanted when looking at him like that; hell, Arthur would even kill for you if you asked. He was wet with your slick, his fingers jamming inside you as you lifted your legs, trying to escape his assault. The sudden change of pace made the pleasure unbearable. Not a single sound left your mouth as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth hung open. He grabbed your hips, bringing you down against his fingers so you couldn’t escape.

Arthur hoisted you up, fingers leaving your dripping heat as he placed you over his throbbing head. Feeling your wetness wrap around him made his vision blur, ears ringing from the blood that rushed from his head. You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees as his hands found your hips. You sank slowly, watching his member disappear between your folds. The unison makes your heart swell, the thought of your body becoming one running through you like warm whisky, setting your blood afire.

Arthur’s breathing was heavy, his hands shaking slightly from the intenseness of the moment. Every movement was a silent plea for the moment never to end, wanting to stay connected for all eternity in each other’s embrace. The world disappeared around you, becoming a blur. The only thing you saw was each other as you moved over him, feeling him lift you to the top to lower you so you could hug him warmly. Your walls clamped down on him, his mushroom head prodding deep inside your spongy walls, eliciting whines from your open mouth. Arthur was used to being quiet, but you were struggling, terrified someone would hear. You wouldn’t be able to stand the humiliation if you were.

“Come here, darlin’.” He placed his brawny arms under your thighs, his member leaving you as he stood up and laid your back gently on the bed, his hand under your head. Always so careful. Your arms reached for him, seeking his solace and safe embrace as he returned to you, putting his weight on you as close as he could without hurting you. He entered you again as his head rested in the crevice of your neck, panting. He stuffed you full, fuller than you’ve ever been. Your cunt stretched obscenely around him, lips sealing around his cock with a snug, velvet grasp. He set the pace this time. His muscular frame was going slow, but his strokes were hard; your body was being pushed up the bed from the harshness of his thrusts. He brought you deeper into the mattress whenever you felt him dive back inside. Your legs found their way around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Arthur loves how you cling to him, helping you by holding you close as he prods you deeper. He takes your hand, bringing it to your chest and placing it between your breasts as he murmurs something in your skin. You’re too blissed out to hear what as his voice melts like honey at the base of your neck.

“Oh god!” You cry out between his thrusts, moonlight seeping through the folds of the tent and splashing his skin. His palms tremble against you from the effort. He cooed at your noises, shushing you by capturing your lips with his. You had messed up his hair in your blissful frenzy, and his eyes were glossy with lust. His hands ran down the side of your body that arched underneath him, grabbing your thigh and pushing the plush skin up to rest beside you so he could bury the whole cock inside you. You almost felt him in your guts as he prodded against your flesh, leaving you to mumble nonsense into his mouth between the gasps that escaped you from the force of his thrusts. The slide of his length against the silky, slick clench of your cunt is nothing less than ambrosial.

Arthur breathes heavily between clenched teeth as you tighten around him. He slowed his pace to draw himself almost entirely out of you before filling you again with a languid thrust. The coil inside him was tightening, threatening to snap. He was holding you so close now, shielding you from the world as you lay underneath him, eyes glazed with a faraway look. Each caress from his hand said the words his sex-addled mind couldn’t make his mouth form.

I love you

He wrapped his arm under your waist, supporting your arching body, pistoning you now with brutal efficiency. Still, affection lingered in everything he did. He never gripped you too hard as his rough hands remained gentle. For you. Only for you. His hands slipped down the planes of your stomach to apply gentle pressure to the hooded bundle of nerves, sending a shock through you like a burst of electricity. Whatever words you tried to speak came out as little more than a garbled cry as he teased furious circles over your still swollen clit, arms tight against his neck.

“Please.” Lust-filled sounds left you as you begged. You didn’t know what for, his assault leaving your thoughts in shambles. He doubted there was a more beautiful sight than the woman he loved unraveling under the force of his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him, contracting as you sucked him more profoundly into your cunt.

“I love you!” You cried into his ear; Arthur’s eyes shut tight as his hips spluttered, pumping deeper inside you, noises he let out erupting from his lips in a sound that could only be likened to a primal whine. With a final uneven snap of his hips, the coil inside him snapped, and his release spilled inside you. His forehead rested between your shoulder blades as he trembled, your hands resting in his hair lovingly amidst the tremors running through your body. Arthur’s hips snapped up into you one last time, pushing up into you as far as possible to continue feeling the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His cum spurted out, coating your walls and escaping your entrance that he was stuffing with his cock. He gripped your thighs, moving his hips languidly, basking in the sharp pleasure running through him as his vision faded.

You could feel him relaxing in your grasp, heavy breathing leaving him as he gently kissed your trembling skin. You hummed over him at his touch, a pleasureful little sound that, despite being wholly spent, had him wondering if he could muster up the energy to retake you as his head lifted to claim your lips, tongue flickering lazily out to tangle with your own. Arthur grabbed your thighs that were wound tightly around his waist as he scooted down the bed, pressing them to flush against the mattress. He spread you wide, your body covered in sweat and cum, exposed before his eyes as he wasted no time putting his mouth on your puffy cunt. His tongue was warm as he entangled it in your wetness. Your hands tried to grip your hair, sheets, and headboard to find stability until they rested in Arthur’s hair. He could feel you pull on his roots, the feeling making him groan against you. The sound created vibrations against your sensitive clit. It felt like his mouth was eating you whole as he nuzzled as close as he could, sucking ferociously on your tender flesh. His tongue entered you, making you dizzy as blood buzzed in your ears. You looked down at him, breath hitching as you found his hazy eyes already on yours. It felt sinful to keep eye contact with him as he performed such a sensual act on you, but his admiring eyes left you searing with pleasure. You couldn’t look away, not yet. You felt him wind his arms under your thighs as he gripped your inner thighs, sitting up so he was resting on his heels.

“Arthur!” You exclaimed at the sudden motion. Your head rested on the bed as Arthur lifted you off it, his arms wrapped around your stomach, hugging you tightly against him as he buried his head further into your cunt. The air left you from his actions, your legs hitting his back to escape the frenetic torture he put you through. Wet noises filled the tent, Arthur’s dark eyes gazing down at you. You looked sinful, he thought. Usually so innocent, but at this moment, with your hair spread out on the messy sheets, a pink flush covering your cheeks, and dazed eyes staring up at him, you looked like he had corrupted you and filled every inch of you with pure ecstasy. He lifted his mouth from you, the lower part of his face glistening wet as his fingers found your clit. They stroked you gently as he hummed at your quiet mewls.

“Gettin’ close, honey?” Arthur cooed as you stared up at him with glistening eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure. Your expression told him enough, so he lowered his head again and extended his tongue inside you, massaging your walls. It felt good, so good that high-pitched whines started leaving you. His one hand found your mouth, muffling the sounds. Your hips began twitching, moving against his mouth as you struggled between putting distance from his lips and pulling him closer. His fingers were relentless, rubbing you faster to where you heard ringing in your ears from the searing pleasure you felt coursing through you. The fire pooling low in your abdomen started spreading, leaving a burning trail as it flowed through your every vein. Your head rolled back against the sheets, mouth open wide, but no noise left you as hot tears fell from your eyes. The world slowed down, your orgasm shattering your body. Rippling through you, it made you tense up, your walls pulsing around Arthur’s tongue as he slowly massaged your insides, intensifying your orgasm. Your hips started jerking against him, his arm holding you still as he hummed against you while observing you underneath him.

The world before you was blurred when your eyes slowly opened, the ringing now faint as you felt Arthur kiss the inside of your thigh, his hand rubbing your stomach soothingly. He lowered you onto the bed as your eyes gained focus. He could feel you gaze at him as he lifted you to lay your head on the pillow, caressing your cheeks. It was quiet; the only thing cutting through the air was your frantic breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your eyes locked, a silent understanding between you as your trembling hand brushed his sweaty strands behind his ears.

“I love you,” He mumbled against your skin, eyes peering up at you. There was a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and it took a few seconds for you to recognize it. Remorse. “But I don’t deserve you.” He sounded defeated, eyes staring absentmindedly like he was off somewhere else. It was a rarity for him to be this honest with you, but his words rang true. He didn’t deserve you; he knew it, you knew it, and everyone around you knew it. But he had you, body and soul. He had every part of you, even the parts you wanted to shield from both him and the world. His arms wrapped around you, covering you in his safe embrace, and your heart ached inside you when gazing at the man in front of you.

Before you could speak, he placed his lips against yours. There wasn’t much to be said anymore, your hearts speaking the words your lips couldn’t utter.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption smut #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #smut

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goldenchunkycat · 1 year

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Dirty things you do that Neteyam likes (surprisingly)

Cry while you two were fucking. The first time it happened aged-up!Neteyam was confused. Was he hurting you ? Were you not liking what he was dong to you ? But deep down, even before you shyly told him that you were fine and that he was just making you feel good, there was a part of him who already loved seing you cry. You were so pretty and your tears were reflecting the shine from your freckles. What a sight. But what was even better than seeing you cry ? Hearing you cry. He would definitely lose his mind after hearing your sobs and whimpers of his name. Dacryphilia with Neteyam is a must ♡

Ask him to hold hands. I think that Neteyam is the type of guy who circle his arms around your waist when he's fucking you. So when you asked him to hold your hands ? The boy came. Hard. Because you were so pretty and nice to him. You were asking him to hold hands because you felt safe with his fingers wrapped around yours, just like a baby, his baby. He really couldn't keep it longer.

Put his hands on your body. Okay, this is literally Neteyam favorite thing. I just KNOW that Neteyam is a tease. He would make fun of your height, he would tease you if you look at him for more than five seconds. That man knows the power he hold, especially on you. So it is not surprising that whenever you two would have sex he would be the one to initiate it. You would be to shy to ask. But one day, you really wanted to spend some quality time with your mate, but he didn't get the hint. Well, you were just looking at him. So you took his hands and put them on your breast. He got hard in a few seconds. He would love the fact that even if you don't feel comfortable voicing your needs, you actually found a way to express him what you want. You would keep it PG13 if you two are outside -the small of your back , your waist, but in the bedroom it would be different. You want him to finger you ? Just take his hand and put it on the inside of you thighs. You want him to pull your hair ? Place his hands on your head, he would understand.

Okay you actually did a lot of things who surprised him but that he definitely loved. But putting your tail aside when he's bending you over ? Eh. He would come and get hard again. And then he would look at your tail stirring itself to the left and come again, and get hard again. It would be an endless circle because you can't control it and he can't control himself when you do that ♡

[ The other way around —> Dirty things Neteyam does and that you like ]

Masterlist

#avatar the way of water #atwow neteyam #atwow #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam smut #avatar smut #atwow smut #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #x reader #golden's brain is loading #atwow imagines

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 months

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Tennessee Whiskey

Pairing: Country Singer!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG-17

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: None really, just language, the dickhead known as Rhett

Requested: Yes/No

Songs: Save a Horse, Ride a cowboy by Big & Rich, Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts, She's Country by Jason Aldean, What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts, All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood, Jolene by Dolly Parton, Bless these Broken Roads by Rascal Flatts, Fancy by Reba McEntire, What Ifs by Kane Brown

Synopsis: You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

Some country songs just write themselves

A/N: I want to thank @monzamash for giving me the idea of how they met but also @vintaqestar for fueling this even more. And also Chris Stapleton for me listening to song and giving me the inpsiration. @bibissparkles

"Welcome to Nashville," Lando smiles brightly at the older gentleman holding his hand.

Nashville, Tennessee. That's where Lando was currently, here for a Jack Daniel's event. He's never been to Nashville, but he is standing in the back room of a cramped yet packed bar. Jack was releasing a new bottle, a special one with McLaren on it. Fans and nonfans alike were here for the event.

He was also told that some country singers would be there. The base was thumping, and the thick smell of smoke and alcohol had his throat tightening. Oscar was leaning against a wall, probably not wise as Lando had touched it, and it was sticky. Yet, Oscar looked the most relaxed Lando had ever seen.

"You bunch sure know how to throw a party," Oscar voices, a little louder than usual. But with the southern drawl of some singer, a song about a tractor that is somehow sexy. "How is a tractor sexy?" Lando whispers, lips right against Oscar's ear. The Aussie turns and shrugs his shoulder. "I don't think they care, look." Oscar points to the crowd.

Oscar was right; Lando was watching people sing and do some type of synchronized dancing. "What are they doing?" The older gentleman, whose name Lando couldn't remember, something like Dan, laughed loudly. "It's called line dancing." Oscar and Lando share a look and just shrug their shoulders. "When do we go out?" Oscar asks, but Dan waves his hand.

"Ah hell, you ain't gonna go on stage, boys; you're behind the bar. We don't showboat out here. Unless you're like them," Dan, maybe Cash, points, and Lando looks over. He sucks in a breath seeing a woman holding a torched guitar. It was gorgeous, with dark wood, but through the low lights, it looked like fire was taken to give it this smokey look. "That's The Cadillac's. A new band, but damn, they think they're going to clean house at the CMA's." Dan yells, tipping his hat.

Lando stopped listening, though, unable to take his eyes off the woman with the guitar. With their hair pulled back and a black cowboy hat placed on their head. Oscar looks over at what has Lando's attention and chuckles. "Hey, who is that?" Oscar asks, pointing to who Lando is staring at. "Eh, oh, that's Y/n L/n, the lead singer. Sweet, sweet girl. Born and raised here in the south, want me to introduce you two?" "Yes," "No," Oscar and Lando answer simultaneously.

"Excuse Lando, he gets nervous meeting new people. We'd love to meet them." Oscar chuckles, and Dan smiles and pulls the two drivers over.

"Honestly, what even is a McLaren?" Your drummer, Cassie asks, fixing her belt buckle. She earned something from Barrel Racin and would cut anyone for touching it. "I think it's a type of car, Y/N?" You whip your head up at your bassist Judd asks, poking you. "What? Yeah, it's a car, but this is for Formula 1. I said yes to this cause it's Jackie's bar. We started here, guys; just be polite." You urge knowing that Cassie and Judd tended to get in some trouble.

"We'll be on our best behavior, ma'am." Judd tips his hat, and you just roll your eyes. "Kids!" You three turn, seeing Jackie barreling towards you with two young men dressed in Vols orange. "Y/n, this is Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri; they're the drivers for this fancy party." Jackie laughs and pats the one named Lando on the back. "Nice to meet ya'll," You stick out your hand.

Lando mumbles back a hello but doesn't shake your hand. "Oscar," You turn, and what you assume is the oldest of the two shakes your hand. "Y/n, nice to meet ya." Oscar smiles, but you turn back to Lando and give him a small smile. "Well, um, catch ya later." You clear your throat, and Lando looks up and nods.

"Yeah, gotta a crowd to sing to," Judd places his arm over your shoulders, and you can tell he is staring down at Lando. "And I gotta get these boys behind the bar," You wave off Jackie, smile at Lando, and nod your head at Oscar as you three take the stage.

Lando jumps a little at the roar that builds into the building, even on the street. This place was shaking alone with just the cheer of the crowd. "Here, and don't worry about making difficult orders, just the ones with the new whiskey. You two should be fine." Dan says, or Jackie, actually. "Thanks!" Oscar laughs as Lando can't pull his eyes off the stage.

"Hello, Nashville. Now, let's give a big warm welcome to our other half from across the pond. McLaren Formula 1 Team!" You scream; a bright light lands on Lando as people cheer, and Oscar has to nudge him to wave. "Alright, we're all here to drink but also dance, so let me introduce myself to you, lovely people. I'm Y/n, and we're The Cadillacs. We're gonna start off with a good one. So sing if you know it, dance, who cares." You laugh.

"I've known you since Brad and Angelina

We go back like Pontiac seats

If I got an aisle with a mess I gotta clean up

I know you'll be showin' up with bleach, hmm."

Lando smiles, hearing the opening lyrics, and people quickly move, grabbing someone to dance with as the sound of the violin and guitar complement one another.

All those names that we don't ever speak of

Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind

Proof and photographs have been deleted

If you ever needed an alibi

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

"Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?" Someone yells, and Lando snaps his head away from you and to the woman before him, and he nods. Lando hums along, even going as far as to tap his foot to the beat.

It's a good thing we're each other's kinda crazy

Ain't no judgment or keepin' score

If you rob a bank, I'm your getaway Mercedes

God knows that's what friends are for

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too, yeah

"They're pretty good. The crowd loves them!" Oscar yells, handing off 3 beers, and the cowboys yell and head off, the crowd growing more with each passing minute. Like the music was drawing them in more than them. Which was probably true.

I keep all your secrets by the dozen

You know where my skeletons sleep

Hypothetically, if you ever kill your husband

Hand on the Bible, I'd be lyin' through my teeth

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

Our bodies are buried, and they're in the same ditch

So even if I wanted to, I can't snitch

30 to life would go quicker with you, yeah

Smiling at the crowd, you can't help but pull your attention to the bar, seeing Lando bop his head and smile brightly. You feel this lightness in your chest when you see his smile; he is adorable. But he was also gorgeous in this unique way; you could stare at him for hours. Unsure why, you're glad he was enjoying your song, which was currently snug at number 1 in the charts.

So, if you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too

You finish off the ending and sigh as the crowd roars, and you scan it and see Lando smiling and clapping loudly. You blush and look back at the crowd and then at Judd and Cassie. "Hey? One of the oldies?" You ask, knowing the crowd would love it. "Fuck yeah!" Judd laughs, knowing the next song is about your ex. A nasty piece of work.

"Alright, one more 'cause we've got some great talent here. Now, how about a song warning men what happens when you cheat on a good ole southern girl?" You laugh seeing men groan, but the woman jumping up and down. This was the song that catapulted your career.

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp

And she's probably gettin' frisky

Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick

Showin' her how to shoot a combo

And he doesn't know

Lando's eyes snap up at you on the stage, hearing the dark rumble change in how you started to change and how you give yourself a deep southern drawl. Lando laughs as he watches you lean into the song, singing your heart out as you hit each note with emotions. Lando shudders, hating to be the guy this song was written about.

He doesn't know how it happened, but Lando ends up singing along with the crowd and starts to jump when Cassie hits the drums and joins in on the chorus. "Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats!" Lando yells and watches the stage go dark. "Damn, the group got a new fan?" Lando blushes when Oscar nudges him, but he just looks away. Something about you was pulling him in.

"I sure hope so!" Lando jumps, hearing your accent right there. Damn, you looked good. Lando melted slightly with a light shine to your skin, hair a little messy, and cheeks wide from your smile. "Want some water?" Lando freezes, hating that's what he started with. You giggle and lean over the bar, not caring for the way your skin is sucked into it now. "How about a double shot of whiskey? Think ya could do that?" You ask, staring at Lando.

"Yeah," He breathes, and you giggle, jumping back down as you watch him move behind the bar and fix the drink. "Hey, how old are you?" Oscar turns and gives a lopsided grin. "I'm 22, Lando is 24." Your eyes grow wide, hearing that Lando is the oldest among them. "Really? For sure, I thought it was you." You laugh, Lando blushing even harder.

"Here," He slides the glass over, and you smile, taking a sip. "Damn, good whiskey." Lando chuckles and hands off some other drinks. "So, what is Formula 1?" Lando turns, and you swear you feel your chest flutter. He had gorgeous eyes that were the perfect blend of blue and green. "It's international racing," "So you travel the world? That's gotta be fun," You yell as people cheer for the next act.

"I guess! It's tiring after a while, but we meet cool people." Lando leans onto the counter, giving you a little smirk. "Am I one of those cool people?" You flirt. Lando chuckles and looks away with a blush. "Yeah," He breathes. "Yeah, you are." Taking another sip of your whiskey, you put it down and lean in. "Good, 'cause I think you're pretty cool too."

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"Damn, they sure know how to party." Oscar groans, rolling his neck as Lando helps you pack up. "It's the southern, just be happy football wasn't going on." Judd laughs, slapping the poor kid on the back. Oscar, much smaller than your bassist stumbles forward. "And we have to do this all over again Friday." Cassie sighs, pulling her jet black hair out of its braids.

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, um, would you like to join us for the week?" You ask, fiddling with your fingers. Lando looks up, Oscar being pulled away by Judd and Cassie like he was a little boy. "Um, I'd have to check my schedule." He mumbles, wondering what exactly McLaren would have him do until Friday.

"Oh, yeah, you're probably busy." You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Nope, he's not busy. As long as you have him back by Friday night, you can keep him." Lando jumps, seeing Jon there all of a sudden. "Where'd you come from?" Lando squeaks, feeling bashful as if a parent just caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. "The hotel and Miss. L/n, whatever you want to do with him, go crazy." Jon smiles and slaps his hands down on Lando's shoulders.

"Well," Lando can see your confidence inflate again and smiles, feeling himself grow comfortable. "How about showing this Brit the southern life? We're going back to my ranch upstate; how about it?" You ask, leaning against a speaker. Lando thinks it over, though he wants to say yes immediately. "Yes, I'd love to." Your smile grows so that even your cheeks puff out.

"Great, I might want to say your goodbyes now. There is no cell service in those parts. Real nice," Lando pulls out his phone and hands it to Jon. "No need for cell service when you've got no phone." Judd laughs and tips his hat. "I like you," Lando nods in agreement, and Jon makes a noise. "Just tell Zak, well, I don't know, but tell him I would get injured." "Yeah, we won't have a pretty boy here riding horses," Cassie calls, and Jon looks between you and Lando.

"Alright, just be careful." Jon waves Oscar over, who gives Lando a thumbs up and out of the bar. Lando chuckles and turns, balking when Judd is staring at him. "You stick out like a sore thumb." Judd muses, ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Hey, Y/n, pretty boy here should change, don't you think? Or else those fans of him will totally notice him." You haul up your guitar and look him over.

Black joggers, a bright neon papaya sweatshirt, and black sneakers. "Do you own jeans?" Lando nods, but Cassie snorts. "Not skinny jeans, like wranglers or something?" She walks around him, checking him out. "Um, no?" "Well, we hit Broadway and get him a new fit." Judd muses, and you blush; Lando would look good in a cowboy hat.

"Come on," You finish loading everything up and watch the trunk pull off, leaving you four outside. Lando follows you, but you reach back and lace your fingers together. "Careful around here. Drunks and others won't hesitate to pickpocket ya. So, stay close." Lando doesn't even bother pulling his hand away, loving the weight of yours in his. "In here," Judd shoves you 3 into the door and laughs when you stumble into the store owner glaring but stop seeing who it is.

"Judy boy!" "What up, old man? Think you can do a makeover here for our boy!" Judd points behind him, and the owner looks him over. "Of course, bring him here." Lando doesn't know what happened, only that he's shoved into a room and returned wearing a black t-shirt, cowboy-cut jeans, and perfectly fitted black cowboy boots. "Now, the hat." Judd muses, and you giggle, sitting on a stool.

"Lookin good," Lando turns and stutters, seeing your hair free. Wow, he was awestruck by you, hat off, and he finally got an honest look at you. "Pretty," He whispers, and Cassie snorts but muffles it when Judd glares her. "Hey, Bud, add in some orange, will ya'? It's um, shit, forgot your name, pretty boy." Judd laughs, and Lando can't help but join in. "Lando," You and Lando say at the same time.

You look away when Bud starts to make the hat, and Lando can't help but turn to you. "What got you into singing?" You look up and smile, and Lando knows that smile. It was the smile of someone who remembered their first time falling in love. "My daddy, he was a farmer. I'm the oldest, so he'd wake me up, and we'd check the fields together. Every morning before school, no matter the rain, sun, or cold, it didn't matter. It was hard work, but he'd have this little radio. He'd turn it on, and we'd sing together. Some of the best memories I have are with that old bugger." You smile, looking down.

"Does he come to your shows?" You take a deep breath and clear your throat. "No, not anymore. He passed about 3 years ago." Lando curses himself, but he stops seeing your soft smile. "He's not in person, but I have him onstage with me for each show. The guitar I got?" Lando nods, knowing the one; it looked old but was a gorgeous piece. "He gave it to me, same as my hat." You jump off the stole and rock forward to lean on the counter.

"Almost done there, Bud? We gotta long drive home," You yell, and Bud just curses you, but you giggle and bump your shoulders into Lando's.

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

"Wakey, wakey," Lando groans, feeling something wet touch his face, and he pats it away. "Lando, come on, you gotta wake up." "Mhn go away Osc," Lando hears Oscar tsk and kicks him, rolling off the bed with a screech. "What the hell, mate!" Instead of Oscar, all 6'4 of Judd stood a very shirtless Judd. "Breakfast will be gone soon; it's better to go eat. Then we can go," Judd leaves the room, and Lando turns, seeing the large Bluetick Coonhound named Rusty staring at him.

"Don't drool on me, please," Rusty opens his mouth and barks loudly, with Lando chuckling, "Yeah, yeah, alright." Lando stands and moves, staring at the new clothes given to him. Sliding in jeans and a t-shirt, he threw on the baseball cap and walked out barefoot. "Good morning," you sing, and Lando sighs; he could get used to this.

"Judd said we're going somewhere?" You turn and smile. "We're going fishing." Lando makes a disgusted face that has Cassie spitting out her coffee. "Oh shit, if he makes that face again, I'll piss myself.' Cassie cackles, which has Judd chuckling as well. "Scared of a little fishie?" "They're disgusting." You shake your head as Lando shivers.

"Really? You at them just fine last night." Slapping your spatula down, you see Judd with a blank face. "Judd," You hiss, "Hey, don't pass out, pretty boy," You turn and gasp, seeing Lando whiter than white. "Lando, he's joking. We didn't fish last night. It's just a joke." You plead and help him sit down on a stool. "Promise? Promise that wasn't fish?" He asks, eyes wide, and you bite your bottom lip. "I promise that wasn't fish." You explain; great, now you'd have to lie about what Bass was for the rest of his life.

"Shit," Judd chokes into his mug, and you glare at him. "Go take the dog out," You hiss and watch as Judd takes Rusty out. "Don't you have something to do as well? You've already eaten." You point to Cassie, who looks up and groans. "But, I want more." She whines, and you huff, "It's for Lando and me. Now go." Cassie huffs and shoves on her boots and stalks off outside into the cool air.

"Was it really fish?" Lando asks, and you look down. The poor boy's lips were swollen from chewing on them, and his eyes were wide. "No, it wasn't fish. Judd was just fucking with you." You giggle, trying so hard to not laugh. "Good, 'cause last night was good, but if it was fish, ugh." Lando sticks out his tongue, and you turn back to ensure you didn't fire the bacon.

"Okay, well, how about getting me the orange juice. Coffee?" You ask, pointing at the pot, and he shakes his head. "Don't drink it; I'll take the juice, though." He opens the fridge and grabs it, pouring two glasses. "I'm glad you know how to cook, I suck at it." You snort on a laugh and flip the bacon. "I'll teach you how to make eggs." Your grandma would always tell you someone needed to know how to cook at least one thing. "I'll burn the house down." But you roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Now, grab me four eggs," You point to the cart. "Crack them open into that bowl and then scramble them." You instruct. Lando cracks them open but stops staring at them. "Do I shake them?" You laugh, plate the bacon, and turn the eye down. "No, take that fork and stir hard, but not too hard. You get them everywhere." You instruct and go to the oven and take out four fluffy biscuits.

Lando nods and stirs the eggs, and you watch, ensuring he doesn't make a mess. "Perfect," You wipe your hands and turn the eye of the stove back on. "Now, come here." Lando walks over, and you giggle. "With the eggs, Lando." "Right, knew that," He mumbles and grabs the bowl, and you place him in front of the stove. "Next step, pour the eggs in. Some spray the pan, but I just finished cookin bacon, and the grease will add extra flavor." "Jesus, this one meal will fuck up my diet." "Stop," You pinch his side, and he yelps, but you both start laughing.

"Okay, pour the eggs," Lando does as you say, and you grab a plastic spoon and hand it to him. "wait a minute. then take the spoon, pull the eggs off the ring of the pan, and start bunching them up, and then like you were stirring them, it'll break them up." You explain and watch as Lando does as you say. "Stop, that's perfect." You take the pan, add fresh eggs to the plate, and smile. "And there you go, you just made eggs." Lando smiles brightly and leans forward but stops and pulls back.

Clearing his throat, he smiles and grabs your plates. "Where, too?" He asks, and you point outside, cursing yourself for thinking he would kiss you. You two just met; why would he do that. Pushing the screen door open and hearing the comforting snap of it, you groan. "Woooo, that was painful," You turn and see Judd leaning on the counter.

"Fuck off, Judy," But it had no bite to it. "Hey, just sayin, but he was going to kiss you." Judd winks and walks off, heading somewhere deep into the cabin. Rolling your eyes, you grab your orange juice cups and see Lando sitting on the outside bar, watching the sunrise. "This is wish when I had my phone, to take pictures of this." You set the cups down, sliding into your own chair. "No, you don't. It's stuff like this you don't want your phone for. Just enjoy." You grumble and bite into your eggs, and Lando shrugs.

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

"I thought you meant fishing on a boat?" Lando groans, trudging through the woods. "Hell no, a bunch of tourists are here, and this is a secret little place Y/n and I found as kids. So be nice. We don't tell anyone about this place." Cassie yells back, and you giggle at Lando's long sigh. "Why'd you bring the guitar?" Lando asks you, seeing the soft cover hanging off your back. "Sometimes, being out here gives me good inspiration." Lando hums and sees Cassie and Judd stop.

"Finally," "Nuhuh, pretty boy. You and Y/n are going further up." Judd boops Lando's nose, who whimpers and hangs his head. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete? Where's that stamina?" Judd teases. "I'm not built to dig around the southern woods, much less in these temps." "Stop your complaining and go," Judd shoves Lando, and you two walk further from there.

"They're fishing; we're just going to relax upriver. Or did you really think we'd make you fish?" Lando thinks it over and then sees you're not carrying fishing poles and that Cassie and Judd had most of them. "Oh, didn't even cross my mind, honestly." Smiling, you lead the way and stop seeing the clearing that has the river in front of it. "Hey, Whiskey, tell me we can stop now." Lando groans, and you turn, confused at who he is talking to. "What?" Lando looks up and stops. "Whiskey, it's your nickname. Since the first thing that got you and me talking was whiskey." You're glad your face is already flushed, or Lando would see the giant blush covering your entire face.

"Oh, uh, ahaha yeah, we can stop here." You place your guitar down, fluff out the blanket, and grab bug spray and sunscreen. "Come here. You'll cook like cornbread in a cast iron." Lando turns with confusion on his face that has you smiling. "You'll burn Lando. Come here so I can put sunscreen on you." You explain as he shrugs off his shirt. "Shit," You whisper, and his eyes cast up. "What? Something wrong?" As he spins around looking for something.

"Wha, oh no, nothing, here." You hand the sunscreen to him, looking away from him. Lando takes it and smiles as he sprays everything on you. Removing your top, he easily applies it to you as well.

You don't know how much time passes under the southern sun, but the soft breeze makes it bearable for you and Lando. "What are you writing?" His voice was smooth, like the wind was barely touching you. "A new song," You reply and scratch out some words. "Well, I figured that, Whiskey, but I meant, what exactly are you writing?" Lando rolls over onto his stomach, hands under his chin as he looks up at you through his lashes. "Oh, well, it's something new. I doubt the fans would like it." You comment, fixing the guitar settled on your knee.

"That I doubt. I don't usually listen to country, but if from the songs I've heard from you if this new song is anything like the ones I know, people will love it." Lando smiles, smile brighter than the damn sun. "Yeah, well, Rhett would disagree with you there." You snort, "Whose Rhett?" Lando sits up now, eyebrows bunched.

"My ex, he's a bull rider. Cassie's older brother," You add on, and Lando rolls his eyes. "Well, Rhett is a jackass." You giggle and look at him. "You don't even know him," "I know he clearly didn't support you. Your new song will be awesome. Play it for me." Lando scoots closer, and you lean back, unsure if you should. "It's different," You whisper.

"Different is good. It heals the soul sometimes. Now, play." Lando demands, eyes boring into yours. "Fine." You grumble and peel the guitar off your sweaty knee onto your lap. "It'd sound better with my electric guitar, okay, just don't judge." You warn, but Lando shakes his head no. "I'd never judge you, Whiskey."

Okay," You take a deep breath, strum the first couple of strings, and start singing the words.

Used to spend my nights out in a barroom

Liquor was the only love I'd known

But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom

And brought me back from bein' too far gone

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

I've looked for love in all the same old places

Found the bottom of a bottle's always dry

But when you poured out your heart, I didn't waste it

'Cause there's nothin' like your love to get me high

And you're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

When you finish, you sigh and look at Lando, who is staring at you. "Ugh, god, I knew it! This song sucks. Listen, there is supposed to be a guitar solo, and I probably won't even give it my record. Ugh!" You yell and flop back, squinting at the sun. "That was," you brace yourself for the lashing for how different it wasn't you or the image you were giving the world. It was different, and people would stop listening to you and the band.

"THE BEST SONG EVERY" "What!" You sit up as Lando launches himself at you, pushing you back down and hovering over you. You swallow hard, focusing on his chain dangling around his neck. "Whiskey, that was fabulous. You have to give your record label that song. And finish it; I want to hear all of it, promise me." He pleads, and you nod your head as he pulls off you; sitting up, you blink, trying to control the urge to devour his lips.

"Oi! Love birds, time to go in. Can smell the rain coming!" Lando hops up and nods as you just quietly pack up your guitar. Lando walks past, but Judd stops you. "Do I need to kick his ass?" He whispers, and you shake your head. "No," "Then what's wrong, Y/n?" "He believes in me," Judd lets his hand slip, and you walk off, leaving your friend smirking.

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

"Ugh, I'm stuffed. Seriously, tell me what this is." Lando gives Cassie and Judd puppy eyes, but they just share a look and quickly snatch all the plates. "Nope," Lando deflates and groans, and goes over to the radio and turns it up slightly. The storm and music make a perfect blend. You four were out under the tin roof of the large porch. It was about 12 ft by 12ft and had a built-in fireplace.

It was where your grandpa would come and pick with his band, and now, where you sit and do the same thing. You swear, sometimes you can still hear that damn banjo or violin. You lean back in your rocking chair, the same one he sat in and taught you how to play, Lando coming up and sitting beside you.

"Friday is in 4 days," He whispers, and you clear your throat, hating the thought of Lando leaving. "I know, and it's probably best we get there early." You reply, tightening your hand on the beer bottle. "Teach me how to dance." You turn, shocked by the change of subject. "Judd told me you're taking me to some get-together and that there will be line dancing. So teach me." You blink at him and sigh, "I don't know how to." Lando chuckles and stands.

"Okay, then just dance with me." Lando holds his hand out to you, staring at you, gently lacing your fingers together. Lando tugs you up, and you quickly melt together as you don't listen to the music. Just the way his hand holds yours and the weight of his arm on your waist. "Screw it," You whisper and place your head on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck. "I have to leave for Begas after Friday's event." "Be quiet." Not wanting to hear about him leaving.

"Whiskey, I don't want to leave, but you know," "Lando, just dance with me." You whisper, effectively making the Brit snap his mouth closed.

"Judy," Cassie whispers and gently pokes Judd, who groans and opens his eyes. "What," He grumbles and yawns stretching. "Think it's about him?" Cassie whispers, and Judd turns his head and sees you and Lando dancing more to the pounding sound of rain and thunder.

"What's about him?" Judd reaches over, snatches Cassie's opened beer, and sips. "That song she's writing, the one she stopped. I bet it is; she's never really experienced love." Cassie whispers, and Judd rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder whose fault it is." Cassie flinches, knowing her brother Rhett really fucked you up, something she regrets every day.

"He's different." Judd looks over and watches as Lando kisses your forehead softly and closes his eyes, leaning more into you. "I sure hope so; I'd hate to bury him in the backyard."

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

"It's loud in here!" Lando yells, which has you and your friends laugh. "Seriously? You had us buy a race and listen to real F1 cars, and you say this is loud?" You yell in his ear, Lando's arm tightening into your side. "Yeah, well, we get earbuds!" Lando screams, fixing his cowboy hat. A black one with an orange string tied around it. Other than that, it looked average. Judd had picked out Lando's outfit, reminding you why you loved your best friend so much.

Lando was wearing a white button-down with a couple of buttons undone to show off his various necklaces and had black jeans paired with it; they hugged his thighs and ass so perfectly that even Cassie stared. He wore the cowboy boots you bought for him, and you giggled; he looked a little silly with the hat, but he loved the hat and refused to go without it.

"Now, can we dance?" He points to the line dance. It was to the song Country Girl by Luke Bryan, and you laugh, shaking your head no. "Hell no, I'll trip." Lando chuckles as Judd ushers you to your booth and makes you and Lando sit inside. "Okay, but just once, dance like that! Promise?" You just nod in agreement even though you were dreading the thought.

It was 2 hours of Lando begging and getting 2 dances in with Judd and Cassie that you stood, and his eyes lit up. "I'm getting us another round." Lando deflats but nods and kisses your cheek. Jolene by Dolly Parton comes on, and you run to the bar smiling and breathless. "Hey, can I get 2 beers and a double shot of JD?" The bartender turns and nods their head.

"Still drinking like a man huh?" That voice, that voice still had your body freeze up. Fuck, what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Texas for a competition. "What? Not going to turn around?" You shudder and turn, coming face to face with your ex, Rhett. "Rhett," Breathing out his name felt like fire on your tongue. "If it isn't my sweet baby, missed me?" He asks and leans against the bar. "Fuck off," You turn to leave, not even caring for the drinks anymore.

"Now, now, sweets. Come here. Still trying to act like that tough girl when we both know you're still that little girl inside." He hisses, tightening his grip on you. "Let me go. I'm here with someone." "Really? You aren't wearing his hat."

Judd looks over, wondering where you could take so long and tense. "Fuck, Cassie, goddammit. Your brother is here." Cassie's eyes pull away from the blonde girl beside her, and she groans. "Dammit," Cassie groans and pulls away from the girl and stands. "Whose that?" Lando asks, hearing not the best. "That would be my dickwaffle of a brother, Rhett. Y/n's ex." Lando feels anger course through his blood. "Yeah, well, you know that 2nd song we sang at the party?" Judd asks, taking off his hat and fixing his rings. "Yeah, the one about the cheating?" Lando asks, "That was about Rhett," Judd adds, and Lando moves quickly to your side.

You feel a presence beside you and suddenly feel the heavy weight of a hat on your head. "Now, she's wearing my hat. Now let go of my girl, right now." You turn, seeing Lando and sag into his side as Rhett drips his hand. "Really? This little boy? Oh, how your taste has fallen," Rhett gets in your face, but Lando effortlessly shoves Rhett back and pushes you behind his back.

"The only little boy I see here is you, you shriveled 2-inch dick. Get the fuck out of here," Lando seethes, and you have to smother your laughter as Judd steps up behind you and Lando easily towering over you both. Rhett blanches, knowing Judd would easily slaughter him. "Whatever, enjoy my leftovers." "I do, and I eat her out every night." Lando spits without thinking twice. You blush and move, hugging his back as you hide your face. Lando moves, covering your hands with his one large hand.

"Mr.Norris, I think you've earned yourself a dance." You whisper, causing Lando to spin around and smile. "Really? Well, let me do the honors, darlin'." You laugh at his fake accent. "So bad," You laugh as he tugs you into his arms, leading you to the dance floor. "Stay there!" You yell and run up to the DJ booth. Lance watches as you lean over, and he's never been happier about you wearing tight jeans and a loose top. You looked damn good.

Running back over, you keep Lando's hat on your head and see everyone clearing out, and the people who enjoy line dancing come back out. "Aight, this one is for our special guest, Miss. Y/n L/n herself," A roar surrounds you two as you turn and wave and turn to Lando. "Judd taught me this one when we were teens, so just don't judge. "This song is for you," You hear the familiar DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaaaa DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaDaaDaaDaaaa feels your ears and Lando whips his head to you.

"Are you serious? You know this song!" And Lando gets a cheeky smirk on his face. "Remind me to introduce you to Daniel one day." Rolling your eyes, the heavy guitar beat hits, and you tell Lando to follow your movement. Stepping forward and then back, Lando moves with you.

Well, I walk into the room

Passing out hundred dollar bills

And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill

And I buy the bar a double round of crown

And everybody's getting down

An' this town ain't never gonna be the same

With the lyrics, you laugh and step side and then jump and turn, shuffling your feet forward like a horse walking. Lando laughs, head back as he does it as well.

'Cause I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Getting to the chorus was always your favorite part. Hearing the line, you take off the hat, as does every other female, and some guys swing the hat around and stop. Lando laughs but you stop him, "Only those that ride do that part." Lando's eyes widened, and you smirked, glad you could catch him off guard. "I think I've got it now." He yells.

Well I don't give a dang about nothing

I'm singing and Bling-Blinging

While the girls are drinking

Long necks down!

And I wouldn't trade ol' Leroy

Or my Chevrolet for your Escalade

Or your freak parade

I'm the only John Wayne left in this town

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

You and Lando dance as his arms wrap around you, and you two do the moves in sync as he catches on quickly. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" You two scream, and you swing the hat and pull him close, Lando leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back, kick up your right heel, and go back to the moves.

I'm a thourough-bred that's what she said

In the back of my truck bed

As I was gettin' buzzed on suds

Out on some back country road

We where flying high Fine as wine

Having ourselves a big and rich time

And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long

So I took her out giggin frogs

Introduced her to my old bird dog

And sang her every Wilie Nelson song I could think of

And we made love

"Does that mean I'm your thoroughbred?" Lando jokes, but his voice reaches a deeper tune, and you turn, smirking. "Why? Wanna be?" You ask, making the moves backward as Lando pulls you in.

And we made love

And I saddled up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

What? What?

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Lando leans in, and so do you; this time, there are no interruptions as Lando captures your lips, and you melt into him. You never understood some country songs about love, having thought you might experience it with a true southern boy like Rhett. But who would've thought you'd feel it was some Brit. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy," Lando whispers, pulling away, and you giggle. "Earn that belt buckle first, big boy, and then we'll see." Lando bursts out laughing, a high-pitched, gasping one that makes you laugh hard as the beat fades.

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

Lando stands in the bar, the same one just a week ago, and you two stand in your same spots, but this time you don't wear your daddy's hat; instead, you're wearing Lando's and possibly the white dress shirt from last night. "Is that your shirt?" Oscar asks, and Lando turns and shrugs but knowing damn well it was.

"It sucks we won't be able to see them again?" Lando tunes it out. You and he talked about it last night. And you both knew that this could work; besides, he was your country song, and you his Whiskey; you two weren't goin nowhere. "Yeah right; JD was so damn happy with their show they invited them to their private booth for Vegas," Jackie yells, and Lando smirks and moves through the darkness.

You yelp when cold hands touch your skin, and you turn, smirking when you see those sea-green eyes you love so much. "So Vegas, uh?" He asks, and you sigh rolling your eyes. "Yeah, Judd wants to go." "Really not to see me?" "Okay, maybe you too." You tease, and Lando nods and leans in, kissing you gently before pulling.

"So, how about it's only fair you spend a week in my world now?" You think it over, wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod. "Only fair," "Yeah, only fair." You muse and hear gagging beside you and turn, glaring at Cassie, who is wearing round pink-tinted glasses. "You two make me sick. Bad enough, we heard you all last night; now we gotta see this?" Cassie groans while Judd cackles.

"Leave the kids alone, grandma. They're in love." "What'd you just call me?" Judd yelps as Cassie smacks him hard with her drumstick. Turning back, you face Lando. "Tell me your coworkers aren't like this?" Lando laughs nervously and shrugs. "We're totally fucked," Lando and you giggle as you hear Jackie yell loudly, introducing you 3, bringing back a sense of deja vu.

But you knew the cute Brit behind the bar was coming home with you this time. "Go kill it, Whiskey." Running onto the stage, you smile into the bright spotlight. "Alright, we're starting off with something new. It's called Tennessee Whiskey,"

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again.

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

Something something Astarion would kill anybody who tries to take your drink at a party something something

I started this while sitting in the car doing laundry, and I'm finishing this while very sleepy. It was half proofread, again bc I'm sleepy

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF DATE-RAPE DRUGGING AND SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,374

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You blinked as the world tilted on its axis, blurring at the edges of your vision, before it stood upright again, only slightly hazy. Had you really had that many drinks tonight? It didn't seem like it. Maybe this tavern's brew was stronger than you were used to?

"Everythin’ alright? You look a bit sick."

You look up at Karlach with a reassuring grin. You hated to worry any of your friends, but least of all the tiefling. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and you'd hate to see it crack. "I'm fine. Think I should head to bed - this stuff is stronger than I thought it would be."

She frowned. "Really?" She peered into her tankard, confused. "Seemed a bit weak to me."

You chuckle. It sounded distant. "Guess I'm a bit of a lightweight." You push your mug away and stand on shaky legs, using the table for support. "Goodnight, everyone."

Those who hear you bid you goodnight as well, some raising their ales in gratitude and others teasing you about not being able to hold your liquor. Astarion stares at you like he's studying you, brow pinched tight. You offer him a smile, before doing your best to stumble toward the stairs.

Halfway there, a waiter comes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and smiling brightly. You recognized him through the fog in your vision; he'd been the one to serve you drinks. "Need a hand there, hero?"

You laugh, world spinning once more as you allow yourself to lean into his support. "A hero that can't hold their liquor," you drawl. "Some hero, eh?"

He chuckles by your ear. He bears most of your weight as he helps you up each well-worn step, steering you toward your room. How'd he know which one was yours? "I hardly think it affects the world's view of you," he assures. "After all, you did save Faerûn."

"It-" Your body lurched forward, all of your limbs turning to lead. The world continued to swirl and wave and twist, until you couldn't distinguish up from down or left from right. Black spots began dotting your vision, blocking out some of the vertigo. Your stomach churned, your head ached. "'t wasn' jus' me..."

"C'mon, love. Your room is just here. Let's get you to bed."

A bedroom spun in your vision, but not for long. The last thing you saw was the waiter's grinning face as you fell to the floor, too weak to stand any longer and too dizzy to stay upright if you had.

Where....

........... Astarion.........?

"Tav?" Something cold touches your face. "Darling, wake up."

"Mmnf..."

"That's it. You're safe now."

You blinked open your eyes but winced at the light that greeted you. You heard a soft hiss.

"Is that better?"

You tried again, and were grateful to find it was no longer so bright. You looked around, trying to get a sense of your surroundings.

"You're in your room." Astarion sneered, glaring at something on the floor. "But we should move you to mine before you try sleeping again.”

“Mm? Why..?” You groan as you sit up. Your body feels so heavy, like it was made entirely of stone. Astarion helped you up with a hand to your back. You followed where his gaze had been. Laying face down on the floor, in a puddle of blood, was… the waiter? You blinked stupidly at the corpse. “What happened?”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t fall backwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Bastard drugged you. Gods know what he would have done to you if I hadn’t followed you up.”

Your brain was still slow, trying to piece together what had happened before this. You remember celebrating a battle won. You’d bought drinks for everyone, and… You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as bile rose to your throat. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped. “I-I thought the drinks were just strong, I-”

He carefully touches your arm. “It’s not your fault, love. No doubt he’d gotten good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, looking at him with wide, lost eyes. “What if he’d drugged you? Or Karlach or Shadowheart or- or-!”

He scoffed in disbelief, nose scrunching. “You just got drugged and nearly assaulted, and all you’re worried about is what could have happened if it’d been one of us? Darling, please, have a little perspective.”

You grimace as you glance back at the body. The sight of the blood or the corpse itself doesn’t bother you anymore. But the thought of what could have happened sat thick and unpleasant in your stomach. You grab his hand from your arm and hold it in your lap, fiddling with his long fingers to distract yourself. “How did you know to… To follow?”

“Well, for one, I trust Karlach knows when an ale is strong. Two, I’ve seen you hold your own against her in your little drinking games before. And three…” He curls his fingers around your hands, stopping your fiddling and rubbing a thumb along your knuckles. “I’ve seen men like him play this same game before. Too many times. I wasn’t going to risk it happening to you, too.”

A chill runs through your body. You lean forward to press your forehead against his neck. He hesitantly brings up a hand to run along your back, holding you to him. “Thank you,” you murmur. You bury your face further into him. “Gods, I can’t believe I…” You sigh, soft and shaky, dread overwhelming you as the reality of what happened sunk in. “Thank you, Astarion.”

“As much as I’d love to sit here all night, listening to you praise me over and over for the hero I am,” he teases, earning a quiet huff from you, “you need to sleep. And not here.” He gently pulls you away from him and stands from the bed, squeezing your hands before he lets go. “We’ll just tuck you in down the hall, I’ll go downstairs and scold the others for being too careless, inform the innkeeper of his employee’s exploits - perhaps even get paid for doing so - and then we can get the Hells out of here come first light.”

You chuckled softly. He helped you stand, an arm around your waist keeping you steady as he walked you around the body and out the door. “And if I want you to stay?”

He hums as though the thought never crossed his mind, before sighing overdramatically. “Then I’ll just have to get paid for my bold rescue in the morning. I suppose it can wait until then. I won’t be cleaning up that mess anyway.”

He unlocks his door at the end of the hall and guides you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. You clumsily kick your boots off and he sets them by the door, toeing his off right next to them. You plop back into the pillows, giving in to the weight in your bones. He huffs a laugh at how pathetic you look, but it’s far more endearing than he wishes to admit.

You do your best to get comfortable under the thick duvet the inn provided, sinking into the warmth it offered. He easily slithered in beside you, touching you almost pensively as you turn into him and cuddle close to his chest. You’re so warm. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, the other draped over your waist, keeping you close. Keeping you safe.

Even just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t had the good sense to follow fills him with rage. He should have torn that bastard apart, piece by piece, until he only knows pain and remorse for every single victim that came before. But you’re safe, and that’s what really matters, more than his own revenge.

You press your nose against his neck, hot breaths fanning across his skin. He could almost feel the brush of your lips as you murmured another thank you. Your arms slipped around his middle, wrapping around him so you were as close as possible. You muttered another thanks, and another, and another, until exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you fell asleep in his arms.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted

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butterscotchpiesandguys · 6 months

Text

Obnoxious

There are always those annoying people at the gym. You know it, I know it... we all know it. But the worst is when they feel super confident. The guys at my gym get loud, obnoxious and belligerent. No one tells them that though! But today... I had enough.

I went up to the group of them, five in total, and told them to knock it the hell off, everyone here is trying to have a good time! They just laughed at me and smiled. "Bro no one gives a shit except you." One said.

"Yeah, c'mon... we're just having fun. You would to if you joined us." They all kinda laughed at that. But one had a smug smile.

"You know... he does kinda look like he could, maybe just for the day?"

Another nodded, "Yeah, kinda right there, Ethan."

One more added, "Yeah, dude, he's got the muscle." Suddenly I could feel my chest hurt... my shirt felt like it was ripping... it slowly came apart with a loud tear as they complimented me. "Damn! How much do you lift... uh..."

I tried to say my name, "My man looks like a Jeremy." Ethan smirked at the other and patted my back. "I mean look at his face!" My jaw felt numb as it thickened out...

"Oh yeah I see what'cha mean there! His hair too, so fluffy... you got a girlfriend? Bet she loves that." They nodded as the group continued to circle me. They were being so loud but I couldn't help but laugh too.

People were staring at us but... I felt like I stopped caring... my mind... it felt a little... like it was... I felt hard to explain it and junk! "Well funny you say that man! My uh... name is actually Jeremy." Wait... I didn't mean to say that. I was trying to say my name, Jeremy. Getting harder to think...

"Eh we've wasted enough time, Wanna spot me, Sam?" I felt like an urge bubbling up. "Remember guys, lifting then cardio for Harry, me and Klein. You and Sam can go do some cardio first, Ethan." One of them said. I saw them walked up and called out.

"Hey bros, mind if I join you. Kinda weird havin that gap right?" I smiled and walked up beside Ethan and Sam. They seemed like some chill bros.

Sam smirked, "Hell yeah bro, only if you got me for lat raising!" He laughed and I nodded.

"Dude that is so easy, and look at you. Man I'm just gonna do those with you guys!" Ethan said loud and jokingly... this was... gonna be a fun time. Man. Glad I switched gyms.

#bulky #alpha jock #jock #jock tf #alpha muscle #alpha male tf #mtm tf #male tf #muscle tf #mental transformation #male transformation #transformation #male body swap #masculine

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mooshs-crack-headcanons · 4 months

Note

Hey how are ya doing? Would you write how the DMC guys (Dante, Vergil, and Nero.. V if you wanna) react to their s/o smacking their butt? Does it lead to sexy fun time? 😏 It is at any time or only in private? Is it playful or heavy handed. 🥵💦 As always if you don't feel comfortable with it don't worry about it. Have a great day Rockstar!

Hello, I've been good lately sorry this request took so long but thank you for asking it's a pleasure to see you again in my inbox!

(This work includes gender neutral!reader)

(NSFW contents under the cut)

Dante

It does take Dante surprise at first; your hand stealthily coming across to give his ass a hard slap while he was bent over the bar at the back of his shop to grab one of the more expensive bottles to celebrate a relatively hard job well done one day. Usually it's always him dealing out the teasing but when that sudden yelp buckles out of his throat and he looks at you to see you only smug with that cocky grin it definitely rattles something in him and what it rattles goes straight to his dick. He just sure hopes that you can finish this little game you started.

Next when he catches you off guard your standing at the desk on the phone with Lady, going over the details of your up coming job that would take you out of town for a few days together, elbow propped so you can rest your head on your plam while your eyes search the letter the client gave and more importantly to a certain scheming son of Sparda; your ass free and out in the open, unexpected. All he has to do is trick over for payback to resume; the sudden strike causing an embarrassing noise from you that you can just hear Lady on the other line silently question but then seemingly figuring put it's some dumb Dante's doing before continuing on asking more details of the job. Heat swells in your face as you look back at Dante who returns your intial smugness and shit eating grin, making it very clear that he's playing your game - a game you were intending to win.

Back and forth you two go; at the most unexpected points surprising each other with sudden spanks to get that interesting shades of cheeks and noises from once another just to see which one would break first; to see who couldn't take this teasing game anymore and just beg to be thrown and be used by the other.

Interestingly it's Dante to break first.

He's the one almost in fucking tears as he runts and grinds against you to the desk; cock so deep inside you he can barely keep his head on straight. His moans are so low yet so desperate as you thrust back into him your hole squeezing ever so tightly, controlling his pace, the sound of your name leaving his lips is so fucking attractive it's stupid.

And to put salt on the wound of his loss; reach around and give him one more slap that will instantly flip on a switch. Whatever pace you had? Forget it. He fights through and jackhammers even faster and harder to a point it shatters a crack somewhere on the wooden surface below you. I hope you like losing function of your voice because that's exactly how it's going to be the moment pulls out and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you breathless and reeling from all your previous highs.

When your done with after care and such and Dante places you on a bed instead of a desk, he congratulates you (sportsmanship and all, you know?) in between breathy kisses and only a few times jokingly complains about his ass hurting that you 'won too hard' and that you should 'take it easy during the rematch.'

Rematch? That word catches your interest that you can't help but question him on; it gets you a chuckle and a conniving look behind pale eyes.

"Yeah, a rematch. Though do be warned: I do got an ace up my sleeve that I don't think I'll be loosing with this time. What that be? Eh, you'll just have to find out what that'll be yourself - won't you?"

Vergil

One of two different outcomes will happen if you so happen to catch Vergil off guard with this action either depending on your surroundings. One; your in privacy and no one's around to see the light flush that spreads across his cheeks up to his ears and the surprised gasp that leaves his lips - then he'll only turn around to you and stumble through a light scolding that he could have accidentally hurt you with Yamato or worse but dropping the matter and it slowly becoming the topic of his late night thoughts about the sudden touch and the spark in him that it caused. Or two, the foolish but more slow but direct to go horny option; do it while the crew (especially his brother or Nero) is around.

Now going with the second option be fully aware that he's not going to talk to you for a few days after it, the foolishness of the act leaving him unable to talk to you (Vergil translation; he's just embarrassed and doesn't know how to directly approach you about it right away) But when he does it it's surely a surprise exactly what he does when he comes back around.

He is absolutely rough with you when he yanks your hair back in a fistful and in his smooth voice ask if you could ever so kindly repeat your words more clearly as his other hand snaps down onto your ass with that mind numbing sting as you repeat the number through bitten lips.

Yup, payback is a real charmer.

All the while he thrusts into you so deep you can even comprehend how the hell numbers work any more as you try to focus yourself but struggle to keep up with how pleasure just seeps into your whole being with each bounce to your sweet spot that's only lit a blaze with every smack of your lover's hand.

It's definitely intense; with all of his teeth marks tattooing the skin of your neck as the symphony that his Vergil's moans and growls pressed right against your ear as he takes you. And all of this just because what? You playfully spanked him in the van? Definitely were going to have to keep this one in the play book.

You can barely move any of your limbs with you're both done. Vergil holds your fucked out body in a possessive yet soft embrace as he deeply buries his face into your neck. It's nice, very nice. Though if you try to tease him in any way he'll look back up with you with a glare - but not just any glare; one where he tries his best to seem intimidating but fails and falls right through when you can clearly see with his flushed face and frown that he's just embarrassed. It's very cute, although if you're way past your limit I would advise not teasing any further. Because who knows; you might find your legs to be quickly spread apart for a fairly intense round two.

Nero

His reaction will be immediate. His face will turn completely red all the way to his ears as he turns to face you not even able to form any words - just turned on gibberish. His reaction is something you can't help find your giggling because of how red he can be to just playful teasing but unknownst to you, you just awakened a kink and it's something that keeps his dick hard and awake at night for weeks afterwards.

It becomes something he fixates on; the thought, the memory, the sudden spark of pain that twists into pleasure is just...the need and desire for you to do it again becomes to much for him. Well with Nero being Nero and his insecurities to really ask for things because he feels he can be a burden at times to deal with and his abandonment issues starts talking telling him he doesn't deserve it - if he asks for too much you'll leave him, so he doesn't tell you this new desire of his. He just keeps it to himself, just a fantasy he can get himself off too when he's alone but there becomes a point where it just swells in his chest to much and he just succumbs to it.

The laundry room in Kyrie's apartment is rather a tight fit, but that doesn't matter any once you find yourself shoved inside there and your lips smothered in kisses and moans against you as your pushed back onto the dryer.

Bites litter his flesh a bright flushed pink as you tug and pull on the abused skin as you hands work him all over, massaging and tracing over every muscle with your ears listening to the sweet music his shaky breaths let out. In a teasing sing song way you get right up in his ear as your hands travel in that certain direction. What does he want? Is the basics of the things you ask him over and over seeing every little part of his self control start to break as he bites his tongue. His cock is hard and leaking as he bucks against your sex, throbbing as he grinds into the meat of your thighs, his breath comes through in hissing gritted teeth as your fingers trail down his back to the the danger zone of his ass with small taps - his face bright red seconds before he breaks.

Spanking + praise kink = loud. Very loud. The moment he's in you, he's in to the base and the fucking moment your hand comes to clash back down this man is jack hammering into you like crazy and it will get to a point where you will absolutely have to gag him in some way before the neighbors start poking their superstitious noses into it.

Once after the first time where he's comfortable (less embarrassed) to talk about it he'll open up to you about really liking you doing this to him and encourage you in the future to go even rougher, after all with demon Sparda genes even if he's only quarter he still has at least a bit of healing factor ((grew a whole arm back)) so however hard you give him nothing you can while being human will hurt him but it's the thought and feel good sting that counts!

Although V may be fragile given obvious reasons, don't let that fool you. The man at the end of the day is still a part of Vergil, meaning deep down - even if his former self would rather deny, deny, and deny on the spot than admit it out loud - is a total freak when it comes to kinky shit. Yes given how flaky and easy his body could just break apart he can't go too hard that his complete counterpart can, however, he can assure you he can take a little bit so spanking shouldn't be too much should it?

It does surprise him when you come out of the blue with it though, both alone in the van while waiting for for Nero to return from his part of the job and Nico to return from repairs on the front of the van, all he did was bend over a bit to grab a drink from the small cooler when a subtle tap hit him on the ass - nothing too hard, just a tease, but it did spark his eyes wide and make him drop the green can of Virility he was holding.

When he turns around to look at you, still bent over, there's a dirty - yet subtle - sly smirk across his plump lips and with his velvety voice he reminds you:

"If you wanted my attention all you need do is ask. Or is it being a little deviant that alluring to you? I'll have to keep that in mind."

Will drop things in front of you more. After all, he's a "-fragile, delicate thing who can't keep things steady sometimes in his hands. Oops I dropped I dropped my cane, silly me." And when he goes to pick up said item he'll always over-exaggerate pick it up - he knows he doesn't have the most shapely ass in the world - his true self doesn't either - but you like looking and feeling down there so that's good enough for him to put on quite the act for your eyes to wonder and maybe you'll gather enough courage to reach out and touch him again. And you can absolutely bet if Griffon's out of his tattooed binds you will get very lovely, crassliy worded commentary, teasing, and the occasional exaggerated gag from the bird.

Once the 'games' are finally over V loves the sensation of being draped naked over your lap - no matter how big or smaller you are compared to him - he'll get comfortable either with a pillow on the bed or on the armrest of the chair you're in as you pamper him with grounded soft touches all along his body, tracing around inky tattoos, until you cup the cheeks of his ass. He'll hum and moan in approval at the touches, his breath with hitch if with a couple coated fingers you start fingering his hole and with audibly complain with shaky breath when you slip out of him. But everything will change with that first spark of contact on his ass.

V - like Vergil - isn't a man who curses very often. This will make him do so. A lot. In between spiked punched out breaths and groans that further you go will turn into whines as he looses himself in the spanks, pleasured tears creeping in the corners of his eyes as you tell him to count that he turns into a complete mess on your lap.

He loves it, really, more than he actually originally thought - at first going along with it because it was obviously something you were into and wanted and he wants nothing but to enable your desires but now... he felt small. But in a good way. Good small. Vulnerable small. Safe small. Loved small. He can easily let himself go like this. It's good. Really good.

You don't have to put at hand on any other part of him, his cock strains against your thighs so hard and so leaking you don't have to touch it to put him on edge. He can come so easily like this and will do so if you encourage it, if he can take five more you'll let him come, and he accepts the challenge - he pants like he's ran a mile, his hairs an absolute mess, and his entire normally pale body is tinted a flushed pink except for his ass which is more red from your spanks.

He begs, pleas, promising he can take it if you go harder and he's on the point of sobbing if you give it to him. He about looses his voice entirely when you give him permission to go on and come - without a hand on him his cock practically explodes as his seed paints your thighs and his entire body gives out with his weight.

His ass might be sore for the next few days but that's fine, he reminds that he has you to pamper him after all after you've spent nearly ten minutes worried post-spank that you might've taken it too far but he promises he's okay, he's stronger than what he looks, even if deep down he realistically knows that took a lot out of him. Maybe something like this should be more of a treat kind of thing? Not too often he thinks he can take something like that.

Or... maybe next time you could be the one handle the heat next time? V has some wonderful ideas how to go so about it...

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#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dante sparda #dante x reader #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #nero sparda #nero x reader #dmc v #v x reader #mine #sin content #devil may cry headcanons

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