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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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gentlemancowboy · 5 months

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#idk I’m bored and thought this would be a fun one #spn #spn polls #dean winchester #gay dean series

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Casper Admits He Loves You Over Text

Pairing: The Grim Reaper/Casper x Reader

Tags: fluff, texting, long distance relationship, accidental confession, wholesome Casper

A/N: Is no one writing for Casper anymore? He's so cute though!

Casper never wanted you to see how red his face got when you flirted and teased him

Most flirty interactions were done over text

It was easier for him to deny his feelings that way

At least deny them to you, he was very well aware of them

It was very late at night while you texted back and forth, talking about your day and listening to him complain about his

From the way he was typing it was obvious he was tired as hell

You felt bad about keeping him up

When you texted him a goodnight message he texted one right back but ended with a 'Love you'

You stared at it, thinking that maybe you were the tired one and seeing thing caused by sleep depravation

Three dots appeared and vanished over and over again several times before Casper appeared in your room face as red as blood and tried to take your phone to delete the message

Even if he did you already saw it, you know his secret now

He can't deny it anymore, sadly, he has to accept it

Because if he tried to deny it now it would only make him look like a very, very bad liar

When he came for your soul he had no idea you're the one who would be leaving with his heart

#a date with death x reader #grim reaper x reader #casper x reader #a date with death imagine #grim reaper imagine #casper imagine #a date with death headcanons #grim reaper headcanons #casper headcanons #a date with death fluff #grim reaper fluff #casper fluff #a date with death #grim reaper #casper #x reader

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year

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PLEASE NOTICE

cw: noncanon universe, college au, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mutual pining, loosely based on that one tik tok audio of stan and wendy from south park LOL

“But if you come, we could—”

Megumi cuts Yuuji off before the words can actually leave his mouth, “No.”

You walk through the door just in time to see Nobara’s face turn from a smirk to a scowl at his unexpected interruption.

“You didn’t even let him finish!” she whines through an irritated pout.

Megumi is quick to shrug proudly, “Don’t have to. The answer is still no.”

With a quick scan of the room, there’s a lot of different feelings dancing in the cramped space of your dorm. Megumi sits with his back against the couch, blatantly annoyed with whatever question was in the process of being asked. Yuuji sits adjacent to him on his bean bag, arms resting on his knees and persistence eager in his eyes. Nobara stands behind Yuuji, hands on her hips and her face puckered into a sour frown.

With caution, you decide to tread lightly. “...What are we talking about?”

Yuuji’s head whips in your direction, desperate for some encouragement in whatever he’s trying to persuade Megumi of.

“We’re trying to convince The Grim Reaper here to come out with us tonight,” he uses a nod to gesture to where Megumi slumps on his phone, frown covered by the collar of his hoodie.

Nobara sighs obnoxiously before explaining, “The bartender at that place on the corner has a weird thing for him, which means free drinks on Megumi tonight.”

You notice Megumi’s eyebrows instantly furrow at her blunt conclusion.

“She’s some girl from my politics lecture,” his response is muffled, dismissive, through his sweatshirt, “I want nothing to do with her.”

Nobara scurries over to where Megumi wishes the couch could swallow him whole. “But she doesn’t have to know that,” her tone is airy with faux potential.

Yuuji lets out a dry snort at her claim, “Some feminist you are.”

A smack is heard, and you don’t need to be looking to know its from Nobara’s hand meeting the back of Yuuji’s head.

“Hey! I love women,” her hands wave in dramatic clarification, “but if Megumi playing dirty gets me a few free tequila sodas, then I’m more than fine enabling this one situation.”

You make yourself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch Megumi sits on. You don’t miss how his eyes quickly flicker over to where he feels the cushion bend beneath your weight.

You let your sock-clad foot poke at his thigh, and he’s quick to turn his attention to you.

“Even if you come and don’t smuggle us free drinks, I still think it’ll be fun,” you shoot him a warm smile. The simple action makes his stomach flip in on itself and his palms sweat with a feeling he can only describe as genuine.

But what follows? Not so much.

“So fun,” Yuuji chimes in, clearly trying to further persuade Megumi into tagging along with them tonight. “Like, the most fun four best friends could ever have.”

Megumi’s eyes roll when he scoffs, “My definition of fun isn’t watching you get wasted and being your babysitter for the night.”

Yuuji howls behind a boyish grin.

“You could get drunk, too,” he teases in an airy giggle, “then everybody wins.”

Megumi’s nose crinkles as he thinks about drinking tonight, “You know I’m not big on drinking.”

“One wouldn’t hurt,” Nobara chimes in, “might even get that stick out of your ass.”

The two choose to ignore her smart remark. Yuuji doesn’t take his eyes off Megumi when he continues to push, “Just for a little bit?”

The huff from Megumi’s chest is instant, “I said no.”

Nobara jumps in again, “I’ll pay for the Uber, out of the kindness of my heart—”

Yuuji suddenly shakes your shoulder with a rough and excited hand.

“Wait—you know that one guy, right?” he beams.

Your head turns at his sudden touch, “What guy?”

“The one on the lacrosse team,” he eagerly reminds you, “who was flirting with you all night last weekend.”

“Oh yeah,” Nobara points your way as she remembers, “that was painful to watch.”

You cringe at the memory—a guy from your campus whom you’d met a few weeks ago. He was nice enough, decently looking, and friendly with the rest of his team—but you weren't interested in him like he was in you. His actions were a bit too handsy and his humor was a tad too crude for your taste. Definitely not worth the two free vodka cranberries he bought you.

You choose to shrug at the insinuation, “Yeah, I mean, I guess I’m friendly with him—”

“Perfect!” Nobara jumps up with excitement. “He’ll definitely be there tonight. You bat your pretty little eyelashes a bit, get a few extra beers for us. And if he tries anything funny, we bash his teeth in.”

She claps her hands together at the simplicity of her plan, and Megumi absolutely hates the turn of events that's happened in the last thirty seconds. Sure, he didn't want to go and entertain some poor girl who has a crush on him for a few drinks—but now, with the alternative being you doing the same thing, he’s suddenly sick to his stomach.

He nearly lunges out of his seat when he tosses his phone down beside him. “Are you guys really this desperate for a few free drinks?” His tone is a bit too irritated for the light conversation at hand.

Nobara and Yuuji spare one another a quick glance, before tucking their smiles into their cheeks and doing their best to nod thoughtfully at their aggravated friend.

“So, you comin’? Or what?”

“Please, Megumi? My favorite stick in the mud?”

Megumi’s head shakes, and he goes to open his mouth to decline rather disrespectfully when your voice cuts him off.

“Megumi,” you call softly, and he’s immediately burning a bright red, both inside and out.

Your eyes are glowing with a hopeful shimmer, one that he can read without any words needed. “I won’t wanna go if you don’t come,” you gently whine, “please?”

Yuuji eagerly hits Nobara’s shoulder a few times as he does his best to whisper, “He’s slipping, he’s slipping.” Nobara grins like a cat, and you swear you can read her lips saying “man down.”

The two of them don’t even try to hide their snickers, but luckily for the two, Megumi isn't focused on them. He’s focused on you—your delicate plea music to his ears as he’s immediately softening and rethinking his whole prior mindset. All because you so much as smiled and said please.

With the look you're giving him right now, Megumi could never say no to you.

“Fine,” he keeps it short and sweet, “but only for a few hours.”

Nobara slaps his shoulder in victory as she skips towards her room to go get ready, “That’s more than enough time for me, buddy.”

“You’re still paying for the Uber,” Megumi calls after her down the hallway, and before she descends out of sight, she turns around and salutes him a confirmation.

With a few giggles, Yuuji isn't far behind her as he too eventually disappears, leaving just you and Megumi on the couch together.

When he turns to face you, he’s flustered to find that you’re already admiring him. You send him a soft smile, one he knows is saying thank you, so he sends one back and prays to whoever might be listening that you know it's saying far more than you're welcome.

#megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic

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lxkeee · 3 months

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FLY ME TO THE MOON: THE SEVEN VIRTUES OF GOD

Notes: just some information about the seven virtues.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Rankings:

The seven virtues consist of seven angels from different triads.

The archangels are Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael/Reader, the virtues of justice, faith, and kindness.

The only dominion angel is Uriel, the virtue of wisdom.

The only seraphim angel is Jophiel, the virtue of beauty.

The only throne angel is Camuel, the virtue of courage.

The only power angel is Azrael, the angel of death.

Most would think the seraphim angels are the most powerful but it's actually the seven virtues who are the most powerful. Strength and power the seven virtues are better as they are in the front lines.

The seraphim angels listen to them.

The seven virtues stayed most of their time on earth, working their separate duties. They watched over the mortals.

Each virtue watches one continent of earth but they do take turns in each continent.

Each virtue has its own personal mansion in heaven.

Personality Dynamics:

The seven virtues think of each other like siblings or best friends at most.

Michael, obviously the older and the leader. Cares for the other six like an older brother does. Cold, serious and takes his role very seriously.

Gabriel, the second oldest. She's like a big sister. Quite a tease too.

Raphael, the third oldest. An introvert, doesn't know how to show affections. She used to but she's currently suffering depression and therefore has trouble understanding her emotions lately but she cares. Very cold and serious when in work mode but awkward and chill during their day off.

Uriel, the same age as Raphael. Very smart, often speaks like a poet or a crackhead and there's no in-between. Total sweetheart and always ready to help. Serious when doing his job.

Jophiel, the same age as Raphael. A flirt, likes teasing others and especially the other virtues. Hides away from responsibilities if he has the chance. If he can't then he would take his job very seriously.

Camuel, the same age as Raphael. Despite being the virtue of courage, he gets scared very easily. Strong though, so he can fight. Got along with the other virtues.

Azrael, the same age as Raphael. A very playful, mischievous, flirty, serious angel. He tends to make fun of others but knows when not to cross the lines. A little sadistic. Always have a smirk on his face, very condescending when in work mode.

The seven virtues both have work and relax mode. When working they are downright terrifyingly serious. But when they don't have any work then they are quite chill.

Michael barely gets any sleep. Functions with coffee 24/7.

Raphael barely has any motivation to do anything.

All seven virtues have sass in their tongues.

Uriel does dad jokes or corny jokes.

Jophiel the victim to listen to those jokes.

All seven of them are tired as fuck, very overworked lmao.

Michael and Azrael often argue cuz the reaper teases Michael. Tend to end up in a fight.

Gabriel tries to break it off and accidentally gets included in the fight.

Camuel the one who actually breaks it off.

Raphael is just there, already used to it.

Jophiel and Uriel watching the fight while eating popcorn, making bets.

Work:

Michael watches over the fairness and equality of earth. Keeping track of mortals' deeds.

Gabriel watches over the faiths of humans, offering guidance to mortals. She's the one who sends mortals' prayers to god.

Raphael watches over the sick and healthy. Providing health to the people who needed it.

Uriel watches over the people and keeps track of the progress made by humans.

Jophiel watches over nature and the non humans, making sure equality is present in all of god's creation.

Camuel watches over the people, providing protection.

Azrael the reaper of souls, guides souls to their destination in the afterlife. Updates the book of life that St. Peter uses so he'll know if there's a new soul that would arrive in heaven.

Day Off Dynamics:

Stays in heaven to recharge.

Often have sleepovers.

Gets very chaotic as they often have nights where they go out for drinks.

Game nights are nights of betrayal.

Michael sucks at uno.

Azrael kept on winning.

Loser does the winner's paperworks.

Gossips. Lots of gossips.

Whether it's heavenly tea or mortal ones.

Michael to Azrael during uno: “Right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if I'm lying. The mf is cheating!”

Yes, they swear.

Only when it's just the seven of them in the room.

Probably hibernates for two whole days.

Other fun facts:

Azrael has two floating or flying eye pets, he can use it to eavesdrop in heaven when he's on earth. It serves as his second pair of eyes. He's always watching.

Michael wields a sword.

Gabriel uses a book as she's more of a mage type of angel.

Raphael uses a sword.

Uriel uses a sword.

Jophiel uses a book to conjure spells.

Camuel uses a bow and arrow.

Azrael uses a staff that transforms into a scythe.

Jophiel accidentally turned himself a frog once and had to attend a virtues meeting in frog form. The others never let him forget.

Uriel drinks more wine than water.

The only girls in the seven virtues are Gabriel and Raphael.

[Y/n] is often rolled into a burrito by the others if she's depressed.

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer morningstar x reader

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teeramoonlover · 28 days

Text

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 to you?

Rafe Cameron - "Guardian from Hell"

"I will kill for you" is truly coded in his veins. He couldn't stand watching other guys, especially who's getting uncomfortably close to his precious angel. Seeing them looking at you like a piece of meat, all he see is red. In his mind, all he could think of; Kill. Every. Single. One of them. From those who have dirty thoughts of you, who dare touch you without your consent and slowly reveal those people their true colours to the world. See, angel? You are not save from those sick fucks. You need him, as much as he needs you. You're his new addiction. Is it worth it to get your attention by having blood on his hand? Absolutely. He wouldn't give a damn. As long as you're safe from those perverted assholes, that's all that mattered. In the end, it will be just you and him. And he'll do whatever it takes to make sure it will stay and remain that way.

JJ Maybank - "The Seeker Admirer"

JJ may be the wild ones but when it comes to you? The way he treat you like a porcelain doll, worship you like a goddess. But the problem is, you're his childhood friend. He thought maybe sooner or later this friendzone will fade. Oh how gullible he was. His obsession with you become too much. That night when you had fallen asleep, he went to your room. Surprisingly, he found your diary. To know your deepest, darkest desire as he read it made him go feral. Slowly your things have gone missing, from your unused chap lipstick, barely empty perfume to your favourite lacey thong. His phone gallery is full pictures of you. Most were decent, some were not. He know it wasn't right, but every time he smell your recent discarded undies, why does it felt so euphorically right?

Nate Jacobs - "The Obsessive Reaper"

He was never meant to fall in love with you. It was just a game. But that was one of his regrets. You were the only one that truly sees him. You are meant to be with him. You and him, together till the end. He even beg on his knee for you to give him a second chance. He wanted to start over. He wanted to be better for you. But you refuse, said, "There's a lot of girls out there that'll fit your standards." What do you mean? You're the only one for him! Oh, I see. If all these bitches around him gone, you will be with him, right? Your name chanted like a prayer every time he fucked the girls. Yeah, he flirt every walking vagina on sight, but to see you didn't give any reaction or attention to his antics made him, for the first time, afraid that he lost you for good. No, no, no. He'll make sure you WILL be with him, whether you like it or not. You're the only one that can save him from this oblivion darkness he consumed too deep.

#Spotify #rafe cameron #jj maybank #nate jacobs #rafe outer banks #jj maybank outer banks #nate euphoria #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader #nate jacobs x reader #outer banks #euphoria #ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader

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spacesurfing · 2 years

Note

❛ would you like to go somewhere a little more private? ❜ with Anakin? (A girl with a big metal hand kink as I have one as well)

-- I love the metal hand as well, it's just so yummy. Thank you for sending in a request!!

•--•

Good Resolutions

Anakin Skywalker x Reader Smut

Summary: You and Anakin never found a way to get along. With your feuds and the war occupying your minds, you were convinced Anakin Skywalker only cared about himself. So maybe you should try as well. And you did.

Warnings: Anakin does make fun of the reader!!, violence, injury, blood, Metal hand kink, Dom!Anakin, brat tamer!Anakin, rough sex, p in v, oral (m receiving), slight humiliation, slight praise kink, inappropriate use of the force, hair pulling, soft ending :)

GIF NOT MINE!!

•--•

You didn't want this war. It had caused pain to everyone; to you, to Obi-Wan, to the clones that knew nothing more than fighting and to the civilians that had to endure it all. You felt horrible for all of the factors in this war. It had caused yourself grief and stress, things that the Jedi were forbid of, but you never understood how the Jedi just saying, "Hey, just don't feel anything and you can stay in our cult of magicians!" would fix any of your emotions from straining against your mind.

And him. Oh him. If you weren't a Jedi, you would've ripped Skywalker's face apart. You hated him, more than you had hated anything. There were only few things you let yourself hate, and one of them was no doubt him. He crawled under your skin, biting at you, irritating you. And the council always thought it was a good idea to bring you two together. In their eyes, the more you had to see him, the more you two "got along" (and the less they had to deal with his bullshit). And through the war process, you hated him even more.

The flirting, oh you couldn't stand the flirting. You didn't dare say anything to the council, you didn't wanna hear about your snitching from him everytime you walked beside him. You'd rather the unnerving silence that was always there till he wanted to brush his gloved hand against your arm, move a piece of loose hair from your face, have the audacity to correct your stances everytime you found yourself in battle. The way he called you 'pretty girl' whenever it was just you and him. You fucking hated everything about him and his stupid, handsome face.

He was really at your throat this whole week though. You'd been sent to Geonosis, another secret imperial base had been made for them to perform their various meetings. It also was supposedly a site for explosives construction on their half. So, you were happy that meant not blowing something to smithereens due to the possibility of very fatal explosives.

As the 501st communicated with your battalion of calm soldiers, you had to stand beside the rat they assigned you to help. You wished that Rex would find a question for you, so you could talk to him instead. You walked in silence with Skywalker, only few of your most skilled men behind you - Commander Tank, Reaper, Mitch, Magma and Cub.

Your men talked to you a lot, they loved jokes and sarcasm, but they didn't like bothering their General, especially when you were next to the man you hated more than anything - in those moments your shoulders were so tense your men thought you were about to punch something. But you honestly wish your men didn't care for your sanity because them being a distraction was better than them being silent and watching your back as Skywalker walked confidently next to you.

"Do you always breathe that loud?" Anakin peeped up, looking over at you. His face was blank but you could tell he was holding in a devilish smirk that you swear to maker you always wanted to slap off of his face.

You looked over at him with pure confusion, "What do you mean?"

"You sound like you're suffocating, is it too long of a walk for you little miss princess?" he asked, purposefully mocking you, just needing to get to your head, to tickle your insecurities.

Your nose scrunched up at his comment, "I've been breathing perfectly fine this whole time, Master Skywalker. Don't you have better things to listen to than my breathing anyways?"

"Well, when you're being incredibly loud, I can't focus on those 'better things'."

You turned away from him, your face hot. Did you really breathe that loud? No, he just wants to get to you. But what if you did really breathe that loud? You felt embarrassed beyond belief. All you wanted to do was fall back and escape to the transport ship that had left what seemed like a millennium ago.

Before you could think too far into it, one of your boys, Mitch, spoke up, "I don't think you breathe that loud, General."

The clone outfitted in white and a forest green fell into step next to you. You smiled widely at him, looking up. It was funny, the clones being taller than yourself - yet they only listened to you. You'd seen other people attempt to boss around your clones, but they had hard heads and they liked to knock them against anyone other than yourself.

Anakin muttered something under his breath, eyes averting away from your figure. You would've asked him what he had said if it weren't for you just simply not caring about his opinion on anything.

Mitch fell back into step with the rest of the men, leaving you in the same atmosphere that you were in before he trailed up on you; in Skywalker's restrained silence. You knew he wanted to say something else, he always wanted to say something about your men being "kiss-ups", just wanted you to give them your full attention.

'If you really want to insult me, don't do it in front of my men,' you spoke through thoughts. You'd think you'd have a force connection with someone you liked, someone that made you cherish their time and attention. The one between you and Anakin was unnecessary and stupid - that's why you never got into verbal arguments. It was almost like texting someone over a holopad, except you could hear their voice almost as if it were in a dark chamber, echoing off the walls of your mind.

He didn't respond, his eyes forward, watching the trail with carefulness that he only faked. He just didn't want to look at you is what the problem was, cause when he did, he would say something nasty. 'Come by my quarters when we get back to Coruscant, then I won't have to say a single word in front of your men.'

For once, you were up to the challenge of talking to him. You always denied his offers, which only sent more teases your way, more glares. The less you interacted with him, the more he mocked you. 'Fine, then I will.'

You watched out of the corner of your eye, a smirk spreading across his face.

It did take long to find something, the hideout that everyone was speaking of. It was small, carved into a peak. "Great, we'll be lucky if we don't find tunnels in this thing."

For once, Anakin let out a small huff of air - a laugh sort of. It was quiet, like he didn't want you, or anyone, to hear that he was laughing at something you said. We easily found the entrance, walked in with muffled footsteps, trying to sneak as quietly as we could try. Tank stood behind you protectively, the rest of your men in line with him. It was the same for Skywalker's battalion - Captain Rex in line with the rest of the 501st. And of course, you never got out of sync while next to Anakin, now closer than you were before in the tight halls.

"I don't like this one bit," Tank said under his breath, looking around while keeping his shoulders tense, ready for whatever there was to come.

"I know Tank but we'll get out of here as soon as possible," you whispered back, keeping your voice low. You were watching cracks trail up into the ceiling, the deep hum of machinery vibrating the atmosphere around you.

Anakin knew too, you felt it, that there was indeed a factory hidden in the cavern you were walking through. You kept your hand close to your hip, though the thought of a fight was very deep in your mind. All you were searching for now was the vibration of voices.

You closed yourself into your own thoughts, listening for noise. For a moment, you could only hear the soft whisper of a joke send over from Reaper to Kix, then you closed out that train. You heard the conveyer belt to the left of you, taking a turn down the next crossroad and simply walking straight. And to the right, you heard the voice of Poggle, speaking in native Geonosian to the other close members of the separatist alliance.

You held up your right hand, stopping your men and Skywalker's men in their tracks. As soon as that happened, you felt a jolt through your mind as he shared the same force channel as you did, listening to a language you never understood. Then you directed him to the left, listening to the sounds of machinery.

"We certainly got lucky this time boys," you claimed, turning around, addressing in a soft voice, "Mitch, I will need you to find a way to shut down the factory when we enter, Kix and Cub with accompany you. Rex and Tank will stay with me and General Skywalker. Hardcase and Jesse, you will stand guard in front of the factory, and the rest of you will take out droids that might be there and find explosive deposits."

The men all nodded, not daring to speak a response and they followed you in the same quiet march that they had kept up that whole time walking in.

"Master Skywalker, you are to take Rex and collect some of the most dangerous explosives when they are found. Tank and I will join you soon after, I would like to continue listening."

Anakin snickered, "They why don't you just take guard and Jesse and Hardcase can actually put the backpacks to use."

You hummed, beckoning Tank to take his backpack off and you dropped both yours and Tank's into Anakin's hands, "As you wish." He looked disappointed. Even though this was your mission, he had bossed you around without getting you upset. What a shame.

•--•

The mission went exactly as planned, which was something that never seemed to happen when you were beside Skywalker on a mission. But today, everything had went exactly as we planned it to go. Well, up until the end. You had hurried your men out and told them to call for a transport as you and Anakin stayed inside, cutting up some of the machinery, the lock on the controls not going to hold up forever. Mitch was good, but not that good.

And, we found a stray droid in the process, wandering into the factory after he must've heard no noise from it. As soon we we rushed at him, he had the last laugh, contacting Poggle to your location on the spot.

You scurried behind Anakin, talking to your men. They reported the transport ship was close, flying down to them now. As soon as you turned the corner to the main entrance though, you felt a sting in your arm. Eager to get out, you tried to not focus on the pain, rushing your men into the ship as you hurried out fast. Reaper threw down one of the explosives, it soon beeping and caving in the entrance.

You smiled in relief. This was the first good mission in a long time, your men keeping Anakin's calm. It was funny, the contrast between how you and Anakin interacted and how his men and your men interacted. Rex pointed that out once. You and Anakin then didn't communicate with each other the rest of the mission.

As you became grounded though, you grasped your arm. It hurt, bad, a searing pain. As you held your fingers up, you saw blood. You tried to hide the injury for the time being, the transport ship making it's way to the command ship and you scurried off as soon as it landed. Or well, tried to.

"Is that... blood, General?" Cub spoke. You winced at his question, turning around to see him standing right there behind you, checking out your wound.

Anakin stepped over, speaking in a commanding voice, "What do you mean blood?"

Cub turned you, showing Anakin the blood forming a circle on the fabric where the wound was under. Anakin grumbled, grabbing your wrist in a way that made you dizzy and dragged you to the infirmary, setting you down on a medical cot and calling over Kix.

The man in blue took off his helmet, setting it down and looking at your arm. "Could you, um, undress for me. If you need a shirt or something we have plenty."

You waved him off, stripping yourself of your long sleeved top and your robes. You had a tight breastband on, not revealing anything in particular but your arms and your stomach. You knew that the men were mature, not taking a wounded woman soldier as some sort of sex worker when she was to be almost half naked to receive medical attention. All the men were very respectful - too good to deserve the lives they had to live.

You waited for Anakin to leave, but as Kix tended to your wound, rubbing some bacta ointment on it and wrapping it up with bandages, Anakin continued to glare at you. You felt his eyes burning right through your head as he waited for Kix to finish.

"Are there any other wounded?" the medic asked when turning to Anakin. Anakin shook his head and Kix simply nodded, saying a goodbye to Anakin and walking back to the hangar bay to connect back with his group.

You downcast your eyes, a frown tugging at your lips as you avoided looking at his figure, broad and hovering over you like a building. You knew that if he was still standing there, arms crossed tight against his chest, he wanted to say something.

When the metal of the door shut with a mechanical noise, and Anakin burst into flames.

"You were injured, and you did tell me?!" he asked, raising his voice as he stared you down. You couldn't avoid his eyes now, looking back at his face you saw the fury in his expression, his eyebrows scrunched, his face in pure anguish.

You inhaled, looking away frantically, then back at him, "Why are you asking me like you've ever cared? When have you ever gave a shit about me?"

"Are you saying you don't believe I care?"

You scrunched your nose up in a way that flipped Anakin's heart, watching as you turned from this closed book into this flaming ball of emotion. "Why should I believe in any universe that you would care about me? You mock me in front of my men, criticize me constantly and overall, you're a huge dick."

Anakin was quick to unfold his arms and cage you into the medical bed, his hair falling in his face as he stared you down. Maker he was big. You had thought he was tall of course but as he really hunched over you, got in your face, he was intimidating to say the least.

"I have always cared about you, do you understand? I worry every moment you are on the field. You do not tell me I don't care about you, I would travel to the end of the galaxy to find you."

You huffed, not letting his fake front manipulate you. It wasn't fake, everything had come out of Anakin's mouth aggressive, yet true. He cared deeply, he thought of you constantly. He was always in a bad mood cause he couldn't have you. He acted like a playground bully because he was convinced it would protect you from his feelings. But fate always prevailed.

"Get out of my face."

Anakin tilted his head and in a mocking manner, spoke, "And what if I don't? You gonna call Mitch? Is he gonna kiss your ass like he always does?"

"You don't talk about Mitch like that, you slimeball," you growled, pushing at Anakin's shoulders. He stumbled a little, but not enough to move his arms from keeping you sitting on the cot.

"Then tell me. What. Are. You. Going. To. Do. About. It?"

As a Jedi, you knew you couldn't use aggression against him. The tones you two were using already was bad enough, biting at each other's necks like stray dogs, but you weren't gonna hit him.

Anakin's blue eyes pierced your soul, they were clouded, his face so close to you that butterflies roamed in your stomach and his lips were plump, curled into a snarl. But soon, a smug smirk played on his lips, "Nothing, you're too much of a good girl. You wouldn't do anything but sit there all pretty, waiting for one of your boys to pick you off your feet and pamper you."

"They don't pamper me, they protect me, something you just seem incapable of."

A rope snapped in Anakin. He couldn't take it anymore, pretending he didn't want you, trying to tell you he cared without actually saying it. Maker, he wanted to be the one to pamper you and protect you. He'd spend countless nights imagining you curled up in his lap, talking the day away, telling him about your latest mission, talking to him in that soft voice you always addressed Ahsoka in.

He knew there was nothing that would make you hate him more, so he move his hand up your arm and pressed his lips to yours. For the anger emitting from Anakin, his lips laid on yours tenderly. He wanted to be mean, he wanted to leave small bruises on your neck and thighs, he wanted to be rough with you, but he couldn't just ruin the first kiss out of a temper tantrum.

When you didn't kiss him back, he pulled away, looking at you with the same expression he had before, but his mouth was relaxed and his eyes had a soft look to them.

You didn't know how to respond. The kiss had made your heart throb, made your eyelids droop as if they wanted to close forever. Your lips felt hot, so did your face. And as if Anakin was water in a dessert, you lurched forward, catching his lips with your own in a desperate kiss. You grabbed at his shoulders, your lips moving against his as he snatched your waist with both hands.

Everything about this encounter made your ears hot, your face was on fire, your body felt like it was made of lava. Anakin tasted so sweet, something you would have never expected. You heard a loud laughter through the durasteel walls of the ship, pulling away from Anakin and pushing lightly on his chest.

"Anakin, there are people-"

"Would you like to go somewhere a little more private?" he asked, his metal hand massaging your waist as he pressed light breathy kisses over your lips. This is the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and maker did he want to make this last forever. But he was still so upset at you, for hiding from him, from keeping the injury to yourself.

You nodded, and Anakin simply whisked you away by your arm, puling you through a side door in the infirmary, leading to a private meditation room, one where no Jedi was to be disturbed if not for their commlink going off. There were only two on each command ship and they were used often, the cheap soundproofing keeping out most of the loud talking and resulting in a hum that most Jedi could be okay with. They were convenient, down a hall that most weren't even permitted to be down anyways, the door with a solid lock on it.

It felt wrong, allowing such feelings and bringing them especially into a Jedi-oriented place. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was forbidden, but Anakin refused to bat and eye at anything being necessarily wrong. This was only a show of passion right? You had to have passion as a Jedi, attachments were forbidden, but didn't you have an attachment to the Jedi order as a whole? It was something you always kept with you, something you could never defy, something that ran your whole life, it was a commitment. So, an attachment?

Your head ran dry of thoughts as he promptly locked the door. Immediately his lips latched themselves onto yours, hands holding your hips close to him as the top of your back pressed against the wall. His hair tickled your forehead, your hands reaching to hold the sides of his face, feeling the fluff of it tangle between your finger tips.

You could already feel him, hard against your thigh, pulling away for a moment to breathe before kissing you again. It was hot, his lips smothering you, heavy exhales between kissing him like our lives would end.

He squeezed your hip tight, making you gasp before sliding his tongue into your mouth. You felt yourself growing wet by the second. Maker, you hated this man more than anything, but the way he touched you and kissed you, the way his face felt under your hands, you never wanted to be away from him.

There was a counter in the corner of the room with a tea machine next to it. He didn't hesitate to move his hands down to your ass, giving it a squeeze and muttering an "Up" before carrying you over to it, mouth still locked onto yours as he dropped you on the counter. You were perfectly level with him in that moment, his tongue sliding against yours. You ached for him and his touch, you wanted to feel him everywhere. He pulled down your pants and boots, leaving them in a pool of clothing next to one of the meditation cushions. You felt absolutely bare, nothing but your breastband and panties on.

Anakin rested his forehead against yours, sharing the same air with you, staring at your curves and the way your panties clung to you. You looked so delicate to him, in a way where he didn't even want to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he groaned, gripping the side of your thighs, "I wanna fuck you, will you let me do that angel?"

You grinded yourself against his bulge, needy for something, anything from him, "Please Anakin, I-I need you."

He knelt down before you, dark blue crystals staring up into your own eyes, prompting you to watch him. He nipped a piece of the fabric, pulling them down your legs as his hands held you off of the surface. You felt like you were gonna start drooling over him, he was delicious to look at, something you always ignored. But you couldn't now, the eye-candy almost in shining light, the only single thing you could focus on.

And you didn't focus on anything else. Which is why you moaned in surprise when you felt cold against your clit. His glove must've been somewhere on his lap, but that didn't matter because his metal thumb rubbed circles against your clit. The contrast felt so good, and you couldn't help but become a whimpering mess.

He prodded a finger at your hole, "Do you like it when I touch you with my metal hand? You know, I did think you were weird, but I never suspected you were this weird."

You were about to make up a comeback, but when he slipped his finger into you, your thoughts were muddled. Your teeth latched onto your bottom lip and you unintentionally grinded against his hand.

"Ani..." you moaned, one of your hands gripping the end of the counter while the other moved to tangle itself into his hair.

He tilted his head, bringing his finger out from you, eliciting a noise from your throat. He popped his finger into his mouth and you could've sworn you could cum just to that sight alone.

"So sweet. I could just eat you up," he said, smirking as he slipped his finger back in, licking through your folds.

You died in that moment, adding a second finger, his lips circled your clit, sucking lightly. You moaned at his action, watching him. It was almost euphoric, the eye contact you two kept. You tugged lightly at his hair as he licked up your juices. He groaned, vibrating your nerves and making you moan his name.

He open-mouth kissed your pussy. "Keep making those nosies, y'sound so good," he muttered, attacking your clit with his tongue and lips, moving his fingers as he began to take them out before shoving them knuckle deep again.

You felt like he was pulling your soul out of you body, hand tugging his hair more often than not, but he loved it, groaning or growling before fucking his fingers into you harder. His fingertips caressed a spot in you which turned your eyes heavy and made you feel weak. He knew you were close, your stomach and walls were tight, your moans turned into whimpers and sighs, and you grinded against his face like a loth-cat in heat.

Anakin's last move was one you never expected and never would have in a million years. He pressed his metal fingers against the one spot inside of you, removing his mouth from your pussy. But, as soon as you thought he was just gonna teasingly edge you, you felt a tingling sensation at your clit. Was that-

"Cum for me, pretty thing, wanna see you cum on my metal hand. I know you wanna," he said, licking at you once more before you saw white, pulling him by his dirty blonde locks, his face so close to your womanhood you only saw his curious eyes as you came on his lips.

Anakin removed his fingers licking at them and cleaning off his lips. Lust was plastered on his face as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, the bend of your knees resting on his shoulders as he cleaned up the rest of your juices with his tongue.

"Sweetest thing in this galaxy, fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes for a second before pulling away from you, untangling your limbs from his own and pulling you off the counter. Anakin turned you around, shoving your chest against the counter. The cold surface made your nipples hard.

"Do you want this?" he asked.

"Yes, please Anakin, I need you," you whined. Okay, he had you tied around his finger now and he fucking knew it.

He hardly even took off his clothes, pulling out his length. You wish you could've seen it, knew what you were getting into before you took him straight. You had heard rumors from ladies at his favorite bar about how big he was. Sometimes you and Obi-Wan would go, equaling the time spent between you and Anakin, only for you to get mad from the mention of his name. But you never expected it to be that big. When you felt the head push against your entrance, you only slumped down and moaned.

Maker he was big, and you could feel him throbbing against your tight walls as he added more inches into you. It felt like he was in your stomach by the time he stopped, pelvis against your ass.

Grabbing your hair, he pulled you head up. You whimpered, attempting to grasp at something around your area, finding nothing and resulting to splaying your hands on the counter.

"You're so fucking tight, pretty thing. I'm surprised that it only took me kissing you to get you all shy. Always seemed like a brat to me," he whispered in your ear, slowly grinding his hips into you. You felt like puddy in his hands, taking everything he gave you, begging for him, letting him use you.

When you spoke, your words came out hoarse, "Shu- Shut up, nngh-"

As soon as the words came out, his hips pulled out before slamming down on your own. He kept you hair bundled up on his hands, keeping your head up.

"Don't back talk me, I'll fucking ruin you," he growled, "Tell me you're mine, tell me how much you love my cock in your pretty little pussy."

As he continued the teasing motion of grinding himself into you, you couldn't help it. " 'm all yours Ani, love how big your cock is, need you to fuck me so bad."

He laughed, straitening himself before taking your hands and keeping them together, pressing them down onto your back as he thrust into you shallowly. His movements made you squirm, pushing back against him.

"So needy," he groaned, smacking your ass, "Beg for it, angel."

"Please Ani, please. I need more, need you deeper Anakin."

It didn't seem to take much of any convincing before he started fucking you deep, rough thrusts that had your eyes going to the back of your head. You were completely useless, being used as a fuck toy for him. You grabbed the wrist that kept your arms pinned against your back, the only thing keeping you grounded to reality.

Anakin was in bliss, feeling your walls lightly spasm everytime he brushed your g-stop, hearing you moan his name like it was a prayer to some god. He might as well have been to you in that moment, he wanted to give you everything, watch you whimper for him. He wished this could've been softer, sweeter, but he wasn't gonna start sex over an argument and not blow off the months of steam you had caused him.

"You're never gonna lie to me again, right angel?" Anakin asked, pulling you up against by your hair.

"Y'never asked, I wasn't lying 'bout something you never asked," you managed, but you soon came to realize that he did not like that answer.

If you had thought Anakin was fucking you within an inch of your life by that time, maker was he pounding into you harder. You all but moaned louder than you've ever even talked and prayed nobody from the outside heard. Anakin had no room for talking anymore, angling his hips up and taking you so hard that you couldn't even focus on breathing correctly.

You weren't gonna last that long, not when he was pounding into your g-spot, fucking you like a ragdoll. You felt your core clench around him, stomach tightening. All you could make were whines of 'Anakin' and 'please'. And when you finally let go, you felt your soul leave your body.

"Good girl, cum around my cock, just like that," he whispered, voice all breath and rasp, feeling you release around him. He pulled out soon after, spilling his seed all over your lower back.

You stayed down, recovering from what you'd feel for days after this. His scooped up some of his cum with his index and middle finger, "Open up."

You took his two fingers into your mouth, sucking eagerly. It tasted tangy, but you didn't mind, better than him being rude and using your clothes to clean it up.

After making sure you were "clean", he simply fixed himself up, which hardly took long as he didn't really undress, put his glove back on and dressed you up. You didn't need his help, trying to push at his shoulders to let you take care of yourself, but he only shoved you back.

"Let me help you, please," he said, pressing a kiss to your hands before fixing your clothes while you gave into the attention.

He pulled you to your feet, looking down at you. Maker you were the most beautiful mess he'd ever seen. A small spot of drool patched the crease of your lips, your hair was a tangled mess, and your eyes were half-lidded. You must've been exhausted.

He only laughed, kissing your forehead sweetly, "How about we go back to the infirmary, get you a shirt and then we'll clean you up, okay?"

You nodded, holding onto his gloved hand and following him. What were you two even arguing about?

•--•

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #star wars x reader #star wars x reader smut #star wars smut #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut

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cookiepie111 · 4 months

Text

Bite me. Love me

König x black reader

A/N-He's weird a walking red flag but the red flags are hazy almost like they're not there? Like a marage. His red flags are something you quite can't put a finger on at first until you realise it's everything it's the sum of all he's doing. A good boyfriend but a bit strange Idk he's sort of a you gotta get uncomfortable before you get comfortable

For me könig a bit of a strange man a man. He kinda understands social cues, but sometimes gets them a bit wrong. he slightly pushes your boutons and boundaries to see what he can get away with and how he can squeeze you

It's kinda like he has you in his teeth but he's not actually biting down, just grinding and rolling you in-between his teeth, he likes it and you're 'safe' that way, he wouldn't actually hurt you

Listen, sorry for all that yapping, but you needed to hear it. Anyway, a longer/second part to könig failed flirting attempt.Please like, reblog, and comment. Not proofread

Tag list: @thatmusedhatter @himboelover @canyonswft13 @montenegroisr @kneelingshadowsalome @havikshoochiemama @wordstome @lanalafey

You lost a bag that's cool, that's fine, although wouldn't call it lost, stolen more like given? Bag was practically thrown it into the robbers' hands. self-preservation above all else.

You couldn't focus on a single thing. Thoughts and worries tangle in your head as you recall the past events in your kitchen. You survive all that time back home, not getting robbed, only for your black ass to be robbed in a cafe in Austria!

'Come to Austria they said it'll be fun they said!'

ID, cards, money, everything in that bag gone. Thrown to the hands of a strange man. Why you. You'd have to go to the police, file a report, call the bank, and freeze your cards. "Aghhh!" All you could do was drop the floor and cry.

Surprisingly, this wasn't the worst pick-up fail könig had, so he can at least find comfort in that. can't get any lower than rock bottom...

The purse in his hands looked comical small, maybe its him, his hands that are making it look so small. you couldn't keep all your things in here? maybe it's a trend for women to carry purses the size of apples, putting fashion over function. Not something that könig would do.

Those who saw the whole ordeal go down, now eye him with suspicion, wondering what his next move will be, gripping their own items closer. He can only laugh to himself if he wanted he'd have no problem taking their stuff away. But it's better to leave so he can find you.

Walking out, he takes the time to look through your bag. cards, ID, cash, so manu important things, and you just handed them over to him. Playing with the ID card in his hands, mulling over your features. you had such a pretty name, such a serious face you were making in your photo too, not at all like the frightened look you had before.

It's more than enough to track you down he still didn't get the chance to ask you out. He couldn't bring it back empty-handed. Maybe a new purse would do.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

The kitchen floor provides a surprising amount of comfort in these moments. 5 panic attacks down, and you're only down starting to cry. The knock on the door is either about to be a blessing or curse. Maybe the police finally came, or a good samartain got your purse back.

There wouldn't be any blessing today. The other side of the door only showed your assailant. If the panic attacks weren't enough to send you over the edge, spiralling, seeing this man at your door certainly was. taking your purse wasn't enough, like some sick grim reaper he's come for your life.

Playing dead is an option, right? You'd have to be stupid to think you could outrun this man. Yeah, laying down for a quick kill would be best-

" I brought you a gift, to apologise"

A gift?

You kept your eyes on bag half because you couldn't believe him and also you were too scared to look him in the eyes.

"It seems I scared you back at the cafe, I only wanted to ask you out" he holds out a bag in front of you.

Ha. It was a mistake. A simple misunderstanding. You'd spent the better half of today crying on the floor because of some big man's poor flirting skills. You wanted to cry again.

Might as well take the bag. What's one more mistake or bad choice today. All your items are there, and you suddenly feel relife, tears welling in eyes as your knees buckle. Your purse, cards, sweets, the second half of the book you're reading? Wait, some of this isn't yours.... was he using your bag to hold his stuff?? You stare back at him, waiting for an answer.

" they're yours a gift to apologize"

"Oh"

Maybe it's all in your head. You're just on edge in a new place. You feel like you can finally relax. The tension knotted in your shoulders slowly unravels. You feel silly and like a wet dog

" I'm sorry about that. Thank you for bringing it back,"

"A date"

What. You see him now only closer than before threatening to enter the boundaries of your home.

" Let me take you out for a drink to apologise." It's such an intense stare he has, focused souly on you. It makes you uncomfortable, stepping back slightly to put some space between you, a bad idea, as he matched your pace stepping forward, foot now fully in your house. You started in disbelief. There's no way this man just stepped in your house, muddy shoes and all. For the last time today, you look back at him, annoyed. An surprise for könig but not an unwelcome one.

"I don't drink"

"coffee"

"No"

"Tea"

"Hmm "

he squints and pauses at that answer

'"a cafe"

"Leave please"

"I'll pick you up on Thursday"

He's barley out the door before you shut it on him, locking the door and pulling the chain

she didn't say no right away. That means he still got a chance.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

It's Thursday afternoon and once again you're sat in the kitchen panicking as your feet tap along with the rhythm of the clock.

The whole morning was spent worrying out your mind. It's a miracle your heart hasn't given out yet. Maybe he was just messing you, and now you've spent the whole morning worrying for nothing. more time passed, and your worry turned to annoyance. You did your whole makeup for this, and he didn't show.

You jump up at the sound of the door, rushing to open it. You pause. Taking a moment to collect yourself before before opening the door.

He looks better than before, still donning that scary balaclava, but in more casual clothes and flowers in hand. He's too forward with his actions, pushing the bouquet in your hands before he even spoke.

It's awkward. He doesn't say much(because that worked so well the first time), and neither do you. This silent walk is too painful to bear.

At least you can say he's a gentleman (sort of). The date was paid in full, and he got a gift. You've learned a few things about könig now. His jokes are cheesy, but they did make you laugh. He resides in an upscale apartment that's too big for him (his words)outside of the city centre. Currently on break from the army (a potential red flag that'll lingered in your thoughts), he's got a big appetite and love for strong drinks.

This afternoon hadn't been all that unpleasant. You quite like the man, you find some strange comfort and safety in him. It's even nice when he pulls you close to him, resting a hand on your hip.

"Haha, are you happy to see me, or is that a knife in your pocket?"

"Knife."

"Hah-" and He pulled out a blade.

...

Oh. Now we're back to weird again.

Why couldn't he just be normal!? It's too casual the tricks he's doing with the knife. How were you supposed to pretend this was normal

You try your best to smile, to not turn and flee scream but your lips tremble. You're really wishing he did have a boner instead. You're not sure what to say or what annoys you more how casual he is, not a single worry on his face.

This is exactly why you shouldn't go out with strange men who randomly appear at your doorstep. At the very least, he's a strong contender for the "Most Heart Attacks Caused by a Man" award.

König wasn't stupid he could sense your worry as you tried to hide behind a lopsided smile. Watching your eyes shift between him and blade, waiting for his next move. You're cute. He'll have fun messing with you.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

You couldn't be happier to be home. You survived! You'd never have to see that nasty man again!

*beep*

It doesn't matter how long you stare at your phone in confusion and annoyance. The message on your phone is clear

......

Where did this man even get your number!? He's known for a 2 whole day's, there's no chance he knows anyone close to you.

You're never going to be free of this man

#könig x black reader #könig x reader #cod x black reader #call of duty x black reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #könig x you #könig x y/n #black reader insert #x black reader #könig imagine #my writing #konig x reader #konig call of duty #black reader #black writers #black writblr

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derangedanomaly · 5 months

Note

sorry for this request, but I love your writing style and all the info you put in♡♡ Also want you to take a break if you get overwhelmed but here's my request.

Can you do Bad sanses + Epic sans x Death god reader? (Basically the reader but they're a god of death to help the balance with Reaper sans since Reader usually offers to help him)

It's absolutely fine, I feel so touched about the compliment..I'm happy that y'all like my work! Hope you enjoy this one, dear requester! ;)

SANS AUS X READER THAT'S THE GOD OF DEATH

(Nightmare, Dust, Killer, Horror, Cross, Error, Epic, Reaper)

Nightmare:

He's very confused at the start to be honest. There's already a reaper, why is there another one?? Was his question, which he (at the end), finally understood.

Holds respect towards you. I mean, you have the responsibility of every dead person, and you never failed. Respect.

Wants to know more about the whole concept of death, but is too busy to focus on it 😭

Is rather surprised that you don't have the 'touch of death' like Reaper, but instead work...kinda like Hades.

Is very jealous every time you help out Reaper. He literally can't stand it, so he just stays in his room to sulk for the whole day. 😂

Very quickly found out that you're immortal, and that mortal weapons don't do shit to your health.

Feels a little unstoppable now that they have the God of Death on their side. (You don't play on sides though, which he doesn't know 😀)

Would love to see how you work. The concept of death always interested him, so he always asks questions about it whenever he has the chance.

Dust:

Dust is not the type of person to simp over someone so quickly. Unless it's you.

The first time he sees you, he literally can't think straight. Finds you very attractive. (The fact that you're the god of death makes him feel something. 💀)

He feels so disgusted by himself, like... Killer's supposed to be the simp here, not him!

Since he's kind of like a nerd when it comes to monster species, he literally geeks out when you two are alone, but he also can't talk properly to you, because he's so attracted to you. 😭

You once took him to the underworld and he almost combusted right then and there. You found it quite cute how he almost resembled a kid in a toy store.

Dust doesn't like Reaper much, so when he found out that you two work together....things didn't end up very good. 😀

Killer makes fun of Dust constantly whenever you're around, but Dust always makes him regret that decision... (He beats his ass)

He has those heart eyes around you, which is really cute 😭

Killer:

Everyone knows that Killer will flirt with anything that walks. So of course his first thought was to flirt with you.

He's always close by whenever you're working, which you quickly found out that it's because he's following you, and not in a cute way. (Stalker vibes 💀)

Look, he just has nothing to do, and he's curious about your work.

One time threatened Nightmare that he can use your deadly touch on him, which backfired, since your powers don't work like that 💀 (Nightmare chased Killer for a long time after that)

Is confused on why you're even offering your help to Reaper. (Also doesn't like Reaper 😢)

Calls you weird nicknames, like...'Deadly Cutie' or just straight up 'Dead'

Wants to redo that one scene in Puss in boots with you, but you don't have time for that. He never gives up though.

Uses those stupid cringe pick-up lines. "Is it true that you are death? Because I’m hoping you’ll bring me along." 💀

Horror:

His first thought was that if he died if he tried to eat you 💀

Horror, in some aspects, kind of reminds you of your dog, Cerberus, so you can't help but treat him as one sometimes.

He's just a hungry killer...so your solution? Feed him the people that died. 💀

After you first gave him the approval to eat the person that died, he's just following you around whenever.

Him and Cerberus don't quite get along, they're both jealous of one another.

The only way you can make them co-operate is if you call them "My boys". Which is doing some things to Horror. 😏

"Ugh..look, I don't want you to do that, ok?! My boys! Come with me." "YES SIR/MA'AM!"

Doesn't mind the fact that you're working with Reaper. He actually likes him! ^^ (FIRST SKELETON TO EVER LIKE REAPER!!!)

Cross:

He literally runs away, the first time he learns about who you are.

Look, he's just frightened about your position, he doesn't want to die. (For now)

It calms his nerves when he finds out that you don't have the deadly touch. Thank god for that...

Cross takes a little time before he starts to trust someone, so he's very much just keeping his distance at first.

Couldn't help but soften at the sight of you with Cerberus. He's a sucker for dogs, so he lets his guard down, and relaxes while being with you.

This event got you two much closer, as expected, Cerberus like Cross very much! Cross gives Cerberus belly scratches. 🥺

After that, he's always offering himself whenever you need help babysitting Cerberus! He's actually really good, so you let him. ^^

Also doesn't mind that you work with Reaper. Just keeps his distance whenever you two are together.

Error:

Is amazed by the fact that you're the god of death.

Observes your work, behavior, anything! Very closely...

He literally becomes your fanboy. (Him and Dust literally talk about you all the time 💀)

His fanboyism isn't as big as Dust's though. He has his limits

Always showing off around you, to make you impressed. Showing off his powers, past, knowledge... Anything that can make you fall for him!

He's the first one to volunteer to help you out whenever you ask.

Scoffed when he found out you work with Reaper. Literally can't stand him, but also can't destroy him, just cause he's popular 🙄

Is so salty about the fact you hang out with Reaper the most 😂😂

Epic:

Doesn't treat you differently just cause you're a god. Treats you as equals :)

Definitely showed you so many memes about death when you first told him who you are. (He laughed his ass off during it 💀)

Laughed his ass off even more seeing Cross' reaction. Wouldn't stop teasing him after that. Like, you really just ran away bruh?? 😂😂

Enlightened you in the beauty of rubber chicken.

He also flirts with you occasionally, just cause he finds you cute.

He's also the only one that can make you flustered from his flirting, which fuels his ego.

Doesn't even acknowledge the fact that you're working with Reaper. The only thing that matters to him is you bruh. 😏

His pick up lines are actually really good, unlike Killer's 😂

Reaper:

THIS SKELETON IS IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER AND THAT'S. ON. SIGHT!!

Your bond is very strong, cause you know each other for a very long time. It's going to be at least a million years now. 💀

You're not together, but he's oh so romantic and genuine that others would think you two are a thing.

Gives you roses every day, and you keep each and every one of them, safely put.

Loves the fact that he can touch you without killing you. Almost always having an arm around you. (Look, he's just touch starved! He can't touch anyone, so of course he has his needs! 😭)

Cerberus sees you two as basically his parents, his tail starts to wag every time you two are together.

Isn't jealous of anyone that flirts with you, cause he knows that at the end of the day...you go back to him.

The only skeleton that's bothering him is Dust, but that's cause he literally has heart eyes around you 😭😭

I don't write anyone identical to canon! I write everyone how I Hc them, just wanted to clarify this just in case.

Anyways, hope y'all liked this! Thanks for the request! :D

#sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #undertale fandom #cross sans x reader #dust sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #error sans x reader #horror sans x reader #killer sans x reader #reaper sans x reader #reaper sans #epic sans x reader #epic sans

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