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foreverdolly · 2 months

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization:

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died.

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this?

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion.

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room.

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters.

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.”

There it was. The truth.

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield.

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong.

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

It was a guard.

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this.

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls.

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground.

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat.

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned.

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you.

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you.

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in.

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged.

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you.

And so they did.

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades.

He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length.

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing.

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . .

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face.

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.”

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on.

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust.

He had to pay for what he did to you.

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault.

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt?

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway.

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start.

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead.

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all.

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely.

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore.

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head.

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved.

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out.

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you.

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you.

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood.

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide.

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin.

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell.

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck.

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again?

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences.

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone.

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation.

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you.

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.”

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was.

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night.

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.”

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved.

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?”

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides.

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub.

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs.

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again.

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep.

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would.

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now.

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now.

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this.

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.”

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd.

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-”

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated.

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would.

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump.

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in.

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin.

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off.

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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djarincore · 3 months

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TAGS: smut, fwb!ghost, car sex, degradation, name calling, PIV

A/N: I said if I got sleep token tickets I'd write more smutty simon drabbles. This is a bit different than how I usually write him tbh but sometimes you don't need to be worshiped and adored you just need to get fucked in the back seat of a car and be called a slut *shrugs*

Simon Riley was all smoke and fury, wound tight beneath rippling muscle and an aloof demeanor. He was a bastard at best and cruel at his worst. He was an impossible to read man.

When he was gone, somewhere far over seas, you would tell yourself you didn't need him anymore. You had more self respect and deserved someone who wanted all of you, not just a quick, meaningless fuck.

But you were always the first person he called when he was home. Maybe that meant something or maybe it just meant he was a lonely man. Either way, he called and you answered every damn time.

He took what he needed from you with primal, untamed desire, and when it was over, he was gone until the next late night call. And you were left angry and frustrated at yourself, at him.

You hated recalling your pathetic mewls and broken moans. The warmth of his skin pressed against your, slick with sweat, as he fucked you, burying his cock deeper into your needy cunt.

With your legs around his waist, your knees burned against the leather of his backseat with every sharp thrust that seemed to knock the air out of your lungs.

Times like those were when you wished you could steady yourself in his hair, silence your moans on his lips, but he never took his mask off. You called him Simon, but you only ever saw Ghost.

So, your hands were forced to find security in the meat of his bare shoulders as he gave you no choice but to sit and let him bounce you on cock.

You hated his voice, always mocking and dripping with venom that made your cunt flutter and chest ache.

“Desperate slut,” he grunted. His harsh breaths fanned over the shell of your ear. “You always take me so good.”

Simon’s hands squeezeed the flesh of your ass. His nails left their cresent marks on you the same way yours did on his shoulders. It would be the closest thing to declaring your ownership over the other. He dragged your hips closer, forcing you to grind down on him.

The stir of his cock inside you pulled a moan from you. You worked yourself against him, almost rutting, feeling him deep inside you.

“Go on. Show me what you can do.”

He went hands off and you did your best to take over. He'd already given you two orgasms before stretching you around his cock. His fingers did well enough to leave you exhausted.

You rose slow with your knees and allowed gravity to take you back down. The slick noises of your bodies meeting seemed to echo in his car. The windows had fogged hours ago from your combined breaths. You were completely consumed by him all around. Nothing mattered, but him and you.

Your stamina was no match for his and you were slowing your movements when your breath struggled to catch up.

He scoffed. His lids lowered as cold eyes focused on your sluggish movements, the wetness glistening on his cock and your cunt wrapped around his tip. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Tired already?”

“Make me come, Simon,” you begged, clawing down his chest. Your hips came down to a slow grind against his, urging him to take over.

Simon never took kindly to your orders. You assumed he got enough as it was from being a soldier.

“Wanted you to work for it, slut.”

He bucked his hips, filling you to the brim once again, kissing your cervix with the head of his cock. Your head fell back as you moaned and clenched around him.

“But I'll make you come,” he promised with each word after followed by a heavy thrust. “Again and again and again.”

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers!

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut #cod fanfic #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x reader smut #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #ghost scenario

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

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Oooh you know I have to jump in here to book my travel package

How about Tech with fluff and pining on Alderaan and/or Bespin. And could I pretty please sprinkle in some hand holding??

💕

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Token of Affection

They say actions speak louder than words. When you unexpectedly join Tech in the cockpit, your presence unravels the intricate emotions he's been struggling to convey.

Pairing: Tech x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, sweetness, pining, idiots in love, comfort.

The lights of hyperspace streaked through the cockpit, the hum of the Marauder’s engines a familiar white noise. Opting to take the first watch hadn’t been an issue - if anything, Tech appreciated the time alone to decompress after the mission. That, and it gave him the time to tinker.

Hunched over Gonky, who was happy to be used as a makeshift workbench, Tech twirled the soldering iron between his fingers before making a few more adjustments to his latest creation. No matter how many times he thought he’d finished it, he always found something to tweak. Objectively, he knew it was because he was nervous about delaying the inevitable, but it was difficult to move past those feelings.

It had to be perfect. You deserved nothing less.

Setting down the soldering iron, he leaned back in the pilot’s seat, critical eyes roving over his handiwork. It hadn’t been difficult to find a piece of doonium – the entire ship was made of it, after all - but he’d decided to contrast it with duraplast from his spare set of armour. A sliver off one of his pauldrons wouldn’t impede the functionality, but it did add a more personal touch.

With a sigh, his thoughts turned to you, as they so often did these days.

Tech couldn’t shake the feeling of longing, lifting a hand to adjust his goggles, wishing he could just express what he felt. But the words never seemed to come out right, and he feared pushing you away with his clumsy attempts at affection. So, instead, he’d poured his emotions into this delicate little bracelet, hoping it would somehow convey the depth of his feelings.

But he couldn’t deny how many of them you brought out in him - your laughter so often echoed through his ship, your presence lightening even the heaviest of missions. There was a warmth in your smile that lingered in his thoughts, a comfort he longed for in the vast emptiness of space. He was created for war, his whole life dedicated to it – and while he was proud to fight alongside his brothers for the Republic, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more from life.

Reaching out, he scooped up the bracelet, the metal cool against his skin. It was a simple design, but every curve and line held a piece of his heart, a silent plea for understanding. Would you see beyond the surface and understand the depth of his affection? Or would it just be another trinket?

The soft hum of the ship’s engines filled the silence, and Tech allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, eyes closing as his longing for you washed over him like a tidal wave. He wished he could find the courage to tell you how much you meant to him, how your presence filled a void he didn’t even realise existed until you came into his life. His brothers knew about his feelings; nothing ever got past them. And he appreciated their assistance – pairing you up for missions, steering you in his direction whenever you had a question – but it would likely go nowhere unless he took the leap himself.

In the heart of the ship, you rolled over in your bunk. Sleep was evading you, adrenaline still coursing through your body. You couldn’t shake the image of Tech from your thoughts, his focused demeanour on the last mission. There was something about how he immersed himself in everything he was doing, a passion that drew you to him. You couldn’t deny the flutter of anticipation whenever you were paired with him, the way his presence seemed to calm the chaos around you.

There were moments when his gaze lingered a little longer than necessary, when his touch ignited a spark of something more profound. Yet, like two stars destined to orbit each other but never collide, the timing never seemed quite right.

Leaning over the edge of your bunk, your gaze lingered on the closed cockpit doors – a courtesy whoever was on watch abided by so as not to disturb those resting. The urge to get up and see him gnawed at you, a persistent whisper in the back of your mind. What if this was when everything fell into place? When the unspoken words between you found their voice?

But doubt crept in, its tendrils weaving through your thoughts like cavenna vines. What if Tech didn’t feel the same way? What if your feelings were nothing more than wishful thinking born out of the intensity of your shared experiences? The fear of rejection loomed large, casting a shadow over the fragile hope that fluttered in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling of your bunk. The seconds stretched into minutes as you battled with yourself.

“Kriff it.” You finally reached a decision, pushing off your standard-issue blanket and swinging your legs over the edge of the bunk. Determinedly, you made your way to the cockpit, your footsteps echoing softly. As you approached, you could hear the faint sounds of activity from within – the occasional clink of metal and machinery’s low hum. Pausing at the threshold, you took a moment to compose yourself, steadying the erratic beat of your heart.

Pushing open the door, you entered the cockpit, the streaks of hyperspace casting a cool glow over the familiar surroundings. Your gaze fell upon Tech, who sat in the pilot’s seat, engrossed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration.

For a moment, you simply stood there, content to watch him work, curious about what he was tinkering with this time. Then, gathering your courage, you cleared your throat, announcing your presence.

Startled by your sudden appearance, Tech’s hands jerked, nearly dropping the delicate bracelet he’d meticulously adjusted. Quickly, he attempted to conceal it beneath a pile of tools, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to regain his composure. “Oh, uh, hello.” He stammered, his voice betraying his surprise as he swivelled in his seat to face you. His goggles slipped slightly, revealing wide eyes as he attempted to mask his flustered state with a forced smile

“Hey.” You replied, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach at the sight of him. Something was endearing about his awkwardness, making your heart skip a beat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tech’s fingers fumbled for a moment before he pushed his goggles back up, his mind racing as he attempted to divert your attention away from the hidden bracelet. “No, it is fine.” He assured, his tone a touch too casual as he gestured vaguely towards the cockpit controls. “I am merely working on a few adjustments. You know how it is.”

You nodded, though the tension in the air was palpable, a silent question hanging between you both. Something felt different tonight, a shift in the atmosphere that left you both teetering on the edge of uncertainty. “Mind if I join you?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tech hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the concealed bracelet, before finally nodding. “Of course.” He answered, his voice quieter than usual as he shifted in his seat. He wasn’t used to being nervous, and it greatly unsettled him.

Pleased that you could stay, you sank into the co-pilot’s seat, opting for a safe conversation topic. “What have you been working on?” You gestured to the scattered tools atop Gonky.

Tech relaxed marginally at the change of subject, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Just some routine maintenance.” He explained. “Nothing too exciting.”

Despite his attempt at nonchalance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his sudden apprehension than met the eye.

Suddenly, Gonky released a series of beeps and shifted from foot to foot. Tech quickly glanced at the droid, trying to decipher its behaviour. Gonky wasn’t prone to random malfunctions; it had to be something else. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tech realised the meddlesome droid was intentionally disrupting his tools.

“What’s wrong, Gonk?” You asked, brows furrowing in concern at his unusual behaviour.

Tech scrambled for an explanation. “He is experiencing a minor glitch, nothing to worry about.” He covered; his voice strained as he attempted to keep his composure.

As Gonky wobbled, the tools stacked upon him slipped, and Tech’s attempt to conceal the bracelet was foiled. The delicate piece of jewellery glistened in the bright lights of hyperspace.

You couldn’t help but notice the gleam of metal amidst the chaos. Your curiosity piqued, you leaned in for a closer look, using one hand to push aside an errant tool, your breath catching in your throat as you realised what it was: a bracelet, intricately crafted with a mix of materials, its design striking yet delicate. Gonky settled, and your mind raced with questions, uncertainty gnawing at you as you glanced from the bracelet to Tech, who appeared uncomfortably flustered under your scrutiny.

Tech’s attempt to conceal the bracelet only fuelled your intrigue further, and a million thoughts raced through your mind. Who could it be for? Was there someone else he cared for? The idea of Tech being romantically interested in someone else sent a pang of jealousy through you, though you tried to suppress it.

Trying to maintain an air of casual indifference, you forced a smile, though your heart felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty. “That’s a beautiful bracelet.” You remarked, your voice carefully neutral. “Who’s the lucky recipient?”

Tech’s gaze darted nervously between you and the bracelet, his discomfort palpable. “Oh, uh, it is just a... project.” He stammered, his words faltering as he struggled to come up with a convincing explanation. “Nothing...nothing important.”

“Well, whoever receives this ‘project’ is very lucky.” You stated, not believing for one moment that it was merely something he was creating to pass the time, but you wouldn’t pry.

Silence lingered for a moment, the air uncomfortable, before Tech let out a small sigh. There was no point trying to hide it anymore, no point in lying to you. Picking up the bracelet, Tech took advantage of your outstretched arm, carefully fastening his creation around your wrist. “My research indicated that giving tokens of affection to those you care greatly about is important.” He explained, double-checking the fastening, head tilted downward so he wouldn’t have to witness your reaction. “I do not have much, but I hope this is satisfactory.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Tech fastened the bracelet around your wrist, his words sinking in like a warm embrace. The weight of his gesture left you speechless, a rush of emotion flooding through you as you stared down at the intricate design encircling your wrist. It was more than just a token; it was a silent declaration of his feelings laid bare for you to see.

Touched by his vulnerability, you gently lifted his chin so he could meet your gaze. “Tech.” You began, your voice soft but steady. “This means more to me than you could ever know.”

Tech’s eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features as he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of your acceptance. With a shy smile, he held your gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. “I care for you more deeply than I ever thought possible.” He admitted, his words laced with sincerity. “And I hope, perhaps, that you feel the same way.”

Your heart swelled with affection, the weight of his confession lifting the lingering doubts that had plagued your mind. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss against his cheek. “I do.” You whispered, voice low and soft. “I care for you more than words can say.”

As your lips brushed against his cheek, a rush of warmth flooded Tech, dispelling the lingering shadows of doubt clouding his mind. He could scarcely believe that you felt the same way, that his clumsy attempt at expressing his affection had been met with such genuine reciprocation. It was a moment he had longed for.

With a soft exhale, Tech’s shy smile turned more confident and he reached out, his hand finding yours as if drawn by an invisible thread, fingers intertwining in a gesture that spoke volumes.

There, in the quiet solitude of the cockpit, amidst the endless expanse of hyperspace, something beautiful bloomed.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees @padawancat97 @dangraccoon @jedi-hawkins @sverdgeir

#Soaring's Tours Follower Celebration #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x you #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch

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the-marshals-wife · 1 year

Text

The Bad Batch Having a Token of Their Love For You Would Include (Bad Batch x Reader)

A/N: I love these boys so much and I thought of this instead of going to sleep all week. I really hope y'all like my idea for Echo's especially. He deserves the galaxy and more.❤️ (I also had extra ideas that are definitely still in character but probably "anachronistic", so I just labeled them bonus. I mean we have finally 'caf'' aka coffee in SW canon, so maybe there's hope for hoodies 🤭)

Description: Bad Batch x Fem!Reader | Warnings: none, just lots fluff and kisses

★ Bad Batch Tag List ★ @dantes-devil-huntress @sageislostinspring (comment to be added!)

Gif credit: user mutantfactor

Hunter

He would get a tattoo of your name

Hunter did not need his heightened senses to be certain that he had fallen in love with you - if anything, they just strengthened his conviction that you were the one he was meant to find

Being the intensely devoted and thoughtful man he is, you were on his mind constantly, and he wanted a symbol of his love to be as a part of him as you had become

He didn't even tell you at first because he wanted it to be surprise

It wasn't until he changed into plainclothes for an undercover mission that you noticed the new black ink on his right bicep

You grabbed his arm and stared at the Aurebesh letters spelling your name

"You like it?" he asked, a little nervous

Speechless, you pulled him into a kiss

"I'll take that as a yes" he smiled, before getting another embrace filled with kisses

Whenever you have time alone together, you love to slowly trace the letters with your finger and listen as he dreamily talks about the future

Later in your relationship, he would want to add to it with a portrait of you, and someday, the names of your children

Bonus: he would keep anything you gave him like a pendant or a ring and wear it whenever he could (this man would totally wear one of your scrunchies and make it look hot - a product of his 'girl dad' powers that you find very attractive)

Wrecker

He would keep your shirt to cuddle with

The only thing Wrecker has ever been discreet about in his entire life is his feelings as he was falling for you

It wasn't for lack of trying. He had been officially head over heels for months, but every time he tried to tell you, his words suddenly came out wrong

You thought it was adorable, and you were sure he'd figure out how to say what he was feeling when he was ready. It just gave you more opportunity to realize you were falling for him too

What you couldn't figure out, however, was where your favorite shirt had disappeared to

That is until, after days of searching, you finally caught a glimpse of it tucked beneath the pillow in Wrecker's bunk

You were stifling a giggle when he walked up behind you, looking nothing less than mortified

"Oh, Y/N! That! I uh...I found it on the floor and I was going to give it back to you! But it smelled really nice, and pretty...like you, and um, then I forgot..." he stammered, his face bright red

You smiled and kissed him on the cheek, "Keep it."

In the weeks following, you would refresh it with a spray of your perfume every so often when he wasn't looking

He would also draw doodles of you whenever he had downtime

You were all on a mission not long after the discovery of that day, and during his watch, you rolled over to see him drawing in the sand with a stick. He'd scribbled your initials together within a heart, surrounded by a dozen tinier hearts.

Suffice to say he was not the only one feeling absolutely smitten from then on

Bonus: speaking of shirts, you would absolutely be the couple with the "If lost, return to ___ + I'm ___" tees (likely worn with your matching homemade 'friendship' bracelets)

Tech

He would keep a recording of your voice and laughter

Tech is a private person when it comes to his emotions, but he feels very deeply, even if he isn't sure how to best express his growing affection for you (he thinks it's obvious, after all)

It's this very reason why you doubted that he returned your feelings at first, until you walked by him one day and heard the sound of your own laughter, playing over and over

"What's that?" you questioned, now recognizing the moment that had caused your sides to nearly split (Wrecker had just taken the most dramatic fall into mud you'd ever seen, immediately after bragging he was 'too heavy' to slip)

Tech muted the sound and kept his stare on the datapad, "I capture auditory recordings of all of my interactions for analysis, and file away important data for later reference."

"My laughing is 'important data'?" you smirked as he hesitated for only a moment

"Well, no. Not technically. It is, however, a pleasant sound that reminds me of you, and one that I would like not to forget. By that reasoning, it is important to me," he stated, calmly meeting your awe-struck gaze

It took all your strength not throw yourself into his arms right then and there. He went back to filing his recordings, oblivious to the fact that he had just irreversibly won your heart

He'd also incorporate you into some of his private passcodes

Anything from your initials to your eye color to your favorite flower - just some of the many details that he associates with you and remind him of how much he cares for you

Bonus: if he had a lockscreen/background, it would definitely be a picture of you. He would also be the type to make you a playlist of your favorite songs all from memory because he knows you that well

Crosshair

He would engrave your name on his rifle

Crosshair is a man of conviction and loyalty, and when he was certain that he could trust you with his heart, he wanted to display his loyalty in turn

Modifying his rifle in any way at all is significant, so ingraining your name on the scope is a very personal gesture to him

He caught you completely by surprise on a mission, casually showing it to you while you had watch together

You were stunned to see your name glistening in the firelight, every letter expertly etched into the smooth metal, "Cross, I can't believe you would do that for me..."

"Your love makes my aim true," he replied, wholly sincere

This one remark sealed your fate, giving you both the courage to lean in and share your first kiss

"Then you will never miss," you whispered afterward

You spent the rest of your watch sitting close together in soothing silence under the stars

He would also carve your initials into the wall of his bunk

Wherever he would go, you would be there also. His devotion is unyielding, and you have a partner until the galaxy itself burns up

Bonus: a huge sign of his affection would be letting you wear his clothes. He may act disgruntled, but it's all in jest because would be the boyfriend that's extremely proud to see you walking around in his hoodie

Echo

He would have your handprint on his armor

It seemed like a lifetime since he'd had the handprint from Captain Rex on his chestplate that had meant so much to him through those long years of war

When Echo is sure of something, nothing can move him from it. Not much time was required for him to know that he wanted to share his life with you, and that he wanted your handprint on his armor

He confided in you quite a bit about his past in the GAR, and you knew about the original print, but you never dreamed that he would ask you to replicate it

"Are you sure?" you asked in disbelief

"I am, Y/N. There's no one else whose mark I'd rather carry with me, and no one I want by my side more. On and off the battlefield," he confessed, taking your hand in his

Tears welling in your eyes, you dipped your other hand into the red paint on the table, placed it carefully onto his chest, and pressed your lips to his

More than a symbol of love, you both knew this was a vow to keep fighting for a free galaxy where you could build a future together

He would also have a photo of you in his personal things

He's not afraid of letting his relationship with you be known around his brothers, but his horrifying experiences imprisoned by the Separatists have made him extra cautious in all things. He keeps his photo of you safely tucked away and never brings it on missions, not wanting to risk it falling into the hands of anyone who would ever want to harm you

Instead, whenever you're apart, he holds his hand to his chest before he drifts to sleep and dreams of you. The nightmares are all but gone

Bonus: you two would totally have matching caf mugs with snarky sayings. "Grumpy parents in the morning" vibes all the way

#the bad batch imagine #the bad batch headcanons #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #the bad batch #my writing #yes wrecker's and tech's are a bit longer #they're my faves what can i say? 🥰#plus echo and yn are totally married now i don't make the rules 🤭#the bad batch x reader #bad batch headcanons

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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

Text

October 29th

Breathplay, Swiss x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.2k.

Warnings: Breathplay; choking; Ghoul!Reader; public beginning; semi-public ending; public dry humping; dubcon; listen, I can’t help myself, okay?; they get real fucking awkward someone slap ‘em; finger sucking; fingering; squirting; positive degradation (took me 29 days but we got there in the end); possessive (if you squint); dacrophilia; unprotected sex; piv; vaginal sex; I went feral lmao; spit kink; cock warming;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

Author's Note: Major thanks to @da-rulah for giving me this idea, like legit, this was all her idea. She’s the organ grinder, I’m just the monkey. Inspired by… recent events.

Recommended listening: Hypnosis by Sleep Token.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

It started with Dewdrop.

You danced on your podium stage, the roar of the crowd echoing in your ears as Watcher In The Sky droned on. The blinding spotlight followed your every move as you took your place behind the microphone, a sea of faces stretching out before you. The anticipation in the air was electric, and you could feel the bass thumping through the stage floor, matching the rhythm of your racing heart.

From the corner of your eye, underneath the mask, you saw him charging towards Dew at an alarming rate, his broad shoulders tense and fists clenched. It didn’t register fully until you got a good view of his body, and then you realised it was Swiss. Swiss was usually feral during this song - you’d seen clips of him online afterwards if you’d missed it during the concert. But usually he kept his insanity to his corner of the stage. Not tonight, though. Tonight he was gunning for the source of his anguish - tonight he was racing towards Dewdrop and his guitar that was loudly whining in everyone’s ears.

The first time it happened, it was just a scream. Well, a scream and a bite, but it wasn’t anything more than that. Harmless, really… even though it did set you on edge. There was something equally thrilling yet terrifying about seeing this big, burly man, who was usually the sweetest guy, angrily charge at someone so small in comparison; but also knowing that he had gained the confidence to wander around. You weren’t forbidden to leave your individual stages per se, but Papa did prefer it if you stayed in your place.

This was also amongst all the things he was doing with the other Ghouls - namely with Aurora. The way he got on his knees for her every time Cirice played, every time he pretended to pleasure her, sent shockwave after shockwave through your body. And the night they kissed? You felt the green-eyed-monster make an ugly appearance, and wished that was you.

The next time it happened, things got a little more… heated. His strong hands wrapped themselves around Dew, engulfing his entire hip and front. His large frame dwarfed the Ghoul in comparison and completely hid him from your view. You couldn’t see what Swiss was doing to him, but judging by the repetitive movements his arm and shoulder were doing you could easily come to a general conclusion.

The third night was worse… so. Much. Worse. You watched as Swiss wrapped his large hand around Dew’s neck, gently choking him while imitating jerking himself off. It definitely shouldn’t have done things to you. It definitely shouldn’t have made you think the things you did. It was just two guys playing around on stage… sure their game got a little sexual, but there was no harm done and the crowd certainly enjoyed it. That night though, as he was walking away, he made eye contact with you and caught your mouth agape. That night, he decided he was going to come and hang out with you for a few songs.

The next day, as you were putting your uniform on and painting your face the typical Ghoul style, a knock wrapped at your door. “Come in!” You shouted. Your body froze when Swiss walked through the door.

“Hey, loser.” He teased as he usually did, leaning up against the door frame. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his gorgeous forearms that were crossed against the broad expanse of his chest - and you weren’t at all staring at the way that position pushed his breasts together to create a tempting amount of cleavage, visible only by the crease of his shirts. The leg he wasn’t resting on had also crossed over his body, and stabled him a little more by the toe of his boots.

You cleared your throat and looked back to the mirror, picking up your black paint box and scooping more up onto your finger. “Hey, loser. Did you not have anything better to do than watch me get ready?”

He tutted. “Now, can’t a guy come and visit his favourite Ghoul before a concert for a little conversation? What if I was Rain, hm?”

“Well, if you were Rain then I’d be much kinder. But you’re you. You want something. Spill.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he raised his hands in defeat, “you got me. How’s about we play a little game on stage tonight?” He walked over to you and stood behind your chair, looking at you in the mirror. His hands rested on your shoulders and gave you a little rub.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll choke you instead of Dew.”

You tried not to react in any incriminating way - this was Swiss you were talking to. If he saw a flicker of anything besides absolute disdain or unbothered attutitudes, he’d rib you for the rest of time. You swallowed, and continued applying your paints. “Why me? The crowd loves that gay shit and what you do to Dew. Hell, they love what you do to Aurora, too.”

“Yes, but,” he leaned down so his mouth was level with your ear, his deep voice dropping low, “you love it, too, don’t you?” You froze. “I’ve caught your face. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, you know?” He stood back upright. “Unless you actively stop me, I’m going to play with you tonight. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence.

He tapped your shoulder and walked out of your dressing room. “See you tonight!”

You stepped onto the stage that night, the bright lights momentarily blinding you. The roar of the crowd echoed through the arena as the music began.Your thoughts kept drifting to Swiss—and whatever the hell it was that he had planned.

Swiss stood there, his presence commanding and his voice a captivating force. His every move seemed to draw you in, and you found it hard to concentrate on your own performance. The lyrics you were supposed to sing became a blur as you watched him, transfixed by his talent and charisma.

You tried to focus on your harmonies and choreography, but Swiss’s magnetic presence was an irresistible distraction. Every time your eyes met his, a spark of connection passed between you, intensifying the infatuation that had taken hold of your heart.

The familiar darkness of Cirice screamed through your in-ears, and you looked back over to Swiss’ podium but he was missing. Nowhere to be found. Given your conversation earlier, and his habit of going feral during Watcher in the Sky, you assumed he would do something then. It wasn’t until you felt his hands around your neck you realised he had other intentions. His fingers clasped your neck as the intro reached its pace change, the tips of each appendage falling onto your throat seductively, as though he were drumming on a desk and using his thumb as an anchor. You felt his helmet connect with yours and his body press up against your back. The longer he stayed there, hands attached to your throat, the tighter they held, squeezing the sides of your esophogus like an anaconda about to feed. Of course, he didn’t restrict your air flow. Of course, his hands tightened in all the correct places that made you feel lightheaded without damaging your body.

Of course he knew how to do that.

You couldn’t hear anything, or take in what else was going on. Your mind was consumed by his hand, and now something else pressing into your hip you didn’t expect to come out and play. The feeling of your pulse quicken sent shockwaves through Swiss’ body upon the realisation that you enjoyed this. You liked feeling his hand around your throat. You liked how hard he was squeezing. He placed his other hand on your hip and, clearly thinking only with his dick, rutted into you. The first time was an accident, he told himself. The second, third and even fourth time was because you felt so good against him, he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t until he heard Papa singing the opening lyric, he remembered where he was, and that you both had to stop. So, he pulled away, and rushed back to his own stage.

After the adrenaline of the concert had faded, you found yourself back in your hotel room, still buzzing with the memory of Swiss’s hands haunting your mind, and you swore you could still feel his fingers ghosting your skin. As you tried to unwind, there was a sudden knock on your hotel room door.

Startled, you crossed the room and opened the door to find Swiss standing there, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He had sought you out, and it was clear he wanted to talk.

“Hey,” he began, his voice a little uncertain. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened tonight. I-”

“Come in.” You said, opening your door wider and allowing him to enter.

“Thank you. I just wanted to apologise for crossing a line tonight.” You closed the door behind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t have any excuses. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise, I-”

“I crossed boundaries, I really-”

“I liked it!” The words spilled out of your mouth, revealing a depth of feeling you hadn’t intended to share just yet. Swiss’s surprise was evident, but his expression softened with understanding, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours for sincerity. “I… I didn’t realize,” he began, his voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. “Where do we go from here, exactly?”

To hell with it, you thought. The damage had already been done, you might as well just rip off the bandaid and get it over with. “You could do it again.”

“N-now?”

“If you want…”

“No, I want… to.” He swallowed. The man in front of you was now so far from the Swiss you knew. His confidence was… somewhere in the room. But nowhere near him at the present. A tinge of excitement mixed with the nervousness in Swiss’s eyes as he contemplated the idea of doing it again. It was a leap into uncharted territory for both of you, a risky move that could either cement your connection or create an irreparable divide. Yet, the allure of it was too strong to resist. “Can I kiss you?”

Your voice came out breathier than usual - breathier than it ought to be. “Yes.”

Swiss finally closed the gap, his lips touching yours softly at first, not wanting to let loose too quickly and scare you away. He’d already crossed multiple boundaries today, he couldn’t bring himself to cross another. His hands came to your biceps, thumbs rubbing over the clothed skin in a comforting up and down motion. It wasn’t until you’d decided you were ready for something more that he finally let up.

Still in his uniform, you grasped onto his collar and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and earning a little grunt in response from him. His left hand travelled upwards as your tongue gained access to his mouth, and eventually you felt his bare palm over your neck, thick fingers gently squeezing at the sides. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound so delicious on his tongue and reverberating in his ears, sending blood rushing south. That one sound did things to him he had never imagined. That one sound made him vow that you were going to cum around his cock tonight, with his hand wrapped around your throat.

He broke the kiss to torment you further, as if his actions on stage the last few days hadn’t been enough. As he spoke, his hand remained on your throat, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you? I can feel your shakes of excitement. Those moans. The light in your eyes.”

“Please.” You said. As he squeezed at the sides, you could feel the restriction but not enough to cut of air supply entirely. Your head felt light and dreamy, eyes hooded with lust, hands grasping onto his forearms tightly to help you steady yourself. You begged, for what you couldn’t say. Maybe it was just force of habit; maybe it was your brain telling you to say it because he liked it; or maybe you wanted him to do unspeakable things to you while his fingers threatened to close your airways. A delirious smile painted on your face as though you were descending into madness the longer he touched you. His hand on your throat wasn’t enough for you. You imagined his other hand between your legs, dipped into your cunt. You wanted his fingers to violate you, roughly penetrate your walls and hit that spot hard over and over until you were screaming out for him.

Regardless, he approved, confirming this with a hum, voice so low it sounded like a tiger’s purr. “Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want.”

“Your hands.”

“My hands, hm? Doing what?”

“Touch me.”

He ghosted his lips over yours. “I am touching you.”

You took his free hand into yours and guided it to your waistband, dipping it below the fabric and hovering above your core, already wet and ready for him. “Here, too.”

“Greedy pup. No, baby. If I’m going to touch you, I’m going to do it properly.” He removed contact from you completely and took a step back. “Undress yourself.” You watched him remove the watch from his wrist, eyes fixated on his hands. “So desperate to have me touch you. Come on, baby. Don’t make me ask you again.”

You nodded dumbly, slowly removing items from your body until you stood bare in front of him. Swiss, in that time, had been removing his own clothes, except he was left only in his underwear. He placed one final kiss against your lips, feather-light and leaving you wanting, but still grateful for the attention. “On the bed, sweet baby. Spread your legs for me.” He instructed.

You followed his orders like a soldier to their commanding officer, eagerly hopping on the bed and exposing yourself to him. Where the confidence came from, you couldn’t say. In a normal situation, you’d be much more modest or tasteful with your movements, hesitant to expose yourself so readily. But there was something about Swiss’ commanding demeanor, his authoritative aura that had the hairs on your body stand on end, electrified in anticipation of what was to come. He had you wrapped around his little finger so quickly, it should have scared you. You weren’t one to easily submit. Yet you watched him climb over your body with hunger in your eyes, and mischief in his. You zealously sucked on his thick, middle fingers when he placed them in your mouth, and shivered when you felt them prod at your sopping entrance.

His digits met no resistance as they breached your walls, tapping the secret button inside that made your mouth fall open in complete pleasure. The squelch of your juices drowned out your little whimpers, and sped up as his tempo became more and more vigorous. Your body shook with the ferocity of his movements, and your fingers clutched onto the bedsheets to divert the energy from your mouth and cope with the overwhelming feeling boiling up inside you. You had to remind yourself of your location, that you were sharing a wall with a colleague and that you couldn’t be too loud; but Swiss simply tutted.

“Am I not making you feel good?”

You had to force air back into your lungs. “You are!”

“Then why can’t I hear you?”

“I-” You didn’t know what to say.

“Let me hear those slutty little moans, baby. Or I’ll stop.”

“No! Don’t stop, please don’t!”

“Then,” as he moved his fingers inside you, his other hand came to your throat, “be loud for me. And play with your clit.”

At the feeling of him restricting your esophagus again, combined with both of your hands working in tandem with each other, you had begun to reach heights you’d never been able to achieve with another person, even yourself. There were times when you were in the throes of touching yourself, when your own hand was desperately working yourself to orgasm, that you’d choke yourself in order to feel the ecstasy you were begging for. But it wasn’t quite the same - it never was. Yet now, your finger was frantically rubbing over yourself as your other hand moved from the bed sheets to clutch around his wrist as it gripped tightly to your neck, deliciously sending you back into that state of delirium.

Swiss knelt in between your legs, allowing your hips to buck wildly. His eyes were fixated on your face, cock hardening at the sight of you. Your eyes were rolling back into your skull, your mouth hanging open as if you were possessed. You were one tongue and a few tears away from a perfect ahegao, but there was still time. He’d make sure of it.

“Swiss!” You called out helplessly from below him, weak, vulnerable, half-crazy with the feelings he was making your body feel. He couldn’t deny just how delicious his name sounded coming from your swollen lips, oozing with need and desperation. Your mind was completely his; your body gifted to him willingly in your need to be choked and dominated. His name was the only thing you’d remember while he had you under his touch - under his fist. “G-gonna cum!”

“Yeah?” His voice was a little higher pitched, condescending. “Is my perfect girl gonna cum all over my fingers, hm?”

“Yes! Yes! Lucifer, yes!”

“No, no, no. Not on my watch, baby girl. Lucifer can’t make you feel this good. Who is?”

“You are!”

“Say my fucking name.”

“Swiss! Fuck! Cum-cumming!”

Vesuvius had nothing on your eruption. He paled in comparison to the earth-shattering explosion that set off inside you, and forced its way out without your knowledge. You poured yourself all over him, bathing him in your sacred water while your throat screamed bloody-murder beneath his hand. Fingernails dug into his skin as your body shook, cunt clenching tightly around him. Your vision, when you were able to think coherently again, was black in the corners from the intensity of your orgasm. As your orgasm subsided, Swiss’ hand pulled out of you and took over from yours, gently rubbing circles into your clit and making your body clench with little pockets of sensitive aftershocks. He wouldn’t stop until you told him to, and those words weren’t falling from your lips so he continued his ministrations, working you into over-sensitivity, gradually picking up the pace until his fingers were ferociously working you up towards a second orgasm; and you, the ever-willing recipient to his torture, accepted those gifts graciously, desperately calling his name as your mind went dumb from the pleasure.

Tears were falling from your eyes this time, and you clenched around nothing when you felt his broad tongue lick them from your face. All the while, his hand never left your throat.

His cock was girthy - average length but thick, and it met no resistance as it slid into you. His thigh hooked under your knee and lifted your leg further up the bed, allowing yourself to open up even more to him, and granting him the ability to bury himself all the way inside you, only stopping when there was nothing more to give. Every single one of your nerve-endings were standing on edge, holding matches to light the third fuse of the evening and preparing to hurt you in all the best ways. Swiss’ hand was on your throat, applying a similar amount of pressure as before while forcing your head in place to keep eye contact with him as he bottomed out. The drag of him against your walls, stretching you, filling you, was exquisite. His eyes, burning hotter than embers bore into your own, creating a depraved yet intimate moment as he geared up to fuck you into the mattress.

“Oh that’s fucking it, baby girl.” He moaned out in pleasure above you, savouring the tightness he’d buried himself inside. He removed the pressure from your neck to allow you some respite, but he kept it there to remind you of his intentions. “Fucking hell. If I’d known your cunt was this good I’d have taken you much sooner.” He began to thrust into you, resting most of his weight onto his other hand. His pubic mound rubbed against your clit, hairs tickling you and providing a small amount of stimulation. “This pussy was Hell-sent just for me, wasn’t it? Shit. So fucking perfect. You open up so well for me. So fucking wet for me, shit!”

He picked up speed. “Fucking ruining me. Why would I fuck another slut when I’ve got you, hm? So willing, and pliant,” he applied pressure again and watched your eyes light up, “and freaky. Oh shit!”

He was speechless for a while, focussing on the sound of your cunt swallowing him over and over again, squelching for him in appreciation of his hard work. He looked down to watch the cream of your pussy gathering around the base of his cock - well, all of it that wasn’t streaming down your folds and gathering on the sheets below you. So fucking tight and wet for him. He’d never been with anyone quite like you. The way your pussy opened up for him, the tears you were crying because of him, your screams of ecstasy. It was almost too much.

“Open up for me, baby girl.” He told you, and once you obliged, a string of his saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. He was laying claim to you wherever he could and groaned deeply when he felt you clench around him, becoming impossibly tighter. “Fucking hell - you loved that didn’t you? My beautiful, dirty whore. Touch yourself for me again.”

Your hand snaked down between your bodies to rub at your clit again, harshly and quickly stroking yourself in desperation of your third orgasm. You could tell that he wasn’t far off himself, erratic thrusts announcing how close he was. All the while, you were mewling beneath him - screaming for him. The drag of his cock against your walls, working alongside the tightness of his hand around your throat intermittently squeezing, was pulling you ever closer to the edge of euphoria. Just a little more and you’d fall - a little more and you’d be free.

“Swiss!” You shouted his name repeatedly, begging him over and over.

“I know, baby. I know. Keep going for me, that’s it. Fucking shit. I’m never gonna stop fucking this pussy. Where can I cum? Please tell me I can cum inside you.”

“Yes! I want it inside me. Give it to me, please!”

“Oh fuck! I couldn’t stop if you said no, baby. Can’t pull out. Too. Fucking. Good.” Each word was punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that sent your body up the bed a little. “You gonna cum, hm? Gonna cum on this goddamn dick?”

“Yes! Fuck, Swiss! You’re gonna make me cum!”

“Do it, baby. Cum for me.”

He tightened his grip one final time, keeping his pace while you kept yours. Your third orgasm was violent in all the best ways. Your vision was the first to go, eyes glazing over and rolling back as drool poured from your open mouth. Your hands cramped where they sat, digging your fingernails into his strong arm while rubbing your clit to completion with the other. Your back arched, your lungs refused to fill with air. Your voice was silent as your body convulsed in pure, unbridled pleasure while your mind swam with delirium from the subtle air restriction.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Fuck - I’m g-gonna cum in this tight fucking cunt. Shit!”

Swiss came next, his seed pouring deep inside of you and painting your walls white. After your third orgasm, he selfishly chased his own, temporarily using you as a toy to tip himself over the edge and meet you in your euphoria.

Your hearts were racing from the adrenaline of the moment you’d just shared. Swiss could hear yours as he collapsed on your chest, his cock softening inside of you. You were both too tired to move, too sensitive to feel the cold. He wrapped your leg over his hip and rolled off you, hands and your leg pulling you with him. As soon as you both made eye contact again, his lips met yours in a desperate and needy kiss. This one, however, wasn’t intended to get you both riled up again ready for a second round, though, the longer your lips were attached and your hands roamed over his body, you could feel him chubbing up inside you. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” You whispered. “Thank you.”

Swiss chuckled. “I know, but it’s always nice to be reminded.” Another kiss, but this time your hand gripped onto his hair and pulled a little. “Don’t fucking do that or I’ll have to fuck you harder.”

You tugged again.

“___.” He warned.

You didn’t heed it and pulled one final time.

“Right,” he pulled out of you and flipped you on your stomach, “remember, you asked for this.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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blue-lollipops-and-ice-clouds · 24 days

Text

Vessel, II, III, IV, and Espera/Echoes/Choir.

(Source - the wonderful samtoken_)

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token #iii sleep token #iv sleep token #espera sleep token #choir sleep token #echoes sleep token #i am in love with the echo name by the way

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leonsleftbicep · 1 month

Text

ANOTHER ONE!/ref @moonchild-in-blue

Lotus and her Auntie Echos featuring me actually writing in cursive lol

#dad token #sleepy cryptid boys #the duck can draw #sleep token #sleep token band #espera #sleep token espera #the echos #Lotus oc #sleep token fanart

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sunshinebarbie · 6 months

Text

reckless

pairing: Seungmin x reader warnings: language, arguing, angry Seungmin, angst, violent chopping of vegetables, mentions of a knife (nothing violent with it besides the vegetable chopping) words: 3,505

a/n: so i know i haven't updated my two long-awaited stories, but i wanted do something for now to keep you all entertained. hopefully it keeps you all occupied until i can get the next parts to my other stories updated. enjoy!

the clock on the bed stand hit another hour. you turned around already knowing that his side of the bed would be empty. you tugged the blanket up further burying yourself into a cocoon of warmth.

your phone chimed illuminating the ceiling and the sound of the “ping” echoed in the darkness of the room. throwing the blanket off you reached for your phone hoping it was him. instead it was Jeongin. you frowned and opened the text, it took a second to load and you felt your stomach clench.

“just thought i owed it to you.” his text followed. you scrolled up to the picture again and pressed to enlarge. yes, it was him. your boyfriend of three years Seungmin with his face nuzzled into the neck of his “friend”.

“where are you!?” you quickly texted Jeongin. the message was delivered and read. after a long minute you texted again. “he said he was going to your place and you were both going to a friends’ is that the friend!?” the message was delivered and read again. still there was no reply.

“Jeongin!” you texted after a long second, the message was undelivered. you felt your body go numb. the screen of your phone went black leaving you in complete darkness. You stared into the darkness at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. Reaching over to the lamp you clicked it on and swung your feet off the side of the bed.

You walked over to the main switch and turned it on illuminating the whole room. you couldn’t possibly sleep now. slowly you paced the room, your thumbnail tucked between your teeth as you tried to figure out your next move. you walked over to your phone and pulled up Seungmin’s number. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you thought of a text to send.

It could be full of venom, the scorned girlfriend with rants of “you cheater” or “it’s over”. or you could go the oblivious girlfriend who is still patiently waiting for her boyfriend to come home to her with texts of “when are you coming home?”. Instead you put your phone facedown on the bed and walked to the closet.

Your first initial thought was “start packing, don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry” slowly you began to pull items from the top shelves of closet. Empty boxes mostly, all in high places that only Seungmin could reach. you bit your lower lip and spotted the exact box you were looking for. it was a vintage Godiva chocolate tin. A gift from your grandmother that she filled with love letters and small tokens of love that were given to her by your grandpa or were collected over the many happy years they spent together.

As you knocked it off the shelf you could hear the contents shuffle inside. You sat on the floor of the closet and lifted the lid. The letters and trinkets were now replaced with those of yours and Seungmin’s. Three years all placed delicately in the box that was once filled with fifty plus years of love.

Your fingertips grazed the contents as you shifted the items finally spotting the one that felt like it was calling you. A simple lined paper that was ripped out of a notebook. Slowly you pulled apart the folds, the paper was thin from the many times you unfolded and refolded the paper over and over again, three years of unfolding and refolding.

Your eyes skimmed the words, you could recite this entire letter word by word. It was the very first love letter Seungmin ever wrote to you. He was working hard on a new album with his group and had to stay at the dorms more than he would like. It was the beginning of your relationship, and he couldn’t leave you alone for a minute. His fear that you would grow tiresome of his job and move on had him writing to you every moment of free time he could spare.

Your eyes skimmed until you found the sentence you were looking for… “I'm pretty sure I found my forever in you… I just confirmed it with I.N, you’re the only girl I want in my life. forever.” a salty tear drop fell on the paper soaking into the ink and distorting the word that hit you most “forever”. you sniffled and closed the paper you couldn’t stomach anymore.

You quickly folded the paper back up and placed it back into the tin, as you reached for another one you could hear the key scrapping against the metal of the deadlock. Seungmin stumbled in and slurred something, he was drunk. You quickly tossed the boxes back up on the shelf along with the tin and hurried out of the closet. You could hear him stumbling in the kitchen looking for the fridge. You turned off the lights and hurried under the covers.

As you steadied your breath Seungmin entered the room. He was cursing swears under his breath. He unzipped his pants and yanked them down to a pool around his ankles. He nearly tripped over the thick fabric pile as he stepped out. You could hear him fumble around fighting for freedom from his jeans until he was laying in the bed in nothing but his boxers, and hoodie.

“babe?” Seungmin slurred a pet name for you which you never heard ever, since the three years you been together. You shift your shoulders giving the false appearance that he is disturbing your slumber. “I missed you so much” he sighed as he wrapped his arms around your body. You could feel his lips nuzzle into your neck. He pressed a sloppy kiss against the nape, giving the feeling of more of a snake bite than a loving kiss, because you knew his lips were on another’s neck merely an hour ago. You could smell the alcohol that radiated off his breath and skin as he snuggled closer to you.

“babe, you should come with us next time” he yawned. “I missed you too much.” You shifted your shoulders again only for him to pull you closer to his chest. His cheek pressed softly against your ear. “I love you.” he slurred before falling into a deep alcohol induced slumber.

The next morning you left some water and electrolyte water enhancer by his bedstand. You cooked him a simple breakfast of bacon, of course a lot of eggs, and some toast. You placed down some aspirin on the counter knowing he was going to need it after he ate his breakfast. Seungmin entered the kitchen, his lips wrapped around the rim of the glass of water you left for him. “what did you cook?” he asked almost coldly. “hangover special” you teased. Seungmin looked at the time and nearly choked on his water. “is that time right?!” he pointed to the clock on the stove. “yeah.” you replied. “you couldn’t wake me up earlier? I need to be at the JYPE building in five minutes! We’re supposed to go live to promote our comeback.” he hurried to the bedroom.

You listened to him stumble around and cursing up a storm. He finally emerged from the room and slammed what was left of his water before grabbing the aspirin. “you aren’t going to eat?” you asked and pointed to his already made plate. “does it look like I have time to eat?” he snapped back and hurried out the door.

You looked at the plate and felt a rage consume your insides. You grabbed the plate and tossed it into the trash can with enough force that it cracked the entire ceramic disk into three big chunks on impact. “I bet he doesn’t talk to his friend like this.” you scoffed as you started to clean up the kitchen before leaving to your part-time job.

It was hard enough focusing on work, the picture I.N sent you was seared into your brain. Even when you closed your eyes to take deep breaths you could see it. You could only recall all the times he would hurry out of the apartment whenever his phone chimed, was he going to see her?. What about whenever you asked if you could tag along with him on his nights out and he would say you wouldn’t like it, was it because he wanted to be alone with her? Thinking about it too much made you nauseous, finally it was time to clock out.

You arrived back at the apartment. Seungmin wasn’t back yet, you walked into the kitchen and began to pull items from the fridge and pantry to get dinner started. At least in the kitchen you could take out your aggression on the ingredients and not on Seungmin or his friend. You were chopping the veggies up when you heard Seungmin come back. He looked exhausted, and mostly in agony probably regretting having so much to drink last night.

“hey, how was the live?” you asked as you checked the meat in the oven. “i missed it.” he sighed. “and I got my ass chewed out for that.” he added. “well, maybe dinner will make you feel better, I’m making your favorite.” you smiled. “i don’t like oven baked chicken.” he scrunched his nose before leaving to the room after seeing a message appear on his phone. You could feel that same rage boiling up again, but you ignored it, excusing his attitude since he was having a bad day.

Seungmin returned to the kitchen moments later in a new outfit. He started to search the kitchen cabinets and slamming them, making you irritated by his carelessness. “did you pick up any banana kicks?” he frowned looking in the cabinet. “they didn’t have any at the store, but I did get some turtle chips.” you pointed to the bag. “yeah because those are the exact same thing.” he rolled his eyes before slamming the cabinet again. You bit your tongue, you wanted to blurt out “well I bet your friend has all your favorite snacks stocked up right?” but instead you continued to chop up the veggies for the salad.

“as usual there is nothing here.” Seungmin gripped as he walked past you while typing on his phone. You put the knife down on the countertop and exhaled a deep breath. You went to the sink and started to rinse the stalk of broccoli. As you looked up at your reflection on the window you couldn’t help but transport back to when you and Seungmin first moved into the apartment. Well, you were living there a month before him but he insisted moving in with you because he couldn’t stand being away from you for too long. You remembered how he helped you cook your first ever meal in the house while living together. You could feel him standing behind you, his arms wrapped around your body as he pressed kisses on your exposed skin. You could almost hear the laughter that filled the atmosphere as he poured you both large glasses of wine to enjoy while you both waited for your masterpiece to finish cooking.

“when’s dinner going to be ready?” Seungmin reentered the kitchen pulling you out of your memory. “in another 20 minutes or so.” you replied as you turned off the sink and went back to your place by the cutting board. “a pizza will be here in that same amount of time and it will be ready to eat.” he commented as he shoved his phone in his pocket. That was the final straw for you, the Seungmin in your memory, in the tin box upstairs was long gone, and the cause? Was likely he was out of love with you and in love with someone new.

“hey, babe. Can you give me that bowl of broccoli in the sink, I was just washing them.” you looked up at Seungmin as you chopped into the veggies on the cutting board. “Babe?” Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows. “yeah, babe.” you forced and icy smile. “don’t you like that name?” you forced a chop making a loud tap against the wooden board. “no.” Seungmin replied coldly as he put the bowl of broccoli in front of you.

The silence was as thick as the air in the kitchen as Seungmin found a place on the other side of the island parallel to you. He picked at the bowl of fruit trying to find one that he wanted to snack on while you cooked dinner. “babe.” you bit the tip of your tongue trying to stifle your chuckle. You grabbed one stalk of broccoli and chopped into the vegetable. “can I ask you a question.” you began to force your chops once again. “what?” Seungmin sighed dropping the fruit in his hand back into the bowl.

“are you-” you gulped trying to find the courage you had a minute ago when you were calling him the nickname he clearly hated. Seungmin raised his eyebrows waiting for you to spit out your question. “are you fucking your friend?” you asked and looked up at him with a stone face.

“what??” Seungmin’s face twisted with confusion. “are you deaf suddenly?” you stabbed the tip of the knife into the wooden board. Seungmin was speechless, or scared either way he knew he was caught. “are you fucking your friend?” you asked again this time asking more slowly. You pulled the knife from the board and set it down on the countertop. You could feel your anger boiling in your stomach, like a bottle of soda filled with mentos. You held it down best you could, because you wanted an explanation before blowing up.

Seungmin was quiet, he approached the counter cautiously and leaned against the edge. Seungmin stared blankly at the marble countertop, his palms resting on the cool surface. “Well?” Your lower lip trembled. Seungmin sighed as he dropped his head, a hot breath exhaled from his closed lips as he cleared his throat to finally speak. “I fucking hate these countertops” he mumbled quietly.

“That’s it!?” You finally felt the anger escape the bottle in your stomach. “The fucking counter tops!?” Seungmin watched the cutting board of chopped veggies fly across the counter until it hit the wall. You made your way around the island and stood on your toes in front of him.

“Who cares about the fucking counter tops!” You shoved Seungmin with whatever strength you had, not even moving him an inch. “Are you or are you not sleeping with your friend!?” You pushed him again. Seungmin looked away avoiding eye contact with you. He shook his head back and forth before taking a deep breath. “I never slept with her, but I have thought about it” he replied honestly and that hurt more than him actually doing it. “But we made out a few times” he looked at you, his eyes empty and heartless.

“Made out? What are you guys middle school kids!?” You felt the tears drizzling down your face and gathering in pools under your chin. Seungmin turned away, refusing to see your tears, knowing damn well that he couldn’t threaten whoever caused them because he was the reason. Seungmin retreated to your shared bedroom, but you followed closely.

“don’t worry about her y/n” you exclaimed as you followed him. “you’re the only girl for me.” you continued until you were both in the room. “does that sound familiar?” your voice trembled. “just drop it okay?!” Seungmin snapped back. “i won’t see any of my friends anymore if that’s what you want!” “you would like that wouldn’t you? Just me and you no one else, just isolated but hey as long as you’re happy and not insecure right?!” Seungmin’s words dripped with venom.

“you are an asshole Kim Seungmin.” you sniffled and wiped away the tears that were falling down your face. “and you and your friend can both go to hell.” you spat before turning away and heading straight to the share dresser. “ladies and gentlemen we have reached the climax, where y/n packs her stuff and leaves.” Seungmin shouted to an invisible audience. “you’re not going anywhere.” he challenged. “you’re right.” you replied as you continued to throw items on the floor. You turned to Seungmin and kicked the pile towards his feet. “you’re the one who is going.”

Seungmin looked down at the pile of clothes and identified his shirts, sweats and hoodies. “like hell.” he replied. “i put the money down for this apartment, it’s in my name, and I was the one who picked those counter tops!” you argued back. “now get the fuck out.” you walked to the closet and started to toss out his shoes. “and where do you expect me to go?” he started to pick up his things from the floor. “the dorms? Your friend’s? A hotel? To Hell?!, I don’t care.” you replied coldly. As you pulled down his duffle bag from the top shelf of the closet you pulled down the boxes you shoved back up there last night.

Everything collapsed down around your feet, you tossed the duffle bag out to him and noticed the lid to the tin popped open, spilling the contents under the empty shoe boxes and hangers from the stuff you ripped off the rod that belonged to Seungmin. You leaned down and picked up some of the paper items before leaving the closet. Seungmin was trying to pick up his items as quickly as you were tossing them out.

“you’re acting crazy y/n” Seungmin grunted as he shoved everything in the duffle bag you threw out to him. “then go be with someone who is sane.” you walked out of the room and into the living room. Seungmin was behind you, the dufflebag spilled out his clothing and shoes he tried to stuff in, in a hurry. You opened the door and pointed outside, the cold air of the night sending a chill down your spine. “get out.” you instructed. “you’re only going to call me in an hour after you cool off.” he raised an eyebrow. “fat chance.” you argued back. “get out!” you shouted again this time earning a look from the neighbor who was barely coming home.

Seungmin put his shoes on and walked out the door. “you’re making a mistake y/n” he turned to face you again. “i don’t think so.” you pulled the papers in your hand up so he can see them. You ripped them down the middle before shoving them against his chest and slamming the door shut. Seungmin looked at the papers you just shoved into him and watched them fall to his feet.

He was about to turn away and just leave it for you to clean up. Until he saw the one that unfolded upon being shoved into him. “you’re Green Tea Bon Deliceaux everyday of the week, and I can’t get enough of you-” the partially ripped paper read. Seungmin dropped his duffle and started to pick up the pieces of paper, his fingers swiped through the pile before finding the other half. “-you’re my favorite person, the only girl for me and I know it’s early to say but I love you.”

Seungmin felt the dry lump in his throat realizing that the papers that were ripped by his feet and tossed out like trash were some of the letters he wrote to you every night while he was away from you on tour, on mandatory dorm overnights, or while he was having long days at the company building and just missed you. Seungmin gathered the papers and shoved them into the duffle bag, he stepped forward, his fingers balled into a fist hovering over the door. He wanted to knock, he wanted to knock until you grew tired of his knocking and answered. When you answered he wanted to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight enough and plead and beg for your forgiveness, he wanted to recite every letter for you over and over because he could remember each one from heart.

Instead he stood frozen, he slowly lowered his fist and wrapped his hand around the strap of his bag before turning away and leaving down the stairs. Little to his knowing you were leaning against the door, holding your breath counting in your head the seconds it would take him to knock the door. After hitting fifty, you slowly opened the door and looked outside, he was gone, leaving no trace of his presence.

You closed the door and brought the back of your hand to your nose as you sniffled and choked out a sob. You could feel the tears watering down your face, he was right you felt like you made the biggest mistake, you couldn’t help but feel like you just hand delivered him gifted wrapped nicely to his friend. Yet, it wasn't all your fault completely, he was the one being reckless.

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagine #seungmin imagines #seungmin angst #seungmin fanfiction #seungmin fanfic #seungmin fanfictions #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kim seungmin imagine #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin angst

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whitedarkmoonflower · 16 days

Text

Dream

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @foxyanon this is for you. Your request was absolutely amasing and I just hope I've done justice to it. 💖My warmest thanks to lovely @arcielee for beta reading, you are awsome and your comments literally made my day 😘

Warnings: angst, longing, some lowkey SMUT 18+ nothing explicit, use of she/her pronouns, happy ending 😉

Word Count: 2,6 K

Inspired by the The Apparition by Sleep Token

Why are you never real? Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

He awoke with a silent cry trembling on his lips, hands instinctively reaching to wipe tears from his wet cheeks, his breath panting as if he were drowning in his own sobs. He had dreamt of her. Again.

The sensation lingered in his fingertips: the soft touch of her palm against his, the echo of her laughter wrapping around him like a warm summer breeze on a cool evening. He couldn’t recall her face anymore. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she was real; just a fleeting memory or fantasy conjured by the ghosts of his past, taunting him anew.

And yet from the moment he had set his foot on Dunholm’s rocky ground, he dreamt of her almost nightly. The sweetness of their shared moments intertwined with the bitter ache of longing, all overshadowed by the burning flame of guilt for having failed her, that made him wake up with a cry, forehead covered in sweat and heart racing.

Sihtric’s eyes wandered the small room, slowly adjusting to the darkness, disturbed only by the faint glow of the waning moon. With a deep sigh ripping through him, Sihtric swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. His bare feet brought him to the window. The rough uneven wooden floor was a constant reminder of the past times indelible from the deepest corners of his mind, of times long ago when his feet pounded the very same wooden floor, with each step carving the memory of these paths into his very being.

The dreams were too real, clinging to him with all the colours, smells and sounds, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. A taste of remorse and longing.

Sihtric lifted his hands, shielding his eyes with his palms and gently rubbing them, as though attempting to cleanse himself of the haunting impressions left by the dream. He had seen her so clearly, the colourful images spinning around in his head.

Her hair loose and billowing in the wind, her merry laughter a bright messenger of joy as she skipped through the meadow, the gentle fingers of the rising sun caressing her glowing skin.

She was the light in the darkness, the breeze of the fresh air in his lungs. Her laughter was a thread through the haze of his crippled existence. Just as the damp earth after a rainfall carries the scent of rebirth, her aroma was that of a promise of a new beginning – a gentle mix of sweet wild berries and midsummer flowers woven into her hair.

His body and mind ached for her, longing for their fingers to intertwine as he would willingly follow her wherever she led.

And then the kiss – his very first. Fingers trembling, heart pounding against his chest like a wild drum. She leaned against the sturdy trunk of the oak tree by the river, the tranquil sound of water splashing against the sandy bank filling the air. Pressing his palm against the rough bark, he sought to steady his racing heart, drawing strength from the solid presence of the majestic giant. The softness of her pale skin thrilled him as his other hand gently touched her cheek, tenderly guiding her gaze towards him.

“I… I want to kiss you,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat, drowning in the depths of two sparkling eyes, pleading for his touch.

“What are you waiting for?” A sweet, lighthearted giggle echoed around him, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. With closed eyes, his dry, chapped lips timidly brushed against her soft ones, like a fragile whisper dancing on the edge of a sigh, like two lonely travellers adrift in the vast expanse of a starlit night, seeking refuge and salvation.

“Sihtric ...” his name rolled off her lips, mingling with a soft whimper as his both palms cupped her face, their breaths picking up.

Sihtric's fingertips traced down to his lips, pausing there. He stood motionless for a moment, leaning against the window frame, arms crossing over his chest and breath catching in the cool night air as he attempted to summon her face from the depths of his memory. Yet it remained elusive and all he found was shadows dancing in his mind's eye. A silent curse escaped his parted lips. He had long ago banished these memories, fortified them behind a wall of self assured certainty that there was nothing he could do, that it was for the best.

The mocking grin of the moon looked down at him from the height of his throne in the nightly sky. It sent shivers down Sihtric’s spine.

"I didn't abandon her, I was sent away," Sihtric whispered, the words barely audible over the night's gentle breeze. "Away... away... away..." echoed through the empty yard, his own voice a cruel taunt. "I inquired about her in the village after the fall of Dunholm, but no one knew anything.”

The sound of his fist connecting with the wooden wall shattered the serene silence of the night. The impact reverberating through the stillness like a thunderclap – hollow and darksome.

Yes, he had searched for her. A solitary visit to the nearby village where he knew she hailed from, greeted by anxious faces hastily retreating into their ramshackle homes, peering cautiously through the safety of their shuttered windows. The presence of Danes had always brought fear and uncertainty to them.

He had inquired about her at the small, dusty inn, amidst discussions of purchasing horses and timber to aid Ragnar in repairing the damaged gates. The host, suspiciously eyeing them, poured ale and swiftly pocketed the silver Uhtred had tossed his way.

Sihtric wasn’t sure what he had feared more: finding her happily married, her eyes denying him recognition and filled with fear, or discovering her waiting for him, unable to offer her anything. Nevertheless, he asked, quickly finding satisfaction in the host's indifferent shrug, as he explained that many had left in recent years due to meagre harvests, and there were no women matching Sihtric’s description in the village.

It was that one moment as they mounted their horses, Sihtric thought he heard her voice, calling his name. He cast a wary glance around the deserted square, the only sound a mocking crow's cry echoing through the stillness. He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a vision, before leaving his past behind like a worn boot—ten long years ago.

And now he stood once more in this place—Lord of Dunholm, a title that sent a shiver down his spine with each utterance. The shadows began to shift, the night's veil slowly lifting to reveal the faint glimmer of the sun lingering behind the horizon.

“I... I crave you... it's something I can't conceal... I've never seen anyone so beautiful..." his breath grew ragged, the silkiness of her flawless skin beneath his fingertips stirring an excitement unknown to him.

"Oh God," she gasped, her body arching against the soft blanket of moss and grass he had carefully laid her upon, his clumsy fingers seeking their way to her core, hungry lips stealing the soft moan escaping her.

"Please, tell me to stop," he pleaded almost desperately, voice quivering, unsure, even scared of where this journey would lead them. Yet unable to release her, unable to tear his gaze from her.

“Don’t… please, don’t stop,” a shaky moan from her parted lips forced a low groan from him, his fingers dipping in her hot tightness. “It feels so good, too good… Sihtric, please, I want to feel more of it. I have never felt anything like this before,” she whispered through panting breaths.

He had never touched anyone like this before; his limited knowledge gleaned from overhearing drunken chatter around firesides or hushed conversations in the kitchens as staying unnoticed had become almost second nature to him.

His own breathing getting more and more uneven with each quivering whimper, each soft moan leaving her lips; he watched her body responding to his touch, her breasts heaving, gaze getting glazy and eyes rolling back into her head.

She seemed almost otherworldly to him—her eyes curious and trusting, unburdened by fear or suspicion, her smile so radiant it felt like the warmth of the first sun rays in spring melting the snow of his desolation.

What had he done to deserve the gods sending her his way? A vision on an early morning, peacefully gathering flowers in the solitary meadow by the river where he had brought the horses to graze for the first time. His resort, a ray of light, piercing the dark loneliness of his soul, keeping him from drowning in it.

Each time he returned, fear gripped his heart, his eyes scanning the secluded meadow, his back against the lonely oak by the riverbank. What if she didn't come? But she always did, and his heart danced with joy, bathed in the soothing warmth of her genuine smile.

It had been so long ago. He had been just a boy, falling in love for the first time in his life.

Sihtric rubbed his sleepy eyes. Not a day passed without him believing he had caught a glimpse of her—whether in the shadows of the long corridors, the dark corners of the spacious great hall, or even his own bedroom. He knew his mind played tricks on him, yet each time his eyes seemed to capture that fleeting silhouette; he couldn't resist leaping to his feet, reaching out only to grasp empty air.

Hastily dressing in his breeches and boots, he tugged on a linen shirt while descending the stairs, snatching his leather tunic on the way out. Urged by an inexplicable force, he allowed his feet to guide him to the stables where he mounted his unsaddled mare.

"Open the gates!" his voice boomed across the yard, jolting the drowsy guards into action. They hurried to obey their lord's command, their eyes wide with surprise as they watched Sihtric spur his horse into a gallop.

The old, majestic oak tree welcomed Sihtric with a soft rustle of its green leaves in the wind. Leaning his head against the mighty trunk, he pressed his palms against its weathered bark, seeking solace and reassurance in the tranquil serenity of its solid presence, just as he had done before.

“Oh Sihtric,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, as he slowly forced himself inside her. The feeling of her tight walls gradually parting, wrapping around him and letting him in so overwhelming, he was afraid he would pass out.

Heart frantically beating against the cage of his chest, he froze, breath withheld, seeing tears pearling in the corners of her closed eyes.

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

A vehement shake of the head, her hips rising to meet him, was the only answer, and he leaned in, trembling lips brushing against her parted ones to kiss away the deep sigh drifting from them.

“I love you, Sihtric!”

“I love you too, and I always will,” he breathed, his hips starting to move, meeting hers with every slow thrust, breath quickening, like the rush of a rising tide.

He had never put much stock in the tales his mother whispered under the veil of night, her gentle hands pulling their only blanket tighter around him, shielding him from the cold. Stories of beautiful angels, guiding lost souls back to the light—until he encountered one. An angel in disguise, wandering the earth and plucking flowers from the meadow.

She arched her back, enveloping him in the embrace of her fragile arms, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, drinking in her sweet, intoxicating scent, his deep moans mingling with her soft whimpers.

He had meant every word of it. Without a shadow of doubt clouding his mind, he had made a promise—a promise destined to be shattered in the days that followed, as the Norns had already woven the threads of his fate, laughing over his youthful resolve.

Tears blurred his vision as he made his way back to Dunholm. He had waited until the first rays of the sun, knowing it was futile, knowing she wouldn’t come, as it was not the right day. There had been no goodbyes, no sweet kisses sealing the promise to return—just a lonely heart carved into the thick bark of the old oak tree, the silent witness to their happiness.

The sound of a dry branch cracking beneath feet jolted Sihtric, prompting him to turn his head.

“My lord, are you alright?” a slightly concerned voice inquired, and Sihtric's moist eyes met two sparkling, mismatched pools of brown and blue.

“I... I’m...” he stammered, his own uncertainty mirrored in the growing fear in those eyes as they darted down to his chest, fixating on the pendant of Thor's hammer hanging there.

Before he could utter another word, two gentle hands released the wild flowers they were holding, allowing them to scatter to the ground as the young girl spun on her heels and began to flee.

"Wait, please! I mean you no harm," Sihtric finally found his voice, but the girl paid no heed.

Sihtric remained rooted to the spot, unable to shake off the shock that held him captive, his gaze tracing the slender silhouette as it vanished from view. Eventually, he stirred, though the girl had already disappeared into the depths of the meadow and the forest beyond.

Driven by an inexplicable compulsion, he followed. Though he didn't want to frighten her, his feet seemed to move of their own accord, propelling him forward through the thorny underbrush. Long branches reached out like bony arms, clawing at his bare skin and leaving behind bloody scratches and bruises, yet he hardly noticed. Emerging from the forest, he beheld a crooked house nestled amidst a small garden.

Approaching cautiously, Sihtric scanned his surroundings, searching for signs of life.

Engrossed in your work, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. The weeds had begun to overtake your small carrot bed, a task long overdue for attention. A cough caught your attention, prompting you to straighten up and glance over, wondering who had ventured from the village to your secluded home.

You both just stood there, eyeing each other with disbelief and bewilderment. Sihtric shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, unable to tear his gaze away from you, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Here you were—his ghost, his dream, the most beautiful face he had ever seen, his most cherished memory locked away from his consciousness due to its unbearable pain.

Your fingers released the hoe, letting it slip from your grasp to fall to the ground at your feet. Covering your eyes with your hands, hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you staggered, struggling to maintain control over your wobbly knees.

In two long strides, Sihtric was beside you, his strong arms encircling your shoulders, providing support. Torn between the desire to push him away and to melt into his embrace, you remained rooted in place, sobs wracking your body as he enveloped you in his warm presence, like a comforting blanket.

"Gods, you are here. You have always been here," Sihtric whispered, his lips grazing your hair. "My love… I… I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Will you ever believe that? Will you ever forgive me?"

"Mom, in the meadow where you always send me to pick flowers, I met a Dane today," a girl's voice rang out, as she appeared in the doorframe of the old house, freezing in her tracks as her eyes widened at the scene before her.

"She is mine. Isn't she?" Sihtric asked, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks, yet he made no move to wipe them away. He didn't need your confirmation.

With a soft thud, he allowed himself to sink to the ground, his knees meeting the damp earth of the garden as he buried his face into your belly, arms enveloping your frame. The fearless warrior and the Lord of Dunholm cried, unashamed of his tears, while your fingers gently stroked his hair.

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

@verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07

@mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey @ladyinred2248

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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merakiui · 4 months

Note

I made breakfast + Jade bc he'd be a teasing lil shit and I love him 👉👈

-🦈

Omg this prompt with Jade… 🦈 anon, you’re a genius!!!

(fwb dialogues)

Half-dead and horribly hungover, you wake to the smell of breakfast. It’s a delicious beacon amidst the crushing burden of morning exhaustion. Groaning lowly, you bury deeper beneath the duvet, your face pressed into the pillows.

Clad in sweatpants and a mushroom-print T-shirt, his hair a rightful mess, Jade pokes his head into the room minutes later. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Your response is a not-so-beautiful moan. “I look and feel like shit.”

“Then shall I amend my wording? Ah, but Sleeping Monstrosity doesn’t sound very pleasant now, does it?”

You turn over to greet him with a scowl. “I’m not in the mood.”

But it was my fault for calling him. I always do that. Why did I even decide to drink in the first place? I never make good decisions when I’m inebriated.

He beams, unbothered by the ice in your eyes. He presents the tray with minimal flourish, held at arm’s length. You stare at the contents—plates piled high with pancakes, accompanied with dozens of sides and toppings. It feels like a buffet despite the portion being meant for one person.

“I made breakfast.”

“No shit. Why?”

“Is it not common courtesy to feed your guests?”

“I wouldn’t know. I like to leave before breakfast.”

“So I’ve learned.” He moves in closer, lowering to sit on the edge of the bed, testing just how far he can go before you push him away. “Aren’t I fortunate to have you to myself just a little longer?”

You scoff when he gathers a bite of pancake on the fork and offers it to you. “Don’t get used to it.” Throwing your dignity aside, you close your mouth around the utensil. “Not bad.”

“Consider it a token of my gratitude.”

“For what?”

“For calling me. I do so enjoy our midnight mischief.”

Your brow furrows. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking accidental for intentional?”

You snatch the fork out of his hands. “I’ll block your number and never call again.”

A smirk curls on his lips. You think he almost wants you to go through with it, if only so he can laugh when you inevitably come crawling back.

“We’ll see.”

“Just you wait,” you threaten around another morsel of pancake.

Jade chuckles. “It’s difficult to take you seriously when you’re stuffing your face like a hamster.”

“Can’t help it. Food’s good.”

“I’m pleased it’s to your liking.” Jade’s gaze flickers from your face to your hand. “If I may ask, why were you drinking alone?”

“No reason.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

You struggle to recall that, but from the way his eyes twinkle you suspect he remembers it well enough to recite it verbatim.

Intending to spare yourself the embarrassment, you heave a great sigh and force the words out. “My friend announced they’re getting married, and that makes me the last one.”

Jade blinks, stunned. You’re beginning to wonder what version you told him in the midst of your intoxication.

“The last one?”

“The last one left. I’m not married. Yet. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t be…here.”

“Obviously not,” he echoes. “Well, if you’re so devastated, why not find someone to marry?”

“You say it like it’s easy. Where am I gonna find someone who wants that?”

Jade opens his mouth and immediately shuts it.

Neither of you says anything else regarding that matter. Maybe it’s for the best. The future is scary, but a future with Jade is even scarier. Because that would mean opening your heart to him. Because that would mean recognizing what he is to you.

Because you’re not here for the breakfast, and it’s not just drunken desire that leads you to his doorstep. It’s muscle memory, but you won’t acknowledge that. Neither will Jade. Not yet.

#twisted chit chat #🦈 anon #meraki dialogues

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djarincore · 3 months

Text

a sacrifice in your name

SUMMARY: A paladin's oath means everything to them—but not to Simon, not when it comes to you.

ALTERNATIVELY: Simon sacrifices his oath to save you.

TAGS: oathbreaker!ghost, f!reader, DND!au, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, nondiscript violence, implied minor character death(s), Simon can lift reader, special villain guest appearance by Graves, body worship, cock warming, WC: 3.2k

A/N: a little what if scenario for vengeance paladin!Simon, who will always choose you over everyone else no matter the cost. and yes, the title is another sleep token lyric...

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers!

You wake to dim woods, a full moon overhead, and arms firmly encircled around your waist. The world bounces and sways in your bleary vision with a persistent ache pounding through your head.

Memories of the past few hours are a rapid flash of reds and oranges, sounds of crackling, splintering wood, and terrified screams echoing through the night. The bone-chilling fear of death seems to still freeze your sore muscles.

Now, as you slowly regain your senses, you realize you're riding atop a horse somewhere deep in unfamiliar woods in nothing but your night gown. The figure, whose arms encircle your body, grips the reins in front of you. Their own weight almost sags against yours. A helmet rests against your shoulder.

Icy fear crawls back through your body. You wish you can remember or get a clue as to where you were, but it is too dark and the horse is no longer on a path. The best you can do is escape, run, somewhere far from this stranger.

You jerk forward and claw at their arms, but you're blocked by leather vambraces. The stranger pull you closer to their chest, trapping your arms against your body.

“Let me go,” you plead. The stranger scrambles to restrain you and reign in the horse, who has become spooked by your cries. “Please!”

“Shh, you're safe,” a familiar voice soothes. It's grated, rough. Simon. “It's alright.”

Your body sags into his, but your heart still pounds. Your thoughts are mush in your head as you try to piece them together.

“What happened?”

The last thing you can recall is smoke and flames, raiders breaking down your door, and the blunt end of a sword bashing your temple.

Your query is followed by thick silence. A dark cloud of confusion hangs over you and Simon doesn't seem to want to offer any guidance.

“Simon?” You attempt to turn, but he holds you tighter, almost forcing the air from your lungs. And then, you realize he's trembling.

Simon, who was the pillar of strength, never trembled, never showed an ounce of fear. You grew worried.

“Don't,” he says quietly. “Just rest. We’ll be at an inn soon.”

A pit sinks in your stomach. An inn, but not your inn. If your fragmented memory serves you correctly, your inn is ash. The home and business your family-owned for generations was gone in a single night.

All the fight and adrenaline drains out of your body, leaving you weak and exhausted. You shut your eyes and lean against Simon, allowing tears to fall freely in the dark.

The neighboring town’s inn is small, cold, decorated with the heads of different animals and sharp weapons mounted on the walls. You hate it. There is no fireplace, no warmth, or life—nothing like your inn, your home.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

The owner is a bony, severe-looking man whose slimy gaze clings to you alone. Even as you cower behind Simon the man’s hunger makes you shudder.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner instead. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

“A bath for her.” Simon tosses an extra silver piece onto the counter.

You're covered in soot with a trail of dried blood running down your temple and a small cut on your neck.

The owner perks up. “Do you require any assistance washing?”

You can't help but cringe at his words and wrap your arms around yourself.

Simon’s hand darts over the counter to grab the man by the scruff of his neck and slam his face onto the counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barks, “and get it ready. Or I'll spill your fucking guts on the floor and you can wash that up instead.”

The man whimpers and you can't find it in you to feel bad for him. But you do worry. Simon always makes a point to keep his violence away from you.

His fury wasn't a sight you saw often. You only know the beginnings and ends of it. The deep breaths as he tried to control himself and keep his temper in check or the bloodied knuckles and split lips.

“Yes, yes, right away,” the man stammers.

Simon doesn't let up. You see the fingers of his pointed gauntlets curl tighter, forcing a choked gasp from the man.

“Mercy,” the man pleads, voice wavering on the edge of tears.

Finally, Simon flings the man back and he stumbles to catch himself from hitting the wall. Scampering off, the man disappears around the corner.

Simon heaves a sigh, bordering on frustration and exhaustion. His shoulders are tense and when you reach a hand out to touch his arm, he doesn't look at you. He hasn't since you woke up on his horse. His helmet being on didn't help either.

You desperately want to know what he is thinking. Simon was never a talker, but his eyes were always more expressive than his words.

His arm wraps around you, bringing you into his chest. Your cheek rests against his chest plate. The metal is cool against your skin. Your arms wrap around his waist in turn.

You want to ask him so many questions, but now isn't the time. You want to think he’ll explain everything soon, but his tension doesn't reassure you.

He holds you in silence until the owner returns.

The man's gaze doesn't fall anywhere near you this time. The bloodshot, green eyes stay firmly on Simon as he stumbles over his words and let's you know the bath is ready.

Simon takes your hand and leads you around the corner. The narrow hallway has a wooden staircase built into the left and leads further down to an open door. You can see the tub inside, a towel draped over a wooden chair beside it.

The washroom is a simple room with a basin and a chair. There's a standing mirror tucked in the corner you use to look at the grime covering your body. Your face is gaunt, a shell of yourself. Your fingers ghost over the frown you fear will become permanent.

Simon shuts the door and moves behind you like a pillar, poised to support your unsteady legs. “Off,” he commands with a low voice, brushing the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder.

Your clothes slip off easily and Simon guides you into the tub. The water is lukewarm at best and you curl your knees to your chest to conserve heat.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” Your question is quiet.

He runs a cloth over your shoulders.

“Raiders,” he all but spits.

“What of everyone else?”

“Gone.”

Your brows furrow. You just couldn't believe you were the only one to make it out. Your heart breaks for all the people who were lost.

“And the raiders?”

No doubt Simon made short work of those bastards. He always did.

Simon wrings the towel out and extends his hand. “Come on. Out before you get cold.”

You're redressed in your nightgown but not satisfied.

He leads the two of you up to your room for the night. There's a wooden bed tucked in the corner and a dresser beside it with an oil lamp. You grimace at the sheets which are covered in a layer of dust. You pull them off the bed and toss them to the floor.

Simon begins the quiet routine of shedding his armor at the door. It almost feels like you're back home. His helmet comes off first and rests on the dresser.

Finally, you can see the tight furrowed brows, the downcast eyes, and tense jaw he wears. There is a quiet conflict raging behind his tired eyes. He looks exhausted and beaten to the core. He leans his sword against the wall, places his gauntlets on the dresser, chest plate and greaves beside it.

You watch as each piece comes off, searching for signs of injury. He never returns to you without scars or bruises for you to fuss over. But piece by piece, his clothes are free of blood and his body doesn't tense from sudden movements.

No sign of injuries should be reassuring, but it only adds more questions.

“Are you okay?” Your hands run down his chest to rest on his abdomen.

He's quiet for a moment, tense beneath your hand, before he mutters a curt, “Fine.”

Simon takes your hands and guides you back onto the bed. He leans over you, forcing your neck to crane back. A hand cradles your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb, as his lips lower to ghost over yours.

You want to ask him more questions—ones he won't answer, he can't answer—but he stops you short.

Simon captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger that he needs satiated. His hands cup either side of your face, always gentle.

When he pulls away there's something missing from his gaze, replaced with a despair that stretches beyond you.

“Simon…”

“Not tonight,” he whispers.

He never liked to talk about his missions, the evils he faced all in the name of upholding his oath. And you never forced him to, simply doing your best to provide him comfort in other ways. You gave him a home to return to, open arms to fall into, and loved him completely. But, the hollow look on his face warns you of something terrible, something that can't be healed.

He brings himself to his knees, head hung in quiet repentance. His lips press against your knee. Then his hands snake up, pushing your nightgown past your thighs.

You grab his hands before he can reveal anymore, but he is insistent.

He looks up between your thighs like you alone can offer him salvation for whatever sin is consuming him whole.

“I need you,” he pleads. “Let me have you.”

Simon doesn't wait for your response before he’s rising once again to push you against the bed. When his lips meet yours, it's fierce and demanding. His body cages you and you're helpless to refuse as he knees your legs open.

Simon’s rough hands explore the soft curve of your body. Your hands caresses the slender curve of his neck and into the silk strands of his hair while his thumb traces random patterns on your stomach before dipping below the waist of your panties. His fingers skim lower and lower, and you squirm when the dull ache between your thighs grows stronger.

The pads of his finger meet your sensitive clit for the first time and rub slowly. Your body seizes around him, thighs clamping around his, and your arms wrap around his neck to ground yourself around the sensation.

The way he gazes upon you so reverently, like a goddess worthy of his devotion, nearly makes tears spill down your cheeks. You let out a gasp as the pleasure in your stomach grows stronger.

Your hips move against his hand, demanding more. When his hand moves away to tug at your gown, you pout.

“Off,” he commands.

Nothing needs to be said twice, not with Simon. You pull your dress off, freeing yourself to the darkness and his roaming eyes. Your nipples are pert against the cold air. His calloused hands glide over your waist, mapping every inch and curve of your body to commit you to memory.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers in awe. His hand cups your breast as he lays kisses across your chest. Between each kiss he says, “You’re mine.”

You feel yourself blossom beneath his reverent touch and words. You lift your hips to let him pull your underwear off. His hands slide up your calves, over your thighs, and eventually one settles over your mound. You arch into his touch. A sigh leaves your lips as he runs his finger through your slick folds.

Two fingers are thrust into you without warning. Your breath is caught in your chest as you clench around him. His fingers work inside of you, pulling sweet moans from your lips, until you come undone.

Simon lifts your limp body against him as he settles on the bed with his back against the wall. You lay against his chest, face buried in his neck, as a wave of exhaustion hits you. The traumatic night is finally catching up with you.

As you come down from your orgasm and your eyes grow heavy, he pulls his cock free and positions you above him.

You attempt to shift your hips down to take him, but he stops you with a gentle squeeze of your hips.

“I've got you. Just relax.”

Simon eases you down on his cock, stretching you open. You want to squirm, to move, to please him the same way he did for you.

“Just stay here,” he says, his breath heavy in your ear. His hands cling to you as he shifts your bodies against the pillows. You feel the stir of him in you and involuntarily clench. He groans, burying his face into your neck to regain control of himself. “Let me feel you.”

You stay in each other's arms until your breaths fall steady. The closeness, his warmth, is a comfort you relish. Your home may be gone, but you still have Simon.

And, for now, it is all you need.

Simon waits for you to fall asleep first, cradled against his chest, before he allows himself to feel guilt wash over him. The weight threatens to drown him and he clings onto you like a raft.

He leans his head against the wall, staring at the water-stained ceiling. A veil of unshed tears blurs his vision. “Forgive me,” he whispers.

To who and for what, he doesn't know. He just hopes those words are enough to make the ache fade—it doesn't.

He allows himself to fully recall the entire night before he found you, before it all fell to shit.

Simon returned to ruin.

He saw the plume of smoke in the distance and hoped it wasn't real, but it was. Your town was engulfed in flames, glowing in the dark as bright as day, burning in his eyes like hellfire.

He moved through rubble, mind swimming with dread, to find you at the center of town, bound and unconscious. There were men surrounding you who wore a familiar coat of arms.

Graves, the pain in his side who never seemed to just disappear, was standing in the center of it all. Simon had faced his men before, but never Graves in person.

Simon would have caught on to the strangeness of the situation if not for the fury boiling in his blood.

Simon knew what he had to do—kill him, make him suffer. His oath wouldn't allow his evil to continue any further.

Gods, he hated the cocky grin on his face.

“There you are,” Graves called out like he was greeting an old friend.

“What the fuck do you want?” Simon’s sword was already unsheathed, ready to taste blood.

“To teach you not to fuck with me.”

Simon almost barks out a laugh. He raised his sword toward the challenge. Not one of Graves’ men moved to help defuse the situation.

“Go ahead and do as your oath commands—kill me.” Graves stood proud, arms spread wide.

Simon took a step further.

“But if you kill me, your girl dies too.”

A henchman hauled you up and placed a dagger at your throat.

Simon, for once, faltered. The sword in his hand trembled. He tried to steal himself but found he couldn't catch his breath.

He couldn't kill Graves and reach you in time. And he was sure if he made any move to save you, you'd be dead already.

“If you don’t kill me, I'll let you leave with her. Make your choice.”

So that was the game.

“Fuck you,” Simon spat. “I don't know ‘er.”

Graves ignored the bluff. Something in his smile told Simon, he saw right through his bullshit. “Go ahead and be a hero, Ghost.”

“I'm not a hero.”

He scoffed at the word. Destroy evil by any means necessary. His tenant echoed in his mind. Any means necessary.

He was far from a hero. A hero didn't turn a blind eye to those in need to pursue evil. He left behind innocent's far more times than he can count in the name of his oath.

Would you become one of the souls he sacrificed too?

Ever since he lost his family and took up his oath, he couldn't allow himself to feel emotions like guilt, sorrow, or fear, less it made him weaker to deliver the vengeance he swore to uphold.

But, you were his new family, the love he found amidst his violent wandering. He couldn't lose the safety and warmth that you were.

No matter what he chose, you or his oath, he would lose a part of himself.

Simon wanted to plunge his sword into Graves’ chest and be rid of the man and his impossible choice and that fucking smug smile. He wanted to destroy his very existence, so not even the strongest magic or God could piece him back together. He knew the world would be better off without him. He knew it deeply.

Yet, Simon lowered his sword and made his choice to condemn the world.

“I knew you were a selfish one.”

“Give her to me.”

Graves waved his hand and you were dropped. Simon caught you before you could touch the ground. He wrapped his arms tight around you, shielding you from the world.

“Fuck with me again and I won't wait for you to save her.”

Simon gritted his teeth but didn't say a thing. He kept his eyes on you. There was a cut on your neck where the blade was, shallow enough to draw a sliver of blood, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Fighting Graves would mean your death. Simon didn't care if he died, but he would never risk you. All he could do was lift you up and walk away.

Each step away from that ruined town he felt a piece himself slip further into the dark, remaining in the wreckage. His limbs lost feeling; his chest constricted.

A rope pulled inside his chest, urging him back to finish his duty. But, his feet dragged against the force to continue forward.

When Simon stepped over the town's threshold, the rope snapped. He was left with cold, empty despair.

Simon held you because that was all he could do as he left behind the destruction and his oath. At least he still had you.

He condemned the town’s survivors to death and allowed evil to escape the wrath of punishment—and he would do it all again to save you.

He will tell you of his selfishness in the morning. But, for now, he will hold your bare form tighter against his chest, closer to his heart, convincing himself you will fill the piece of himself that will never return.

But the void is boundless. It is echoes of flame and terror, shame and guilt, and a haunting voice calling to him in the dark.

“Oathbreaker, what have you done?”

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost scenario #simon ghost riley #cod mwii

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 11 months

Text

Seek And Destroy

Summary: Run, little sheep, or the big, bad wolf will catch you…

Pairing: Kappa × fem!Reader

Wort Count: ~2k

Content Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!, Smut (18+!), “Consensual” Non-Con (Reader Is Clearly Delulu About It), Fingering, Primal Play, Knife Play, Blood Play, Heavy Degradation, Praise Kink, Derogatory Petnames, Spit Play, Kappa Talks About Himself In 3rd Person, Kappa Is A Sadistic Fuck, Aftercare? We Don't Know Her.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for this and I'll just see myself out now, byeeeeee!

Tagging who might be interested:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @alalalaaallaaalaaa @bvg-w1res

Well, my love is an animal call

Cutting through the darkness, bouncing off the walls

Between teeth on a broken jaw

Following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw

~ Aqua Regia by Sleep Token

The stone floor underneath your bare feet seemed to vibrate ever so slightly with every hasty step you took. One after the other, not looking back behind you and not letting the rising fear in your body paralyze you in your anxiously hectic movements.

Thud, thud, thud.

The slapping sound of heavy boots hammering down onto the ground not far from you.

You inhaled sharply, droplets of sweat evaporating from your forehead into the cool midnight air.

"Come out, come out to play!" Kappa's low, menacing voice echoed back from the lifeless stone walls of the hideout.

Silvery moonlight was beaming into the corridor through smashed windows and missing bricks as you realized that he was closer to you as you had thought him to be.

"Don't make me chase you!" He bellowed through the shadows, grinning to himself, his steps picking up on speed just like yours.

As you took a deep breath, you felt how equal amounts of fear and excitement clashed in your lungs. The juxtaposed emotions fighting for the high ground. Although Kappa demanded you not to make him chase you, you knew that it was exactly that what would make the thrill.

There were days when you didn't run from him, where you surrendered to his rough, harsh touch right away, but tonight he needed more than that.

He had been particularly erratic throughout the entire day. Something wasn't going according to plan and that had easily been enough to set off his already short fuse. You had seen it coming in the way his eyes had burned holes into the yellowed maps scattered on his desk, how his fingernails had scratched into the moist, rotting wood and in the way he had been relentlessly chewing on the inside of his cheeks, picking away at the delicate skin with grinding teeth.

“You know you can’t run from me for long...” Kappa was right about that but you could at least try and that you did.

After taking a right, turning into an equally destroyed and desolate corridor, the old wooden floor scattered with dust and debris, you started running to the best of your abilities. You forced your body forwards, your heavy steps banging onto the ground as you spurted ahead. The sound of your bare feet meeting the floor again and again filling the air before, barely a handful of seconds later, the tone of Kappa’s heavy boots joined in, their rhythm faster and even harder than before.

Thud, thud, thud.

It was all you could focus on as you rushed along the hallway and eventually right that would turn out to be your grave mistake because you stopped paying the necessary attention to your surroundings. You were about to turn another corner, not noticing an old magazine covered by a thick, grayish layer of dust and the moment you set foot onto it it slid to the side, taking you with it. Your posture faltered mid-air, a hissed “Fuck!” rolling over your tongue before you couldn’t stop your entire body from stumbling forth and ultimately falling into the wall shoulder first. The impact was painful, a dull pang of hurt spreading throughout your right shoulder that shot up into the base of your neck. You cringed in discomfort and tried to get yourself to stand upright again but it was too late for you to dash away. Kappa had successfully caught up to you already.

“There, there..” He scoffed in an amused tone, caging you between his arms as you turned around to face him.

With your back pressed against the cold stone wall, your eyes widened as a wave of shock rippled through your body. It wasn’t exactly caused by the fact that you got caught or the crooked grin tugging at the corners of his lip, no, it was the metallic shine of a hunting knife, reflecting the pale, bluetoned moonlight in the corner of your eye that led you to feel this way.

“Did that hurt?” Kappa’s free hand went from the wall to your right shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze as he spoke to you with a mockingly concerned voice.

The firm clasp of his broad, calloused hand almost felt worse than the sloppy clunk against the wall and you tried to squirm out of it.

“Ouch!” It fell from your lips as your eyes met his.

His pupils blown out wide in insidious excitement as he looked down on you.

“Is my poor little sheep in pain?” Kappa’s voice a saccharine-sweet scorn.

You couldn't help yourself but nod. The way he talked to you was enough to make you fall under his spell yet again.

“I’m afraid that there’s more of that to come.”, He furrowed his eyebrows in play-pretend compassion “You ran away from me and I have to punish you for that.”

"B-but.." A desperate mewl rolled over your tongue.

"No, shhh shhh…", He shushed you, with a click of his tongue and shaking his head slightly from side to side "You know how that goes, Sugar."

Indeed, you knew better than talking back. Kappa had taught you better so many times now, so instead of doing that again, most likely overstepping the very fine line of his patience, you just nodded.

"See? Kappa knows best and you know that too." He stated with a satisfied humm.

Again, you nodded, staring into his intimidating glare. His strikingly blue eyes bore into you, pressing your back against the wall seemingly all by themselves alone.

"Now, now…", An unsettling hint of an erratic timbre mixed into his tone, "What am I going to do to you, huh?"

Obviously, it was a rhetorical question that got answered just seconds later with Kappa pulling the hand that held the knife from the wall.

"Let's get you out of that skimpy thing you call a nightgown first, yeah? You look like a cheap whore.." He sighed overdramatically and took the blade of the knife straight down to the hem of the red, silken nightgown you'd found just days prior in a pile of discarded clothing. Knowing that it would be gone in a matter of seconds pained you because you had actually been so sure that he'd like it as you dug it out from between old linen shirts and old underwear.

You felt the cold metal slipping underneath the feathery light fabric, the pointy sharp tip of the blade angled towards the skin of your thigh and before you could fully realize what that meant, Kappa slashed upwards, all the way up to your hip bone.

Before the real hurt set in, the sensitive skin on your thigh seemed to freeze for a split second, until it turned burning hot equally fast, the cut gushing open. Another blink of an eye and you felt your own, warm, sticky blood pooling from your thigh down to your ankle in a thin yet dark stream. The moment of surprise hit you so hard that the guttural scream erupting from the far back of your throat appeard to have a nearly comical amount of delay to it.

"Hush, hush…it's okay…" Kappa whispered, leaning in close to your face, resting his forehead against yours, his wide grin almost touching your quivering lips.

"It's gon' be just fine, you'll see. It's just a little cut, Sugar, it doesn't even need a tourniquet." He tried to calm you as he felt you panicking, your rising and barely even falling chest pushing against his in shallow breaths.

"Hold on, this'll help…" He turned his wrist to cast the knife to the ground, before he held his palm up to his mouth, sloppily spitting a little puddle of saliva into it before slapping his hand right onto your aching thigh.

A wet slap echoed through the desolate corridor before you couldn’t help yourself and started to whimper in pain as his warm, slick spit mixed into the open wound.

"That'll make it clot nice and fast…" Kappa huffed, his hot breath against your face.

Another high-pitched mewl fell from your lips as you felt him forcefully pressing his thumb into the cut, spreading his saliva with malice and sadistic pleasure.

From there on out, his blood-tainted fingers wandered towards the inside of your thigh.

"Oh…", He scoffed in amusement, "What's that?"

His curious fingertips dipped right into your embarrassingly wet cunt without any warning, shoving themselves inside of you with force if necessary.

"Look at you, my perfect little slut." Kappa cooed, his lips stroking yours with every word spoken.

"Do you like it when I brutalise you like the obedient little bitch you are, huh?", He bore his fingers further into you until he was knuckle-deep inside, "Does it get your pussy all wet for me?"

"Uh-hu…" You admitted, your face burning red in shame and embarrassment.

God, you knew it was wrong and you felt so sick in the head for it but your body had its own way of reacting to him, his perversions of intimacy.

"What a good, messy little whore you are…" Kappas words a crude praise as his lips eventually pressed themselves against yours.

They tasted salty, sweat mixed in with a lingering hint of cheap cigarettes and red wine. The taste involuntarily flooded your mouth as he pushed his tongue past your weak lips. By now his fingers started to move at a violently harsh pace, pulling out just to bury themselves inside you right away again. It was painful and yet the lewd, squelching wet sounds emitting from between your legs told you just how deranged you truly must've been. A part of you felt disgusted with yourself whilst the other one wanted nothing more than to please Kappa, do everything he asked you to and, indeed, be his good, little slut.

Entirely choked up between those two sides fighting inside of you, your body simply rolled its hips against his fingers, seeking to release the growing pressure in your stomach. It felt as if all the pain and pleasure simultaneously curdled up into a tight coil that was oh so ready to snap as soon as possible.

"Oh, you gonna cum, Sugar? Already? Pathetic." Kappa taunted you as he picked up the pace even harder.

"Cum on my fingers then you pathetic slut. C'mon."

Of all things it was his mocking tone that eventually had you tripping over the edge and before even the slightest moan of orgasmic release could escape your mouth, his lips were right back onto yours, drinking every little sound up as your statue convulsed, still tightly pressed to the wall.

Heavy waves of painful bliss crushed through you as Kappa finger-fucked you all the way through your orgasm, up until the last contractions had eased up.

"Such a good fucking bitch for me.." He huffed in a breathy groan as he broke from the bruising kiss and pulled his fingers out of your cunt.

Your legs threatened to give out as you watched Kappa raise the slick-wet and blood stained fingers to his lips before he started sucking each and every one clean with what seemed like pedantic precision.

#kappa black mirror #kappa #kappa x fem!reader #black mirror 6 #black mirror: beyond the sea #black mirror #rory culkin #dead dove do not eat

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