#firm believer he fucked to survived
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98 vash slings cock and guns like his life depended on it
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Moonlight
Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader
Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)
Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.
It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.
Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.
And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.
When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.
So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape.
Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.
But your smile didn't last long.
Aemond refused to hold his son.
"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.
It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.
He refused to hold his own child.
And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.
You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing.
"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily.
One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.
Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.
"I truly wish she was mine."
Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.
"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.
But you truly weren't.
You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners.
One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.
In an empty corridor, he spoke up.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.
"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight."
"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.
"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"
"That is not very lady-like."
"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."
"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."
"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.
Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out."
"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.
You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.
"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."
"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."
"I will stay here with you."
You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.
"I love you so much Aemond."
"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.
You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.
It all made you look towards a better future.
Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#aemond#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen imagines#fanfiction#x reader#x female reader#aemond x you#aemond targaryen fic#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon imagines#house of the dragon x reader#game of thrones imagines#game of thrones#game of thrones au#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x you#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon aemond x reader
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coryo eating pussy out and he is so damn horny and desperate that he humps the bed till he finishes embarrassingly fast
how 'bout that??
that is a weakness of mine, thanks
mdni
Okay, but what if it's a common occurrence for Coryo to come too quickly??? Like before he's even in you and it doesn't happen every time but it happens enough that you can tease and make fun of him for it.
"Angel, I promise I won't until I'm in you, just let me taste you," he pleads, his hands spreading your thighs as you sit in his bed. Coryo's hair is already a mess from when you were running your hands through it during your kisses just before, and his brow was raised, awaiting your words. And his eyes are just so pretty and his lips so wet from your kisses and his own spit, your tummy flips at the mere thought of having his mouth on your cunt.
"Okay, but you better keep that promise."
In no time, Coryo's taken off your pants and underwear, his tongue fucking into you as he rubs your clit with his thumb. You pull his hair hard, practically using his face as your own little toy, grinding against him. His hands just go to your thighs to hold for support, his nose being your source of sensation against your clit as he laps at your hole like it's his source of survival. He never got enough of it. If it was up to Coryo, he'd do this for ages before fucking you.
And that's also why he can't help but press against his mattress. Coryo doesn't notice he's doing it at first, too focused on the way you taste and your little mewls of pleasure. The way you're tugging his hair so hard, pressing him so tight to you, there's a moment he can barely breathe. It all feels so overwhelmingly good that he doesn't realize he's grinding himself into the bed. Your eyes are closed, you don't even notice so you can't reprimand him for it.
He realizes too late when the all-too-familiar feeling creeps up in his body and he just can't stop. He whines against your cunt and it makes your eyes open, looking down at him and seeing Coryo's hips grind down. "Coriolanus, you're humping the bed like a dog, you're not gonna keep your promise."
And he'd use his strength to pull his head away just a smidge, "I won't come, I told you. I won't." His voice is firm, his brow knitted in concentration as licks his tongue back into you. Coryo's dick is still restrained in his boxers and pants, making the pressure and the yearning to be free of the clothing even worse. The friction he does get still sends him into a state of pleasure, but he holds everything back as much as he can.
He knows he's getting close, but he feels determined to prove it to you. So determined, he lets himself hump the bed, looking to prove he can do that without coming. You watch him now, not believing he can do it, watching his eyes stare up at you as he gets more and more drunk on your pussy.
You tangle both of your hands in his hair as your own release approaches, "right there, Coryo, keep doing that please," and he obeys, his hands pushing under your hips to help you grind on his tongue until you're gushing around his mouth.
Coryo squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his grip on your hips so hard, he knows he's gonna leave a mark, but he doesn't care (and neither do you). He clenches every muscle in his body, trying so hard not to explode in his pants, but it's too much. The taste of you and how hard you came is too much and with one more slight movement of his hips, he's coming ropes into his underwear, moaning against your cunt as he's still lapping up your juices.
You settle down, your breathing returning to something normal and Coryo's pressing his forehead to your thigh, not daring to look at you and you can put together why. You rub the back of his head and breathe out deeply, "'s okay, baby."
"I'll fuck you still, just...give me a few minutes," he says, muffled as he kisses your thigh.
"Don't know. You promised me you wouldn't come...should just put it in now," you mumble, caressing his head and he wordlessly moves to sit up and take the rest of his clothes off.
let's chat about coryo, here :)
#coryoasks#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus x you#coryo snow#coriolanus x reader#tom blyth fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus smut#coriolanus x y/n#coryo smut#coryo x you#coryo x reader#coriolanus snow drabble
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THE LOST BOYS HAND HCS.
buwan’s notes: I’d like to thank @britany1997 for fueling my wild obsession with the lost boys and their hands, and also for agreeing with me that Paul’s the KING of fingering. Thanks. 🤭
episode summary: talking about the lost boys and their sexy hands. yes I’m crazy.
content warnings: hand kinks, some hcs are for fem/masc audiences (will specify so). , spit kink, different other kinks that will take forever to mention, NSFW, me honestly talking about how my favourite necklaces is Dwayne’s hands, yeah..
PAUL
starting off strong with Paul, Brit this one is for you mainly (and me, but I’m on the side).
I think paul has very veiny and bruised hands. I think that the blonde has the type to manage to get bruises or cuts unintentionally and never notice it!
his fingernails aren’t long, and his fingers are somewhat long and he has HUGE palms.
like marko, he has the tendency to chew on his nails, maybe even bite the skin around it.
Paul’s hands is also littered with rings, I can’t begin to explain to you how many rings he has in his own little corner of the cave, even the other guys come to borrow from him time to time!
If I didn’t know any better I would’ve definitely done the “your hands are way bigger than mine 🥺” technique at him, it’s funnier knowing that Paul’s probably the type to fall for it.
Paul also has a tendency to need to grab, he will hold onto anything. His preference is your chest though, he loves how they cup perfectly into his.
he’s very touchy-feely, he doesn’t seem to understand how good it feels to just have you in his hands or arms, whether that’s just you hooking your pinky around his or letting Paul place his hand on your inner thigh, he just loves it.
If I could say anything, I’d say Paul gets off more on touching you rather than you touching him.
maybe even gets higher than he does smoking weed.
He’s like one of those cats who paw at you whenever they’re comfortable. He grabs at thighs, at upper arms, at the tummy. He loves all of you and want all of you to fit in his hands.
Paul’s hands are somewhat rough, I see Paul to be the type to suck at hand care and only really uses hand sanitizer and maybe lotion. (For you know what ;) ).
Brit and I are firm believers that he is the KING of fingering/oral.
Paul thrives, survives on pleasing his mate/partner.
His hands can grip and squeeze and please.
I like to think that Paul loves the way your thighs pool from out his palms, and how it doesn’t fit in both of his hands.
For my feminine readers out there, Paul would love to graze the tips of his fingers on your stretch marks and whisper sweet little dirty nothings into your ears as his free hand just rubs you on your hip dips. :)
Masc readers, never forgetting about y’all, his thick hands definitely wrap perfectly around your cock, and he definitely looks up at you prettily with those baby blues. His painted nails and rings make beautiful accessories for your dick <3.
Paul unintentionally fingers you to the point of overstimulation though, he’s got the attention span of a puppy and will not notice, no matter how many times you cum onto his hands.
his hands look amazing covered in cum and saliva ;)
spit on his hands and tell him to fuck his fist, his only lube being your saliva..
“Paul!” You whined, grabbing at his hands as they gripped firmly at your thighs. His face sported a grin as your squirmed in his hold, a worried look on your face.
It’s been hours since his fingers worked their magic inside of your hole, he worked your walls until they couldn’t anymore and it seemed like Paul would never stop.
A surprised moan left your lips as Paul grazed over a sensitive spot, Paul seemed to feel like the devil in disguise as he no longer grazed your sweet spot, more so, started abusing it.
You couldn’t stop your thighs from shaking and kicking as the overstimulation Paul gave you shook you to your core. You can see the black and white spots appear in your vision as you feel yourself get closer and closer to another high.
It felt like forever before Paul finally plunged his fingers deep into your hole one last time, letting you ride his digits until you came down from his high, twitching from the overstimulation.
After a short while, Paul gently pulled his fingers away, a string of cum connecting his digits to your hole before Paul brought it up to his lips and gently sucked.
His free hand held your hips in place, as you hazily looked up at him with confusion and a red face.
“Has anybody told you how divine you taste, babe?”
(visuals) :
MARKO
Marko’s hands are less veined than the rest of the boys, turning when he was around eighteen had him keep the smooth skin of a baby.
The curly-head’s hands are definitely more daintier than the rest of the boys, most of them have rough maybe thick hands, but Marko’s are thin and has little veins.
Although Marko covers it up with his fingerless gloves, I’d like to think that his hands are very smooth to the touch, his handcare is 10/10.
like Paul, his nails aren’t super long, I’d say he likes to keep them a nice length, but bites them off on the way.
His thumb has a mark where he keeps biting it with his teeth, unlike the other boys who might have bruises or cuts, he has a noticeable bump on his thumb and a small mark on his nail.
type of guy to be short but his hands are still bigger than yours. He always talks about his hands fits yours so well and how he loves seeing the size difference of both your palms together.
type of guy to also tell you that your body fits perfectly into his hands, his hands mold perfectly with your hips and thighs.
most of the time Marko does dirty talk you, but you can never reply back because most of his dirty talk’s in Italian, and you’re busy trying to keep Marko’s wandering hands from going under your shirt and latching onto your chest.
If Paul’s the most touchy with his hands, Marko takes second place with how touchy he is.
Marko has the tendency to play with his hands when anxious or anticipating something. He rubs his hands or massages his palms, looking off to wherever he’s expecting something.
Marko’s fingers don’t stretch you as much as the rest of the boys do, although the boys might be a bit more chunkier, Marko’s hands are small enough that they stretch you out to where it doesn’t hurt.
Marko’s hand game is strong, Paul gets cramps, but Marko doesn’t, I mean, the boy paints, he’s probably got some cool ass tricks in his sleeves to keep him from losing energy during your bedroom deeds.
Marko likes to listen to your sounds and your body, whenever he’s fingering you, he doesn’t mind the squealing or the squelching, he knows he’s the one who made you sound like that, and if anything, he’s more proud of it.
if I were to rate his fingering skills? 7/10. He’s got some learning to do but most of the time he’ll probably have you screaming his name from his fingers.
Fem!readers, this man eats pussy like he’s starved! Not the point though, because his hands are where it’s at, he knows how to work you up, and loves to tease, the tips of his fingers padded perfectly on top of your clit and he loves to go fast. No mercy. So while he’s enjoying a nice meal, you’re enjoying yourself.
Masc!readers, exactly the same!! This guy sucks cock like an animal and honestly it would take everything to get this guy off your dick. Since Marko’s hands are daintier, his hands definitely look amazing wrapped around you.
Marko would never admit it but, he loves when you stain his fingerless gloves with your cum <3, he’s the real artsy type.
He probably fingers you in public as well, no care in the world.
his favourite past time is watching your hands wrap around his cock, while his hands are bound together to keep him from being impatient <3
tie his pretty hands up and gag him, he likes the challenge!
Marko held you by the hands, his palms pressing them firmly to your back, your stomach to the bed and your back facing him. the curly-headed boy had you pinned to your nest in the cave.
Marko’s growls sounded in your ear as you felt your stomach flutter at his sounds. You could see him from your peripheral vision, his curls falling in front of his eyes as he pinned you.
You could feel the pads of his fingers gently running across the small of your back, almost..appreciating it in a sense, his hands felt soft, yet firm.
Finally, his hands slipped down to your ass, squeezing it in his palms as you squirmed from his firm grip. A small mantra of Marko’s name left your lips, unable to look back to see your boyfriend’s face.
You could feel from the air that he was enjoying this, enjoying you.
Marko, with the strength, turned you around, you laid on your back, bare for his hands to just wander.
His hands travelled from your ass back to your hips, up your stomach, and ended right on your chest. If it wasn’t so lewd, you would’ve thought Marko was giving you a massage.
Marko’s touch teased you relentlessly, you just wanted to yell out for him to touch you, use you. You wanted it so desperately, and Marko knew.
He grinned at your display of biting your lips and the small twitches his touch gave you.
“See, baby? You fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.”
(visuals) :
DAVID
David’s hands are very thick, probably the most thickest out of the boys.
His hands are the best for holding, gripping.
David’s hands could probably cover your whole ass if I know anything.
David’s very careful about his handcare. I think that David has the softest hands out of the boys, he takes good care of them, especially if he wears gloves to cover them.
Though I also think he’s got some blisters, years of driving motorcycles do that to you.
He’s got pretty long fingernails, they’re long enough to have the annoyance of cleaning them every time something gets under his nails.
He brings a cuticle around, I just can’t lie. I think that he’s the type of guy to be like those girls who’s always filing their nails.
probably pinches the hardest as well, he likes to do it when you’re not paying attention and actually causes bruises 😭.
watching him work without his gloves is so attractive, his hands moving as he writes in a notebook or diary, or when he’s playing with a cigar, it’s very, very, attractive.
The pads of his fingers is very soft, not tough like Dwayne’s and Paul’s.
Barely any rings litters his hands and the ones he has are very basic, no intricate designs, most of his complicated rings actually tore through a set of his gloves and he never worn flashy rings ever since.
Leather is his best friend, whether that’d be gloves or the handles of his motorcycle, or in this case, a leash to your collar.
He’s very into oral fixation, he loves shoving his fingers down your throat, likes the ability of being able to choke you out without pulling out his cock to do so.
He’ll also make you suck his digits clean after a long night of teasingly fingering you.
He loves seeing his hands around your throat too, he’s a sadistic little shit, if he doesn’t get off, you don’t either.
I think he’s got the thickest fingers out of the boys, he’s the one who stretches you out the most and sometimes it feels good, but it’s when he teased, that’s when you don’t like it.
Fingering skills are, annoyingly, at a 9/10. It would’ve been a ten if he didn’t tease.
Would NEVER ever paint his nails, like the boys always seem to have black nail polish and Marko’s and Paul’s are always chipped, but David’s is clean, polished, in good health.
His hands wrapped around your waist and dipping into your waistband, the tips of his fingers on the hand of your underwear.
Pulls you to him by hooking his pointer finger into your belt loops and into his chest.
Let him choke you out!!! He’ll be gentle!! Only because you’re human though.
Thumb on your lips always!! His thumbs make good work of finishing you!!!
A small shush left the platinum blonde as you tried to stop your whines, you moved uncomfortably on his motorbike’s seat, the leather being soaked in your wetness.
“careful, dear, you’re making a mess.” David mused, his lips shaped in a taunting smirk as his hands dipped deeper into your core.
You bit your lip to hold in your squeals, teased and tired. David could watch your expressions for the rest of his life.
he’ll never get tired of the way you cling onto his coat, your fingernails digging into its seams, as if any longer you’d have ripped his coat apart from the overwhelming feeling of his fingers pleasing you.
You tried to stay silent, feeling people’s gazes on you as you sat uncomfortable on David’s lap, his coat covered the indecent display of his digits inches deep inside you.
You were desperate for release, searching for your other three boyfriend to earn some mercy from David.
Your eyes looked around the boardwalk, eyes flicking from every similar person who looked similar to your boys.
Suddenly a chuckle and loud voices were heard, you saw your boys from afar. Hopeful, you decided to move off of David’s fingers when his free hand reached up to stop you by the throat.
A light squeeze to your throat, making you gulp and your core pulse with need.
“Eyes on me, dear. Don’t look at anybody else, especially when I’m this deep inside of you.”
(visuals) :
DWAYNE
THE BIGGEST OF THE BOYS!
DEFINITELY has the most veins out of the boys.
Can’t lie, Brit has listened to me want to lick his veins.
He’s got the lengthiest fingers out of them too. He’s the best when it comes to fingering.
His fingernails are nicely trimmed, it’s also littered with rings, his left hand is always bare though since he uses that hand primarily to hold laddie’s and he’s scared that Laddie might get cut from his rings.
Dwayne somewhat cares about his hands, he uses David’s shit though, lotion, Vaseline, serum, cream.
David doesn’t know how he runs out of hand cream so fast too.
Dwayne does carry his own hand sanitizer, but most of it goes to laddie and Paul.
Dwayne doesn’t have really flashy rings either, he doesn’t like the way it clicks together and it puts him in a very uncomfortable situation because he likes to massage his hands when awkward.
He’s big everywhere, his height, his heart, his cock, his hands. It’s crazy.
Prob can carry you in one hand, one arm under your ass and your arms around his neck.
Although he likes fingering, he prefers playing with your clit/cock even more, he’s surprisingly has the best stamina over all the guys but he likes to keep it secret.
A good surprise, I’d say.
I see him as the type to be more sensual than sexual. His hands are best at love-making than rough fucking.
besides Marko, he’s one of the best massuage therapists out there.
His hands somehow find every tense crack in your bones and somehow is able to perform chiropractic procedures like aligning your neck properly or fixing a locked jaw.
He owns a ton of essential oils, his hands always seem to smell of lavender or peppermint, and sometimes he does use it on you.
The boys have learnt that if you both smell like the same thing then you both most likely fucked teehee.
Dwayne’s hands are best for pulling hair!!!
Watch him tangle his digits into your hair and pull gently, maybe whenever you’re sucking him off, or when he needs a little handlebar during sex.
he likes to cover your mouth with his huge hands whenever you’re having a quickie in public, he loves the idea of keeping you quiet with just his hands over your mouth as he dicks you down in a shady alleyway.
He also looks amazing covering his lips with his hands, his veins are more prominent and they run down all the way to his upper arm.
I wouldn’t blame you if you told me you wanted to follow that long vein to the end ;)
his hands definitely flex and his veins show while he grips your headboard to death.
Dwayne’s actor, Billy rips panties with one hand, it’s no surprise Dwayne wouldn’t either.
And god he looks amazing doing so..
Hold his hands while you ride him, he wants to see you be so dependent on him and his hands, he’ll make you feel good, don’t worry! Just relax and let him do the work.
Leaves hand prints all over your body from how strong he grips!
In the end, let Dwayne wash your hair for you! He gives a good massage and he’ll leave you feeling relaxed then ever.
“Yeah…there..” you sighed in content, your stomach to your bed as a deep rumble of a chuckle was heard. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You nodded hazily, your hands gripping onto the sheets with pleasure.
“God Dwayne..when were you going to tell me you were this good?..” you groaned, feeling his huge hands run themselves down your back almost passionately. You could feel his fingers gently scan your back for any tense spots to fix.
A hearty chuckle was only heard from your boyfriend as he gently pushed his thumb into a tense spot in your back, a small crack leaving it as you let out a surprise yelp, before relaxing once again.
“Fuck..” you cursed out, feeling Dwayne’s hands reach up onto your shoulder and dig themselves into your shoulder blade. A whine left your lips as another pop was heard from your body.
You’ve never been so relaxed and turned on at this point, Dwayne feels amused by your reactions, sighing and whining in content and relaxation. He lives for the pleasure he gives you.
His hands massaged one of his favourite scented oils into your skin, hydrating it, and making you smell absolutely delicious to him, he couldn’t help but place a few kisses at the back of your neck as you felt like falling asleep under Dwayne’s touch.
After a while of a slow, long, amazing massage from Dwayne, the dark-haired man deemed you relaxed enough before he gently pulled you by the thighs, resting in between them as you yelped in surprise.
“Think you’re finished? Daddy needs his release too.”
(visuals) :
#✦ buwan consumes.#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys x reader#tlb#poly lost boys#poly lost boys x reader#tlb paul#paul tlb#✦ dwayne’s karma.#dwayne tlb#marko tlb#david tlb#✦ marko’s karma.#✦ paul’s karma.#✦ david’s karma.
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i just think. andrew's possessive and mean and does horrible damage to people he ought to consider friends and he's physically violent to the point of literal GBH charges and he carries knives and you dont know his boundaries you just know if you cross them even accidentally he WILL gut you and. he's the most selfless person on the team and he willingly resigns himself to a hellish existence if it means his brother stays out of it his brother who he doesnt even know and hasnt met a single time in his life doesnt even know he EXISTED until suddenly he does and he puts his brother's livelihood over his simply because there's a chance he might drag him down and he isn't going to risk it and he kills his brother's abuser without question knowing full well he'll be hated for it and he doesn't mind it because in his head it was the only possible response he could have given and he gets his brother off drugs and again with his teammate who he owes nothing to and he doesn't know how to love and he's clumsy and far too sharp with it but. if he decides someone is his it's common knowledge to leave them the fuck alone because he just grabs onto the few people he can tolerate and he doesnt let go doesnt know how to let go holds on so tight he leaves claw marks his devotion is a violent, bloody thing with teeth and he doesnt know how to be gentle and he doesnt want to be gentle and. he likes sweet things and he tears his food up like a child and he's vicious in his teasing and he loves his eccentric therapist and he buys her little ornaments and he argues on apocalypse survival strategies with the teammate deemed too nice for him and. he has an eidetic memory and is wickedly observant to the point he predicts certain teammates better than even their closest friends can and he exists in the narrative as this indomitable boy of iron who is strong enough to carry neil's trauma and stand firm against it and he is he is he is but once he was seven. he was seven and he believed him. he said please enough to hate the word. no one was strong for him. no one saved him. they call him monster even now
#what if - and i mean this genuinely - i went to sleep and never woke up. what if i went gentle into that goodnight. what if i killed everyon#none of you bitches are even close to understanding andrew like i do im in his stupid fucking head i cant GET OUT#nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh im want to tearing my fuckiggn hair out ive had ENOUGH#andrew minyard#aftg#hella reads aftg
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Firewatch 11
Summary: You just want to sleep, but Price needs you to calm down first.
Words: 2.8k
CW: Kidnapping, light bdsm
When Johnny tried to touch you, you only buried yourself into Simon and glowered at him. He looked wounded, pulling his hand back from where it had been poised to stroke your hair. None of them understood why you were reacting like that. You seemed back to yourself, but then it would stand to reason that you would be most scared of Simon. And yet now you were only too happy to be held by him. Only him.
As far as you were concerned it was a survival tactic. If you were always by Simon, none of them could kill you without going through him. And you weren’t really sure anyone could go through him. He seemed happy enough to play protector, thumb rubbing firm circles into your waist and teeth nibbling at the tip of your ear every so often. You suspected he was probably looking at the others when he did it, gloating. Good.
“You need to eat sweetheart” he purred into your ear.
“Mm, don’t tell me what to do Simon.”
“Bratty even when you’re half dead.”
“Bossy even when I’m being nice.”
He chuckled at that. If he were a better man perhaps he would feel bad that Price, Johnny and Gaz were at the kitchen island looking like grumpy little puppies. As he was not a better man he only shot them a lopsided grin. Why shouldn’t he be happy? You were safe, your temperature was back to normal, you were in his arms and letting his fingers sink into the fat of your waist, letting his teeth lazily graze the skin of your ear. The fear of losing you gave way to how you fit so fucking perfectly against him. He couldn’t help but imagine how else you might fit together, how perfectly warm and wet and tight you’d be around him. Fuck would you let him take you to his bed? He didn't even need to make love to you just yet if you were still stubborn about everything, just hold you, feel your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin proving you were alive.
“Like you nice, should give it to me more often” he said with his hand testing the waters, squeezing the meat of your thigh dangerously close to your ass.
“Don't get used to it, can't imagine it'll be a frequent occurrence.”
You felt the squeeze and your body gave a valiant attempt at arousal, but it was like molasses, sticky and slow moving in your exhaustion. You didn't mind it, if anything it was sort of nice. His chuckle betrayed his own exhaustion a little, the raspiness of it pointing to him having had a very stressful day.
“Then let me enjoy it while it lasts hm? Eat something for me sweetheart.”
Stupid man being stupidly charming. You didn't really feel like eating, you had went past hungry at some point in the cold and now you just wanted to stay cuddled up to someone you were steadfastly believing was safe and go to sleep. He kept jostling you though, a nip to your ear, a squeeze of your thigh or a finger tracing your spine keeping you awake from how it caused little thrills through you.
“You make it.”
“Hm?”
“I'm not eating whatever they made. You make it. Or give me something that's sealed.”
Well that was an alarming thing to hear you mumble softly against him. The smug happiness of having you favour him was rapidly turning into concern. What exactly did you think they were going to do to you? Did you think they would poison you or were you just refusing to eat anything from them out of pettiness?
“Why?”
“I'll make it myself then” you grumbled, pushing away from him even though every fibre of you hated it.
Oh he did not like that if the growl was anything to go by. Simon stood with little warning, an arm banding under your ass to keep you wrapped around him. You tensed, knowing he was going over to the others and not being sure you really wanted to be near them. Price maybe, he had been kind, he was asleep when Johnny and Kyle had been discussing your murder. Second murder you supposed. But you couldn't really be sure he wasn't in on it. Then again you couldn't be sure Simon wasn't, but you didn't have much choice but to believe him.
You were placed lightly on the kitchen island and he took a small step back, forcing you out into the open. You had felt a lot less vulnerable wrapped up in him, face buried in his shoulder. Your skin prickled with the gazes you felt on you.
“I was only gone a few days, what exactly happened in that time that's got you not willing to eat anything they've made?”
“What? That true little bird? You are not starving yourself, you're already in enough trouble for running off like that” Price said, trying to temper himself.
He was off balance with this whole situation. You had seemed on the edge of giving in before he went to sleep (which he now felt incredibly guilty about) and then he wakes up to you gone? And now after letting them rescue you, Simon shows up and you are suddenly only willing to speak to him. You hadn't been refusing to eat before. You had been a brat about it sure, but you hadn't refused.
You looked at Price, not sure how to untangle your feelings towards him. He could not be in on it, surely not. If he had wanted to kill you he could have smothered you while you were in his bed. Johnny spoke and while you didn't mean to, you flinched. Everybody certainly noticed.
“We dinnae ken what's happening in that bonnie– I… baby what's wrong?”
“Back off Johnny.”
“I didnae dae anything!”
While you were glad Simon was telling him off you wished he'd just let you cling to him again. This wasn't a conversation you wanted to have right now, you just wanted to sleep for 16 hours in a warm bed. You'd probably take a warm body in it if it wasn't someone who had openly spoken about killing you.
“Everything seemed fine the other night luv, you were getting along.”
You did glance at Kyle, seeing him look alarmed at how you froze up when he spoke the same way you had for Johnny. He was right, you were getting along. It had been almost peaceful, you had been almost calm. Maybe that had been what they had been waiting for.
“Simon.”
You said his name as a soft plead, hoping you could get out of this conversation. You didn't want to say it out loud. You didn't want to make it real. Because goddamnit you kind of liked them. You liked teasing Johnny when Dosia was horrible to him, you liked watching Kyle cook. It was so stupid of you to fall for it, to find yourself liking them. Please let Price be outside of it, please let him want you alive. Heartbreak twice over was already enough.
There was a stunned sort of silence at your little plea. It wasn't really like you at all, not the you they had been getting to know. These men knew one another well enough that they could each tell that nobody knew what was going on here. This wasn’t you being angry or scared that they were keeping you here. This was something else, and none of them knew why. Price moved into your eye line and you lowered your gaze stubbornly to the ground, but you didn’t seem the same level of upset as you were with Soap or Gaz.
His brow furrowed and he crooked a finger under your chin, making you tilt your head up and look at him. He could feel how agitated Simon had gotten at you saying his name like that, but he also knew that he trusted him with you. He trusted he would make this right. So he stayed where he was, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms to ensure he wouldn’t reach out while Price tried to fix whatever had went so horribly wrong.
“What’s going on?”
“Failed escape attempt, obviously.”
“Try again little bird.”
Oh, he was using that voice again. That one that oozed authority and made you want to push and push and push until he snapped. Only now you didn’t know what that meant. Part of you hoped he would just backhand you, show you his true colours so you could get over whatever this ridiculous feeling was. Another part badly wanted him to take some sort of control, force your racing thoughts to calm. Fuck you were demented.
“You wanted me to stay put, you should have clipped my wings.”
“That what you want?”
Maybe. Maybe you just wanted them to stop fucking toying with you. You were exhausted, fear and misery had drained you and you just wanted to give in, but your already incredibly wounded pride would really rather he made you give in so you could pretend you had fought it.
“Does it matter what I want John?”
He considered you for a while, the world holding its breath in anticipation. You didn’t realise how tense you really were until he moved his hand to the nape of your neck, tugging you off of the counter, fingers and thumb gripping with enough pressure that it loosened you all at once. The others didn’t intervene as he marched you out of the kitchen and into his office, the click of the lock causing a full body shiver. He was behind you and you just let your eyes softly unfocus on the wall as he bent slightly to speak right into your ear.
“I didn’t want to do this right now. You need rest. But you’re too wound up for that aren’t you little bird? Won’t even eat if we can’t get you calmed down.”
His foot slid between yours, pushing gently to get your legs to widen as he pressed on your neck, bending you over the desk. You didn’t have resistance left to give as you settled on your elbows. His hand running down your spine made you sigh.
“This… it doesn’t change anything” you said softly as tugged on your sweatpants, getting access to the bare swell of your ass.
“Course not. Bet’s still on, and I still intend to win.”
–
Gaz couldn’t sleep. He was half tempted to do what Soap had done and sneak into Ghost’s bed for some form of bloody comfort. He hadn’t seen you since Price had taken you into that office, although they all knew exactly what would have happened in there. He knew you were due punishment for running away like that, but it unsettled him that it had happened so soon. You weren’t right yet, you were still… well he didn’t know. That was the problem. Shock he could understand, but he thought they had warmed you up and got you lucid again. And then you had looked at him like you were scared of him. You had never looked at him like that before, not even when you had been spitting mad and screaming at Soap.
He trusted Price, he knew that he’d figure out what was wrong, knew that he’d take care of you in whatever way you needed it. But it didn’t help him sleep. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted you to cosy into him like you had done with Ghost. It drove him wild watching how his fingers had sunk into you, how you had let them. Fuck it was so stupid, Kyle’s fingers had been inside you but he was getting jealous of the intimacy of another mans fingers even touching you.
He was driving himself a little crazy going over your last interaction with him, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. You had been fine, you had even laughed when he had made a cutesy little smiley face on your omelette with ketchup. He wasn’t about to pretend that you were happy being kept by them like this, but he was so sure you had been beginning to settle. Him and Soap were going to wait until Simon was back and then make their case to him and Price that they should talk to you about giving you some freedom. They couldn’t let you just run to the police, but what if they built you your own place? Just like your little cottage. They thought they could make you happy with that for the time being, work on it until maybe you’d like to move somewhere far away with them. Then they could take you out on dates without incriminating themselves. They just needed to convince you that you wanted to go on them. And somehow he had fucked it all up.
The light knock on his door had him out of the bed in record time to answer. He knew how a knock sounded for people, and that was too light to be Ghost or Price (Soap never knocked, fucking git that he was). He should have tried to be more cool and collected but he wrenched open the door and just flustered for a moment at you standing there in pjs. Fuck you were pretty. You looked tired still, but calm, he suspected Price had probably given you what you needed.
“I… um. Can I come in?”
He nodded rapidly and stood aside to let you wander into his room. You seemed maybe a little nervous, but at least not scared of him. He hated that you had been scared of him. He hated not being able to figure out why.
“Are you-”
“I wanted-”
You both paused and there was a moment of each of you trying to get the other to go first until Kyle sighed and very gently moved you to sit on his bed so he could crouch in front of you, taking both your hands in his.
“Are you ok luv?”
“Tired. John gave me the soup you made, it was nice.”
He had fed you after he had rewired your brain with the absolute leathering he had given your ass. You were pretty sure you had cried during, but it was all a little hazy. It was a stupid thing to do, but you found you trusted him. Hard not to when he had climbed into the bath with you, washed your hair and gently dried and moisturised you after without once trying to take advantage.
You had nearly choked spying on him when you were supposed to be undressing for the bath, watching through the crack in the bathroom door to his room as he leaned his forearm heavily against the wall and quickly jacked himself off. Fuck, you knew he had done it because he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be getting hard with you naked in his arms and you had to throw cold water on your face to try and pretend you weren’t flushed with the thought that he wanted you that badly but wouldn’t do anything to you even in your vulnerable state. Made it hard not to trust him really. You had been suddenly glad for how utterly exhausted you were because while your body had made an attempt at getting you aroused it had been overpowered by bone tiredness.
Instead you had let him take care of you and pull you into his arms in bed. And you had finally talked. You told him what you had overheard and he told you that without a shadow of a doubt you had misunderstood. He’d even offered to knock their heads together for even accidentally frightening you like that. And you were so thoroughly out of emotions, so run through with the events of the day, that you couldn’t find it in you to not just believe him. He hadn't stopped you when you had mumbled that you wanted to see Kyle, he had just pressed his lips to your hair and let you go.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“I thought you and Johnny were going to kill me. I overheard you in the kitchen,” you answered, no energy for anything but blunt honesty.
Kyle took a moment to figure out what the fuck you were talking about and then groaned and hid his head in your joined hands.
“Fuck. Oh fuck. I should have thought about how that would sound with you right in the next room, I’m sorry, it wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking, it- well we-”
You squeezed his hands to get him to look at you again.
“S’ok. I’d just like to sleep if that’s ok.”
He wasn’t going to argue with you when you were sat in his bed, when you wanted to share it. So he just smiled and let you crawl under the covers so he could slot in right behind you.
He fit there.
#mhairiwrites#cod au#tf 141 x reader#I am not doing super hot right now and this is very jumbled and a bit nonsensical#but it was this chapter or no chapter at all :')
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FINISHED MY TOOTHLESS PLUSH!!
Materials, info and some comments under the RM!
Toothless' Pattern I purchased
Materials:
6 yards of black minky
1 yard red minky
5 yards of Poly-Fil extra loft medium quilt batting
18 oz of poly pellets (4 oz in each foot)
2 Mainstay firm bed pillows for stuffing
1 spool of purple thread for the top stitching details on his tail, hip and main wings
2.5 spools of black thread
Dark green, lime green, goldenrod and light yellow embroidery floss
black acrylic paint
white fabric paint
Velcro
one very old, small and cranky sewing machine who somehow survived this ordeal
several comfort shows, podcasts, and music to listen to
This was my winter break project! Granted I started bits and pieces of the process in early December, but once my two weeks off hit he really started getting worked on lol.
I know it's hard to tell from photos, but he is A BIG CHONGUS. Toothless is 5.5 feet from head to tail tip, and has a 9 foot wingspan. He weighs about 8 lbs.
He took about 60ish hours and was very complex. My budget was $200 and he came in at $202! That includes things like the bulldog clips that I bought when he was being pinned because the minky was so slippery! This cost EXcludes a sewing machine, or things like an embroidery ring which my mom had, so I was very lucky in several areas—but he still was not cheap, either by expense or by time and sweat/tears!
Of course, the minky was by far the most of the cost, coming in at $122. I’d say the batting would be next, but I waited and snagged a good deal at my local craft store and got the batting for $18. I HIGHLY recommend buying bed pillows. The original maker of the pattern used IKEA pillows I believe.
I increased his size by 20%, so I printed him at 120% and guesstimated on the minky amount. My WORST mistake was forgetting to mirror the WINGS, which meant I had to recut two of the four pieces of fabric. (I should have marked it on the pattern, which I did mark well for things like number count.) Had I not done this, I would have used a lot less minky. I bought 7 yards and only needed 5.5 before my error.
(Now I’ve got scraps and a whole yard left sitting there whispering that it wants to be made into a Krobus plushie…who seems much less of a hurdle than Toothless.)
I stuffed Toothy’s hip fins and tail fins with one layer of quilt batting. His wings however, are double layered with the batting for extra plush, warmth, and durability. His eyes are hand embroidered (my first time!) but stitched on with the machine. Toothless has poly pellets in his feet to help support his bulk, but most of his weight is in his body, hips and start of his tail so he actually sits up really well.
He was a huge labor of love for sure! The pattern was great, the instructions were…less great. But my mom helped me figure out a lot of the troubling bits. Some parts were easy to follow and others were basically "bing bong fuck ya life." Despite that, I do suggest this pattern. But this is definitely an intermediate or advanced pattern. They also sell the eyes for those that have access to an embroidery machine.
I followed the pattern closely as I desired. I did omit the back spikes on his rear legs, and I couldn’t embroider his lil nose by hand ^^; I also did not make his blue alpha fins because of expense and mistrust in my own skills...also, I kinda wanted HTTYD1 Toothless haha. I love the series as a whole but the og movie is literally one of the reasons I went to college, and it went into my thesis as well.
I want to remake his prosthetic at some point when I have time and energy, but for now I’m pleased with 99% of him, especially since this is my first plushie I’ve ever made. I do not regret any of my personal changes and I’m totally in love with him.
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Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Cowboy AU
Prologue
Introduction to my fic set within the cowboy AU created by @ghouljams for our dear boy Nikto. This is just a quick starter piece to set the scene for the fic so to say. Also decided to include Sputnik since I don't see many fics including the precious baby!
A/N: Obligatory note that I do not condone the owning of dangerous or wild exotic animals as pets regardless of a country or state's laws. Exotic animals require a large amount of knowledge in their husbandry and specific requirements to ensure the highest standard of welfare is maintained. They should never be treated like domestic animals, they do not make good pets.
Warnings: Discussion of Serious Injury, Limb Amputation.
Masterlist: CoD Masterlist
Next Part
Nikto had been waiting for death to greet him throughout the entirety of his career. It was simply an inevitable fact of life both in the military and working as a mercenary for hire. People died constantly at his sides, and it quickly became a question of “when” and not “if” the final string would be cut and his body would fail him for the last time.
There were days when he almost wished for the reaper to claim whatever remained of his empty heart. Torture was tolerable, an old friend at this point, but the months and years of recovery afterwards were what really felt like suffering.
Alive, and yet completely useless. A fractured mind trapped within an equally ruined body.
The only thing he could look forward to was getting back to work once his body was finally strong enough to pass medical approval. Tedious as the waiting game could be, he wasn’t stupid enough to push himself beyond his limits like some honour-hungry rookie. No, he waited and saved his strength for when it would one day be needed, for the days when nothing but sheer willpower can save his pitiful soul.
And yet despite his many brushes with death, he had still yet to be taken by it, even when by all rights he should have been. Death yet remained a stranger.
But why? Was his mind too corrupt and darkened for even the devil to want to touch? He had never believed in any God, but surely there was one looking down on him and mocking his pathetic existence. How else could he have survived an injury that should have killed him?
He could remember little of the mission, only the sounds of people shouting orders, the potent scent of smoke and chemicals in the air, and pain. Certainly not the worst pain he’d experienced in his life, a blade to the gut still had the honour of that, but close to it. He was fortunate that the concussion he’d received had left him drifting in and out of unconsciousness for most of the trip back to base.
His arm was fucked. According to the doctor and the reports from various other operators present on the mission, his elbow was bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t have been, and there was enough shrapnel in the remaining flesh that he might as well have lopped the whole thing off entirely.
Which is exactly what the doctors ended up doing.
It was their last resort, but with the complete lack of feeling in the limb coupled with an infection that just couldn’t be stamped out no matter how many antibiotics they pumped into his IV, it was necessary. They tried as hard as possible to save it, but necrosis had set in, and the safest course of action was to remove all damaged and dead tissue.
He still wasn’t sure what would have been worse, being taken out by sepsis, or dealing with his current existence.
And what a miserable existence it is.
KorTac wanted to keep him on – surely, they couldn’t just let a wild beast like him roam free without a firm hand on his leash – but there was very little they could offer for him. Stay with the PMC and become a glorified guard dog? Train bratty little recruits? Sit behind a desk pushing papers nine to five? No, that would destroy what little grasp he still had on his sanity.
That was how he ended up standing on the rundown porch of a house that could be described in a single word as dilapidated. It was cheap but came with enough land for him to not need to worry about nosy neighbours. He’s so far lacked the motivation to do anything to try and restore the building, but it has four walls and a roof, which is more than can be said for some of the “safe” houses he’s utilised over the years.
He’d been lucky to discover the place at all with how small the town is. A passing comment from a fellow soldier about the region had caught his attention and, considering the impossibility of returning to Russia, he’d decided to look into it. America was a massive continent, and in the US he wouldn’t be questioned for owning weapons. Even better? This particular state allowed him to continue to keep Sputnik without suspicion.
The old man who had been selling the house had been sympathetic after he’d played the whole “injured veteran” card and had even offered him a reduced price for the property. It still sickens him to think about how weak he must have looked in that moment, but needs must, and what he needed was a place to call home, even if only for a little while.
One terrible accident and he’s reduced to begging for help like a stray dog wanting scraps.
His irritation has the hand of his prosthetic curling gently into the fur of Sputnik’s pelt. All it can do is open and close around things to allow him some form of grip, but it works, and he supposes that’s all that matters. His girl doesn’t seem to care that it’s not a flesh and blood hand petting her, leaning into him regardless.
She’s the centre of his current predicament and the reason he’s been forced to reach out for help. No amount of puppy dog eyes and wide grins sent his way are enough to save her from a trip to the vet. Or rather, a visit from one.
He waits patiently as a large car rolls down the gravel road that leads to the small house from the property’s front gate. Sputnik whines as it draws closer, before beginning to laugh with nervous excitement. The moment the vehicle pulls to a stop she moves to investigate, but is quickly stopped with a barked, “МЕСТО!” command from Nikto.
Sputnik huffs, unimpressed with not being allowed to greet their visitor, but settles for sitting at the top of the stairs while her master approaches.
In all honesty, Nikto had been expecting a grizzled old man or woman with decades of experience under the belt when the receptionist had promised to send someone with knowledge of exotics. What he wasn’t expecting was... you.
#writing#fanfic#call of duty modern warfare#reader insert#call of duty nikto#nikto x reader#cowboy au
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Congrats on 1000 you deserve 10000000 and I love you very many ♥️ for the requests:
J, mafia AU, smut, ring
You know how I like it 😉😘
Mickala!!! 😍😭💖
Thank you so much, I couldn't have made it without all of your lovely support. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend. Hope you enjoy my silly little Mafia AU!
Coup d'etat
Rated: E
Words: 999
Tags: Mafia AU; dark Eddie Munson; intrigue; blood and violence; bondage; nudity; explicit sexual content; consensual non-con
“Nice pool,” Eddie drawls, walking back from the patio into the house. “Could’ve made a bit more of an effort to clean it. I said to leave the place as you’d like to find it, Dick.”
Richard Harrington’s eyes scream bloody murder, but he doesn’t dare speak. Jeff and Frank have him flanked on either side, guns ready in their holsters, and Gareth is manning the door. Just a precaution. Harrington has been in the business for long enough to know he has lost. All of his most loyal henchmen are dead or on the run, and the more fickle ones have joined Eddie’s side.
“Aw, don’t pout.” Eddie pats the man's cheek jovially. “This is just how it works. Survival of the fittest and all that. Now, I believe that concludes our little tour of the house? Or am I forgetting something?”
Harrington’s face twitches. Jeff laughs and rolls his eyes.
“The bedroom, Eddie?”
“Ah, of course!” Eddie snaps his fingers, like he only just remembered. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
*
A giant bed dominates the far wall of the master bedroom. On the mattress, wrists tied to the headboard, is a boy. The soft, muted light glows off his naked skin.
“Ah,” Eddie mutters. “That’s what I’m talking about. Turns out you can follow directions.”
Harrington says nothing. The boy, who stopped tearing at his restraints when he heard the door open, stares at him with wide, panicked eyes.
“Dad? What- … Who are those people?”
Eddie coos. With a few long strides, he’s at the bed, sinking down onto the mattress. One of his hands finds the boy’s bare ankle, sliding up his leg to a firm, freckled thigh.
“Aw, darling. He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? Leave me alone, perv!”
The boy tries to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t get far, bound in place as he is. Eddie chuckles.
“Shhh, honey,” he scolds, cradling that pretty face with both hands. “It's okay. The name's Eddie, I work for your dad. Well, worked.”
The boy blinks at him, hazel eyes large and confused. Eddie laughs softly.
“See, the firm’s under new management. My management, to be more specific. I’m trying to keep it minimum bloodshed, so your old man’s gonna make himself scarce and I’ve agreed not to bother him. In return, I get to keep this fine house … and everything in it.”
Understanding dawns in those pretty eyes.
“No! Don't- don't touch me. Stay away from me.”
Eddie makes a soft shushing sound and wipes the first tears away as they spill over.
“Oh no, sweet thing. It’ll be alright, I promise. I’ll take such good care of- wait a sec.”
Because one of his hands has just slipped up to the boy's temple, fingers carding through thick, chestnut hair - only to come away red and sticky. The boy flinches, but Eddie grabs his jaw, holding him in place so that he can comb his hair aside. There’s a large, bleeding bruise on his temple. For a moment, the only sound in the room is that of the boy's hitched breathing.
“Dick?” Eddie growls. “Explain this?”
“He fought back,” Harrington mutters defiantly. “What was I supposed-”
Eddie has him up against the wall, gun to his throat, before he can finish the sentence.
“Are you kidding me? Trying to slip me damaged goods? I should fucking kill you, you son of a-”
“Eddie,” Frank mutters. “C'mon, man.”
Eddie blinks.
“Right,” he says. “Get him out of my sight.”
Relief washes over Harrington’s face as the gun disappears from his throat - only to be replaced by incredulous horror a second later, when Eddie holds out his hand before his face, palm up.
“Go on, Dick. It's traditional, right? A sign of respect.”
Harrington growls. His hands curl into fists. Eddie smirks, raising an expectant eyebrow. Then, quickly, as if the touch will burn him, Harrington bows his head and kisses Eddie’s rings.
“Not so hard, was it?” Eddie calls after him as he is escorted out. The door clicks shut.
Eddie's smile slips.
“Shit, Stevie,” he breathes. He's back on the bed in an instant, tilting the boy's head with gentle fingers to look at the injury. “What'd you go and do that for? I told you not to fight.”
“And I told you it had to look convincing,” Steve retaliates. “Was I just supposed to let them tie me up and tear off my clothes and thank them for it?”
Eddie's mouth twists into a grin.
“We both know that's how you like it, honey.”
He leans in, claiming those plush lips for a long, filthy kiss. Steve puts up a brief symbolic struggle, but Eddie growls warningly and slips a hand between his legs, and his protests turn into the sweetest little moans. Eddie only allows them to part once they're both out of breath and Steve is starting to buck and grind in his hold.
“Everything went well, then?” Steve asks. His voice is hoarse and raspy, and he needs to stop halfway through for another moan. “The- … the security codes all worked?”
“Flawlessly, you sly little minx,” Eddie murmurs. He bites down on the perfect stretch of that long throat, rolls Steve’s balls in his hand, and delights in the full-body shiver it gets him. “That old asshole didn’t know what hit him.”
Steve lets out a breathy laugh, rolling his hips to meet Eddie’s touch.
“Good. Now untie me, so we can celebrate.”
“Oh?” Eddie smirks, crawling further down and leaving a trail of biting kisses all over the soft skin of Steve’s chest and stomach. “But I am celebrating already.”
Steve groans. “Eddie, c’mon!”
“Ah-ah-ah, Stevie. There’s people out there who think I’m gonna ravage you tonight,” Eddie tuts, grabbing the boy’s twitching hips and blowing a warm stream of air on that pretty, flushed cock. Steve fucking mewls. The sound is like the sweetest music. “Be a good boy now. Gotta make it convincing, no?”
More celebration ficlets
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie brainrot#steddie fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#hype's 1k follower ficlets
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UNDERSTAND | CHAPTER 4: u mean *OUR girlfriend
warnings: cursing, lowercase intended
word count: ~1.2k
“right this way ma’am.” you follow a producer through a park located by the han river. it was a gorgeous day outside, perfect for whatever was planned for you and this mystery date. “are you nervous?” the producer asks you with a smile. all you can do is put your best idol face on and tell him that you’re excited.
it wasn’t a complete lie but you weren't exactly sure what you were feeling at the moment. a bundle of nerves, anticipation, and anxiety were all jumbled in the pit of your stomach. in just a few short minutes, you were finally going to meet your “husband.” what if you said something stupid? what if you tripped over your own feet and fell on your face? your career would be over before it’s even gotten started, you think to yourself.
running our hands over your light purple dress, you focus on smoothing out any wrinkles as a way to de-stress. first impressions meant a lot to you and you couldn’t have anything out of place, especially if your partner was cute (which you really hope he is). when there were no more wrinkles in sight, you were stopped by the producers. “alright, when we say action just keep walking and act as natural as possible? got it?” you simply nod your head and get yourself ready to film. you should be used to the cameras at this point, but it always takes a bit of time to adjust.
once the cameras start rolling, you continue walking and spot bright, pink bows wrapped around the trees. you look at the crew with a confused smile. they gesture for you to keep going, so you follow the trail of trees with the cute bows. the decor eventually leads you to an open area with a blanket on the ground, holding an assortment of snacks and foods. you sit on a cushion and take a moment to look at everything laid out before you
you’ve been on many picnics before with your members but none as extravagant as this one. the white blanket and pillows are the softest you’ve ever felt and there are so, so many types of foods displayed that must’ve cost a pretty penny. perks of having a production crew funding your dates you guess.
from behind you, jay slowly walks up with the big bouquet in his hands. though no one could tell, jay was just as nervous as you were. he makes himself believe it’s because he’s afraid you wouldn’t like what he planned. did he go too simple? were you one for more fancier meals? he thinks it's just the pressure of the date turning out well for the views and he’s definitely not nervous about who you could be. no, he doesn’t care at all. he just needs to get through this first filming so he can go back to the dorms to play games with his members.
at this point, jay is so close, but you have no clue since you’re still admiring everything around you. you swear you could hear the staff giggling in the distance but before you could question it, someone’s arms wrap around you while setting a bouquet of white flowers on your lap. a gasp leaves your lips and you turn around, finally seeing the face of your husband for the first time.
park jongseong. your pretend husband for the next couple of months is no other than park. jongseong. realizing you haven’t moved in what felt like an eternity, you quickly stand up making sure to bow to him. even though you’re internally freaking out, you don’t forget your manners (you also don’t forget how disastrous it would be for a rookie idol getting caught not respecting their senior.) “uhh hi. I’m park jongseong, but you can call me jay.” his hand reaches for yours to give a firm handshake and your skin becomes hot by this little interaction. your brain is short circuiting because what the fuck? THE park jay not only touched your hand but also had his arms wrapped around you? yeah, you definitely weren’t surviving the day.
affter getting over your mental breakdown, you finally find the words to introduce yourself. “hi! i’m yn. thanks for the flowers by the way, they’re beautiful.” jay doesn’t miss the wide smile adorning your lips and he mentally thanks heeseung for the suggestion. “well shall we?” he gestures for you two to sit down and start eating the picnic food. there’s an awkward yet comforting silence in the air as you guys are enjoying the delicious treats the crew prepared.
jay notices how every two minutes you have to adjust the bag on your lap that’s covering your legs. stupid, stupid, stupid he thinks to himself. he hated that his idea of a picnic could’ve made you even a little uncomfortable in your pretty dress. he moves to take his jacket off and drapes it over to cover you and for the second time today, jay’s actions surprise you. the kind gesture makes your heart swell and you can’t help but blush.
“so…”
“so…”
“this is kind of awkward, isn’t it?” you ask with a nervous laugh. “ i mean yeah, but don’t first dates always start out like this?” you nod your head and look away for a moment, spotting both of your managers taking photos of you guys. putting your attention back on jay, you shrug your shoulders. “I wouldn’t know i’ve never been on one.” when jay says he hasn’t been on one as well, you feel yourself relax. It comforts you that you both don't know what the hell you’re doing here.
after that exchange you find it quite easy to converse with jay. you match each other’s energies, quickly becoming comfortable enough to tease one another. the two of you start getting to know each other better with topics ranging from trainee days to what your personality types are.
a little later you express how it’d be a nice day to take pictures but your phone had died on the way there. upon hearing that, jay surprises you for a third time, offering to take pictures for you on his phone. “we have to exchange contacts anyways so i’ll send them to you. it’s no biggie.”
jay wishes he got a staff member or manager to take pictures of you because he’s finding it really hard to complete this simple task. taking pictures is like second nature to him but suddenly he can’t bring himself to focus. not when you’re standing right in front of him looking so pretty while posing with the flowers HE got for you. pretty? did he just call you pretty? he won’t lie to himself. you’re a gorgeous woman, anyone would be blind to not see that. he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head, leaving them to deal with later.
“and cut! okay good job guys. we’ll see you next time.” the producer’s voice rings in your ears and you’re reminded that this whole time you were filming. the awkward energy between you and jay returns and you’re not sure what to do next. “thanks for everything jay. i really enjoyed myself today.”
“it was my pleasure, really. i had a lot of fun too. i’ll text you the pictures later, yeah?” you two bid each other goodbye and as you’re walking back to the van your manager nudges your shoulder. “so, jay huh?” you playfully roll your eyes at his statement and try to fight the smile creeping onto your lips.
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MESSAGE FROM NIC: ahh they finally met!! im not too good with my writing yet so hopefully this was decent enough 😣 as always, feedback is appreciated! love u guys 🫶🏼
TAGLIST: @enmayz @02zhoonie @myjaeyunn @shinrjj @justandloyal2961 @wonsays @enhaz1 @quemirasboboandapaya @mrchweeee @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @in-somnias-world @stqrrgirle @heesbaby @dear-hoon @karinasbaby @ariadores @sunjaywoning @jjhmk @en-happiness @chandlerscigarettes @sunsunl0ver @yenqa @fluerz @ikeusol @faraonatojishady @ohmykwonsoonyoung @nicholasluvbot @enhypeniara @mari-oclock @randomperfections05 @astrae4 @cassie6392 @jongseongslvr @kwiwin @bbangricz @darly6n @kyanmeai @crusholics @cheybabey @glitterssim @jiawji @luvkpopp @ivshypen07 @noascats @rory-cant-sleep @miujunhui @odisdad @luveuism (i couldnt tage the blogs in bold!)
© fakeuwus 2023 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize
#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus#fic: understand#enhypen smau#enhypen social media au#jay enhypen#jay enhypen smau#jay enha#park jay#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen x reader#jay x reader#lee heeseung#park jongseong#sim jaeyun#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#yang jungwon#nishimura riki#son jiwoo#moon chanelle#choi jihyun#bang jeemin#r u next?
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JJK MEN PRESENTS: What kind of woman they'd fall in love with and how they would fall in love. Featuring Toji Fushiguro/Zenin
•Judging by Toji's history with women in the canon verse, I believe that Toji's type of woman is the woman that is like Megumi's Mother.
•Let's put it this way, Toji left his clan broken, misunderstood and he had no one to make him feel what love really is.
•After he left his clan, Toji was a sugar baby, that's for sure. Older women loved this man and even if Toji didn't really like that part of his life he had no choice but to use his body to survive.
•Toji was more used to handling older women, he knew how to please them and as he got older, a woman at the same age as him just doesn't seem like a good fit for him.
•Toji has given up about finding true love because of this, so he just kept on accepting clients to clients and survive, as long as he's not back to that shitty clan, he'll be fine.
•That was when Toji met an innocent, young lady who only sees the good in life. He has no idea why he was even interested about whatever you do in life. You moved in at the unit next to his, you just graduated from college and you have a decent job, but Toji thinks that you're too nice.
•He first saw you when you were talking to the old man who lives across your unit. Toji just received a call from his client, and as he locks his door, he couldn't help but listen in to your conversation with the old man.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
You were busy talking to the old man across your unit, he was talking about how he loved the cookies you baked last time. You gave jars of cookies to your neighbors when you moved in and you appreciated that this old man loves it. "Thank you for the kind words, Choji-san! Don't worry, I'll make sure to save a jar for you once I baked another batch." You smiled. The old man smiled back and held your hands. "I'll look forward to it." he said as he caress your hands for quite some time, you weren't uncomfortable but you didn't want to pull away because you realized that he was a man who lives on his own he's probably missing his daughter or something.
Toji narrowed his eyes at the way that the old man was eye-fucking you while he was holding your hands. It's obvious that you have no idea what kind of a pervert this man was and Toji wanted to step in but your phone rang and you excused yourself to the old man politely and made your way to the parking lot.
Toji gave a firm look at the old man and the latter immediately entered his unit. Coincidentally, your car was parked next to Toji's, and even if he promised not to mind something that's not related to him, he couldn't help but want to give you a warning.
"Oi, Unit 27..." since he doesn't know your name, he just decided to call you by your unit's number.
You turned upon hearing a deep voice behind you, you recognized the man living next to your unit and you smiled. "Hey, good morning Unit 26." You giggled a bit.
Toji was taken aback by the warm smile and your sweet voice, it's no wonder that the old man can easily get away from being a perv with you, you look too innocent.
"You should choose who you befriend wisely." He said before he climbed up his car to go to his client's location.
It was obvious that you didn't get Toji's warning and he decided to take matters into his own hands for some reason.
He started matching his schedule with yours, sharing little moments of short chitchats and bumping into each other at the convenience store nearby. Whenever Toji is around, the old man won't make an attempt to talk to you and he made sure that he wouldn't have a chance to.
Toji wasn't sure when did he even start falling in love with you, all that he remembers and realizes is the fact that he seemed to forget anything bad whenever he's with you. You look at the brighter side of life, you're nice, you're sweet and you're too innocent for this cruel world.
Toji realized that he didn't want your innocence to be taken away from you, he wouldn't want to see that sweet smile of yours to fade, and he realized he wanted to be the one to protect that smile of yours.
His life was all about his own survival but this was the first time that he wanted to care for someone, he never knew how to because he never felt cared for before. But you showed him how, making sure he's not eating take outs, you wouldn't fail to check up on him from time to time to see what he was up to, your eyes sparks whenever he sees you.
Before he even knew it, you became the center of his life.
"Toji-san?" You waved your hands in front of Toji when you realized that he's been quiet for a long time. Toji snapped out of his thoughts and he realized how close you were.
You smiled when you finally got his attention, but blushed when you realized how close your faces are, you can see the scar on his lips up close, and for some reason, your body moved on its own.
Toji felt your warm hands touch his scar, he froze, but you gently traced the scar on his lip that he almost forgot how he got it in the first place. It was a living evidence of his family's cruelty, of how he was abused and treated like a trash.
But the look on your eyes makes him forget all of that, his hands found their way to your waist and he gently placed you onto his lap, your hands still busy tracing each of his facial features.
You softly gasped when he held you tighter and you blushed, stopping yourself from touching his face. "I'm sorry, Toji-san. I got carried away." You tried to stand up but Toji held you close.
"Drop the honorifics, doll." He breathed out.
"D-Doll?" You asked, not sure if you heard it correctly because all you could hear was the fast beat of your heart.
Toji smirked and nip your chin in between his fingers to tilt your head so he could see you better. "You look like a doll sitting on my lap right now. You're tiny and pretty." He said before pinching the tip of your nose.
You were scared, not because of Toji but because of your own feelings. You don't know if you're supposed to feel this safe in someone's arms, is it right to desire to caress his face and be this close to him every time you have the chance?
Whenever you're with Toji, he makes you feel safe, love, and cared for. You want nothing but to ease that tensed jaw of his, to bring sparks in his eyes, and if it's even possible take away everything that hurts him.
Toji could read the look in your eyes, you were silently begging and longing. He decided to be the one to take the risk and close the gap between the two of you.
The moment that he felt your lips against his, Toji could swear that this is what heaven feels like, he couldn't hold back his smile when you tried to keep up with him.
He made sure to kiss you gently and slowly, because he wouldn't want this to end anytime soon. Kissing you was not a job or something but his whole life depends on it.
When Toji pulled away from you, he let his forehead rest against yours.
"I love you, Doll."
#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji fluff#toji fic#toji imagine#toji headcanons#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk toji#jjk fluff#toji fushiguro x you#jjk fanfic#toji fanfic#jjk imagines#jjk fic#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fic
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(I’m not sure if this is how I ask but I’m going for it. Let me know if it’s not right!😭)
Can I play blackjack all in with shigaraki? A cosmopolitan to drink! I’d like a reader with a sheep quirk!🩷
.˚ 🐑┊..⃗. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗽 ⌇
MDNI | t.shigaraki x fem!reader
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: shigaraki’s girlfriend has a sheep quirk and he can’t help but tease her every chance he gets
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: fem bodied reader, mocking/bullying, hair pulling, not a warning; but reader has white hair because of the sheep quirk, name calling (slvt, whvre), begging, spanking (sorta)
𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: i’ve never written for shigaraki so please please please have mercy on me 😭. i highly suggest checking out senpai (who is tagged on my tag list) or @sluttyshigaraki for better shigaraki fics! this is not proofread. i’m sorry if this is completely ooc, i tried. i also kinda altered his quirk a bit so he can touch you without like.. y’know.. decaying you. i’ll be real honest when i say i haven’t finished mha yet so i don’t know everything about him☠️
© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!
𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥
tag list :: @callm3senpaii
a soft bleat escaped your slightly parted lips as your boyfriend harshly tugged on your hair. “t-tomura!” you whimpered. a stinging sensation shot across your scalp as your fingers curled around his bedsheets. “what’s wrong, hitsuji?” his voice was mocking as he slammed his hips into yours harshly.
“t-that hurts!” your hair was extremely sensitive seeing as it was part of your quirk. “that’s too bad,” he chuckled, the sound was hardly one of comfort. his “chuckle” was raspy, nearly comparable to the noise of nails on a chalkboard.
you weren’t quite sure how the two of you ended up becoming a couple. tomura was known for being the leader of the league of villains and a rather ruthless person. you, on the other hand, were a ua high alumni, who was working on becoming a pro-hero. never did you imagine you’d find yourself tangled within a villian’s sheets.
“poor, little lost sheep.” pulling your hair even harder, he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. his thrusts were brutal, the headboard hitting the wall harshly. “can’t believe your shepard let you wander so far from the flock.” you knew he was referring to the hero you were interning with to help finish out your provisional hero license.
every chance he got, tomura teased you about your sheep quirk. he always made a jab at you being “lost” since sheep were known to wander off. sometimes he’d call himself your shepherd in a condescending manner, claiming that you’d never survive without him.
more soft bleats escaped you as his thrusts brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. “god, you’re so fucking tight.” he grunted under his breath. he kept a firm grip on your soft, silky locks of white hair. shoving your face into his pillows, he continued to use you as he saw fit. “g-gonna cum..” you cried out softly. another chuckle sounded from above you. “you’re gonna cum already? poor, pathetic little slut. you can hardly last five minutes.”
he finally released his hold on your hair, opting to grip your hips instead. sinking his nails into your flesh, he started pulling you back to meet his thrusts. “a-ah!” your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you buried your face in his pillow. “if you want to cum, you’re going to have to fucking beg me.” he grunted.
it wasn’t long before you were babbling helplessly into his pillow. your voice was muffled, tears were wetting the fabric as he continued to thrust into you harshly. growing annoyed with not being able to hear you, he pulled you up by your hair, causing you to yelp in pain. “try again, slut.”
“please! please let me cum, tomura! i’m so close! i need to cum!” you wailed helplessly, a few bleats weaving itself through your begs. he smirked, but he wasn’t completely satisfied yet. “yeah? you wanna cum?” he mocked. trying your best to nod, you weakly opened your teary eyes.
“tell me who owns you.” the look in his eyes was sinister as he stared at your pretty, arched back. “y-you,” you hiccuped. “you own me!” squeezing your eyes shut once more, you felt your legs start to shake. “good little sheep. you can cum now. make sure to thank me while you do it, whore.”
a few thrusts later you were cumming all over him, loud moans escaping you. “o-oh!” panting, you immediately began thanking him. “thank you. thank you for letting me cum! thank you..” you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly.
he laughed loudly before spanking you. he gently rubbed your ass as he spoke. “you’re welcome, whore. now, stay still while i fuck you full of my cum.”
hitsuji - 羊 :: japanese. means sheep.
dividers & main picture made by :: @strrynigghts
#: ̗̀➛ crow club specialties#˗ˏˋ saturn’s stories ´ˎ˗#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki x reader#mha shigaraki#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki smut#my hero academia shigaraki#shigaraki tomura smut#tomura smut#tomura x reader#tomura x reader smut#mha tomura#tomura shigiraki x reader#shigaraki x you#tomura shigaraki smut#bnha tomura#tomura x y/n
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Look, I love Maglor.
Maglor makes me feel things.
I am firmly in the camp that Maglor is the Most Gentle Feanorian, he hates violence, he sees the wrong in all they do, he has an immense amount of empathy.
And don’t you see… this does not make him The Best Feanorian, morally superior to his brothers, pure and good.
This interpretation… kinda makes him the WORST of his brothers?
Maedhros stands aside when the ships burn. He believes abandoning their cousins and people is wrong and takes a stand no matter how futile. Maglor doesn’t. Maglor burns the ships.
We don’t know that Maglor thought that was wrong, we don’t get his perspective in that part of the story. But once we start getting his perspective we get him arguing against the final acts of murder that would retrieve the Silmarils, with full knowledge that it is a bad thing to do… and then doing it anyways. I think Maglor knew burning the ships was wrong.
If you interpret Maglor this way… he doesn’t come out looking good. At least Curufin and Celegorm had conviction that attacking Doriath was right. Going along with it knowing it’s wrong is WORSE. It’s FUCKED UP.
Maglor, in many ways, is a coward. Not when facing the enemy, but when facing his brothers, or his father. He may have had the most of Nerdanel in him of his brothers, but he didn’t get her spine, her ability to say “no this is wrong” to someone she loves, and step away. I even think Maglor’s “no this is wrong” was internal until the very end, when he only had his closest brother left.
There is a period where Maglor is in charge, after Maedhros’s capture. And a lot of people headcanon Maglor having a lot of guilt over his inaction in this time. I agree he has a lot of guilt over it (I think guilt and conflicted emotions drive almost everything Maglor does) but I also think this is the BRAVEST AND MOST CORRECT MAGLOR ACTS IN THE ENTIRE FIRST AGE. The Noldor should absolutely just be seeking to survive at this point, trying to rescue Maedhros would get them all killed. Inaction is the correct call here, despite pressure to do otherwise.
And also, I can’t remember if I made this up, but I have a memory of Curufin and Celegorm both clamoring for Maglor to give up the throne in favor of Celegorm, who is absolutely a more decisive leader in line with what their father would have wanted. Fending this off would be the only recorded time when Maglor stood firm against his brothers.
Some people portray Maglor taking in Elrond and Elros as an act of defiance against Maedhros, to which I say… why? Maedhros frantically searched for Elured and Elurin to save them, he clearly was very against the murder of children, and Maglor has exactly zero instances of putting his foot down against Maedhros.
Tl.dr. Maglor having the most developed moral compass of the feanorians, far from making him a perfect angel, actually mixes with his actions and inactions to make him INCREDIBLY flawed in a completely unflattering way, and I think that’s fascinating.
#tolkien#the silmarillion#jirt#silmarillion#silm#jrr tolkien#Maglor#Maedhros#feanorians#characterization#look#I feel bad for Maglor#he was not equipped to be in the position he was in and do the right thing#but that does not make it right#I bet people will be mad at me for this#just my take#doesn’t have to be your take#he was brave when it came to battle?
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protag johnny truant talks a lot abt his sex life and the girls he fucks, seemingly without a direct relation to what he footnotes. but theres always this weird dissociative vibe to it and a lot of ppl think he's lying to sound better than he is (smth he admits to having done, telling insane stories abt how he got his disfigurements is part of his (often unsuccesful) pickup routine), but i ask what does he have to lie about in footnotes no one is ever going to see? my theory is that they are things he thinks happened, or things he is afraid of happening, and writing them out is his way of assuaging the anxiety brought on by delusion or ocd
notably these alleged fantasies are not particularly flattering or satisfying. they are under bizarre or unideal circumstances, involve him feeling deeply ambivalent and lonely, and explicitly mentions not finishing. a woman he doesnt remember becoming friends with uses him as revenge sex on her fiancé. so i find it hard to believe hes doing it to bolster an image or even an ego. if they do happen, even in part, these are not healthy or even necessarily coping mechanisms that make him feel better. often they make him feel worse, lost, alone.
I won't deny that Johnny's parts can be hard to get through. He can be crass, misogynistic, uncomfortable, unhygenic, dissociative, painful, ugly, and sometimes there's just plain bad sex. But I think it's unfair to discount these sections as entirely discrete from and unrelated to Zampano's paper on The Navidson Record. Johnny's story is included in House of Leaves for a reason. It's a part of the whole. There's a lot to be said about Johnny, whose life has never had any security to begin with, whose life is a series of winding pathways that leave him substance reliant and unsure of his place in anything-- in space in time in other people's lives-- reading a book about a movie where this upper middle class nuclear family moves into a new house and immediately have their own sense of domestic safety completely and totally shattered.
Here he is, speaking about his disfigurements (the things he has to tell ludicrous, pulpy stories about in order for people to not recoil away from him):
"All of it true too, though of course scars are much harder to read. Their complex inflections do not resemble the reductive ease of any tattoo, no matter how extensive, colorful or elaborate the design. Scars are the paler pain of survival, received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury."
Here's him talking about that lady who has him as revenge sex:
"Before I left she told me our story: where we'd met-Texas- kissed, but never made love and this had confused her and haunted her and she had needed to do it before she got married which was in four months to a man she loved who made a living manufacturing TNT exclusively for a highway construction firm up in Colorado where he frequently went on business trips and where one night, drunk, angry and disappointed he had invited a hooker back to his motel room and so on and who cared and what was I doing there anyway? I left, considered jerking off, finally got around to it back at my place though in order to pop I had to think of Thumper. It didn't help. I was still hurting, abandoned, drank three glasses of bourbon and fumed on some weed, then came here, thinking of voices, real and imagined, of ghosts, my ghost, of her, at long last, in this idiotic footnote, when she gently pushed me out her door and I said quietly "Ashley" causing her to stop pushing me and ask "yes?" her eyes bright with something she saw that I could never see though what she saw was me, and me not caring though now at least knowing the truth and telling her the truth: "I've never been to Texas.""
I don't know. I just have a profound compassion for this guy. Maybe it's my own history with abuse and neglect and dissociation and unreality but it kind of shocks me to see how many people respond to this guy who desperately needs help and isn't going to get it, who is deeply terrified of other people and wanting them and hurting them or himself... as an imposition and annoying. It's such a fundamentally different read, one I hadn't even considered.
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A Gun is a Lonesome Creature
Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader
Drinking with Bo is a bad idea. He has a worse one.
Smut. Gun kink!! Forced masturbation. Heavy alcohol use by Bo and reader. Dirty talk, Daddy kink. Creampie. Horrible toxic Stockholm relationship dynamics as per usual.
You lost count around drink number four.
Hal Ketchum played a little too loud from the dusty stereo in the corner, and Bo was laughing. Actually laughing – not the cold, cynical chuckle reserved for the damned. And it made you laugh, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way he wrinkled his nose.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He wrapped his lips around a beer bottle and you felt your pulse in your pants. His jaw, his hair, the veins in his hands. He was beautiful and terrible, and maybe you would do anything for him. You sipped your whiskey Coke and giggled at his bad jokes, waiting desperately for the brunt of his full attention.
And you got it. You always did, sooner or later.
The song changed while you were up grabbing him a new beer. You started to dance, nothing fancy or coordinated, just a happy drunk hip sway to a song your parents used to play. When you closed your eyes the lamplight made everything glow velvet ruby red.
When you opened them again the room was tilting and the full force of his baby blues was fixed on you. He took a healthy swig of his beer and set the bottle down hard on the coffee table. You couldn’t feel your face.
“C’mere, darlin’.” He patted the couch beside him and you were over in an instant. Always so eager to please. At some point, it had become less about survival and more about wanting to impress him. Life was strange.
You sank down on the miserable couch and took a sip of your drink before setting it on the coffee table. He wasted no time, reaching out to cup your jaw, pulling you in for a long kiss that tasted like beer bubbles.
Your little heart fluttered, tongue searching his mouth like maybe the cure to your ailments was tucked behind his teeth. You reached for him and he didn’t stop you, so you took hold of his shirt and pulled yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms around his chest, letting yourself believe for a moment that this was normal, that this was perfection, that this was –
He broke the kiss abruptly and you let loose an uninhibited sound of disappointment. He scrutinized you intently, ran his thumb back and forth across your lower lip.
“Hmm.”
You sat at attention, waiting like a well-mannered pup for whatever request he was about to make. You tried to read his expression but it was hard; you were drunk, and he was inscrutable. You wanted – needed – to keep him happy, whatever it took. You liked when he was happy.
“How you feelin’, baby?” Bo cocked his head. “Y’feel good?”
You smiled at him and nodded. He was awfully nice to look at. “Mmhm.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You nodded again, in case he missed it before.
He leaned his head forward, his nose rubbing against yours. His grip remained firm on your jaw. “You want me, sugar?”
Your hands rested on his thighs, fingers tingling. You wished he wasn’t wearing jeans. “Yeah…” you admitted shyly, like you had anything left to withhold. “Yeah, I – I do.”
He grunted thoughtfully and kissed you just long enough to leave you with your lips tingling and your heart pounding and your inhibitions forgotten. He made you dizzy like the whiskey did. Fuck, you were helpless.
“I got an idea,” he slurred, and your stomach flipped. A wave of nausea washed over you, a reflex. From the whiskey. “You trust me?”
You met his gaze. His pupils were blown wide and dark. You could see yourself reflected in them, the blind, stupid look on your face. Is that how he saw you? Did he think you were pretty?
You nodded again. “Yeah. I trust you.” It sounded right.
He broke into a smile that caught in your ribs like a bowie knife. “That’s my girl,” he said, and you grinned back, proud and drunk. He pushed you off his lap and you slumped against the back of the couch. “Stay right there.”
Bo stood up and staggered across the room. You watched him with naked admiration. It was so hard to hate him these days, especially now, when your blood was warm and fizzy.
Your brain buzzed first with confusion as he took his daddy’s shotgun off the wall, and then fear as he took hold of it with both hands and stalked back towards you, eyes locked on your face, lips curved in a lopsided smirk.
“Take your pants off, angel,” he said, his hand running down the barrel of the gun the same way he touched you sometimes when he didn’t think you were paying attention.
You furrowed your brow, clasping your hands together. He cocked his eyebrow at the delay in your obedience. “You stupid or somethin’?”
You shook your head. “No…no. Sorry.” Rising from the couch, you unbuttoned your jeans and pushed them down your legs, wrestling them off around your feet. When you looked up, his gaze was raking up and down the length of your bare skin. You curled your toes into the filthy carpet, suddenly bashful.
His fingers gripped the stock. “C’mere, pretty thing.”
You stepped towards him in a very straight line, doubt flitting through the fog of your brain like a bat. Did you trust him? You didn’t know the answer. It sure seemed like you did.
He chewed his cheek slowly, carefully, thoughtfully. “Well go on, darlin’,” he said at last. He tilted the barrel up and it pressed against the thin cotton of your panties. “Show me how bad y’want me.”
He angled the barrel of the gun, proffered it towards you with a look on his face like a starving dog. You fussed with the waistband of your underwear and he licked his bottom lip, inclined his head. You knew what he wanted.
The spark in your eyes was matched by the darkness in his. You felt the cold steel of the muzzle press against your thigh, push between your legs. Your gaze never left his face.
Eyes locked on his, hands splayed on your thighs, you began to grind against the cold length of the gun. He braced it against his hip, his gaze flicking back and forth between your face and the thrust of your hips. The heat of your body began to warm up the unyielding metal.
Your clit fit neatly into the cleft between barrels and it felt good, it really did. You wrapped your fingers around the shaft to hold it where you needed it and moaned, eyelids fluttering, free hand wandering up your front, over your stomach to cup your breasts. The music pounded in the air, in your chest, in your veins. You looked at him through your lashes. He was transfixed.
You liked it when you could see right through him. For all he pretended to be so complicated, most times he wasn’t hard to figure out at all. “Daddy…” you said softly.
“Yeah, baby,” he mumbled.
The corner of your mouth quirked in a bold whisper of a smile. “I…I wish this was you.”
He exhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You felt good. The alcohol gave you a wonderful tolerance, made you just numb enough; you could do this forever. “I want your cock.”
His grip tightened on the gun. “Do ya?”
“Mmhm.” You nodded, let your eyelids slip closed. You felt weightless, grounded only by the weapon between your legs. You remembered the last time you’d seen him use it. Blood splatter on a brick wall. It took you hours to clean it off.
The instrument of your fascination was removed, abruptly, and you gasped, eyes flying open. He was pointing it right at your gut, but you noticed with satisfaction that his finger rested only alongside the trigger. He didn’t think you noticed little things like that, but you did. You weren’t as stupid as he thought.
He flicked the safety off with a quiet click and watched your face for a reaction. You forgot you were supposed to be scared, smiled at him instead. He was so pretty in the lamplight.
“Get on your knees, baby.”
You obliged, and the gun ended up pointed at the center of your chest. You tipped forward so the muzzle pressed into your skin. You weren’t afraid of him, not really, not anymore. He would hurt you or he wouldn’t; he was just like that. Shoot me, you thought. Just like Cupid.
He moved the gun from your chest and aimed it at your face and you began to salivate immediately. You knew what he wanted. You always did.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he instructed. The blood pounded between your legs. You obeyed. The gun moved towards your face, cold metal brushing your lips. You stuck out your tongue. “Atta girl,” he purred.
You took the muzzle in your mouth, wrapped your lips around the barrel, eyes fixed on him. Always on him. There were bubbles in your blood and iron on your tongue and heat pooling fast and insistent in your loins. You wanted him, wanted to please him, and that was your weakness, and he knew it – but he wanted to be wanted, needed it, craved it, and there was your edge.
He moaned, watching you suck on his gun, lust blowing his pupils even wider. “Fuck, baby.” He licked his lips. “You’re sick in the head, huh?”
Maybe he would do it. Maybe he’d pull the trigger, and your skull would shatter, and your brain would liquefy, and the last thing you would see would be his handsome face. That wouldn’t be so bad. You’d seen worse.
“Like havin’ somethin’ in your mouth?”
You nodded carefully, sucked the barrel in deeper. It pressed at the curve of your palate. You could take him further and he knew it. Your teeth clicked against the metal.
“Fuck.”
He pulled the gun cautiously from your mouth, flipped the safety on, let the muzzle angle down towards the floor. He palmed at his erection.
You tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugged them down just a little. Your head was spinning. You needed him to touch you, needed him. You put on your best broken-hearted expression. He liked fixing things, so you’d had a lot of practice at being in pieces.
“What’s wrong?” he mumbled.
“I’m so empty,” you whined softly.
He was breathing hard, tongue practically lolling out of his mouth. “Yeah?”
You nodded, almost on the verge of tears. “Yeah.”
He sank to his knees in front of you, set the gun down, searched your face with a greedy look in his eyes. “Lemme make it better.” You closed your eyes and whimpered. “Lemme make it better, baby.”
“Please, Daddy….”
He groaned low in his throat and you felt the shadow of his hands on you just before they settled on your neck and your hip and you parted your lips just in time and then he was kissing you like he loved you with a mouth that only ever lied. He tasted like the better part of a sixpack and maybe you could get drunk off his spit alone, the same way you got high off his hands.
He toppled you backwards and fell on top of you, and you would’ve giggled, except he didn’t like to be laughed at, and anyway his tongue was in your throat. His nails scraped your skin as he grabbed at the elastic of your panties. You wouldn’t remember in the morning how you got those red lines, but you’d stopped worrying about that sort of thing a while back.
His cock burrowed into you at the wrong angle, and it hurt. You both gasped and groaned anyway because sometimes things just hurt. He pinned down your hips and this time he slid home like a knife in the heart.
He fucked you steady, teeth and hands all over. Everything you had was his, anything he wanted, but he didn’t want you to give it to him. He had to take it. You clutched at him, scratched at him, like an animal so desperate to be held it forgets it has claws. That’s how he liked it, and now you liked it too.
Hold me so tight I can’t breathe. Hate me so bad that you love me.
“Bo,” you whispered, and he snarled against your skin. “Please…please.” You never remembered what you were asking him for, but he always seemed to know, and that comforted you.
He pushed your face to the side so he could suck on your neck and you saw the gun there, cold and forgotten. You’d never held it before, he never let you. Was it heavy?
You were twisting his shirt in your hands and it took several seconds to puzzle out how to let go with one of them. Slow and steady, like a spider on a log, your fingers crept across the carpet.
“Baby,” he growled, “sugar.” His hand wrapped around your jaw, lips dragging up to your ear. “Gonna cum in you…gonna cum for you, girl.”
You made a strangled sound, pussy flexing around him, eyes drifting off course. You wondered how he managed to make the room spin so fast. The gun was six inches from the tip of your fingers.
He was going to kill you with it, once.
He turned your face back towards him and sealed his mouth over yours and you knew he was drunk because he whined like a dog as his hips bucked and he emptied himself into you, and he always forgot about that, he always forgot that even in the taking there is a giving, and that’s what love is.
It’s alright if I die, so long as you kill me.
Your hand closed around the barrel of the shotgun and you broke into a secret grin, pulled your fingers back like they'd been scalded, wrapped them in his hair. That was enough for you, that little thing. That you could, if you wanted to.
But you didn’t, did you? You'd never do that to him. It would break his heart, and it would break yours worse.
He blinked at you, looking a little lost. "What're you so happy about?" The words lacked venom, like he was really asking you for once.
He had faraway eyes as he propped himself up, backing out of you, adding his mess to the grime of the carpet. You squinted up at him, backlit like a saint, beautiful like an angel. He'd take you upstairs after this and make you pray, make you promise, make you swear devotion to him until you cried. You'd never believed in much before Ambrose, but he sure made you believe in him.
Sometimes, like now, sprawled half-naked on the floor too drunk to see straight, you felt lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky to be his. Lucky to be the one who held him through his nightmares, folded his socks, filled up that sad sucking maw inside his chest for a few priceless minutes.
You shook your head and flexed your fingers, then sat up and touched his cheek with all the tenderness you could muster. The press of cold iron, the heat of his skin.
"Nothing."
You could lie too.
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I’m BEGGING can we meet Luck???
I need to see the dynamic between them and Gaz. I’m also desperate to see what being Price’s second entails.
Luck is a tricky thing. In a single lifetime a human may have a few truly lucky breaks, things they'd call miracles, but it's limited to one or two crucial moments. Luck is something the higher ups dole out sparingly, weighing their miracles against the greater order of things. Skill is what keeps soldiers alive long enough to earn a demon, not luck. So it's not luck that soldiers need.
Still you always get assignments, soldiers to keep track of, just in case they do something of note. You watch Kyle Garrick fall out of a helicopter and witness a truly spectacular moment of luck. The sort of luck that's only reserved for soul mates and cancer survivors. You watch him survive the fall and not miss a beat in finishing his mission, and you feel your black heart beat a little faster. The powers that be must think whatever he's doing is important. Important enough to spend his luck on.
You push another dose of luck his way, just to make sure he doesn't get shot while he's hanging from the helo. When he's finally safe and upright again your heart is pounding, fingers dug into the shadows as you listen to his breathing and decide this can't be his only lucky break. It just can't be. He deserves better than just survival. Protocol dictates that once the extraordinary luck is gone you’re not supposed to keep tabs anymore, but you can’t help hanging around Gaz.
Something in his smile when he tells the story, the bells in his laughter, the sun that shines from him, you can’t leave him. Every word from his lips is kindling on your fire. His dedication to the cause, the firm conviction in his heart, color every tone and action.
You feed your luck to him in bite sized pieces: guessing passwords on the first try, finding safe combinations when he searches for them, an extra bullet in his chamber when he needs it. He laughs with his captain about a lucky streak and you glow with pride. That’s me, you think, your heart beating fast and eager against your ribs.
He’s not in the running for demonic intervention, maybe angelic if he does something truly magnificently good, but he doesn’t tick any of the boxes. Still holding onto his humanity too tightly, years away from the number of kills he’d need, and not a true enough believer to try summoning anything. That doesn’t stop you from looking for ways to get to him. Generally demons tend to do as they like, but you can’t just attach yourself to someone without intervention. Someone has to sign off on it. Especially when you’re giving out unapproved stores of luck to a soldier that hasn’t captured any demon’s heart but yours.
Your stomach drops watching Gaz push his captain out of the way as an IED goes off next to them. He’s blown across the room, hitting a wall and collapsing on the ground. He still has plenty of luck, you can’t- he shouldn’t have. Your fingers shake, thinking of your higher ups catching on to your affections. Fuck.
You direct the blood that pours from his wound to trace into the sigils you need. As close to a miracle as you can provide him. The circle closes and rips you into the physical plane. You crouch next to him, hands hovering over a man you’d only been watching until this point. What do you do? How do you help?
Gaz groans, coming back to consciousness. “Don’t move,” You whisper to him, pushing the ringing from his ears. “Don’t move,” You repeat it like a prayer, for your own benefit. You move to examine the source of the blood, the shrapnel embedded in his back and leg. Nasty jagged pieces of metal and debris. You hear the pained grunts of his captain nearby, but they do nothing to draw your attention. You swallow thickly, and place a hand on Gaz’s back to hold him still. Your other hand grips the metal in his back.
It’s lucky, you tell yourself pulling the metal free, that it missed his spine and anything vital. You toss the metal sharp and press your hands against the wound. It’s lucky it isn’t bleeding too much. You reach into one of the pockets on Gaz’s tac vest and pull a tourniquet free.
You shift your attention to his leg, slip the tourniquet around his thigh and tighten it. Your fingers working fast to give the debris in his leg the same treatment, Lucky it missed a major artery, lucky he won’t lose the leg, lucky you got the bleeding under control in time. You’re shaking like a leaf when you finally feel like your soldier isn’t going to die.
He’s watching you when you finally, actually, look at him, his chest heaving and his eyes wide. “Who-” He starts, before the pain of his injuries stops him and he gives a wincing grunt. You don’t look like a soldier, you know you don’t. You feel as out of place as you’re sure you look, but you’ve come too far now.
“I want to make a deal,” you tell him quickly, scooting to sit closer to him. You lean close so he can see you, and because talking is hard with holes in you.
-
Price groans, pushing himself up from the rubble. He’s getting too old for this shit. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken. He’ll thank Gaz for getting him out of the way later. Gaz.
He looks around the settling dust, and spots him laying still on the ground, blood pooling around him. His stomach drops. Is he moving? Did he take the brunt of that blast? Price dusts himself off, grunts at the ache in his bones, and stops.
He watches some pretty little thing lean over his sergeant. Their lips move silently, a hand pressed to Gaz’s chest. Gaz says something and they smile.
“I need medical now,” Price tells his comms, “Gaz is down, we need an evac.” The demon over Gaz turns to look at him, their eyes searing red, before they melt into shadow.
“That’s going to be a problem,” A soft voice whispers in his ear.
-
You perch on the edge of Gaz’s cot in the medical tent. A miracle the doctor had said. Your miracle. You don’t regret it for a second, you have your deal, you have your soldier, and you have all the luck in the world to spend on him. You broke the rules for personal gain like any good demon would and you can see no way this could possibly backfire for you.
Gaz is positively covered in bandages. All things considered he looks good, a few blood transfusions really brought his color back. You’ll do proper introductions when he’s feeling better, but for now you’re happy just to sit and talk to him. The tent flap is pulled back quick enough you don’t have time to slip back into the shadows.
“Captain,” Gaz tries to push himself up, Price raises a hand. Gaz sighs and lays back. Price is silent as he makes his way into the tent. You pull your feet up to avoid his shadow as he walks past you. Something about it makes you nervous.
“Sergeant,” Price pulls up a chair next to the cot, “We need to talk.” He waves a hand and your heart stops watching a demon step from the shadows behind him.
You are in so much trouble.
#cod x reader#x reader#demon!darlings au#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x oc#kyle gaz garrick#gaz modern warfare#gaz x oc#gaz x reader#y'all know I always have a single song sound track when I write Gaz#this one is “Curses” by the Crane Wives#highly recommend as listening for the vibes#oc: luck#Demon Price actually loves Luck so much#They defend the shit out of Luck's decision to attach to Gaz#the devil can't try to kill Gaz and get away with it#not if Luck has anything to say about it#tw violence
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