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ozzgin · 2 months

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The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere politician #yandere smut #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #older yandere

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lieutnt · 6 months

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I beg of thee when you have more ideas to keep up the trans Miguel agenda with the baby trapping if they contain it. Am also good without,your work is amazing. You have me hooked. 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

i wasn’t gonna do a part 2 but i had this idea so here we are

cw: baby trapping & monsterfucking

trans!miguel is all too aware of your animalistic tendencies when you transform - he’s observed you through his screens, watched as the lines between man and beast blur. he can’t help the way he rubs his thighs together, cunt growing slicker as you reign in the anomaly with such ferocity, sharp claws and even sharper teeth putting a quick end to the mission.

before you get back to hq you shift back (much to miguel’s chagrin), just finishing handing over the anomaly when miguel calls you to his office. you barely get through the doors before miguel’s on you, dragging and pushing you down on his seat so he can clamber on your lap, pushing your suits out of the way and sinking down on you. the adrenaline still coursing through your veins has you taking hold of his waist and bouncing him up and down, his tight wet heat sucking you in.

after pulling countless orgasms from miguel, despite his pleading, you pull out before your knot can lock you in place, instead cumming across his stomach. he collapses onto you feigning exhaustion, but he’s already planning in his head - if you won’t cum in him and give him what he wants, he knows someone who will.

it’s on another mission where your monster side is required. it’s over swiftly, and before you can transform back miguel joins you in the dimension, booting the anomaly through the portal and closing it. confusion and adrenaline make a dangerous mix, your body heaving as miguel stalks towards you. you can smell it, how soaked he is between his thighs, and when he pulls his suit down and bends over, all resistance snaps.

you’re on him like the animal you are, cock splitting him open as you fuck into him without hesitation, claws digging into his hips and teeth clamping where you can reach, staking your claim. by the time your knot starts to build miguel is desperately fucking himself back on you, begging you to breed him, knot him, fill his belly and it works, your hips snapping forward until your knot bullies its way into his slick cunt and locks you together, miguel’s eyes rolling back as he feels the sheer amount of cum that starts to fill him.

his dream comes true, as soon as your knot goes down you start fucking him again, mind completely overtaken by the need to breed the fertile little thing underneath you, more than happy to replace the cum that your thrusts push out of him. this time he really is exhausted, body trembling like a leaf when you pull out of him for the last time, skin already turning different shades of purple and blue from where you’ve gripped and bit him.

you aren’t happy with him when you transform back, you could’ve seriously hurt him, but miguel barely listens to any of your complaints, too busy floating through the clouds as you clean him up and take him back to hq, shuffling him to his private room where the second he hits the sheets he’s out like a light.

making your displeasure clear you avoid him the next few weeks. it's childish but it’s the only thing you can do to make sure you don’t snap at miguel. once he discovers he’s pregnant he finds you, giving you no choice but to speak to him when he hands over the positive pregnancy test. you’re sceptical but one deep inhale of his scent confirms it. anger curls in your gut but so does something else, a base instinct tucked away in your brain crawling its way to the front - the animal desire to show you can protect him and your growing brood, that you’re a suitable mate and can provide for him.

miguel’s never been more relieved when you reach forward to stroke across where his belly will eventually swell. you’ll forever be entwined with him now.

#miguel o'hara #trans!miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader #male reader #top reader #top male reader #spiderverse #lieutnts writings

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merakiui · 7 months

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I can't get Alien Jamil out of my head. He lives rent free now 😭

Alien Jamil who uses his ability to hypontise darling to spread their legs for them, maintaining eye contact to keep the spell. Darling being under his control as he filled darling up with eggs. Only looking away once he was done and Darling's stuffed to the brim <3

Then let's say Darling's a researcher for his species and is now being made to carry it for research purposes

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, breeding, oviposition, hypnosis, ntr/cucking)

:O !!!!!! Imagine being a researcher alongside Kalim... omg and Jamil watches day in and day out from his enclosure as Kalim attempts to get closer to you. Despite his outgoing and friendly personality, he's a little awkward with some of his flirting methods and so Jamil is able to pick up on Kalim's romantic interest in you fairly quickly. At first Jamil thought nothing would come of this, as you always seemed so absorbed in your research and you were always paying so much attention to him. Jamil is nice enough to act obedient and polite when you step into his enclosure to study him up close, feigning a harmless outward appearance. You're the only one who is allowed to do this; everyone else is frightened away or threatened with low hisses and sharp, piercing glares. Jamil has a soft spot for you, but he hides it with stoic indifference, choosing to look unbothered while you lean in close to admire his scales or the many snakes that make up his hair. You're so lucky he has an admirable amount of restraint, otherwise he would have plastered you to the ground and fucked you full of eggs months ago.

But it's when you actually start to entertain Kalim's interest that Jamil begins to worry. First the two of you would have dinner together (in front of Jamil, much to his annoyance) when you had to work late in the lab, and Kalim was just so irritatingly sweet to you. So genuinely himself. And you kept smiling and your body temperature was rising because you were flattered and happy and appreciative... Jamil refuses to lose you to that airheaded researcher. And then you'd work so closely together, side by side, shoulders nearly touching. Jamil is much too observant for his own good, which is both a blessing and a curse, because it only proves that you've warmed up to your fellow researcher.

It starts small. You can't understand Jamil unless he's hypnotized you, and then those fearsome hisses sound like the sweetest song, lulling you into a daze. For a while you seem more scattered than usual. There are gaps in your memory, and you're not sure why you always seem to come to in the lab. You could have sworn you were in your bed, sleeping so soundly until the whispers of something snake-like invaded your dreams... You're always led to Jamil. Maybe you really are so dedicated to your work that you're unconsciously drawn to it even when you're asleep. Kalim worries, insists you should rest more and that he can handle everything at the lab, but you don't want to push more work onto his plate. This is a team effort, after all.

It's like push and pull. Jamil holds you under for longer, slowly but surely snuffing your interest in Kalim, and releasing you from the spell of hypnosis before anyone can question it or grow suspicious. You're not going to love Kalim. You're going to love the specimen you look after. You're going to love Jamil. This is how it should have been, and this is how it will be.

Ultimately, it culminates in claiming. Jamil must stake it, must mold you to his form so that you'll only ever know him and no one else. The look in your eyes is empty and dazed, but you're smiling at him, entrapped in the coils of his tail, and it's a happy, drunken sort of smile. You're such a pretty human, so sweet for him when you open yourself without complaint or struggle, shedding that pesky clothing to reveal all of the curious parts to your anatomy he finds absolutely riveting. He fucks into your tight, slick warmth for hours, bodies pressed flush and never separating. Your moans fill the enclosure, adding to the sinful sounds of sex, and he falls for you all over again. You're truly so precious, so blissfully dumb and obedient when you're taking his cocks like the good researcher you are. Jamil can't resist; he has to fill you up, make this claim one you'll remember. And you can't object. You're not allowed to, not when he controls your every reaction. If he tells you to cum, you will. If he tells you to take just a few more eggs, you will.

And you'll like it because that's what you're told.

Only once you're filled to bursting, tummy packed full of his clutch, does Jamil gaze sidelong at Kalim, who looks on with concerned horror. Jamil tilts his head, acting as if he doesn't understand the smallest of human cues. He does, but Kalim doesn't need to know.

He smiles, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. You're Jamil's now. Forever and always. As you were meant to be. And no one shall come between you.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #n/sfw #tw: breeding #tw: cucking #tw: hypnosis #tw: oviposition #*rings the bell* IT IS JAMIL HOURS >w<#I LOVE HIM AND THUS I DEDICATE EVERY HOUR TO JAMIL #(i say this but discord mod zuzu fic will be posted soon so...)#(jamil hours continue after discord mod zuzu interruption ;;)

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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

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So I absolutely love your writing and was wondering if I could suggest Riddle, Leona, Jamil, Azul with an s/o who had horrible scarring and doesn’t talk about it. So naturally the boys would assume it’s a sensitive topic, and treat them delicately… But turns out that those scars are from something stupid like getting into a fight with a raccoon.

Sure thing! As expected, this ended up being a bit silly. Hope you enjoy!

GN! Reader

The first time Riddle saw your scars was when you rolled up your sleeves while helping Trey bake for the next Unbirthday party, simply trying to not let your cuffs dip into the sticky batter. Both his and Trey's gazes lasered in on the horrendous scarring up and down both your arms, but neither of them said anything besides sharing a small, worried glance. He wanted to ask you about them but knew this was neither the time nor the place to do so.

Other Heartslabyul members can tell from a glance not to bring them up, lest they risk a swift and merciless collaring by their housewarden. Whenever your arms are revealed Riddle's expression tightens, surveying the room as if he's daring his fellow students to make a comment or ask a question about them.

When he finally musters up the courage to ask about them, reassuring you he finds you beautiful and just wants to know if you're hurting, boy if he doesn't feel a bit silly when he finds out you got them from trying to pick up an opossum when you were a little kid. His cheeks get all puffed out and his face turns red, promptly shutting himself up and turning away as you coo and thank him for being so worried about your well-being. He does enjoy the praise, as flustered as he looks.

Lazing around with Leona in the midday sun of the conservatory, you stretched your arms over your head and accidentally revealed to him a series of long, thin scars that ran over each of your sides, just above your hip. His brow furrowed as your shirt covered them once more, cupping a clawed hand gently over your hip and tugging you close to snuggle up to him.

He's always liked to wrap a hand around your hip to keep you close to him, to stake his "ownership" of you. But now he does it so gently, so lightly it almost tickles as he rubs his thumb back and forth over the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You do the same to him sometimes, running your thumb so lovingly over the scar on his face when he rests his head in your lap, the least he can do is offer the same comfort.

You finally mention where you got the scars when Leona comes to visit Ramshackle. As you liken the rickety house to an abandoned building you and your friends explored near your school, mentioning how cut up you got squeezing through one of the shattered doorways, it finally clicks for him. From there the teasing floodgates are opened, and every time he finds you with a little scuff or scrape he asks if you were reigniting your urban exploration fantasies.

After Jamil's overblot, when you rolled up your pant cuffs to splash around in the cool water of the oasis, that's when Azul first saw your scars. Dozens of jagged lines and puncture marks everywhere from your ankles all the way up to your knees. It made his stomach turn a bit, trying to imagine what or who might have inflicted you with those gashes.

He's often hovering around you, making sure you don't get bumped into or lose your balance. If he's not available you'll usually have one or both of the twins observing you from a safe distance, boss's orders. He doesn't want anyone else harming his precious pearl, after all.

When you finally mention that you got all those scars from the wild raspberry bushes around your childhood home, he assumes you're joking with him. He knows what raspberries are, he isn't stupid, but are the bushes really that dangerous? One small hike with Jade later serves to prove that yes, they are, especially if you're a reckless little kid wearing shorts in the summer. He chides you, warning you to not do anything so rash in the future.

Jamil had seen your scar the very first day you had met, along with just about everyone else in school. It wasn't exactly easy to miss; the curved line cutting across your forehead and down into your eyebrow was painfully obvious to anyone who looked at you for more than a few minutes. He didn't think about it much until the two of you actually began interacting on a daily basis.

He watches you a lot, only when he thinks you aren't looking (and often times you aren't). He's not the type to bring it up on his own, it's none of his business after all, but he does worry about you. He's on edge whenever you mention having a headache, even if it has nothing to do with your scar at all.

You mention it offhand one day, the stupid cause of your forehead scar. The man who was re-shingling your house roof when you were a kid knocked a metal bucket off the edge when you were heading out to school, and instead you had to get rushed to the E.R. for stitches. As you proudly regale the story of the ice cream cake and flowers the repairman bought as an apology Jamil breathes a sigh of relief, almost visibly melting into his seat. Now he'll just have to make sure nothing that unlucky happens to you again.

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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sleep with the enemy — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, sex, violence, enemies to lovers (again) — smut

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: you couldn't deny how attracted you were to the infamous vampire hunter, but you had him wrapped around your finger as much as he had you around his.

✧.*

in the dimly lit study of the salvatore boarding house, the atmosphere crackled with tension. soft rays of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a ghostly glow upon the assembled group. damon salvatore, his signature smirk dancing on his lips, leaned casually against a bookshelf. stefan, his expression more serious, stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the outside world. the notorious vampire brothers, united by a common enemy, had convened to discuss their strategy.

damon's voice, dripping with sarcastic charm, broke the silence. “well, well, well. look who decided to grace us with her presence.” he tilted his head towards the entrance where you stood, a glimmer of defiance in your eyes. clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the very essence of the shadows, you exuded an air of mysterious confidence that demanded attention.

you returned damon's gaze with an arched eyebrow. “oh, don't flatter yourself, salvatore. i'm just here to make sure your incompetence doesn't doom us all.”

jeremy gilbert, leaning against the wall, observed the exchange with an intrigued yet wary expression. his hunter's instincts were on high alert, his hand unconsciously drifting towards the wooden stake tucked in his belt. you and jeremy had clashed numerous times before, a dance of survival in a world where vampires and vampire hunters were perpetually at odds.

stefan's voice cut through the simmering tension. “enough of the bickering, you two. we have a common enemy, and katherine won't wait for us to sort out our differences.”

eamon pushed himself off the bookshelf, sauntering towards the center of the room. “right you are, baby brother. so, here's the plan. we gather information on katherine's latest whereabouts, pinpoint her weaknesses, and work together to take her down.”

you folded your arms, your gaze still locked on damon. “and what's in it for us? why should we risk our lives to help you?” stefan's voice remained steady. “because if katherine gets her hands on the cure for vampirism, she'll be unstoppable. and that means bad news for all of us.”

jeremy's eyes flickered between you and damon. “stefan's right. we might not like each other, but working together is our best chance at stopping her.”

a derisive snort escaped your lips. “i can't believe i'm agreeing with little gilbert. fine, we'll play along. but don't expect me to hold your hand through this.”

jeremy's grin widened. “oh, sweetheart, i wouldn't dream of it.”

as the meeting adjourned, you exchanged a lingering glare with him. the storm of emotions beneath the surface was palpable—hatred mingled with curiosity, distrust warring against a reluctant sense of partnership. little did you both know, the journey ahead would test not only your determination to take down katherine, but also the boundaries of your own hearts.

the next evening, in the dimly lit parlor of the salvatore boarding house, stefan stood at the head of a long table, his gaze focused on the assembled group. you and jeremy sat on opposite sides, your postures tense and guarded, radiating an air of defiance that seemed to challenge the very notion of cooperation.

stefan cleared his throat, his voice calm yet authoritative. “alright, listen up. we've got a lead on katherine's location, and we need to act fast. but we can't do this separately. damon and i will handle one part of the mission, while you two,” he gestured towards you and jeremy, “will work together on another.”

a collective tension gripped the room, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable eruption of objections.

you leaned back in your chair, your eyes narrowing. “oh, i'm sorry, did i accidentally step into an alternate universe where i actually care what the gilbert boy thinks?”

jeremy shot you a defiant glare. “trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual. i'd rather be stuck in a room with vervain-soaked chains than work with a bloodsucker.”

stefan's patience remained unshaken. “enough. we don't have time for this. katherine is dangerous, and our only chance is to pool our resources. we need both of your skills to succeed.”

you crossed your arms, your lips curling into a sneer. “and what skills would those be, exactly? his knack for getting himself captured or my ability to actually get things done?”

jeremy's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. “at least i'm not a parasite that preys on innocent people.”

damon, who had been lounging against a nearby wall, chimed in with his characteristic smirk. “ah, young love. so heartwarming.”

stefan's voice held a note of finality. “this is not up for negotiation. you two are going to work together, whether you like it or not. we're out of options.”

a heavy silence settled in the room, the weight of impending collaboration hanging in the air. reluctantly, you and jeremy exchanged a glance, both recognizing the gravity of the situation. despite your shared disdain, the mission ahead was too critical to ignore.

with a resigned sigh, you leaned forward, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “fine. i'll try my best not to kill him—accidentally.”

jeremy rolled his eyes, his lips quirking into a reluctant half-smile. “yeah, i'll do my best not to, uh, aim for your heart.”

stefan's gaze softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “good. let's focus on the mission. we'll meet back here in twenty-four hours to share what we've found.”

as the meeting adjourned, you and jeremy exchanged one last lingering look, a silent understanding passing between you. the enemies were reluctantly united, bound by the threads of necessity. and as the stakes grew higher, the blurred lines between hatred and something else began to reveal themselves in the shadows of your minds.

the following evening found you and jeremy in the dimly lit ambiance of the mystic grill, a popular gathering spot for both humans and supernatural beings alike. seated across from each other at a corner booth, tension hummed between you like an electric current, crackling with the weight of untold history.

you took a sip of your drink, casting a pointed look at jeremy. “i have to say, gilbert, your taste in venues hasn't improved much since the last time we were here.”

he smirked, swirling his drink thoughtfully. “can't say i agree, the last time we were here, you couldn't resist me at all.”

you chuckled softly, an edge of bitterness in your tone. “that was a long time ago. besides, i didn't see you complaining when you were telling me i was the best you've ever had.”

his lips twitched into a playful grin. “well, i've learned that a good dose of embarrassment keeps the heart rate up. important for a hunter, you know.”

as your laughter mingled with the surrounding chatter, a nostalgic air lingered beneath the surface of your interactions. despite the insults and snarky remarks, there was an undeniable chemistry that both of you had once succumbed to.

“you know, for a hunter, you've always been surprisingly skilled at evasion,” you mused, studying him through half-lidded eyes.

he leaned in, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. “and you, for a vampire, have always managed to find new and inventive ways to get under my skin.”

the air between you shifted, a current of unresolved tension tangling with memories you both seemed keen on suppressing. but in the midst of your verbal sparring, there was a vulnerability that lingered—a shared history that couldn't be erased.

a wistful smile tugged at your lips. “remember that night we spent at the abandoned cabin outside town? a hunter and a vampire, sharing secrets under the stars.”

jeremy's gaze softened, a flicker of reminiscence crossing his eyes. “yeah, i remember. and i remember the sunrise, too.”

your tone grew sharper, masking the ache that had surfaced. “right, when i had to rush you back before your skin sizzled like bacon.”

he chuckled, though there was a hint of regret in his expression. “you're still as charming as ever.”

the silence that followed was heavy, the unspoken words swirling in the air like a storm waiting to break. you both knew the truth—the affair had been passionate, forbidden, and ultimately fleeting. but the ghosts of those stolen moments lingered, casting a shadow over your current dynamic.

with a brittle smile, you leaned back in your seat, pushing the memories away. “well, gilbert, let's focus on the task at hand. i'm sure we have a lot of insults to trade before this night is over.” jeremy's gaze held a mixture of resignation and longing. “of course, because that's what we're best at, right?”

as the evening wore on, you and Jeremy continued your verbal sparring, the familiar dance of insults and snarky remarks masking the deeper undercurrent of history and emotions that neither of you were quite ready to confront.

the culmination of your uneasy alliance took place at a lavish masquerade ball held at a grand mansion on the outskirts of mystic falls. the chandeliers bathed the ballroom in a warm, golden glow as elegantly dressed guests mingled beneath the masks that concealed their identities. among the masked figures, you and jeremy moved with calculated grace, each step laden with purpose.

in a corner of the ballroom, damon exchanged a knowing glance with you, a subtle nod indicating that katherine was near. jeremy leaned in, his voice low and laden with mockery. “ready to put on a show, bloodsucker?”

you shot him a withering look. “don't get too comfortable, gilbert. we're here to work, not to indulge your misplaced sense of revenge.”

jeremy's lips curved into a sly smile. “oh, don't worry. i'm just here to enjoy the company of a beautiful vampire while leading katherine on a wild goose chase.”

you rolled your eyes, but your own mask concealed a mischievous grin. “by all means, go ahead. it's not every day a vampire hunter gets to flirt with his worst nightmare.”

as the night wore on, the music swelled, and the tension in the air grew palpable. jeremy's gaze followed katherine, his charm turned on full force as he engaged her in a dance that seemed to double as a dangerous game.

not one to be outdone, you found yourself in conversation with damon, your playful banter taking on a seductive edge that wasn't entirely feigned. the mask of enmity seemed to fade as you allowed yourself to lean into the role.

later, as the ball continued to swirl around you, you slipped away onto a moonlit balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. unbeknownst to you, jeremy followed, his steps soundless as he approached from behind.

he was only inches away from you as hjs fingertips grazed your collarbone, a shiver running down your spine as his breath tickled your ear. “damon seems to know your soft spots quite well. does he know you enjoy being touched here?”

you turned to face him, your gaze locking with his, an unspoken understanding passing between you. “doesn't he also know you're playing with fire, jeremy? leading katherine on, just to get back at me?”

his lips were dangerously close to yours, his voice a low murmur. “it's just strategy, remember? and you, enjoying damon's attention a bit too much, isn't that also a part of your plan?”

the world seemed to narrow to the two of you, the tensions of the past and the present converging in this intimate moment. a spark of something unspoken flickered in your eyes, a vulnerability you both were too proud to admit to.

with a brittle smile, you stepped back, creating distance between you. “we're here for a reason, little gilbert. let's not forget that.”

his gaze held a mix of frustration and longing. “right, because we wouldn't want to ruin our perfect track record of despising each other.”

as the masquerade ball continued inside, you and jeremy exchanged one last loaded look before retreating back into the throngs of guests. the dance of deception and attraction continued, the mask of enmity held firmly in place, concealing the truths that neither of you were ready to confront.

amid the revelry of the masquerade ball, tensions simmered just beneath the surface, ready to explode. as the night progressed, whispers spread through the crowd, drawing attention to a heated confrontation unfolding at the center of the ballroom.

jeremy stood, his expression a mix of defiance and unease, facing a room filled with curious gazes. damon's smirk danced on his lips, and you fixed your gaze on jeremy, your eyes narrowing as the truth slowly unraveled. stefan's voice cut through the hushed murmurs. “what's going on here?”

damon leaned back casually against a pillar, his tone dripping with amusement. "it seems our dear jeremy here had a little rendezvous with the lady of the hour, katherine," he paused. “was she a good fuck, gilbert?”

gasps rippled through the crowd, mingling with whispered accusations and incredulous glances.

your voice was sharp as a blade. “you've got to be kidding me, gilbert.”

jeremy's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides. “it was part of the plan, okay? she wasn't supposed to—”

stefan's patience was wearing thin. “you slept with the enemy to gain her trust? are you out of your mind?” as the crowd's murmurs grew louder, damon leaned in, a sinister smile playing on his lips. “seems like our little hunter's tactics might have backfired.”

you scoffed, your voice laced with scorn. “congratulations, gilbert. you managed to endanger the mission and prove just how foolish you can be.”

frustration radiated off jeremy in waves. “it was a risk we had to take. she was onto us, and this was the only way to keep her off our scent.”

as the arguments escalated, the tension reached a fever pitch. eventually, the crowd began to disperse, leaving only you and jeremy in the center of the now-empty ballroom. his gaze found yours, his voice low and resolute. “i didn't do it to hurt you.” you met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “well, congratulations, gilbert. thank you for your sympathy.”

he clenched his fists at his sides, his frustration palpable. “you think this was easy for me? i had to watch you flirt with damon all night. do you know how much that ate at me?”

you crossed your arms, your tone tinged with bitterness. “oh, poor jeremy. did i bruise your ego?”

his voice grew more desperate. “you know that's not what this is about. i had no intention of hurting you.”

you held his gaze, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else. “and i had no intention of hurting you either. if i wanted to hurt you, i would've told you that I slept with damon, too.”

a flicker of shock crossed jremy's features, his anger flaring anew. the unspoken truths hung heavy in the air—the cat and mouse game that had defined your relationship was reaching a new level of intensity.

with a frustrated growl, jeremy turned on his heel and stormed out of the ballroom, leaving you standing there, the echoes of your words reverberating in the empty space. as the dust settled, the tangled web of emotions and motivations seemed to tighten around you all, the lines between enemies, allies, and something else entirely growing increasingly blurred.

in the days following the masquerade ball, the tension among the group remained thick, yet the mission to take down katherine couldn't wait. as preparations for the future confrontation began, you found yourself in your room at the salvatore boarding house, surrounded by the flickering light of candles. the soft glow of the flames danced upon your face as you meticulously got ready for the night ahead.

the scent of vanilla and musk filled the air as you sprayed a delicate mist of perfume onto your skin. with a wry smile playing on your lips, you assessed your reflection in the mirror, your eyes catching the dress and the necklace that lay on the vanity.

a knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see jeremy standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of wariness and curiosity.

“what is it, gilbert?” you asked, your tone teasing.

he cleared his throat, stepping inside the room. “stefan said you needed help with something.”

with a subtle tilt of your head, you turned around, holding out the delicate necklace. “could you help me put this on? I'm afraid my fingers aren't as nimble as they used to be.”

jeremy's eyes flickered to the necklace, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. he stepped closer, his fingers hesitating for a moment before he reached out to take the necklace from your hand. the weight of his gaze seemed to linger on your neck, the pulse point that had always captivated his attention.

as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “you smell nice.”

a sly smile curved your lips. “do i, now? would you like to take a closer whiff?”

before he could respond, you turned around, your fingers gently gripping his chin as you leaned in. your lips brushed his earlobe, and you whispered, “be careful, jeremy. remember why we're here tonight.”

his eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and longing dancing in his gaze. “where are you going, anyway?”

you pulled away, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “oh, just out for a little date. but don't worry, i'm sure you'll manage just fine without me.”

his brows furrowed in confusion. “a date? with who?”

you took a step back, your gaze locking with his, your tone dripping with satisfaction. “with damon, who else?”

the realization hit him like a freight train, and his jaw clenched as he took a step back, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. “you're going on a date with damon?”

your smile remained unyielding. “yes, jeremy. it seems he's more attentive these days.”

with that, you turned and left the room, leaving jeremy standing there, his emotions in turmoil. the cat and mouse game had indeed escalated, the stakes higher than ever before. as the night unfolded, the tension between you and jeremy would continue to simmer, threatening to boil over into something neither of you could control.

the moon hung high in the sky as you returned to the salvatore boarding house, the echoes of the night's events lingering in your mind. the air was thick with tension as you stepped into the dimly lit foyer, your eyes locking onto jeremy's figure standing by the staircase. he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something that looked uncomfortably close to jealousy. “how was your date?”

you smiled, your lips curving into a knowing grin. “oh, it was absolutely magical. damon knows all the right moves, let me tell you.”

jeremy's jaw tightened, his voice laced with a feigned nonchalance. “really? do tell.”

your tone was light and teasing as you described an evening that was a far cry from the reality, weaving a tale of charm and flirtation, all centered around damon's supposed irresistible qualities.

“of course, I couldn't resist his eyes or his impeccable manners,” you continued, your eyes glinting with mischief. “and when he brushed his fingers against my thigh, i swear i felt a shiver down my spine."”

jeremy's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his composure. “sounds like quite the night.”

you nodded, your smile still in place as you turned to head up the stairs. “yes, i thought so too. now, if you'll excuse me, i need to change into something more comfortable.”

with that, you began to unbutton your dress, your movements deliberately slow and deliberate, fully aware of jeremy's gaze on you. as the fabric pooled at your feet, you turned to face him, revealing your lingerie beneath.

jeremy's jaw tightened further, his voice strained. “what are you doing?”

you tilted your head to the side, your tone sweetly innocent. “oh, just getting ready for bed. would you like to help me unzip this?”

before he could respond, you turned and walked towards the bedroom, your hips swaying in a way that was almost taunting. you heard him exhale sharply, his frustration palpable.

as you entered the room, jeremy's voice followed you, his tone tinged with annoyance. “you're impossible.”

the air between you and jeremy was thick with unresolved tension as he lingered in the bedroom, having agreed to help you with your stockings. your legs were crossed, and you leaned against the dresser, your gaze meeting his in the mirror's reflection.

“i can't believe I'm doing this,” jeremy muttered under his breath as he tugged the first stocking up your leg.

you arched an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smug smile. “oh, come on, gilbert. it's just a pair of stockings. you're acting like i asked you to slay a dragon.”

he shot you a glare, his fingers working quickly but efficiently. “yeah, well, if i had to choose between dragons and you, i'd probably go with the dragons.”

you chuckled softly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you're such a charmer.”

the second stocking followed suit, and jeremy's movements were swift and surprisingly adept. his touch was calculated, devoid of any lingering traces of intimacy. as he straightened, you caught his gaze in the mirror, a challenge passing between you.

“there you go, all dolled up. happy now?” he muttered, his tone bordering on annoyance.

you turned to face him, your lips quirking into a playful smile. “oh, ecstatic. you're really quite skilled at this, jeremy. who knew you had such a hidden talent?”

he rolled his eyes, his voice laced with exasperation. “yeah, well, don't expect me to add 'stocking stylist' to my resume anytime soon.”

your laughter filled the room, the sound of it dancing between you. “you really know how to keep a girl's dreams alive, don't you?”

jeremy's lips twitched into a begrudging half-smile. “oh, i do my best.”

the banter between you was a welcome respite from the heavier moments that had preceded it. as the tension eased, you found yourselves slipping into a more familiar rhythm, snarky remarks masking the undercurrent of something that had been brewing beneath the surface for far too long.

with a playful wink, you moved closer, your tone teasing. “well, gilbert, i'll give you credit where it's due. you're definitely good at handling my—delicate situation.”

he shot you a sideways glance, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “just remember, it's a one-time deal. don't get any ideas.”

you chuckled softly, your fingers grazing his arm as you moved past him. "of course not. wouldn't want to mess with your reputation as a ruthless vampire hunter."

jeremy's voice held a hint of warmth as he muttered, “yeah, well, just remember, i can handle myself.”

you shot him a sly smile over your shoulder as you left the room. “oh, i have no doubt about that, gilbert.”

the exchange left a lingering sense of camaraderie in its wake, a glimpse of the intricate dance that defined your relationship. the tension remained, but somehow it felt more manageable, less suffocating. as the night wore on, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something new, something that had the potential to change the rules of the game.

in the midst of preparations for the final showdown with katherine, another meeting had been called at the salvatore boarding house. as the group gathered, tension seemed to hang in the air, though a palpable shift had occurred since the masquerade ball. the air felt charged, as if the dynamic between you and jeremy had been irreversibly altered.

damon, as always, leaned against a pillar with his signature smirk, and you couldn't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of shameless flirting. “well, well, if it isn't the dashing salvatore brothers. i must say, the view is quite enjoyable from here.”

damon's eyes danced with amusement. “flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”

jeremy's jaw tightened, though he seemed to be doing his best to keep his emotions in check. the meeting proceeded, but the undercurrent of tension remained, a silent reminder of the cat and mouse game that had become a hallmark of your interactions.

as the conversation continued, damon's gaze seemed to linger on you, his voice taking on a sultrier tone. “i must say, you smell divine tonight. new perfume, perhaps?”

you met his gaze with a smoldering look of your own. “just something i picked up recently. i find it has a certain— allure.” damon's lips curled into a knowing smile. “ah, yes. an allure that's hard to resist.”

jeremy's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure.

damon's gaze shifted to him, and a wicked smile played on his lips. “you know, gilbert, i've been meaning to ask. what's the name of that perfume?”

jeremy's gaze met damon's, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes. “it's none of your business.”

damon's grin only grew wider, his voice dripping with mischief. “ah, but i'm only curious. i believe you mentioned it was something with vanilla and musk?”

before jeremy could respond, damon closed the distance between you, his fingers brushing against the spot on your collarbone where jeremy had placed his kisses. a playful glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in to place a featherlight kiss on your skin.

jeremy's fists clenched at his sides, his voice tight with anger. “that's enough, damon.”

damon straightened, his smirk still in place. “ah, yes. jealousy really isn't a good look on you, is it?”

the room was thick with tension as you and jeremy exchanged a charged look. without a word, he stood abruptly, his eyes locked onto yours as he made his way to the door. you followed him with a purposeful stride, the unspoken understanding between you driving you forward.

as the door to the next room closed behind you, jeremy's anger seemed to finally boil over, and he pinned you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. the weight of the tension, the longing, the game you had both been playing—it all came crashing together in that moment.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips moving against his in a fierce dance of passion and desire. the intensity of it all seemed to consume you both, a release of pent-up emotions that had been building for far too long.

as you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you met jeremy's gaze, the lines of enmity and attraction blurred beyond recognition. and in that electrifying moment, you both knew that the cat and mouse game had transformed into something far more dangerous, far more real.

the room was dark, illuminated only by the soft light of the moon streaming through the window. jeremy lay on his bed, his head resting on his arm as he watched you walk closer. you felt the heat radiating off of him, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

he reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to him until you were lying beside him. his lips met yours in a deep, passionate kiss, and you felt your heart flutter as his hands roamed your body.

“you're mine,” he murmured against your lips, and you smiled in agreement.

you moved your hands up his chest, exploring his body as he continued to kiss you. his touch was possessive, and you loved the feeling of him claiming you as his own. he ran his hands over your body, caressing and teasing, and you felt yourself growing more aroused with each passing moment.

jeremy rolled over so that he was on top of you, and you felt his hardness pressed against your thigh. his lips moved to your neck, and you felt his tongue trace a path of fire down to your chest. his hands moved to your hips, and he gently pushed you onto your back.

he continued to kiss you hungrily, his hands exploring every inch of your body. his kisses were heated and possessive, and you could feel the intensity building inside of you. you wanted him even more, and you begged him to take you.

“say it,” he growled, his voice low and demanding.

“i'm yours,” you whispered, and he smiled in satisfaction.

he positioned himself between your legs and you felt the heat of his arousal against your inner thigh. you cried out in pleasure as he entered you, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly as he began to move.

he moved inside of you in a steady rhythm, and you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. you clung to him, and you could feel his breath on your skin as he whispered words of love and admiration in your ear. he loved the way you screamed his name, knowing damon could hear everything. it only encouraged him to continue pounding into your cunt, filling you with aggressive thrusts.

finally, you both reached the pinnacle of pleasure, and you cried out his name as you reached orgasm. he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with exertion, and you both lay there in silence for a few moments. he pulled you close to him, and you felt his arms wrap around you possessively.

“you're mine,” he said, and you smiled in agreement.

he had slept with the enemy, once again. only this time, he knew he wouldn't regret a thing.

#tvd #tvdu #the originals #legacies #jeremy gilbert #jeremy x reader #jeremy gilbert x you #jeremy gilbert x reader #jeremy gilbert smut #jeremy gilbert angst #jeremy gilbert fluff #jeremy gilbert x reader smut #jeremy gilbert x reader fluff #jeremy gilbert x reader angst

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bean-bean2000 · 2 months

Text

The Maid - Part 4

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts), swearing, mentions of torture and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 3 Series masterlist Main Masterlist

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You don't see the king for a few days following your conversation in the kitchen, however, he specifically requested you be placed back as his personal maid exclusively and indefinitely.

You were surprised to have not seen the snake in a while, assuming he had taken some time off. However, once word got out that the king specifically requested you as his maid, the energy in the maid's quarters shifted negatively towards you.

The guards, albeit not the snake, continue to beat you every chance they got.

"You think you're special because the king requested you?" one asked as he hit your face.

"Is that why the snake is missing? What did you do to him? What did you say to the king?" he yells at you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and punches you once more. You can hear the bone of your eye socket lightly crack.

"We knew you're a witch. You cast a spell on him. That is the only reason he chose you. Admit it!" another yelled at you and kicked your side.

"Where is the snake?! Did you curse him you filthy witch?!"

"Maybe we have to burn her at the stake!" one shouts.

"Maybe, the king chose you because you're just a really good whore" followed by another slap.

"Shall we indulge in what the king is so intrigued with, hmmm?" they snicker as they approach you menacingly.

You're too weak to fight back as they tear off your night shirt.

Doubled over in pain, they notice the bandages around your torso.

"Oh, what is this? I heard the snake had you whipped. Who would want to fuck a whore with such ugly scars?" he spat at you.

"That's revolting. How could anybody ever want you. You're disgusting." another spat at you again.

Your eye is swollen, lip bleeding. They laugh as they walk away and leave you in agony, bleeding and barely conscious on the damp stone floor.

You cough as blood spills to the ground and you push yourself up to walk back to your cot.

Exhausted and in pain, you leave your bandages on, without airing out your wounds and cleaning them. You can feel that they ripped open again, blood spilling onto the bandages, soaking them once more.

You're too tired and broken to care.

You fall to your bed, laying on your stomach and pass out.

The next day you are scheduled to clean the kings office. You wake up and notice your cot is stained with blood, so you go to the common bathrooms to bathe. You turn around and notice your night shirt is also soaked in blood. You take it off but it sticks to your skin, and you observe your back. They bandages are soaking wet and the skin around looks yellow.

You're eye is purple and swollen, your lip is split so badly it hurts to speak.

Banner isn't here for another few days, you ran out of the balm, medicine and have no spare bandages. You decide its best to leave them as is, and simply wash the rest of your body with a cloth. You convince yourself that you can survive a few more days before his return.

You're slower than usual, your back pulsates in pain, unable to properly heal from the constant movement of your work and the never-ending abuse from the guards. You can feel yourself getting warmer and stickier everyday, sweating more than usual.

Walking to the kings wing proved to be extremely difficult in this state. Every movement cause pain to shoot through your body, crumpling you over and having you groan out loud. It takes you significantly longer to reach his office, for which you are scheduled to clean for the day.

Unfortunately, it is the one area of his quarters that requires the most stretching to get between shelves and corners. You sigh and grab your supplies.

Taking a deep breath you start to climb the ladder and stretch to clean the top shelf of the library. You hiss as you work, doing it as quickly as possible to minimize the pain.

Are the consequences of the king's disappointment in my subpar work better than sustaining the current pain I'm in?

You slowly walk down the ladder.

Taking deep breaths you focus on finishing the each task and distracting yourself from the pain. It has been long over 2 hours by now since you started cleaning. Clinging onto the library, you feel your head spinning, you're panting and sweating.

You place your head down against the shelf to steady yourself.

The door to the office opens with a loud click and you pause in fear. You hear shoes clicking on the tile, bracing yourself with fear that it is the snake or any other maid manager that has come to reprimand you for being so slow.

"P-Pardon my tardiness. I- I am aware of my sluggishness. I am unwell and f-finishing soon.'

You're shaking, you can't bring yourself to turn around and face who may be there. Suddenly, you feel yourself swaying, your vision gets blurry. You grab onto the shelf to steady yourself but your weakened state has you slipping. Somebody catches you and you scream out in pain from the pressure on your back. The last thing you hear before passing out is "What happened to you?".

🧹🧹🧹

You wake up, laying down on your stomach. You shiver at the cold and realize your back is exposed. Your heart starts beating erratically as you push yourself up in an attempt to flee.

"No! I'm sorry, please!" you scream as you try getting yourself up.

Your shoulders are pushed down roughly and your head is forced down to look at the ground. You being to sob and shake.

"No... please.... stop..." you whisper between sobs.

"Hold her down. This is going to hurt."

Your head snaps up at the familiar voice. "Banner?!"

He simply shushes you and tells the man holding you down to keep me still.

You hear some liquid sloshing out of a bottle and spilled onto a rag. The doctor approaches you and places it on your back, dabbing the flesh. You screech in pain.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It's severely infected. I have to clean it with alcohol. Be brave for me." Banner says to you as he continues cleaning your wounds.

You're screaming and crying out in pain until you can't anymore. Eyes sucked dry from tears and throat raw from screaming.

Suddenly you hear the door burst open.

"What is going on?!" he sees your wounds as you lay bare on the table.

"Norns, what happened?" he says in disbelief.

"I don't know. I went looking for her and found her in your study. When I approached she fainted and screamed when I caught her. That's when I noticed her back. Her entire attire was soaking in blood and sticking to her open wounds. I have to clean them, they're severely infected. She may die." Banner explains.

"Couldn't you have knocked her out first?!" he questions angrily.

You can't see who is speaking and you can't hear over the pulsing in your ears. You're mind is focused on the pain in your back that you don't notice him and Banner approach you. One more dab to your wounds and you pass out from the agony.

He curses and grabs the rag out of Banner's hands.

"Bring her to my chambers, carefully. Make sure nobody follows." He commands to the guards.

"I need to figure out what is happening within my castle's walls. This is not how I rule my palace and this is not how I will let the guards treat my staff." He turns on his heel and walks out.

Reaching his chambers, the guards gently place her on her stomach in his bed. He reaches his window and opens it, as his beloved pet flies to the ledge. The crow caws for greeting.

"Hello my pet. I have a job for you. Find out what is happening in the maid's quarters. I want names and details. You have never failed me, don't start now. Report to me by morning." The crow caws in response and flies away.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 5

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

#fanfic #marvel #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #thor odinson #thor #angst #bucky barnes #captain america #natasha romanoff #tony stark #the maid #fanfic series #the maid - Part 4

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal.

And you never should have made it.

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt.

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face.

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear.

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan.

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago.

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out.

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates.

Then you decided to raise the stakes.

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without.

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking.

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings.

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer.

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you.

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.”

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.”

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face.

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning.

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you.

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl.

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious.

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this.

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious.

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them.

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation.

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed.

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable.

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer.

So you set up ground rules.

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time.

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it.

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands.

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman.

So that’s how you ended up like this.

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists.

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.”

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile.

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again.

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew.

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation.

So you roll your eyes and nod.

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further.

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly.

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter.

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap.

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again.

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal.

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay.

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it.

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself.

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show.

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp.

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes.

He’s too big.

In every way possible.

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much.

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking.

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip.

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true.

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts.

“No. We’re doing this your way.”

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more.

It feels like he’s splitting you in half.

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh.

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you.

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs.

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow.

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud.

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps.

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face.

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close.

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners.

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.”

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back.

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

#lincolndjarin #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey / reader

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silverskye13 · 1 month

Note

That ficlet of “How long can Helsknight and Wels go without wanting to maul each other to death” gives me the idea of like. Yknow that trope where two characters you assume have never met each other turn out in fact to be buddies who like play pool together or something. That’s Helsknight and XB. Wels gets shunted to Hels and finds XB just chillin in a bar with Hels and goes “WHAT THE FUCK BRO”

"Hels Kitchen, huh?" xB asked, looking up at the sign and raising a spined eyebrow. "This new?"

Helsknight shrugged, leading the way inside. "New enough."

xB sauntered behind him, taking in his surroundings with an easygoing smile. Hels was a little hot for his tastes, but he knew from experience he would get used to the heat after a few minutes. He watched Helsknight toss the bartender (who seemed to be just a very large, contained ghast) a handful of diamonds to cover their tab, and the two made their way to the pool table in the back of the little bar. xB swiped up a couple beers, snapped the cap off one with his teeth (those sharp guardian teeth were good for something after all) and set it down on the side of the table while Helsknight prepped the game.

"It's been a hot minute," xB observed, carefully checking over pool cues for one that wasn't bent. "Been busy busting heads in the Colosseum?"

Helsknight shrugged. "Nah. Mostly just caught up with life stuff. You know how it is."

xB, who had forgotten their meet up last month because he was busy digging a hole to bedrock, knew exactly how it was. "So you haven't been practicing pool while I've been gone?"

"I'll still beat you," Helsknight grinned challengingly. "Guests break."

xB snapped the cap off the second beer, took a drink, made a face that Helsknight laughed at, and then got to work aiming his shot. It was a good break, though the eight ball danced by one of the side pockets, a little too close for comfort. He got one of the striped balls in, and claimed the stripes for the rest of the game. He took his second shot, missed, and stepped aside for Helsknight.

Pool was such a weird game for them to settle on as their friendly competition. Helsknight was a pro at PvP, all things swords and axes and shields. But xB wasn't, and even if it was, swords was Helsknight's job, more or less, and xB could appreciate wanting to do something that wasn't your job, no matter how much you enjoyed it. It was for the same reason he was grateful Helsknight hadn't suggested they go build train cars when they hung out, or terraform movie scenes. He enjoyed it, but this was his off time. The first couple times they met up, they tried playing TCG, but Helsknight was a little too competitive, and xB got tired of debating rules minutiae (and being forced to stomp home and ask Beef a thousand questions). Then they played just normal cards, which lead to the discovery they both appreciated good beer, which lead to barhopping, because hels had bars. Hermitcraft didn't. And eventually, barhopping lead to playing pool, and pool was just the kind of low-stakes game they could both enjoy. Plus both Helsknight and xB were just prickly enough that most folks looking for a fight passed them over, and any who didn't, xB and Helsknight could solidly knock around. xB wasn't a PvPer, but he was big and thorny, and his sharp teeth were good for more than just popping bottle caps.

"You're up," Helsknight told him, leaning against the wall and chalking his pool cue.

"Does that really help?" xB asked, lining up his next shot. He cracked the cue ball into a bunch, breaking them apart. None of them sunk.

"No idea," Helsknight shrugged, putting the chalk back on the side of the pool table. "If it does, it's not in any way I can see."

"So why put it on?"

"That's all this game is good for. Knocking things around and getting chalk on your hands."

"It's also good for avoiding things," xB smirked. "Left the cue by the eight ball for you."

"Rude."

"Just keeping your life interesting."

Helsknight danced around the table, trying to find a good angle and making increasingly frustrated faces. xB smirked and took another sip of his beer, and then grimaced, because he forgot how bad it was. He needed to make sure he remembered this brand so they never got it again. Helsknight had just about lined up his shot when the lights in the already dimly lit bar space flickered ominously. xB raised a questioning eyebrow in the knight's direction.

"What was--"

"XB!" Welsknight came stumbling out of nowhere, all tin-can-armor-clatter. Stumbled into the pool table, shaking the eight ball into the side pocket.

"Hah! I win," xB grinned.

"You did not," Helsknight snapped, slamming his cue in the pool table. "That wasn't fair and you know it!"

"He's your other half dude. It counts."

Helsknight's eyes narrowed, and xB held up placating hands. (He forgot how much Hels and Wels hated each other sometimes. Really it was like watching brothers argue.)

"What in hels is going on?!" Welsknight demanded, re-injecting himself into the conversation. "xB, Hypno said you--"

"See, I told him not to tell you where I was," xB huffed, crossing his arms. "That was just rude of him."

"What are you even doing here?!"

"Playing pool," xB smiled, at about the same time Helsknight spat, "None of your damn business!"

The two knights glared at each other.

xB quietly wondered if he should interrupt their spat or egg them on.

The large ghast behind the bar counter hissed, grabbing all of their attention. It wafted a tentacle over to tap a sign, that said: Anyone caught fighting must buy a round for the bar, or be thrown out. xB looked back at Helsknight, watching him count first the other patrons in the bar, then the diamonds still left in his coin purse, do some mental math, and decide rather magnanimously that decking Welsknight wasn't worth it.

xB offered Welsknight a pool cue, "Care to join us?"

Welsknight eyed the pool cue like it was a snake, before begrudgingly taking it. xB went to get a new stick for himself while Helsknight begrudgingly reset the game.

It really was a good game when you wanted to avoid things.

#wooshofficial #helsknight #xbcrafted #welsknight #ahhh the rich inner lives of the hermits and helsmets #what a fun idea!! thank you woosh :D

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jolenes-doppelganger · 18 days

Text

Innocence

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Metropolis Reader

Summary: How many variables go awry with one appearance of a hidden player? What would the Entity have done if a third party appeared in the array of pre-determined, algorithm-generated deaths?

Warnings: Side character death, angst.

A/N: Fuck you Christopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen!!!! Killing a beloved female side character to 'motivate' the male protagonist is the definition of FUCKING FRIDGING!!!! The side character death will be resolved, should there be demand for future chapters.

Word Count: 4.0k (DAMN)

Perhaps it had been the rain, the chill it had brought to your bones. But regardless, something was afoot. The streets of Venice were unnaturally quiet, and the party you had left emphasized that fact; a ringing sang in your ears. You walked alone on the streets, quietly enjoying the soft patter of the rain that trembled down the drains. Dodging the Metropolis body guards had been easy, it was a high stakes night for Alanna, a high stakes night for you.

Unfortunately, things did not stay peaceful.

Commotion sprung out among the party goers, and you heard distant gunfire. Things had begun. Sprinting was your only option, but with the heels you'd chosen it was more likely you were to twist an ankle over the cobblestone than escape. Finding a dark corner, you managed to brace yourself against a wall, snapping your heels off, flattening them so you could take longer strides. You weren't the only person using the dark side of the building to escape. A shout, some commotion, and quick footwork as a woman scaled down a building, dropping in front of you.

She was within a foot of you, so close that on motion of the arm could land a hit, a punch, or perhaps push away the strands of hair that lay glued to her sweaty face.

“…Hi?”

She makes eye contact with you, momentarily spooked.

“You’re one of the Metropolis siblings."

A statement, and observation.

"Yes...?"

"You're not supposed to be at this party."

The two of you stared at one another for some time, both of you breathing heavily. She had blue eyes, distinct Scandinavian features. An English accent amongst the native Italian accented english. You pinned her as a foreigner, and from the equipment she used and the quick way she discerned who you were and your presumed whereabouts, she was also an intelligence operative.

“MI6?” you rasped.

The woman shook her head, a flicker of annoyance creeping over her features.

“There’s no time to talk, come on.” she huffed, grabbing you arm and pulling you towards an alleyway.

“Now hold on, I don’t know you-”

She turned on her heel, pulling the two of you into a doorway alcove, keeping her words clipped and quietly delivered.

“You’re (Reader) Metropolis. You were not supposed to be at this party, you weren’t even supposed to be in Italy. Things are going on beyond your understanding, and the Entity-”

“-The Entity? For fucks sake, that’s a myth.”

The woman raised her eyebrow, computing your response rapidly.

“No. No it is not. I’ve read your profile, the youngest child, a ten, fifteen year age gap between you and Alana?” the woman listed. “You were an affair baby, you were just recently integrated into the family, you serve as a glorified accountant…” Ilsa listed. “You aren’t a Metropolis type, even with your name and lineage.”

She spoke so eloquently, in a self-assured manner. You wanted to argue with her, or at the very least find something in her thought process to correct, but she was right on all accounts.

“Fine. Why are we in a dark alleyway, why do you know so much about me, and why don’t I know a damn thing about you?”

The woman squared her shoulders.

“My name is Ilsa Faust. I was a former agent for British Intelligence, I’ve gone rogue, I work alongside the equally rogue Ethan Hunt. And you, Ms. Metropolis, are innocent.”

Innocence. What a strange thing to equate to you.

“I beg your pardon?” you raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, looking around before pressing a finger to her headset.

“Benji. I can’t be the one to go after Grace.”

You watched her grimace, silently mouthing a few choice expletives.

“I know that. But I just… The youngest Metropolis is here. Metropolis, daughter of Max, the...” she paused, looking at you apologetically, “... Bastard child. The daughter of that old field agent friend of Ethan’s.”

She paused, seemingly listening to Benji as the poor man appeared to panic. You could hear the tonal fluctuations from your proximity a good foot aways.

“Yes, but it’s Ethan. He won’t see it that way. I know he'll be upset, but maybe it’s for the better.”

The line went quiet, and then there was a soft command. Ilsa nodded, looking at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, my mother taught me about stranger danger.”

You stood your ground, arms firmly crossed one over the other. Ilsa looked at you tiredly, seeming to mentally prepare herself for some gargantuan task.

“Do me a favor and pretend to be drunk.”

You frowned, not comprehending. Ilsa lunged forward, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you over her shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not a child, and this dress is short!”

Ilsa let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to pull your dress down.

“Sorry, princess.”

You heard commotion, what sounded like men running. Their shouts and mixed dialect could be heard from somewhere a half block away.

“Now is not the time to tell me you’re a bad actor.” Ilsa whispered.

Under threat of exposure, possible abduction and Alanna probably, definitely strangling you should she catch wind of this, complying was the only option. You went limp, arms and neck dangling as the men drew closer. They didn’t give you or Ilsa a second glance. She was mostly overlooked in favor of your bottom, of which you were begrudgingly aware of.

“Good girl.” Ilsa murmured once the men had passed, patting your rear.

“Oh.. Hey!” you blushed.

“Sorry. I was aiming for your back.”

“Yeah, my ass. Literally.” you retorted.

Ilsa let out a startled bark of laughter, amused. But she was quick to set you down, and noting the flimsy nature of your shoes, did so gently. You looked at her, a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of blood from your head to the rest of your body.

“You okay?”

“Give me a second, dizzy.”

But you two had little time. A com from Benji came through on Ilsa’s headset. Ilsa’s face went white, and she proceeded to grab you by your arm, booking it through the winding streets of Venice.

“I’m in heels, you will break my ankle if you keep pulling!” you sourly informed her.

“This is a matter of life and death. Kindly quiet yourself.” Ilsa snapped back.

A matter of life and death? Why was it always one of those? Two figures came into view, both stood atop of a canal bridge. You recognized neither of them, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and another brunette woman. He was stalking over to her, knife in hand. Her breathing was irregular, labored. But Ilsa was faster, approaching Gabriel, assuredly drawing forth a large sword. Gabriel brandished Grace’s switchblade, leaving the woman to pass out on the bridge.

“I hoped it'd be you.” Gabriel smiled.

“...”

You admired Ilsa's silence, her quiet appraisal of the man. The sparring began almost immediately, and it didn’t take a trained eye to see that they were evenly matched. But something was wrong. He was pushing her into a corner, and then the sword was gone. They fought over the switchblade, each getting a few slashes in. But Ilsa was getting weaker, or clumsier. A brief thought flashed over you. What if she died? What if he saw you? What if he saw you and you didn’t have anything to fight with? You needed that sword. This woman... She'd said that this was a matter of the Entity, and your sister had taken pains to ship you out to Berlin on short notice. You'd taken even larger pains to make it appear as if you had. If you weren't supposed to be here, then maybe you had an advantage over this man, over this Entity. But you had to think fast.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, hurling a small, fractured chunk of cobblestone at the man.

The rock hit Gabriel’s forehead just as he looked up, stunning him. It was a good hit, and it bought you time, but not enough. You lunged for the sword, but he was faster. The scuffle that ensued was brief, he was better equipped, and stronger. His eyes went wild as he snatched the switchblade again, aiming for your heart. The switchblade cut into your shoulder, and pain bloomed as the blade wedged itself into the socket. He’d missed. A scream tore its way out of your lungs, and white hot pain flashed through your mind’s eye. A grunt came from above as Ilsa landed a kick to his chest. The sword was knocked loose, toppling over the bridge. And with that the only remaining weapon was the switchblade lodged in your shoulder. Both Ilsa and the mystery man lunged for it, but both pulled back before grabbing it, seemingly for different reasons. The man’s eyes went wide with fear and recognition, and he stalked back quickly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Metropolis.” he paled. “You were supposed to be in Berlin… You’re not… The Entity didn’t..”

He landed one more kick to Ilsa before running. His footsteps were quick, and he disappeared into the veins of the city, his footsteps dying away as if he was a ghost, as if he was never there. Ilsa watched him, breathlessly speaking to Benji about the semantics of the encounter. She was breathing heavily, and it was difficult to understand her. Both she and Benji devolved into thick, almost indiscernible Midlands accents as they spoke and often interrupted one another. Benji’s voice was so loud that you could hear whispers of it through her headset. Ilsa crouched over you, examining the wound and cussing. She appeared just as frazzled as your mystery attacker, mumbling something about innocents and bloodlines.

“Fuck me, kid. Just had to get stabbed.” Ilsa mumbles, pausing her complaining to briefly tear off a bit of your dress, “And I’ve got another head trauma to deal with, and Ethan is off the fucking grid.”

A man broke through the street, panting heavily, eyeing the slowly awakening Grace and the incoherently mumbling Ilsa as she secured the knife wound to prevent it from escaping. He’d run from the opposite end of the city, as if he’d been running in circles.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ethan asked. “And who is… Baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa eyed him, nodding. She was busy tying the fabric of your torn dress around your shoulder. It must have been precaution, the knife prevented excess blood from escaping.

“He stabbed baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa nodded again, gently picking up your now shivering frame. It was cold in Venice tonight, and without the rush of adrenaline it was very clear just how cold it was. Ethan, or John Lark as you knew him, stumbled forward, hastily taking you from Ilsa.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be alright.” Ethan says, in his signature ‘I’m saving the day’ voice.

The voice didn’t help. He was John Lark to your eyes; a madman.

“I know, Jesus. Get off!” you protested, trying to get away from the short, scary man.

Ilsa chuckled a bit at this. It appears Ethan’s usual charms wouldn’t work on you, and for good reason. A boat sped through the canal, and you recognized the driver by his voice. Benji? There was another man on the boat, large and equipped with a fedora. Both looked a bit shell-shocked, seeing the aftermath of the commotion on the bridge.

“Luther, get her in the boat.” Benji needlessly directed the other man as he was already pulling Grace in.

Luther examined Grace’s head for signs of abrasion while Ethan and Ilsa lowered you into the boat. Ilsa held you steady, your back pressed against her front, one of her arms wrapped around your midsection, the other cradling your head as the boat sped through the canal once more. Ethan was hastily gloving up, and a brief concern over sterility dawned on you, but it wasn’t as if you had a choice.

“This is a hospital wound.” Ethan sighed.

“We can’t go to the hospital, Ethan.” Luther warned.

“I know that.” Ethan snapped back. “Cover her mouth.” Ethan directed Ilsa.

Ilsa’s hand fitted firmly over your mouth, her other arm holding your torso against hers. You tensed immediately. What the hell was Lark going to do to you?

“Breathe in and…” Ilsa directed.

Ethan pulled the switchblade out as you exhaled, the scream dying off as you ran out of air. The noise that was ultimately muffled by Ilsa’s hand was that of a high pitched wheeze. Ilsa’s hand remained, a wordless understanding between Ethan and Ilsa. Blood gushed from the wound immediately, and Ethan mumbled something about missing major arteries and cut tendons. Not like it mattered to you, Ilsa’s hand kept your head up, your mouth covered.You couldn’t see the damage for yourself.

“Breathe in, and out. In… Out…. In….” she continued.

With another quick jerk, Ethan pushed your shoulder back in its proper socket. This time your scream was much more audible, even with Ilsa muffling it. Grace winced as she watched. The blade had wedged itself into the socket, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Good girl, good job.” Ilsa whispered, breaking the tension. “I know it hurts, it would have been worse if you knew it was coming.”

Her hand left your mouth, fingers gently pulling through your hair, a soothing motion. Ethan moved on to stitching up the knife wound, or so you thought. The needle went deeper.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Grace paled.

You tilted your head to look, but Ilsa was faster, not letting you see. The needle bit in, and you winced. Ethan had a skilled hand, but it was clear he was stitching something deeper.

“Ethan, is that really necessary?” Benji asked. “You’ve got her whole shoulder airing out in this dirty city.

“The tendon was sliced, it needs to be stitched up.”

Luther appeared just off to the side, gloved up and gently dabbing iodine all around and in the wound. It stung like a bitch, and you clenched your teeth as you hissed in pain. Your natural instinct directed you to look again, but Ilsa kept your head in place.

“Don’t look. If you look you’ll get hysterical or ill.” Ilsa murmured. “Now stay still.”

You wanted to stay still, you really did. But you didn’t have a pleasant sight. Grace looked practically green, from both her concussion and the sight of your open wound, and Luther had a worried look on his face. Benji wasn’t better, with that permanent anxious frown on his features. The biting sensation in your shoulder only continued as Ethan worked on stitching up the various tendons that had gotten cut. It was Ilsa who noticed your rapid, panicked breathing.

“No, no.” Ilsa protested, tilting your face to look at her. “Look at me, breathe in and out, none of this ragged panting you’re doing. You’re not going into shock, we don’t have time for that.”

Her stern, authoritative approach was what you needed to stay afloat in the midst of Ethan’s suturing. She had this soft frown on her face, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she murmured to you.

“Benji is driving us to the safehouse. You’re coming with us, you hear?”

Ilsa outlined the plan, the various things she was going to do, baths, medicine, sleep, food. All the things you would need to get better. By the time Ethan started suturing the skin, her nose was barely touching yours, her words floating over you like mist. She kept your head in place, murmuring softly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light. It was… Intimate. More intimate than other things you’d experienced. Why was it always the barrier between life and death, ailment and health that always brought forth the most romantic moments. It was something your mother had said… All friendships are romantic. Perhaps all beginnings of friendships could be interpreted as such.

“Iodine.” Ethan curtly directed

The yellow antiseptic stung, and you winced. Luther had a gentle hand, and he’d used it throughout the process, but it was the freshly sutured skin that burned the most. Ilsa stroked your cheek, shifting her other arm to hold your injured shoulder in place. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been trying to move it.

“No moving this, you hear?”

“Wasn’t gonna.” you mumbled.

The boat stalled. Benji stood up, gesturing everyone to leave the boat, but his words died in his throat. His eyes bulged, a shocked expression on his face. The shot had been so quiet, the whizzing was all that had been audible. Benji jerked, and red bloomed at the front of his chest. Ethan was quick to support him, still gloved up from his work on you. The quiet moment of the canal was broken. Everyone was moving except you. There was arguing, many voices crumpled into one echochamber of chaos, Grace holding Benji as Luther held Ethan back. For a little man, Ethan was vicious when angry, intending to follow the unseen sniper and mercilessly deliver his body to the canal. The boat rocked violently, and Ilsa shouted continuously, mostly at Ethan to calm down. Her grip on you was tight, her hands placed over vital areas on your abdomen. She was protecting you should another shot fire. Benji met your eyes, his hand held over the gunshot wound. He looked gray, as if life had been sucked out of him the moment the bullet hit its target.

“Gabriel was going to send a message either way.” Benji rasps, his voice bringing sense back into Ethan.

Ilsa left you on the boat as she helped Grace carry Benji into the safehouse. It was clear that there would be no second shot, and you were safe in the belly of the boat. Ethan breathed irregularly, the muscles in his neck tensing and relaxing as he seemed to be pushing aside his anger. He too left the boat, leaving Luther to attend to you. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, and Luther moved to pick you up, pausing at the brief fear that appeared in your eyes.

“I’m… You don’t know who most of us are, do you?” he asked, intuitive in more ways than one.

You shook your head, taking a breath in to steady your nerves before answering.

“I know… Ilsa. Ilsa Faust, yeah? Umm.. Then there’s Lark. John Lark.”

You’d heard all of their names at least once, but you couldn’t list them in the aftermath of Benji’s snipe attack.

“That’s Ethan.” Luther corrected. “The brunette is Grace, Benji is the Englishman who’s been injured, and I’m Luther. Now let’s get you out of this boat.” he softly finished.

You pegged him as the gentle giant of the group, and he was. Gentle, at least. He carried you off of the boat, up the stairs into the Venetian safehouse. It was as still as the water outside. Why was it so still? Such a large city, and yet it felt like a ghost town. There were no arguments now. Grace sat in a corner, a bag of peas on her head. Ethan and Ilsa were in a separate room, quietly conversing as they treated Benji, as you presumed they were doing. No hospitals, they’d said. What kind of people couldn’t go to hospitals?

“Here’s some of Ilsa’s clothes. Tank top, and sweats. Bathroom’s over there.” Luther pointed.

He stepped into the room with his other friends. It was the only room with light in the stone house. The clothes looked fresh, and your dress was dirty and torn. You didn’t see the point in maintaining your privacy with Grace staring off into space and the others presumably holding vigil over Benji. But it was difficult, grabbing the zipper. Gabriel had struck you in your more flexible, left shoulder. You couldn’t grab the zipper with your right hand.

“Here.” Grace murmured, getting up to unzip your dress. “It’s just us girls, let’s get you into these.”

Grace gently pulled off your dress, working the tank top over your injured shoulder and sliding the joggers up your body. You noticed her tired movements. She’d suffered a pretty decent blow to the head. Concussions were no joke. From this distance you could clearly make out the lines around her mouth as she pursed her lips, helping you to dress.

“Thanks. Grace, right?” you quietly asked, breaking the unnatural stillness.

She nodded, brown eyes losing their glassy look.

“Yes. You’re Baby Metropolis?”

“Oh, no my name is (Reader) Metropolis. I’m the baby of the family.” you explained.

“Ah.”

Grace settled beside you on the couch. Her shirt was half unbuttoned. But it didn’t matter. It was just us girls.

“He’s not going to make it.” Grace murmured. “If he was going to live, they should have taken him to a hospital the moment he was shot.”

You looked down at your hands, the constant pain in your shoulder contrasting with the numbness everywhere else. Benji. He’d… Somehow he was important. A piece of the puzzle, someone who struck you as innocent. Perhaps that was why his death seemed so irrational.

“Are you in pain?” Grace realized. “That’s a dumb question, of course you are.”

She got up, rummaging through an open medical bag until she found what she was looking for. Her footsteps were soft, bare feet delicately navigating the creaky floorboards with practiced agility. She was a con of some sort. No one else would instinctively avoid the creaky floorboards of an old house.

“Take two of these.” she says.

“Extra strength tylenol?” you joked.

“Stronger.” Grace murmured, half-smile on her face.

You nodded, taking the meds. There was nothing in your stomach, so the meds dissolved quickly, taking away the pain in as little as fifteen minutes. They came with a distinct drowsy side effect, as if the world was a bit floaty. Grace wasn’t the only one who was anxious to sleep, and the two of you crept into the larger bedroom after finding a few croissants to snack on. Two king beds and empty dressers, divided into girls and boys, or so you presumed. The two of you settled under the covers, closing your eyes. Sleep came quickly. Somewhere in the twilight of the early morning, Ilsa slid into the bed behind you, an arm draped over your abdomen as you laid on your back. You didn’t need the answer to why she was so clingy. Or perhaps you had it wrong. But you wouldn’t protest this stranger’s touches. No, there was a bond there now. You’d survived such an ordeal together, such a crisis as the one you were bound in. And it felt nice, to be sandwiched in between Grace and Ilsa. You were safe here.

Morning broke, but the sun did not break this quiet. There wasn’t a word spoken. The atmosphere in the room was somber. No one needed to say it, Benji had passed. Ethan’s dead look as he sat on the couch confirmed any suspicion. Luther cooked breakfast for everyone, maintaining a sense of normality. Ethan wouldn’t accept any of Ilsa’s soft attempts to bring him food, and he wouldn’t accept her beside him, either. The Entity had taken a divergent route in its predictions. Grace and Ilsa had been failed targets, so the Entity chose to take Ethan Hunt’s friend instead. And Ethan, being the savior he was, took it hard.

“Over here.” Grace murmured, gesturing Ilsa over to where the both of you sat.

Ilsa settled on the rug, predictably taking a seat next to you. She didn’t outright drape an arm over you, but her knee touched yours. It was a soft, innocent gesture. She wanted closeness, and you did too. Your knees stayed touching. Grace noticed the little dynamic between the two of you, shifting a little closer so she could get in on it too. Her knee came into contact with yours on the other side. Three pairs of feet lined up, three legs nestled close, shoulders flanking yours on both sides. It was cute, and you giggled, triggering Grace’s laugh too. Ilsa smiled, humming in amusement. And for a brief moment, Ethan’s eyes flickered with something other than sorrow. He picked up the plate Ilsa had left on the coffee table. And he ate.

<-->

#rebecca ferguson x you #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #wlw #lesbian

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horsemenoftheapocalypse-if · 7 months

Text

(First ever collaboration IF between the Author of King's Despair and Dragon's Edged.)

Writer's Links: Dragon's Edged & King's Despair

(Warning: 18+ The story includes the following: Violence, , self-doubt, cliché’s, child abuse, torture, trauma and many more will be added in the future.)

Kroz&Author

"Greetings, Reader!

You are about to enter a world of darkness, danger, and deception.

A world where a child has been sold to the most powerful underworld company known as the Fates. A world where you will have to make life-or-death decisions for them. This is not a typical story of an orphan or a survivor.

This is a story of a child who has to learn how to kill, lie, and manipulate in order to survive in the dark side of New York City. A city where crime never sleeps and where the Fates control everything from the shadows.

You are not just a passive observer of this story. You are an active participant. You are the voice, the intuition, the gut feeling of the child protagonist. You will have to guide them through their trials and tribulations, their choices and consequences, their victories and defeats. But be careful, Reader.

The Fates are watching your every move. They have plans for you and the child. Plans that may not end well for either of you.

Are you ready to take on this challenge, Reader? Are you ready to face the Fates? Reader I beckon you to join them on this extraordinary adventure, where danger lurks at every turn, and the stakes are unimaginably high.

Through your unwavering presence, you will empower our young hero to face their fears, outsmart their enemies, and ultimately shape their own destiny.

Prepare yourself for a thrilling and immersive experience. Brace for the adrenaline-pumping encounters, the unexpected alliances, and the heart-wrenching decisions that will test the limits of our protagonist's resilience.

The fate of our young protagonist lies in your hands. Choose wisely, for their life depends on it. Decided are we?

Then come closer, and let me tell you more about this story…"

Introduction:

You were a kid, was a kid, now your a cold-blooded killing machine.

Dispensing justice and vengeance using your guns and knives. A modern robin hood you ask? Nope your not wearing any leotard pants or cap.

You're a merciless executioner, killing anyone who crosses your way. But underneath all that bloodshed and brutality, you still have a soft spot for kids.

It all started when you were taken by a prolific assassin, who decided to make you his protege. Armed with guns and knives, he taught you how to kill, track and hunt. But there was one rule that he made you live by, "No children, we never hurt them". That code fueled your respect for the man.

Through rigorous training, you became an expert in sharpshooting, knife throwing, and stealth. You even surpassed the master assassin, becoming the leader of your own hit squad. Together you and him started cleaning the streets from drugs, hoodlums, pimps and mafias. That made you a hero to the poor and downtrodden. But you were known by the authorities as a murderer and vigilante.

Despite all the havoc you reaped, you kept your code. Whenever you had a child captive, you would send them back to their families or orphanage. But one day, rumors of a powerful entity known as "The Fate's" were spreading they deal with guns, prostitution, alcohol, guns for hire, and mercenaries.

It was said that they're the Top Dog of the black market, the consigners of death and terrorisms. You know because your were one of the victims in their child trafficking business.

Now it's up to you to take down "The Fates", the only problem is that you couldn't seem to find any hard evidence against them. It was rumored that they cover their tracks so meticulously.

Until one day a member of their organization was sent to the hit list.

The client? The Fates their selves wanting to kill one their own. Yet there is one problem, your just still a rookie under the eyes of your teacher and he's not getting any younger.

"We need you to get a team and a back-up plan," your mentor said. "To get to The Fates, we need to be ready for everything they throw at us."

Despite his worring tone, you were confident that you can end this once and for all.

Now it's up to the great assassin and their protege, to bring the dark side of the world to light and serve justice to those who deserve it.

"It's time, kiddo," he smirked as he patted your back. "You've proven yourself more than ready for what's ahead, you will be leading this team but under my supervision of course!"

This was an exciting step towards finally taking down the Fates. With your mentor and you leading the team, you were sure it will be successful. After all, this was his legacy, and you will be a part of it. Together, you and him gathered a group of skilled mercenaries, sharpshooters, and information brokers.

You knew it wasn't going to be an easy mission. The Fates were known for their ruthless methods and their underhand tactics. To take them down, you needed to be able to outsmart them.

But this wasn't a rite of passage or even a battle of egos. This was a race against time, a race to save countless souls like you, who were trapped and used for the Fates' twisted plans.

Elizabeth Baker, The Rider of Death

"Appearances can be deceiving. I don't have to be gentle with my words to save your life."

She was once a respected doctor at a prestigious hospital, admired by colleagues and loved by patients. Her passion for saving lives and talent for surgery were well-known. However, everything changed when she uncovered the hospital's dark truth. They were charging exorbitant fees while using second-hand equipment and expired drugs. The medical director was involved in a corruption scheme, siphoning off millions of dollars.

When Elizabeth confronted him, he responded with threats and violence. In self-defense, she accidentally killed him with a scalpel. Fleeing the scene, she left behind her career and reputation, going into hiding. In the underworld, she became a freelance doctor, offering services to criminals and outcasts.

Operating in secret locations, she used whatever tools and resources she could find. Her prices were high, but she maintained high standards. Morality and legality didn't matter to her clients as long as they paid well and respected her rules. With a sharp tongue and a cold heart, she became the most sought-after doctor in the underworld.

Over time, her skills grew, and she began performing complex procedures like organ transplants and limb replacements. You and your mentor have made countless deals with Death, even cheating him a few times, so you know how to handle someone like her.

Nate O'Neil, The Rider Of Conquest

"The beauty of an explosion's light surpasses that of a sunrise!"

Nate is an unpredictable force within the group. He excels at causing explosions and demolishing obstacles, making him the go-to person for such tasks. Nate embodies chaos and has a twisted love for destruction.

Recklessness defines Nate. He thrives in dangerous situations, embracing the adrenaline rush that comes with each explosive endeavor. With a devil-may-care attitude, he charges into any situation, leaving destruction in his wake. His disregard for personal safety often leaves his comrades on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

Nate's passion for pyrotechnics is unmatched. He finds beauty in the chaos and destruction that fire brings, taking pleasure in watching things go up in flames. His eyes light up at explosions, and his laughter echoes through the chaos as he revels in the fiery spectacle. He is a true pyromaniac, using the world as his canvas to paint with flames.

But Nate is not just a reckless demolition expert; he is also the life of the party. With his larger-than-life personality, he fills the room with infectious energy. His boisterous laughter and dark jokes keep everyone entertained, even in dire circumstances. Nate can turn any situation into a comedy show, ensuring there is never a dull moment.

He possesses an innate talent for determining the right amount of explosive power needed to achieve the desired result, whether it's breaching a secure facility or creating a distraction with a chaotic firework display.

Nate is also one of the most loyal members of the group. He always has their back, regardless of the situation. He willingly puts himself in harm's way to protect his comrades and will fight fiercely for them if necessary. His bravery knows no bounds, and while his recklessness can sometimes lead to trouble, it is ultimately his heroic actions that make him the beloved daredevil he is today. Nate O'Neil is a wild card, a dynamo of destruction, and the heart of humor in the group. He reminds everyone that even in the darkest times, laughter and explosions can still exist, and he is always ready to ignite excitement wherever he goes.

Haley Jones, The Rider Of Famine

"When I look through the scope, all I see is you."

Haley, a Texan country girl, was born and raised on a ranch. She had a fiery spirit and a talent for precision. While she was no stranger to hard work and the thrill of the open fields, it was the touch of cold metal and the weight of a sniper rifle that truly ignited her passion.

From a young age, Haley displayed an uncanny talent for marksmanship. Her ability to hit headshots with unwavering accuracy earned her the title of the best sniper in her town's academy. Instead of pursuing a military career, Haley chose to become an assassin, targeting key figures who committed heinous acts.

Haley's movements were as precise as her shots. She never missed a target and always completed her missions efficiently. Her sass and flirtatiousness added to the mystique that surrounded her. She often used her curves to distract opponents, giving her time to get into optimal shooting position. People said that if you heard Haley's rifle, it was already too late - you had been marked and there was no escaping your fate.

Despite being an elite assassin, Haley never lost sight of her roots. She took pride in her Texan heritage and maintained a strong work ethic. After every assignment, she would return home to the ranch to decompress from the chaos. Among familiar faces, she would tend to the fields or go horseback riding, finding solace in the simplicity of her upbringing.

David Garcia, The Rider Of War

"I don't engage in meaningless conversations. Prove your worth or go away."

David is a mysterious and versatile individual. In private, he is quiet and reserved, preferring simple communication. However, during missions, he surprises even his closest allies with his various personas.

David is quick-witted and can easily become a charismatic trickster. With his clever wordplay and silver tongue, he can turn the tide of a battle without using force.

Flirtation comes naturally to David, and he uses it to manipulate and gather information. It's hard to determine his true intentions when encountering him.

Regardless of the roles he assumes, David is always dedicated to completing his missions. He will do whatever it takes to accomplish his tasks, whether it's infiltrating an enemy stronghold or uncovering a sinister plot.

#adult fiction #authors of tumblr #fiction #if game #if recs #if wip #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #interactive story #original writing #twine game #twine if #twine wip

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anemhoez · 9 months

Text

Fun Guy…

Tighnari/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, breeding kink

A/N: this idea came to me while i was playing as tighnari 💀 hope you like it!

words: 2k

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“Nariiii,” your voice beckoned him like a sweet song, “come to bed.” You currently lay on said “bed”, a straw mat you managed to put together during your impromptu research trip through the dense forest. The rain started to fall and once you and Tighnari finished dispensing of a withering, you made camp quickly in the spot that had cleared up beautifully.“In a minute darling,” his voice full of curiosity at the current specimen he observed in his hand. The rain had stopped and the night air was crisp, the smell of damp greenery permeated the tent as you tried to get comfortable without his warmth.

Tighnari jotted down notes to describe the look of the fungus in his hand, his slender fingers squeezing it softly. “Fascinating!” he said and just wrote down even more words. You sighed and stared up at the low ceiling of the tent, “When did you even pick that thing?” your eyebrow raising at him. He turned to you, his hazel eyes meeting yours, “I grabbed it before we set up the tent, you might have been distracted with hammering the stakes.” He used his pencil to measure the height of the fungus, “Its pretty much bite-sized.” Your mind trailed off thinking about how those stakes weren’t the only things that needed to be hammered. Tighnaris voice was but a whisper suddenly, “Well, it tastes just fine.” You turned immediately and noticed the fungus that was just in his hand was gone, “Nari?!” your voice was loud and he snapped his head towards you, “Did you just eat it?!”

He swallowed audibly, “No?” You shook your head, your hands coming to cross over your chest, “For a forest ranger, that’s pretty irresponsible of you,” what if you fall ill?!” He realized the error of his ways as he felt the fungus slowly travel down his gullet, “Sorry, I don’t have any of my lab equipment and, this is the only way I can test its properties.” He reached out and took your hand in his, “It wont happen again, I promise.” His fluffy ears perked up and you couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. “Why do you even need to examine it so thoroughly right now anyway?” you questioned the ranger, “you couldn’t wait until we got back to the village?”

Tighnari turned away from you, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks, “Well, about that,” he said and toyed with his earring, a gesture he always did when he was nervous, “that fungus, I actually know more about it then I let on.” He stood up, his tail swishing from side to side, “I ate it, knowing what it will do to me.” His eyes were avoiding yours and you took him by the chin gently, “Oh? Whats it supposed to do to you? Have you been feeling unwell?” He shook his head and took you by the waist, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, “Not at all,” he moved in closer and gave you a kiss, his tongue parting your lips. You kissed him back, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. that familiar feeing of excitement in the pit of your stomach catalyzing. He pulled away and met your eyes once more, “I read about it a few weeks ago, and was curious, so while we were out here I took the opportunity to search for it” he explained with enthusiasm, his ears moving in tandem with his words, “It’s a natural performance enhancer.” You couldn’t help but smirk devilishly,

“Are you serious?,” your hands came to cover your month, “Tighnari, you degenerate!” you joked and he pulled you back to him, holding you close. “What do you say Y/n? Would you be interested in being my research assistant?” To say you were surprised was an understatement, you’d never expect this from him in a million years. A part of you was excited, but another part felt guilty, as if it was your fault he needed to “enhance” himself in some way.

“I’m at your disposal Nari but, why do you feel like you need to take something like this?” you asked, your hands coming to tug on his ears playfully. “Not only out of curiosity but, you have no idea how badly I want to,” he stopped and his tail began to wag faster, “fuck you for hours upon hours.” His words stirred something within you, its not like he didn’t have the stamina naturally, you thanked his genetics for that. “Okay, I just don’t want you feeling inadequate in any way,” you said as you trailed your hands down his body. “Not at all I just want to,” he stopped when you palmed his bulge through his loose shorts, “make you feel even better than usual, Y/n.” You rubbed against him, “Hmm I see,” your hand reached inside the hem of his shorts, “Im so lucky to have a guy like you Nari, always so considerate.” He huffed as you continued your ministrations, your soft hands stroking him to erection, “Anything for you- ah!”

Tighnari yelled and you quickly removed your hand from his pants, “Archons! Did I hurt you?” He shook his head to reassure you, “I think the fungus is taking effect,” he looked down and pulled the hem of his pants to peer inside, “it kind of stings? But in a good way?” You peered into his open hem, “I don’t think it should hurt though,” your voice laced with worry, “Now Im worried.” He pulled out his dick and held it. He stroked it lazily, “Theres no need to worry,” his cock looking heavy in his hands, “ It feels incredible.” His voice was low as he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back a moan.

The sight in front of you made your core tremble. Tighnari was moaning louder than before, his thick cock beginning to drip with pre-cum. You instinctively got on you knees, “Nari,” you cooed and he looked down at you, “what happened to me being your assistant?” He smiled and took the back of your head gently, “That’s right,” he guided his cock to your lips and you graciously took him into your mouth. It felt almost foreign in your mouth, what with how thick the fungus had made him. You pulled away, his cock bobbing and dripping with saliva. “I think you’re thicker than usual, I can barely take the whole thing.”

You took his dick in your hand and stroked it hard, moving to suck at his now thickened sack. He moaned loudly at the sensation, “Is that so?” He suddenly pulled away from you, “One second, let me grab my notes.” His cock bobbed as he reached for his notepad, “Takes effect after a few minuets, almost as if it bypasses the digestive system, may increase in girth.” His tone was serious as he scribbled. You could feel your wetness start to soak your underwear, your boyfriends dick almost taunting you as it stood at full mast. “Ahem,” you cleared your throat and he came back to reality. A smile spread across his face, “My apologies, its all just so, fascinating!” his voice brimming with excitement

He pulled you up and onto your feet, “Shall we try another variable?” his hand came up to your mouth and wiped away some of the mess. You realized what he meant and crawled over to the mat, “And that variable would be?” you teased, your hand trailing down your body to between your legs. Tighnari could hear just how wet you were, “My cock inside of you, of course.” He positioned himself in front of you, his cock in hand, harder than ever. He watched as you opened your legs wide, completely exposing yourself to him. You slid your fingers inside of you, the squelching sounds cause Tighnari to emit a growl from deep within his throat. “You’re already so wet for me,” his voice was soft as he moved to slot between your plush thighs. “like a good assistant should be.”

He pushed the head of his throbbing cock into you, “Ah, fuck Y/n,” he grunted and buried himself to the hilt, “have you always been this tight?” He pulled out and the drag of his cock almost took your breath away, “Nari!” His hand pushed your thighs down further onto the mattress, “Tell me, how it feels” his voice was needy, his teeth coming to bite his bottom lip as he pulled out and thrusted back in. You arched your back, the sensation whenever he hit your cervix causing you to wince a little, “S-so, big, it feels, ah, bigger than usual?” you questioned how that was possible but stopped when he slammed back into you, “Fuck Nari!” Your eyes darted to where he disappeared inside of you, “How do you feel?” He chuckled at your question, “Incredible Y/n, simply incredible!” he exclaimed with a moan as you clenched down on him harder. “I cant wait to fuck you like this for the rest of the night.”

There was barely any space between you and Tighnari with how close he was holding you, making sure his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He picked up his pace and with every hard piston like thrust , his cock brushed against your sweet spot. Tighnaris ears drooped low, and you reached up to scratch behind them, knowing just how needy and whiney it made him. He took your hands from his ears and pinned them above your head, “I’m trying to last longer here,” his tail puffed up, “you know that drives me wild.” You smiled and locked half lidded blown out eyes with him, “Maybe I want you to get wild Nari,” you rolled your hips to meet his in a fervor, “fuck me like an animal and fill me up with your cum.” His eyes went wide, his hips meeting yours harder with a smack, “Oh? Is that part of the experiment?” he joked and smiled down at you. He leaned down and kissed you, his teeth taking your bottom lip and biting down. He brought a hand to your neck, “Want me to fill you up, huh? To breed you, darling?” his tone was intense, with his favorite thing to do to you now on the table, he pulled out of you. “Turn around”

You obeyed, almost immediately and didn’t care how desperate it might have made you look. You got on your elbows and knees, your ass perked up perfectly in the air. “Breed me, please Nari.” He slapped your ass hard and you yelped a desperate cry. Tighnari moved and easily slid into you from behind, “Just how I like it,” his nimble hands coming to squeeze your ass. This new position allowed him to fuck you harder, to hold onto your wrists and use them to pull you onto him. His piston like pumps sending you into a fit of whines and curses. Tighnari grunted and growled behind you, “You always take me so well,” he pushed your arms against you back, crossing them over one another, “so tight, so fucking wet.” The only things holding you up were your knees, your face buried into the pillow, muffling your pitiful screams. He grunted and huffed, “I can feel you about to cum, fuck!” he said and grabbed a fistful of your hair. This was it, that action alone caused your cunt to flutter and clench down on him hard. A guttural scream came from your throat, “Nari!” was all you said through your euphoric climax.

But your fox hybrid boyfriend continued to thrust, still seeking his own release. “You’ll have to explain that orgasm to me in great detail.” His voice was hoarse, his thrusts still merciless. You lay on your cheek, your pussy still throbbing, drool and tears dirtying the pillow. You moaned with every thrust he gave you, like a babbling fool hungry for more. He let go of your wrists, letting you readjust and get comfortable. His thrusts slowed down, “Look at you, this is exactly what i wanted to do to you,” his voice was softer now, “have you so fucked out and drunk on my cock.” You turned to lay on your side, his dick never exiting you. “Fuck that fungus, in the name of the archons,” you huffed and moved to lay back down on your back, “fuck that fungus.”

He was now leaning over you, his thrusts as vicious as ever, your tongues meeting in a sloppy kiss. Your fingers were intertwined, his weight of his body holding you down. “Nari, ah!” you said through the kiss. He rolled his hips into you, not just fucking you now but making love to you. “I know darling, me too.” You continued the kiss and with a few more thrusts from Tighnari, you came on him again, your body writhed in pleasure. His thrusts became erratic as he felt your walls flutter against him, this time bringing him to his own peak. Tighnari howled, his seed spurting deep inside of you. His load was larger than usual, “Fuck, I’m still cumming!” he exclaimed as his body convulsed. You watched his ears droop as he huffed and shook through his orgasm. “Tighnari, I feel so full,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. He opened his eyes after he finished and pulled out of you. Thick white seed almost gushed out of you, he observed closely as you reached down and used your fingers to push his cum back into you. “Theres so much,” you said and looked at him, “are you trying to become a father?.” The fox hybrid smiled and moved to your side, “Not just yet,” You kissed and cuddled for a few minutes before you felt Tighnaris cock getting hard again. “Already?!” you looked down and there it was, his pretty dick getting hard for you all over again. He held a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh, “Archons, Ill have pages of notes to write later.”

A/N: hehe this unlocked a kink!! 😀🥴 no, im not okay!

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin smut #genshin tighnari

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melanieph321 · 4 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 7/8

Yeah this is a mess I can't fix 😅. Had fun writing this chapter tho since it ft Kyle Walker whom I am very fond of 🤣

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Cityzens Day.

It was mainly for the club sponsors but alot of players brought along their families and friends as the day was filled with fun activities, football challanges and the ever so popular guided tour inside the Ethiad campus.

It was your first time attending, although it was mandatory for all City players. A little sad, that you weren't able to bring your family from Brazil. They would have loved it, especially the chance to play football at the Ethiad Stadium. Apparently that was the highlight of the event, a friendly game between players from all levels, men, women, girls and boys, and of course their families. The game would be broadcasted on the teams website and it usually brought alot of laughs to alot of people. You couldn't wait to play, but until then you wandered the campus alone, watching other players enjoying spending quality time with their families.

"Hey Y/N, come here!"

You were observing a very intense juggling contests between an academy player and someone's kid, when coach spotted you in the crowd, waving you over.

"Meet my family." He stood next to a beautiful red-haired woman and young boy with a toothy smile. "This is my wife Trish, my son Ethan and that over there..." He pointed towards the crowd, to the center of it, where the juggling contests was happening. "That is my daughter Lucy." He said.

"Wow, she's really good."

She was definitely bruising the ego of the young academy player. He would certainly up his juggling game after this.

"You know, she reminds me alot of you." Coach smiled. "I can't get her to stop juggling the ball either."

"Seems like her talent won't go to waste today, the price is a Playstation 6, no?"

You shared a laugh. Coach had a lovely family who had flown all the way from Australia to see him. Cityzens Day was really the best time for that.

A food truck pulled up to campus just in time for lunch. You bought a taco bowl so big that you had to share it with another player as she saw you struggling.

"So when are you coming to play with us again." She asked, you knew her as Alison Bennett.

"I dunno?" You sighed. "I don't think I fit into the kind of squad your coach wants."

"Are you joking?" Alison frowned. "But you played so well with us."

It was strange really, but since it happned more than once now, that you got excluded from playing with the first team, you simply assumed the worst. Even though Ruben told you not to worry about it, you couldn't help but to. Your development as a player was at stake. And the fact that Ruben's diet helped you put on a few pounds was not a constellation. Perhaps the coaches on the first team had noticed, that you were getting fat?

"Speaking of playing, are you on for the game this afternoon?" Alison asked.

"The game against cityzens?"

"Yeah?"

You smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. I really hope you're on my team. I'm the captain. We're gonna need...."

Alison got tuned out as you sighted something in the distance, or better yet, someone. It was Ruben, walking side by side with a woman just as tall as him only thinner. She was wearing a Man City jersey, sporting the number three, Ruben's number three. He held a hand to her lower back, guiding her around, introducing her to his teammates.

"Speaking of players I would like on my team." Alison took notice of where all your attention had gone. "We could surley use a defender like Dias."

"Ruben?" You asked, your voice a bit strained.

She nodded "He's like the best defender City's got. We'll never concede goals with him on our team."

You turned back to look at Ruben and the woman he had brought. Could it be his girlfriend? In that case Ruben didn't have a type, because you looked nothing like her.

"He used to coach me, you know?" Alison leaned in and whispered.

"Who, Ruben?"

She bit her lip, nodding her head.

"B...but you're a forward?"

"So? Aren't you one too? Nevertheless, Ruben used to teach me how to improve my skills. You know, help me get past the...."

"Defenders." You said, finishing of her sentence.

"Yeah, exactly. He's a really good coach."

"I can imagine." You ignored the painful beating of your heart. "Tell me..." You asked. ".. did you used to go to his place to, you know,"hang out"?"

She snorted. "No, why would I do that?"

"Oh."

A slight relief.

Alison stood, having helped you finish your meal. Her smile was devious. "No, Ruben used to take me back to the infirmary. We used to"hang out" there."

Your heart sank.

It was the realization that perhaps you were one of many.

********************************************

The afternoon sun was setting over Manchester City, but Cityzens Day was far from over. The game of cityzens was still on the agenda.

You laced up your cleats and stepped onto the football pitch at the magnificent Ethiad Stadium. It was truly breath taking playing in front so many people. Although the game was for fun, you were determined to showcase your talent, and even more determined to win against Ruben and his team. That's right, he was the captain of a squad containing lots of good players from all divisions. Players that made your teammates look like freaking toddlers.

"Alright! Ladies, fellas, huddle up!" A man urged for all the players on your team to gather around him. He was big, but funny looking, with a voice that did not match his brutal appearance.

"I'm Kyle Walker, but you can call me your captain for this evening."

"Captain?" Alison frowned. You were lucky to have her om your team, however, she did not look happy to find the captains armband handed to someone else. "We never voted for you to be our captain." She protested.

"Well, you should have. I have the experience when it matters and feel confident that I can lead this team to victory." He said.

"How?" A young U21 player squealed. Like the rest of you he was glaring at Ruben and his team as they warmed up on the opposite side of the pitch. The majority of Ruben's squad were players from the men's first team, including their assistant coaches.

"They're gonna eat us alive." The boy said, to which everyone agreed.

"Well that's not the spirit. Come on guys, hands in." Kyle ordered for everyone to stretch out a hand towards the ring you formed. "Victory on three, alright. One...two...three...VICTORY!" Kyle shouted, whilst the rest of you mumbled the words. Nevertheless you personally were not intimidated. You had played against tough opponents before, and you knew that you had a team that could give it their all, because Manchester City was arguably the best football club in the world.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

The first half was a blur of sweat and noise, as the two teams battled it out on the field. You dribbled and ran, dodging and weaving around your opponents, but Ruben and his team were tough to beat. They were bigger and stronger, and they had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"Whatta fuck!"

You ate dirt as Ruben ordered his players to tag team you. You stood no chance as Ruben was well aware that you rather go on your own than pass the ball.

"I'm sorry Y/N."

Ester pulled you up from the ground, having helped her teammates knock you down. She was playing for Ruben but seemed genuinely sorry for how he was running his play.

"Just give me the ball." You scuffed, as coach blew the whistle, handing your team a freekick for the offense made against you.

Kyle took it and missed.

The game resumed.

"Come on team, it's not over yet!" Your "captain", encouraged. "Fight until the end!"

As the second half began, your team was down by three goals, the majority of players being tired, cold and dirty, ready to throw in the towel. But you refused to give up. You knew that you had to do something to turn the game around, and you were determined to be the one to make it happen.

The moment didn't reveal itself until injury time. During he last minute's of the game. Ruben misjudged a pass, and you saw your chance. Charging directly towards him you had no other intention than to dribble past him.

"Pass the ball!" Kyle shouted, pointing to Alison who stood open, ready to receive the assist.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, you had to do this, you had to try and get past him. However Ruben's braud frame made it nearly impossible for you to sight the goal behind him. He looked smug, aware that your chances of getting past him were slim to none. But you had prepared for this. Ruben had prepared you for this. As he lunged forwards, you did not hesitate to bring the fight to him. The two of you clashed together, with Ruben's strangeth throwing you off, however you had suprised him with an elbow to his lower ribs, the quick jab making him fold before your eyes. It was your chance to get past him. For that split second that you caught him lacking you managed to ship the ball in the air and leaped your body over Ruben's extended leg. It was the moment of the match, the crowd on their feet watching a 60kg girl go head to head with one of the world's greatest defenders, beating him to it, sending the ball into the back off the net.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and your team rushed onto the field, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's what I'm talking about. That's how we play!" Kyle Walker was in the verge of tears. You may have lost the game, but you had proven that you were not to be underestimated. Not now, not ever. By anyone.

"Great game Y/N."

"Um, thanks."

Ester approached you as the pitch cleared of people, friends and family members heading their respective ways. Cityzens Day was officially over.

"I really mean it, you played amazing."

You were on the ground tying your cleats. Looking up at Ester you sighed. "What do you want?"

Her expression was hard to read, her eyes desperate to tell you somthing. "I..." She squealed.

You stood, hands on your hips. "Yes?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry it had to be this way...between us. You really deserve to play with the first team but so do I. I've fought all of my life for this position."

"And I haven't?" You gasped. "Ester if you've got somthing else to say to me I rather not hear it." You turned your back on her and walked away, however, she fought to catch up to you.

"Come on Y/N. At least now you get to be with your boyfriend. I mean it was his idea."

"Whatta hell are you talking about Ester. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Could have fooled me." She chuckled, to which you frowned. "Ruben practically begged me not to tell the club officials about you two. He told me that he would talk to the coaches on the first team, tell them how you were having problems settling into a new country, mental problems, that were effecting your performance."

"He did what?"

Suddenly you lost the sensation of your hands and feet.

Ester nodded. "It worked. The coaches on the first team didn't want to put pressure on you by calling you up to play for them and so they picked me instead. It's a win-win for both of us since you get to be with Ruben and I get to play."

You were lost for words, trying to make sense of her words that were like riddles to your ears. However one thing was clear, Ruben had betrayed you, and for what?

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #kyle walker

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soleilenchaine · 9 months

Text

Limbus Sinner Chess Headcanons

yes, that's right. chess hcs

they need to play some boardgames to pass the time so here we goooo

Yi Sang

has the stockfish calculator in his brain. each time a sinner makes a stupid move it just goes into the red and it confuses the hell out of him. constantly muses to himself and to others if they are listening when the pieces are not in their ideal positions

Faust

either at IM or possibly GM rating. is extremely good at decimating almost any opponent and will be extremely smug about it. she is constantly giving the side-eye to anyone who plays badly when she spectates

Don Quixote

i know we joke about her eating the pieces but i just think she keeps asking Yi Sang for help. she also constantly calls the knights Rocinante. if there is any chance for her Rocinantes to claim an opponents piece she will announce it in the most DonDon way possible

"ONWARD, ROCINANTE! WE SHALL EMERGE VICTORIOUS"

Ryoshu

plays chess like shogi.

no really. she just thinks shogi allows for more artistic expression in the endgame. also because she keep yelling at the opponent when she claims an opponent's piece with the pawn by moving it forwards rather than diagonally and the opponent says that's an illegal move.

but if she was forced to play by the rules (and she will threaten to C.Y.U), she would make the most bizarre plays by claiming as many pieces as possible to create the most elaborate endgame

Meursault

his poker face gives him the advantage in almost any match. each time he leaves a piece hanging the opponent gets increasingly more nervous because what if he left that piece to psyche them out.

Sinclair especially gets very nervous when playing against Meursault and ends up fumbling, but Meursault will explain to the little chicky man what happened and teaches him how to counter but in the most deadpan voice known to man.

Meursault: On move 12 you had compromised the bishop's position by moving your rook from b4 to f4. That was how I was able to claim your bishop. Sinclair: Wait, move 12?! When was that??? Meursault how on earth have you been keeping track?

Meursault: I had merely been observing (:meursault-stare:)

he claims a piece en passant and some of the sinners think he's done an illegal move until Faust (and possibly Yi Sang) corrects them. the guy is very good, will always play with the most efficient openings possible and can hold his own if someone were to pull a surprise move on him.

Hong Lu

he's a very competent player. knows all the fancy openings and endgame setups, and is extremely good at countering. he's also very good at bluffing and ends up stumping his opponents during the endgame

he finds joy spectating other sinners' matches and will ask throughout the match if a move is a special opening or counter that they do in the Backstreets. he needs to know!!

he also pulls an en passant on Heathcliff, but just to rile him up. he secretly finds it funny.

Heathcliff

ahh, Heathcliff. see you would probably think that Heathcliff is bad at chess but on the contrary.

he probably tried to learn it to impress Cathy, and eventually learned certain openings and counters that Cathy was fond of.

but overall his playstyle is simple, direct. no bells and whistles. he gets extra angry at Meursault for pulling an en passant (we need that Brit/French hatred).

any match with Ishmael ends just as how you would expect it to end.

Ishmael

she's pretty good at playing chess. she can play blitz chess against Faust and hold her own (though she always loses because Faust is just far too good)

she has surprisingly good knowledge of the most niche openings and would troll Heathcliff by playing them. but otherwise, she would also play with very few bells and whistles. a straightforward playstyle for the most Normal Sinner(TM) on the bus

Rodion

Rodya constantly played with Sonia back when she was still with the Yurodiviye, so she is at least 1800 rating.

she is extremely good at blitz chess. she thrives in a high stakes, fast paced game and with her constantly chatting with the opponent throughout the match she decimates the opponent purely because she just keeps distracting them with her friendly banter and quips.

she's also really good at adapting her playstyle to match her opponent. that's why Sinclair likes playing with her because she patiently waits for Sinclair to make his moves and she doesn't pull weird fancy openings on him or else he gets very confused.

she is super competitive, but is a very good sport.

Sinclair

my sweet chickadee. he used to compete in chess competitions back in school, and he got pretty good at blitz chess. but he's always dreading LCB tourneys because he will have at least three sinners backseat playing behind him while the opponent just crushes him.

but if he plays with his seatmates, he gets increasingly exasperated at Don with her increasingly chaotic plays while Yi Sang just quietly keeps score.

Outis

her experience commanding her team during the smoke war is reflected in her playstyle. she plays very aggressively and will taunt the opponent if they make a mistake. she is brutal with her openings and will attempt to immediately conquer the chessboard until either the opponent forfeits or is forced into an unwinnable corner.

once you see her set up a Sicilian defense it's basically over for you.

Gregor

our dearest roach man.

if he plays against the rest of the sinners, he takes it easy. he's a chill player and doesn't pull any complex endgame shenanigans unless the opponent tries to pull a fast one on him. he will also happily teach Sinclair and Don some cool openings if they ask him to play a match.

but when he plays against Outis, it's a completely different story. he is surprisingly good at countering even the most aggressive opening, and any match against Outis ends in a stalemate. his easygoing uncle vibe dissipates and you're suddenly reminded that he, too, is a Smoke War veteran. he's also had a lot of experience on the battlefield, so he knows full well what kind of tactics Outis would use during a match.

this is also the only time Outis doesn't taunt the opponent: she's too focused on trying to get out of a stalemate.

he also likes to pull meme openings every once in a while. man just does a bongcloud opening and Faust is at the side giving him the BIGGEST side eye. BUT he actually manages to win with that and Faust has to admit that she is quite impressed.

#limbus company #anyway if any of y'all have any other chess hcs hmu

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no-less-than-a-god · 3 months

Text

(cw: mildly suggestive; not enough to warrant a community label, but enough I feel I need to specify)

“Lamb,” Narinder growls, at the edge of the Lamb’s nook. He’s posed in the doorway, his figure dressed in white blocking the only escape to the room. There is no veil covering his face.

The Lamb pauses and looks over, kneeled on their bed and halfway undressed of their fleece. They have no plans to sleep for the night, but they do want to rest, having just returned from a week of errands and crusades. They look away and resume shedding their dirty fleece, making a mental note to have it cleaned in the morning. “Narinder. Is there something you need?”

“Lamb,” Narinder repeats, voice low and purposefully. The Lamb’s gaze snaps back to him, and their face furrows in confusion. They observe him more closely, and note that he’s trembling.

They toss their cloak onto the small section of floor beside their bed blindly, eyes kept on their equal. “What’s wrong?” they ask.

Slowly, Narinder creeps into the small room, crawls into the bed, and crowds the Lamb, growling. The Lamb does not reach for their half of the crown left beside the bed, and lets Narinder cage them; they stare into his eyes, red and wide-open.

“What’s wrong?” they ask again. Narinder’s claws plant themselves on either side of the Lamb’s waist, and they are pressed down into the soft bedding beneath them. Narinder is perching above them, a snarl in his throat.

“Mine,” he says. One of his hands raises to the Lamb’s neck, finger’s slipping under their collar. The Lamb shivers, feeling his fingers brush against scarred tissue. It’s removed with a quiet snap as its clasp pops apart, and Narinder gently removes it to place a small distance away from them. The bell jingles lightly as it’s dropped on top of the bed.

The Lamb’s hands reach up and grab Narinder’s robes. “What are you doing?” they ask, a quiver in their voice. They feel exposed.

“Tell me, Vessel,” Narinder demands. He’s still shaking. “Who was it that staked a claim upon you?”

“A claim?” the Lamb asks back. “I have no knowledge of what that is.”

“Someone else has attempted to mark you,” he says, drawing closer to the Lamb. “That will not stand. You’re mine.”

The Lamb’s heart beats frantically in their chest, and their mind spins. They’re not exactly sure what the other god is on about, and they wouldn’t admit it, but they have no qualms about their current position. If anything, their heart is singing praises about it.

Narinder ducks his head with a growl, and the Lamb startles as he noses their neck, rubbing his mouth along their scar. They tremble uncontrollably, sensitive skin teased. There’s something beginning to burn from inside them, hot and pleasant.

Their body startles again as teeth nip at their skin, and a small noise escapes them, half a bleat and half something entirely new. Their grip on Narinder’s robes tighten into vices, and the heat in their stomach pulses.

“Mine,” Narinder whispers into the warm air of the night as his face pulls away, and he draws himself closer. His body lays flush against the Lamb’s, and the stillness of having their body pinned makes them realize their body had been squirming slightly up until that point.

The Lamb can’t see Narinder’s face as he leans back in and starts rubbing his mouth along the other side of the Lamb’s neck, but they feel the tensed grip against their waist begin to relax, and a gentle rumble begins in his chest.

They can hear Narinder purring, feel it all the way down the front of their body, as he starts nipping at their neck again; fabric threatens to rip under their clenched hands as a bristled tongue smooths over the small bites, and they make another noise.

They aren’t prepared for when Narinder sinks his teeth eagerly into the crook of their neck, his sharp canines so close to puncturing skin. The Lamb trembles violently from under their god, heart racing and stomach tying itself into small, mind-numbing knots.

Narinder caresses the bite mark with the side of his mouth, and he pulls away again.

“You’re mine once more,” he quietly declares, and the Lamb can hear the satisfaction in his voice. Narinder dips his head, bumping it into the Lamb’s bare chest and nuzzling where their heart lays below, pounding, and he draws away from the Lamb, slowly retreating from them like an ocean tide from the shore.

The Lamb, feeling cold, confused, and only now realizing they’re panting for breath, stares as Narinder turns away and leaves the Lamb’s room, descending the stairs leading up to it.

They blink their wide eyes, heart refusing to calm. They can still feel the ghost imprint of Narinder’s hands and body pressed against them. Their exposed neck tingles, and the blazing knot in their stomach refuses to unknot itself.

The Lamb is rendered speechless, and the rest they had planned for the night is solidly replaced by running newly-formed memories in their mind repeatedly until the sun has risen.

aka: the Lamb comes home smelling of another, and Narinder thinks "absolutely NOT"

#cotl #cult of the lamb #narilamb #drabbling ichor #cw suggestive #<- very very slightly

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ivestas · 1 year

Text

hot head

Summary: You threaten a renowned colossi of a sniper and challenge him to fight.

Tags: sniper!könig x sniper!fem!reader, canon divergence, power imbalance(?), mentions of medicinal drug usage, unedited, reader implied to be on the younger side

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: I've decided to experiment more with characterization; I believe many character headcanons and depictions I make are often influenced by my own experiences, which is obvious, but it's hard to grasp when the character your writing is not only the opposite of you in many ways, but likely has a mindset much unlike yours (male, strong, a soldier, of a culture I know little of, etc) I feel like due to my own experiences, I unintentionally feminize and soften these hardened (male) characters... all this to say that if I keep jumping between versions of these characters, its due to this LMAO—also, the major parallels this has to one of my previous konig oneshots was intentional! and, as usual, sorry for the dubious quality, i just wanted to get the idea down!

You were nervous.

It was hard not to bounce your leg, glance left and right, fiddle with anything beside or on you (dog tag, straps of your gear, a random coin), just trying to shake away the underlying anxiety that ate away at you.

But this is your first 'high-stake' mission, and not only that, but you've been handed to by veterans way beyond your league. You felt clumsy among them, severely inadequate.

Especially since you've been paired with the master class sniper, König.

The mission, according to Aksel, is 'simple enough' for the two of you: you guys will be planted in opposite areas of the enemy base and shoot down and provide back up if stragglers come out or reinforcements come.

But, again—first fucking mission ever that's something as intense as this, and not only that, again, you were paired with König.

You hadn't said anything though, merely nodding to the instruction with a swift 'understood, sir!'

Though you couldn't deny it: it was eating at you, and with your mind clouded with so much thought, it was difficult determining if your hands were gonna be steady enough to shoot (even though it didn't matter because the mission was taking place next week).

While you were busy mulling and agonizing over the hundreds and thousands of ways you could fuck up, you hadn't noticed a certain man making his way to you.

It was only when he spoke that you realized there was someone near. Head shooting up, you spoke quickly, not quite processing right away who it was.

"Yes?"

And then it hit you:

It's König.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise—it's only natural for pairs in mission to discuss the details and set some sort of plan beforehand; it's practically protocol, actually.

But still, it surprised you. Still, you were able to shake off the surprise quick enough for his words to properly register when he spoke.

"You're nervous."

König said the words with no ire, no disgust, no nothing. It was an observation, plain and simple.

"I... suppose I am, sir."

A puff of laughter—or was it just a scoff? Snort? "No need to address me as 'sir', I'm not your superior."

"Sorry. It's hard to when, you know," shut up. "you're kind of... legendary? I mean, master sniper and all," please just shut the fuck up. "You're kind of like a superior in a skill sense? You know in those rpgs when like—"

"I get it."

You laughed awkwardly, refusing to look at him directly.

"May I give you a piece of advice?"

You looked at him then. "Yes?"

"Cut the rambling short. Although I don't mind it, many others could and will use it against you—it's better to be blunt and honest rather than shy and all over the place." He lifted a finger. "One presumes and sets dominance," he lifted a second finger. "The other presumes and sets weakness."

You were a little offended by that. "Okay but what if I just stabbed them? Can't call me weak after that, even if I start stuttering like Porky Pig."

"..."

"...sorry."

König laughed, and this time, you could properly identify it as one; it was throaty, almost raspy. "I see now—you're a loose-lipped girl. Either a mumbling mess or a sharp-tongued harpy."

"That a bad thing or a good thing?"

"It depends; say I use it against you, will you commit to your word and stab me?"

"I... won't?"

"Then no longer are your words a threat to me, because I now know you're just bark and no bite—"

"I won't because we're comrades right now, but I'd stab you the moment my contract ends!"

Fuck. Fuck.

You did not just threaten a man nearly twice your height and thrice your muscle mass—

"You'll stab me when your contract ends?" He echoed. Amused.

Amused.

"Yeah, dull knife and all—cut you like butter." You rose from your seat, almost chest-to-chest, staring up at König with a glare.

He met your glare with crinkled eyes.

He was looking at you as though you were nothing but a petulant, whiny kid.

"Foolish girl," his voice was light, chiding. "You're barking at the wrong man. Surely you can see that?"

"You're awfully cocky, aren't you? Why not challenge this 'foolish girl' to a spar and prove your worth?!"

"Hmm... okay. I see why not. Perhaps a good hit or two will set you straight, no?"

It took you everything not to (try to) body-slam that fucker.

World renowned sniper or not, you're gonna kick his ass to the goddamn dirt till he's nothing but a pulp of fabric and blood.

---

The two of you were quick to make your way outside, somewhere far enough where no one would see the unregulated fight, but close enough for the safe-house to be in your line of sight.

Sand whipped and pushed at you, the sun was scorching and degrading, but you held still; you were determined to kick König's ass—even if he's huge, you know how to fight big opponents, you trained rigorously to.

König stood two meters from you. He cast a long shadow, light kissing the top of his metal helmet. "The rules are simple enough; whoever keeps the other pinned down for five seconds win and we only use the military-issued knife. Is this fair?"

"Fair."

"Good," he nodded. "Start."

The sand made your footwork unsteady, but not enough to throw you off; light on your feet, you moved close to König, knife unsheathed.

He didn't pull out his knife—in fact, he hardly moved, merely pivoting from time to time from your swings.

You swung your blade forward, aiming for his vest; again, he easily dodged, and with your outstretched arm he pulled you forward.

You could hardly register the movement; one second you were on your feet, and the next you were flat on your stomach, sand in your mouth, and blade far from your hand.

You couldn't move: your wrists were tight in König's grip, his knee digging into your lower back. You tried wriggling your legs, but his knee dug deeper until you let out a pained wheeze.

Then, a moment later, he continued pushing his knee deeper. The sand burned your skin.

1...

2...

3...

"Okay—fuck, okay, stop—you win! Happy now?!"

4...

5...

He finally moved his knee. The shadow that cast over your body was gone.

"You should be happy, maus." He sighed somewhat dramatically. "Had it been any other man, I'm sure he would've been thrilled to harm a pretty girl. Many have twisted minds."

"I'll jus—eugh..." you spat out sand, flipping over and sitting on your ass, propping yourself up with your hands. "I'll just stab those ones, then—and wait! Why'd you say that? That's super creepy, and what does 'maus' mean—?"

"Enough of the blabbing." König said. "And 'maus' means mouse."

"Mouse?"

"Yes, because you chatter away like a little mouse. I like mice."

"You're..."

"Weird?"

"Weird would be underselling it," you muttered, getting on your feet.

"Hm. At least my severe 'weirdness' cured you of your anxiety."

You were ready to snap out an insult, but... he was right.

Your hands weren't shaking anymore. They were steady. You could trust them.

But you couldn't give him that. "Weird assumption, weirdo. I just had a lot of coffee."

"...it seems I've failed to cured you of your tongue, though.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue. "Loser."

He merely huffed a laugh at that. It didn't anger you as much as before.

Actually... it didn't piss you off at all.

He really was a weirdo. Nothing like the image you had conjured of him before. (You liked this version of König better.)

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#konig x reader #mw2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #könig x reader

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