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luveline · 6 months

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hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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mrfoox · 1 year

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I... Hate that my mind is so solo/hyper focused in 90% of things I do/want to do

#miranda talking shit #I get obsessed with one snack/food and only want to eat that for a minimum of 3 months #I only want to spent time with one friend with a minimum of a couple of weeks...#I only want to play one game with a minimum of a month...#The friend one is the worst bc i do love all my friends. But sometimes i get hyper focused on one person and i just #Want to spend time with them. They get 90% of my social attention... And then when that period stops i can just disappear almost completely #For months bc im focusing on someone else... And if one doesnt know or understand that about me... They might feel hurt or worried #But its just like... No my mind just remembered how amazing this other friend is so now its their turn for all my attention...#Its why me and Linnéa usually work our friendship is hot and cold. We will talk almost every day for weeks and then we stop talking #For months and then we repeat the cycles usually. Idk if fabian understands that this is how i work #But we have done this dance too... Usually im the one to decide on it. Now we haven't really talked regularly for months #Before that we talked almost every day for ages. Then another month break and repeat. I try to be better and divide my attention but like..#In the grand scheme of things this is hkw it ends up. Many times friendships for me haven't worked out is usually bc of this...#I just am intense in intervals and then i go away for some time. Then i can and will pick up thay intensety if i feel the other person can #But usually people cant and they act distant and im like ah.... Most people dont work this way they want consistency socially um #Sorry its my add+asd brain who just makes things for me this way. I never want to hurt anyone and its never my feelings changing in the #Big picture. Its just i want to focus all my attention on one individual most of the time ...?

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mournings-stars · 2 months

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could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you.

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them.

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work.

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her.

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office.

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible.

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door.

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground.

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room.

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department.

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes.

Clearly.

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time.

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out.

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox imagine #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox hazbin

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l13 · 11 months

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part two here

cw: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! f!reader, peter is married and having thoughts of reader soo cheating? voyeurism, masturbation, peter getting off to you and miguel fucking:), not proofread

divider credit : @ benkeibear

perv!peter b parker who comes in Miguel's control room (or whatever the fuck) ready to annoy the fuck out of him, when he’s suddenly very glad he didn’t bring his daughter with him as the obscene sounds from up above reach his ears.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, mi vida. Look at you, dripping down my cock. Couldn’t even wait till I was finished hm?” if that wasn’t proof enough for what you guys were doing, then the sloppy sound of Miguel fucking his cock in your pussy gave it all away.

Peter felt as if someone threw cold water down his back, and he searches his brain for answers- something to justify the outline of his now hard cock in his pants. You were attractive, he wasn’t blind, but weirdly enough he’d never thought about you that way.

Until now, that is. Now, that he can hear your pretty moans and whimpers of Miguel’s name as you beg him to go faster, to fuck you deeper, to make you come.

Peter’s thankful that the floating platform is all the way up, and that he has no view of you, or else he’d never be able to get the picture of your body, of your face scrunched up in pleasure, out of his mind. It would ruin him.

In fact, Peter could see nothing except Miguel’s wide back, shoulders hunched over, no doubt holding your thighs up for easier access. Fuck, Peter could feel precum dripping down the tip of his cock, at the vile picture forming in his head.

He was so hard that it hurt, and he could feel the stinging of his eyes, tears gathering up fast. He wanted to touch himself so bad, but he couldn't. He shouldn’t.

“Hah- shit. What if someone came in here, bebita? hear you like this? See you like this? You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Ffuck you tightened up so much when I said that. Such a little slut for me. Say it.”

Peter turns around, ready to walk out the door. He shouldn’t be here, he wasn’t allowed to be here during this. He should go home. MJ was waiting for him to- Fuck, MJ. He has a wife. What the fuck was he doing? He-

“Yes! yes fuck, i want everyone to know that im a good slut for you!Ah-want them to see me like this pleasepleaseplease”

Peter clamps a hand over his mouth, and moans, letting himself fall against the wall, elbow propped up against the surface to keep him upright, and he bites his lip roughly, keeping his mouth shut just so that he could palm himself through his sweatpants.

God, fuck, he wanted to see you so badly. He wanted to be the one fucking you, to be the one pulling those sounds from you. Hell, he’d let you pull those sounds from him. he’d do anything - using you or being used by you. Peter couldn't decide which thought excited him more.

His last remaining morals were thrown out the window when you cried out, and he could hear you thrash around, Miguel muttering praises and encouraging words that fall deaf on peter’s ears. By that point, Peter had completely tuned out any sound Miguel made, choosing to focus on your pleas and cries.

Peter was full on jerking his cock now, sweatpants bunched up at his ankles, as he fucks the lame excuse of a hole his hand made, all the while imagining that it’s you. He was timing his thrusts to the sound of your broken moans, having to bite on his forearm to keep quiet as he whimpers and grunts, drool running down his chin.

Unbeknownst to Peter, the platform, slowly but surely, makes its way down to the floor. After all, even if Peter made sure he was being quiet, that was still loud as fuck to Miguel's ears, who had heard him the minute he stepped in the room.

idk bro, i'm just as confused as you are

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Simple Math / Part Three

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Flirting. Emotional hurt/comfort. Panic attack. PTSD. Comfort. "You'll be with him?"

“-nna let ‘im die out here-“

“-is too risky without adequate-“

Johnny is drowning in a sea of shattered voices, whispers of words that sound like they might be coming from Gaz, or Price, hushed prayers and promises, jargon he doesn’t understand washing over him from unfamiliar, clinical mouths.

It’s overwhelming. He can hardly get his eyes to open, and when he does, they stay half shut for what feels like hours, even though he knows, logically, it’s mere seconds.

He’s no longer strapped into a backboard, but a bed, and the ceiling is not metal and rivets, but white and canvas, voices competing with the constant sound of beeping.

“Soap.” Price leans into his line of sight, hat gone, exhausted. He’s holding a sat phone, the one they usually carry during missions in one hand, a file folder in another. He looks his age, Johnny thinks, for the first time in his career. Looks like he’s spent eons in combat, like he hasn’t had a full night’s rest in a decade. “John. You’re in the hospital on base.” At the use of his government name, Johnny tries to straighten on instinct. The soft, floating feelings he’s been having for the past who knows how long have faded, and his body is starting to feel like it’s been pumped with gasoline, and then lit on fire. From the inside. “Are you with me, Sergeant?” He tries to vocalize, tries to say yes, or nod, but can hardly get his neck to work, bones and ligaments and everything in him screaming in agony. “They want to take you in a flight for life, get you home to a top hospital. Simon's already agreed, but he- he wants to speak with you.” Price wrenches his fingers open and lifts the clunky satellite phone to his face. “I rang him, on the emergency line, at home. Just… you need to-“ he stops, chest heaving with a desperate breath, an indulgence of emotion that Johnny has never seen. His captain wants to tell him- you need to say goodbye, just in case. But he can’t find the words, and Johnny can’t make it fit in his head, the reality, the stark reminder that he could not be here, in a moment. Or an hour. A day. “Open your eyes, John. Stay awake.”

“Johnny.” The Manchester accent crackles through the receiver. Johnny can almost see him, cell pressed to his face, pacing in the living room. He wonders if he’s got the fireplace lit, if it’s chilly now that it's turning to winter, if there’s been frost on the windows of their little house. If Simon is wearing a pair of sweatpants, if he’s got the television on as he tries to make dinner. “Johnny. Sit rep.” The status check comes through harsh, but the truth is tucked away beneath the grit. Fear. Life altering, heart breaking fear drenches every syllable that spills from his partner.

Pain sizzles through his muscles, across his brain, but he swallows it, shoves it down into a dark hole for another minute.

“Pretty banged up.”

“They’re going to lift you to a hospital,” He thinks he knew that. “and you’re goin’ be alright. I’ll meet you there.”

“Ah love ye, Si.” It’s all he can say. All he can think about. The excruciating agony that is radiating through his body robs him of everything else.

“I love you too. Hang on.” Johnny grinds his jaw, blowing short breaths through his nose to try to control his pain response, and then holds his breath when soft babbles echo through the phone. “It’s Da, Pen. It’s Da. Can you say Da?”

“Da?” Penny mimics her dad, and Johnny wonders if they’re sitting on the couch, Penelope tucked up against Simon’s chest, wispy curls tickling just below his nose as she climbs all over him like a jungle gym.

“Ma wee lamb.” Johnny whispers. “Ah love ye, Pen.” There’s more babbling, half strung together words, more than appropriate for a fourteen-month-old, and Johnny’s temples shine with tears that drip from the corners of his eyes. There’s talking, around him, people bustling back and forth. A hand brushes against skin, sharp pinch squeezing along the inside of his arm.

“Can you say, I love you?” Simon encourages, but Johnny knows it’s a lost cause.

“When she’s old enough to understand, ye tell her Ah loved her, loved her so much. Ye an’ her, is all I ever wished fer.”

“Stop.” Simon breathes. “You’re going to be fine.”

There’s another poke in his arm, someone lighting a fire in his veins, and he loses the battle to his eyes once more.

Your neck grumbles in protest when you try to twist it, working out tight muscle and tendon, rolling it across your shoulders and down, back and forth, over and over again.

You should go home.

You know you should. It’s two hours past seven, you should already be home. Should already be in your flat, showering the workday off and crawling into bed. You could be having a tea, snuggled up in your sweatpants, moving playing on low in the background. Warm, safe. Nearly asleep.

Johnny twitches beside you. His fingers clench in the blankets and then relax, face smoothing out in his dreams. The mask is gone, replaced with the cannula that loops beneath his nose, and the monitor beeps in soothing, reassuring, stable tones. One chime right after another, relaying his vitals to where you sit in Simon’s chair, feet slung over the side, kindle in your lap.

You made a promise.

And even without that promise, for some reason, you couldn’t just leave Johnny here to wake up alone. The idea of him coming to and being confused, or scared, again, made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Even before you promised Simon to stay earlier, you already knew.

You wouldn’t be leaving.

“He’s had a seizure.” Simon’s eyes widen above the mask and then flatten into something harder, something almost distrusting. “Neuro’s done an exam and they’re of the opinion there will be no long-term deficits, but we’ll need to wait until he wakes to be sure. They’re still trying to figure out what caused it, but most likely it's a result from surgery.” He moves to shoulder by you, no doubt trying to beeline back to Johnny’s room, but you hold your hand up with a pause. “I can’t let you go back in there yet.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not awake.”

“I don’t-“

“Simon, this is the ICU. I don’t know who or what strings you pulled to even be allowed to sit with him in there twenty-four seven, but it’s not the norm. You won’t be allowed back in that room until we are sure he is stable.” You don’t tell him that you don’t want him to be there when Johnny wakes in case there are deficits, that you’re trying to save him from the pain, the heartbreak, of seeing things that patient’s loved ones are not meant to see.

He regards you silently, and you fidget under the scrutiny, waiting for him to speak, trying to ignore how your mouth is going dry. This isn’t the first he’s watched you like this, stared at you like he’s trying to pick you apart, and you swallow your grimace until the long moment passes, his voice low, gritty with stress. Exhaustion.

“I’m supposed to go home today for a bit. I… don’t want to leave ‘im.”

“You can still go. He’s sleeping for now, and when he wakes, they’ll have to do some more tests that you won’t be allowed in the room for anyway.” He looks down the hallway towards Johnny’s room, before his eyes find yours, heavy with grief, indecision.

“You’ll be with him?” He can’t hide the hopeful inflection at the end of his question, his need for a light in the dark of this situation.

“I-“ The thought didn’t occur to you, to not be there. You imagined you’d wait until Johnny was cleared by neuro and Simon was allowed back in the room, but the morning has dragged on, and he’s been sleeping peacefully. There’s been no desire to wake him unnecessarily. “Yes. I’ll stay with him. I promise.”

“He go home?” Johnny’s voice, scratchy from sleep and medication and everything else, startles you from a half doze, spine straightening into a rod before you’re leaping to your feet, leaning over his prone figure.

“You’re awake.” You find his good hand, slipping two fingers into his grip. “Can you squeeze my hand?” When he does, tightly, more strength in it than you were expected, you give him an honest, happy smile, and retreat to the end of the bed, flipping up his blanket to poke at the bottom of his feet. “Can you feel that?”

“Aye.”

“And this?”

“Aye.” He huffs at you, impatient. “Did he go home?” You sigh in response, hand on your hip.

“Yes.”

“Finally. Been tellin’ him he had to. The man’s back ‘s not made to sleep sittin’ up.”

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t want to leave. I told him I’d sit with you.” You reach over to press the page button, looking intentionally away from where those bright blue eyes track you, sweet and soft and open, lips slightly parted. “How’s your pain? I’m not on the clock any longer, so I can’t page the neurologist, but they’ll have come and do a few tests.”

“Ye wanted to sit with me, pretty girl?” Your face gets hot, blood pooling beneath your skin, pit of your stomach liquifying into something honeyed and potent that flows through your veins until you swear you can feel the room getting warmer.

“How’s your pain?” you repeat your question, words dumb on your tongue.

“A five.” You raise an eyebrow. “Alright, a seven. And a half.” The days nurse knocks with perfect timing, all hustle and bustle, bright and cheery, and asks Johnny the same questions, keeping up a perfect stream of small talk between you and Johnny until Neuro is standing at the foot of his bed, and you’re excusing yourself.

“Okay, I’m-“

“Dinnae leave.” He protests, voice quiet. Your stomach lurches at the vulnerability there, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“I’m just going to get a tea.” You promise, even though you know he’ll probably be half loopy by the time you’re back, and the dayshift nurse gives you a nod, acknowledgement of his state, an understanding that she’ll be here with him.

Not an hour later, your pocket chimes with a text from the dayshifter as you half sip your tea, letting you know that Johnny’s exam is done, and as you pass her in the hallway, she gives you verbal confirmation of what you were hoping for: his brain function is normal. He’ll have to go for CT later, but she’s just given him another dosage for pain management. You yawn in the middle of her pass-on, and she tells you that she'll keep an eye on him. You can go.

She's not wrong.

You need to go to bed.

You know your presence at your patient's bedside won't be viewed as unprofessional, since others have done it in far less severe situations, but the pendulum your emotions swing on every time you step foot in that room leaves you with a sinking feeling that's starting to crawl across your skin.

You wanted this. You wanted to stay with him.

Simon asked you stay with him.

Yeah, but for how long? He cannot expect you to spend all day here. You have to go to bed. Are you just going to leave him all alone? Are you going to wait for Simon to come back?

The dread spiral is easily answered when you slide open the glass door and lay eyes on the very handsome man from the other night, the younger one from the chair vigil, now sitting beside Johnny, the two of them softly chuckling.

When Johnny spots you, he manages to fire off your name as a half-effort introduction, more than expected considering his slowly slipping state of consciousness.

“I’m Kyle. Soap an’ I work together.” Soap? Who is Soap?

“She doesnae know me b’ Soap, only calls me Johnny.” He explains your confused look, to which Kyle raises an eyebrow.

“Wow. Letting your nurse call you Johnny, eh? Simon better-“

“Ach, stop.” He rolls his eyes, but sleep tugs his lids downward.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You give Johnny and his monitor a once over, catching yourself on his sweet, sleepy gaze, flushed face and lazy smile, before directing your attention back to Kyle. “I told Simon, I’d sit with him for a bit before he got back, but…”

“I’m here in his place.” Kyle explains, motioning to the chair, and you breathe a small sigh of relief. You will get to go home and get some sleep, after all.

There’s a woman with a confused look on her face just outside the elevator. She looks exhausted, skin raw under her eyes, clutching a baby who’s maybe a year, or a bit older, in her arms, glancing up and down the hall before she spots you.

Fuck. You’re still wearing your scrubs.

“Hi.” You smile, and she visibly relaxes, obviously relieved. The baby tucks her face into the woman’s chest like she’s shy, coyly looking at you from corner of her eye. “You look lost.”

“I’m looking for the nurse’s station. My husband was supposed to meet me here but he’s running late and I-“

“It’s all the way down, take the first left, and it will be at the end of that hallway.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She glances at your ID, punctuating her gratitude with your name, and you give her another smile, leaning to extend towards the baby as well.

“So cute.” You tell her, pressing the elevator button with a ding.

“Cute. But she’s a little terror, especially when she’s missing her Da.” She grumbles, and then waves, setting off against the white tile as you laugh to yourself. Pretty much sums kids up. Cute little terrors.

A week passes easily, beds and rooms changing over, room two sixty-eight remaining a constant. Johnny takes his battles on the chin, burn debridement on his side, casting for his wrist, removal of his chest tube, a third surgery.

“He’s a fighter.” Simon tells you one night in the dark after he’s slipped off to sleep. “Always has been. He's strong. Spirited.”

“I can see.” You agree, holding out the extra blanket you’ve pulled from a cabinet. When Simon takes it, his eyes meet yours, something soft shining in them, and you give him a smile in return.

“Thank you.” He murmurs. “For everything.”

A few days later, you’re surprised, and secretly pleased, to find Simon in the café.

He’s standing in front of the counter, paying for what you think might a baked good of some kind, sweet lady behind the register eyeing him up suspiciously as he deposits the note into her hand, and you stay on the outside of the doors, lingering in the hallway, watching.

At least he’s eating something. He’s still wearing the mask, and although it’s not uncommon, especially in a hospital setting, it does give you pause. Does he wear it all the time? Is it just because this is a hospital? He observes the room, steadily taking in all of the people meandering about, some eating, some standing, making their selections, engaging in conversation, and you notice how his hand slides to the back of his neck, distractedly rubbing the hair at his nape before he makes his escape, long legs eating up the distance between him and the door, him and… you.

“Hi.” You squeak when he steps into the hall, turning the corner to find you standing there like a deer in headlights, your water bottle clutched in one hand, phone in the other. His head tilts, eyes narrowed, and you manage to give him a half smile. “Getting something to eat?”

“It’s for Johnny.” He notes. “I ah, had something to eat earlier. When I was home.” Oh, good. Being in the hospital twenty-four seven isn’t healthy for anyone. Not even patients.

“Cool.” Cool? What is this, a pub? You swallow your embarrassing, awkward acknowledgement, breezing past the word like it didn’t happen. “Well, I’m about to badge in, so I’ll see you in a bit?” He nods, eyes still trained on your face, and you beat back the heat that’s spreading through your body like a fever when they drift down to your shoulders, and then to your badge.

“Cute sticker.” He points to where it’s clipped to your top, shiny bunny sticker from a patient’s child still there, holographic print sparkling in the dusk.

“Oh, thanks. Another patient of mine has a little kid. I was hanging out with him for a bit yesterday.”

“Suits you.” His gaze dips downward, glancing over the curve of your hip, plush from the swell of your ass, taut pull of your scrubs all of the sudden feeling too tight, too stretched across your waist, and you scramble to make sense of his comment.

“A bunny?” Your brows raise in disbelief, confusion, but he only nods, head tilted slightly, posture broad. Your brain turns over, frantically trying to think of a response, something clever, but he continues to talk, clearing his throat with a question.

“What do you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?” Huh?

“What?”

“A receding hare-line.” Wait. What? Is he… joking with you? Your mouth drops into a little o of part surprise, part confusion, before you squint at him in disbelief.

“Oh… my god. That’s…”

“’s not that bad.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, giving you the impression that he might be smiling beneath the mask, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating.

“It’s pretty bad.” You croak, nervous laughter bubbling up in the back of your throat. “Well, I… uh-“ His phone dings, pulling his focus to the screen, and he swipes out something quickly with his thumb.

“I’ll see you up there.” He jerks his head towards the elevator, and you mumble out a mild, flabbergasted reply.

“Alright... yeah.”

Your first break comes up fast. Your morning, everyone’s evening, is busy, with a code, a tricky vent, and a needy, elderly man in two fifty-two. It goes from busy to worse, an argument with the pharmacy heating your blood, spurring anger through your veins and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep from berating the poor tech at the window. Useless. You seethe in your mind all the way back up to your floor, frustration driving you to seek solace, eager to escape the eyes of the hospital, running away from the possibility of being noticed.

But supply closet 2b is occupied, a frazzled resident huffing into a pillow in the back, hyperventilating with tear-stained cheeks.

Without even fully realizing, you find yourself inside two sixty-eight, Simon’s sharp eyes falling upon you with scrutiny. He looks at Johnny’s monitor like something might be amiss, relaxed posture straightening into something tense, structured. There’s a card game in progress on the swivel tray table over Johnny’s lap, the glaring reality of your interruption, and you blanche.

You’re immediately incredibly embarrassed. What are you even doing in here?

“Miss me already?” Johnny coos, beaming, and your throat feels dry. He’s feeling the best he has since he got here, albeit not great, still in awful pain, still staring down the barrel of more surgeries, but the pain medication from earlier is working its way through his system, and you’re happy to see it’s taking the edge off it all for him, allowing him comfort and conversation with his partner.

“My um… usual break spot is occupied?” You don’t know why you phrase it as a question, it just comes naturally. Like you’re seeking permission. Agreement.

“Ye want to sit with us? While ye eat?” Johnny asks, somewhat pointing to your yogurt cup, and you shrug, but Simon motions to the extra chair, the one that now sits on the other side of the bed, across from him. Guess facilities finally brought down that recliner you requested.

“Would… would that be alright?”

Johnny looks to Simon, and Simon nods. Slowly.

Your yogurt goes down easy, light chit chat bouncing around the room, Johnny nodding in and out with drawn out answers to your questions, until a noise startles you from the chair, pushing you onto your feet to peer out the door.

It’s a man, yelling, screaming, from a room down the hall, not from sadness or despair, but rage, and your mind goes haywire when security is paged over the PA system.

Deep breath.

This happens sometimes. Patients, or loved ones, become disruptive. Secrets and lies all come out in the wash in a hospital. Custody agreements, battles, DNRs, last wills and testaments, any of these things are a perfect tinder box. One match, and it all goes up.

A siren blares.

“Code black, code black.” echoes through the hospital, each room on every floor, down every hall.

Johnny startles from his near sleep stupor, eyes alert, the outline of his muscles solid beneath his gown.

Security risk. Lockdown.

You straighten your spine.

Deep breath.

This is your job.

Part of your job is being able to handle things like this. Protect, take care of your patients, and their families. Keep them safe.

The man shouts again, sharp tone of anger snapping through the air and across your frame, forcing your muscles tense.

You slide the door lock into place, pulling the curtain to only allow a small line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Simon stands, turning towards the door, and Johnny pats his hand, like he’s trying to soothe him.

“Oh, uh. It’s… just a lockdown. I don’t know.” You’re vaguely aware of the numb feeling that’s spreading from your chest down into your hand, and the sound of the irate man gets closer. Fuck.

“Ye okay?” Johnny’s voice is gentle, and when you glance over your shoulder to reassure them, you realize they’re both watching you, Simon’s eyes locked onto your now trembling fist, as Johnny regards you softly, with kindness.

“Um. Yeah.” You suck in a quick breath, forcing yourself to steady, gritting your teeth against the frozen, involuntary fear that’s trying to overpower you. You think Simon might be frowning beneath the mask, confusion shading his question.

“Why are you standing at the door?”

“It’s standard operating procedure. If there’s an issue, or a disturbance. If you’re in a patient’s room, if I- I’m in a patient’s room, I’m supposed to act like a… barrier. Just in case.” You keep your eyes fixed out the glass, watching for any sights, listening for any sounds. The door is locked, and glass is thick, and security would be here if anything were to happen, they’re already down the hall, everything is fine. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep-

“Go sit with Johnny.” Simon's standing just behind you, voice pitched low, sweetened into one of those softer hums, the kind of tone he usually uses with Johnny. Not with you. He’s so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and you shake your head with a refusal.

“I have to stay-“ He cuts you off, not even letting you choke out the rest of your quivering protest.

“No. Go sit with Johnny.” He pauses, stepping around to angle his body in front of yours, looking down at you over his shoulder, and you think, for a moment, you see a glimmer of the tenderness there that’s reserved for Johnny. “Please.”

“My wrist hurts.” Johnny calls hopefully to you, mischievous smile and eyes sweet, his good hand outstretched with an open palm. “Need ye to rub it.” Simon nods, serious look quashing any rebuttals you might have, protocol and procedure slipping far from your mind as you let yourself drift to Johnny’s side, settling back into your seat previously abandoned. Johnny offers you his wrist, smile fading when he looks closer at your curled fingers. “Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

“Low blood sugar.” You lie. The man in the hallway shouts again, closer, loud and awful, roiling with rage, and you inadvertently tense, jolting minutely in the chair.

“Hey now.” Johnny reaches for you, gentle touch against your skin, warm fingers holding onto yours. You look down to where he tries to give you comfort, where he tries to soothe you, instead of the other way around, as it has been, as it should be, and you get lost in it, the idea of comfort, the feeling of care. It makes your heart stumble in your chest, almost like you can’t breathe, staring off into space, trying to pretend like there isn’t a man screaming down the hall, like you’re not the person you are, buried beneath the insurmountable weight of scars, memories of pain and fear etched into the very tissue of your brain, the backs of your eyelids, every strand of hair.

Ingrained inside of you, forever.

Someone says your name, and you blink back to the face of your patient, who looks to Simon, his expression unreadable until it shifts into tender warmth, re-focused on you. “What is it?”

“I-“ You picture yourself, letting your lips go loose, entrusting your secrets and worst fears to these strangers, these men who you don't even know, who don't know you. “I’m exhausted.” You offer, and shadow flickers across Johnny’s eyes. It’s not a lie, not technically. You’re always exhausted.

“Ye-“

“Code black lifted. Code black lifted. Lockdown complete. Resume normal operation.” The PA system drones, tension between your shoulders draining, and you jump to your feet, palms and fingers smoothing over your scrub top.

“Well, I’ve got to check in at the nurses’ station now. Protocol.” You explain, nearly tripping over yourself on the way to the door. Your heart is still raging inside your chest, beating faster than it should, and you steady your breathing with a mental count. One... two... three... one... “I’ll check in on you later.” You promise over your shoulder, slipping by Simon to disappear down the hallway.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghoap #soap x ghost #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley

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octoberautumnbox · 5 months

Note

Yasss, time has come for more Yuri fics, looking forward to a Yuri ult stan :>

Thing with Yuri is, you can never know what to expect next. One moment she's a fluffy puppy cuddling with you then the next she's got you in her grip edging you all day. Just a crazy switch brat. Though that's why I fell hard for her

Enjoy

IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Word count: 2882

Categories/warnings: smut, alcohol, implied violence & blood, very slight dubcon, blowjob, handjob, breast play, cowgirl, kiss-and-fuck, only a little bit rough, okay maybe a tiny bit more rough.

a/n: got way too into the setup im so sorry ill put a marker down there for the actual smut. also big thank you to @iznsfw for the pic ive been looking for this forever. lastly not proofread nor beta’d bc i still haven’t reached out to anyone seriously for writing tips and stuff yet aaaa

Everyone said Yuri was a good person: all sweet-looking, nice to everyone, takes a joke just as well as the next girl. Wouldn't hurt a fly even if she wanted to. There was something about her though; you couldn't place exactly what, but you were convinced nobody was that naturally sweet. Something was up with her.

It's a good thing then that she wasn't anyone particularly important. Jo Yuri was just another person that you'd never needed to talk to in the six months since class began. It was easy enough to ignore her, and ignore her you did.

"You've been cooped up for way too long. Come on, 8 pm. Round of drinks on me if you show. Leave right after if you want. I swear. Just enjoy yourself." Your friend loomed over the table, blocking the light from your copy of 1984. Putting your palm on the top of his head, you closed your grip around a handful of his hair and pulled his head to where your book was sufficiently illuminated. "I'll think about it," you mutter before looking back to the yellowing paper. "Ryujin will be there too." Your friend occupied the seat next to you, rubbing his head where you grabbed. "And her friends. Isa, Minjeong, that cutie from ours you hate so fucking much," he says with a smirk, as if it was the checkmate that would make you drop everything and go. "Didn't take her to be into that type of thing," you say without looking up, "Ryujin, sure, but – what's her name? Yuri? – Feels like she just couldn't say no." He shrugs. "Maybe. What matters in the end is she'll be there, she's single, and she's got a hell of a rack." "Fucking perv. Anyway, I'll think about it." He smirks at you again. "Not because of Yuri, god dammit."

~~~

You shut your laptop and stretch. You rub your eyes for a good minute before wiping away the fatigue to find your clock striking 7. You stare at it, as if intimidating it to go faster and faster to past 8 pm so you wouldn't have to go. Defeatedly, and with regret already seeping into your mind, you get up from your chair and grab a towel.

~~~

“Hey, long time no fucking see!” Ryujin swings her arm around your shoulders and spills half her drink onto the floor. “Hey, Ryu. Glad to see you're already half-shitfaced this early into the night.” “Fuck you. By the way, meet Isa,” she says as she drags you towards one of the booths. “We've met. Hi, Isa.” She waves and downs a shot of gin. “Who convinced you to come all the way out here?” Isa slams the shot glass onto the wooden table, nearly cracking it and probably denting the wood. “Ah, also shitfaced. I was just free, that's all. Nice to see you again.” She waves again before burying her face in her hands. You drop Ryujin onto an open space in the seats before heading for the bar.

“There he is! Fuck you, man. Stay a little!” Your friend turns around and yells, “Round of drinks on me!” The bar roars with cheers as you take a seat on one of the stools. “Glad you could make it, dude! It’s been forever! Hey, enjoy yourself. See any chicks you like? Maybe enjoy someone else too?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obnoxiously. Thinking he’d be distracted within the next five seconds, you mutter to the bartender an order of a bottle of beer. Just then, you watch as your friend is approached by another guy, talked to a little, and then dragged off in a semi-drunk daze away to some other group.

“Three margaritas, please.” You turn around to the stool on the other side of you. “Oh, you’re in my class, right? I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Yuri,” she says with the cutest smile you’ve ever seen. The bartender places her three drinks on the counter and pops the cap off your own before setting it in front of you as well. “Right, I like your top,” gesturing to a little chain by the neckline. “Do you need help carrying those, by any chance? Or are all three of them for you?” She chuckles shyly. “Would you mind giving me a hand bringing these over to the booth with Isa and Ryujin over there?”

~~~

Your phone reads 11:00 pm. Ryujin’s face is practically glued to the table, and Isa continues mumbling into her palms about her teddy bears wondering why she hasn’t come home yet. Your friend is sitting next to and has his arm around Ryujin, and you can guess where his free hand is. Knowing you’ve drunk a few yourself, you get up and walk cautiously yet in no straight line towards the toilets. After doing your business, you wash your hands and leave. On the way out of the bathroom, you set your mind to wake up Ryujin and offer to see her and Isa home.

As you make your way back to the booth, you find a pair of guys huddled by a corner. You see between them a familiar figure. In your daze you fight to recall why it’s something you can recall, and then it hits you. The glint of the chain on her neckline catches your eye and you walk over to them, for the second time regret seeping into your mind before anything even happens. You’re way too drunk, you think to yourself. Whatever happens next is a bad idea, but you steel your resolve that it has to happen.

“Oh, Oppa!” She turns both guys’ attention to you, and they start throwing you dirty looks. “Hey, come on. Everyone’s drunk, we’d better go.” You make for her wrist, but one of the guys pushes you back. You notice the other guy has his hand on her shoulder, keeping her against the wall. “Why don’t you look after your friends, and we’ll look after her?” “Don’t make me do this,” you quip as you take a step forward again. After hearing them chuckle, the alcohol takes over you, your vision flashes, and finally fades to red. The last thing you remember is swinging high and kicking low.

~~~

You slowly come to, raising your head from the headrest. A stinging pain and a cold touch on the corner of your mouth greet you as your vision stabilizes from quadruple, to triple, and to double, before settling your focus on a bottle of antiseptic solution on the coffee table in front of you. Immediately, you shut your eyes as tight as they can go, deciding wherever you are is too bright, and deciding that the pain on your temple and across your forehead has something to do with how hard you’re shutting your eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was just about to leave.” You hear pieces of ice clink against each other as the cold touch moves to your forehead. “Hi, Yuri. They didn't do much worse to you did they?” “No,” she says in a relieved tone, “you saved me. It was a lot to take in honestly, but they’re worse off than you are. Thank you.” The cold spot again moves to the corner of your mouth.

You struggle your eyes open and find her right up in your face, inspecting what you think is a wound by your eyebrow. She notices you staring at her and she backs off quickly. “Sorry… That one looked pretty bad.” “Thanks for looking after me. Where are we?” You try to sit up, only to be forced back down by a number of painful spots all over your back and torso. “You fought them, they fought back,” she pushes you down firmly onto the sofa and brings the ice bag back onto your face, “you won. We got back to the booth, and you made me call a taxi. You carried Isa-unnie and Ryujin into the taxi,” she hands you a glass of water, which you begin sipping, “and I got the other oppa. We dropped off Isa-unnie, then your friend. You wouldn’t tell me where to drop you off,” she takes the empty glass, “so I had no choice but to bring you here. Ryujin is upstairs in her room.”

You sit up more comfortably. “Thanks, Yuri. I owe you one.” You check the time, and find it’s 2:00 am. “Sorry for intruding so late. I should go–” “You’re…” she interrupts. “You're in no condition to go home alone. Spend the night. Please?” She looks at you with a pair of puppy dog eyes and flashes a heart with her hands to you. “I… Thank you.” You lay back onto the sofa, the fatigue you didn’t know you had overwhelming you into oblivion.

~~~

(smut starts here)

You open your eyes slowly, taking advantage of the darkness.The first thing you notice are the closed pink curtains, and next is the fluffy scent of baby powder and fresh shampoo. You continue trying to get your bearings, and an immense wave of pleasure shoots up your spine. You look down and see Yuri licking your dick up and down, savoring each stroke of her tongue and letting her spit cover every inch.

You place a hand on her nape, and she looks up at you. “Oh, good morning. Am I doing this right, Oppa?” She takes another long drag of her tongue from the base to your tip, causing you to moan lightly. “I’w thake that ash a yesh,” she mumbles as she places the head of your cock onto her tongue. “Yuri, what are you…” She takes half your length into her mouth and hollows out her cheeks to suck you off. She releases your dick with a pop, “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough for last night. Call it even?” She smiles as innocently as can be, and then takes your cock into her mouth again. “Please tell me if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop if you want…” “Keep going, baby.” She blushes at the sudden use of her pet name, but returns to her work of thanking you much more profusely than you ever imagined.

As she continues sucking you off, you snake your hand towards her nightgown and onto her left breast. You ease back into the bed and fondle her through the smooth fabric, earning her own little moans vibrating through her throat and onto your shaft. She lets go of your cock once again, and pulls the straps of her gown off her shoulders. She pulls the smooth dress down, exposing a cute and perky pair of breasts. “Please ogle me a lot, Oppa…” She grabs your shaft again with one hand and makes long and slow strokes up and down your entire length. With her other hand, she takes yours and places it onto her left breast. “Just enjoy… Just enjoy me.”

“Jack me off faster, baby,” you command her, and she moans slightly at the name again. She goes faster and her grip grows just a bit tighter. She maintains eye contact with you as best as she can despite you pinching her hardening pink nipples, drawing her to close her eyes and let her head lull back. You motion for her to use her mouth again and she obeys immediately, bending over to your dick and granting you easier reach to fondle her other breast. You pay special attention to how she likes her nipples played with, tracing circles along her areolas before taking her nubs between your index finger and thumb to squeeze and tug. In return, she grows a bit more careless with her blowjob, letting her mouth leak more and more saliva, as well as taking in more and more of your length before finally hitting the back of her throat. You accidentally tug on her boobs a bit harder, causing her to moan onto the tip of your dick. You start feeling guilty when she starts sliding your cock out of her mouth, but as you get ready to apologize she lifts up the bottom hem of her nightgown, showing you her clean shaven pussy. She gathers her whole gown into one bunch by her waist before pulling it over her head to leave herself completely naked for you.

“Please tell me you like me, Oppa…” She pleads slowly and carefully, while bringing your hands to her chest once again. You relish on the warmth and softness of her breasts that you only realize she’s already straddled you and has started stroking your cock again. “Tell me… I want to hear you say it, please.” “You’re so,” she gives you one rapid stroke, “fucking,” she moans as you fondle her more roughly, “hot,” she forces herself to look straight into your eyes again, “Jo Yuri.” She speeds up her handjob, finding it harder and harder to maintain her eye contact in favor of shutting her eyes and letting the pleasure overtake her. “I’m close.” She strokes you rapidly, noticing how your legs are starting to shake, her gaze growing more intense, her squeezing you tighter, your moans getting louder, your grip on her boobs getting rougher and rougher and rougher, until–

She lets go just as you’re about to cum, “Oppa… did you cum?” “Not yet, baby, why’d you stop?” You groan disappointedly at her. “I’m sorry… It’s just… you have to enjoy me more.” She brings her soaked pussy above your cock and rubs the tip all over her lower lips, smearing your precum and her slick together on her hot cunt. You groan again, and she gets the message. Bit by bit, she sinks herself down onto your dick, relishing in the sensation of a huge and girthy cock filling her up. You accidentally squeeze her soft tits too hard again, and with an apologetic harsh tug on both her nipples downward, she abruptly slams herself down onto your waist, taking in your cock to the hilt. You feel every inch of your dick being squeezed by her pussy and soaked with her love juices, and at the end of it you feel your tip prod against what must be her cervix.

“Never got my toy this deep into me before. Do you like it, Oppa? Does my slutty little fuckhole make you feel good?” She grins evilly at you as she leans forward for a kiss. You barely process her amazingly naughty words before she starts riding you, lifting herself up until only your tip remains in her, before slamming herself down again, taking your entire length into herself. You relish how her cunt clenches around you so lovingly, how tight she is that there’s no way this doesn’t hurt her, how loud she moans while you feel your cock quickly entering and exiting her pussy.

She plants her elbows on either side of your head and cradles your face right in front of her bouncing chest. You take her right nipple into your mouth and she moans all the more loudly, rides you all the more violently. Your right hand grabs her left breast, fondling it the way that drives her crazy, and your last free hand gripping her ass as a hold to guide her up and down your cock. “Yuri,” you mumble with her nipple between your teeth, “I’m close again…” She rides you harder and you find it more difficult holding it in. You pray she lets you cum this time, calling upon a God you once knew, but also you pray that she lets you pull out first. Or not. As long as you cum.

You begin sucking more harshly, and she responds by riding you faster; she grinds on your dick and drags your cock over every inch of her warm, wet walls. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, aching for her own release as well. Your grip on her ass tightens too, so much so that her cheeks spill out between your fingers as you pull her closer and pump into her as deep as you humanly can.

You must’ve hit every last one of her good spots. A scream tears through her throat as she lifts herself off of you. Her cum sprays all over your waist, your cock, her bedsheets, and she even has the indecency to rub her clit all throughout, causing more and more of her cum to spray everywhere. You watch her through her climax, admiring the way her thighs jiggle with every jerk of her hips, the way her nipples stand erect on top of her bouncing boobs, the way her face contorts with an ungodly amount of pleasure she’s never experienced in her life. She falls forward, pressing her still-leaking cunt on your dick, and her breasts onto your chest as she heaves deep breaths through what should be a now-bruised throat. In a raspy yet sweet voice, she asks, “Was it good, Oppa? Did you like the feeling of pounding your horny pleasure girl’s tight little cunt?” She snuggles into your neck and plants little kisses along your jawline. “I haven’t cum yet, baby…” you admit quietly and out of breath. “Oh? That’s fine, Oppa. It just means you can enjoy me more.”

a/n: whoa that was way longer than I ever thought I could write at this point. all of that just this afternoon and only in response to the ask lol. this wasnt in my WIPs tbh and it was just a random BFH that accidentally took me... five hours to write? again im glad how it turned out thanks for reading all this youre awesome

#jo yuri smut #yuri smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #izone smut #male reader #jo yuri #ask

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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 month

Text

one last time ft. vinsmoke sanji!

a/n: continuation of my time travel series as asked by anon!! sanji, lost you when you were both 27. now, three years later, aged 30, the cook travels back in time and sees you again. *cue angst* not proofread, im so sorry for mistakes!

warnings: none!! just my crappy attempts of writing angst tbh

"it makes no sense" nami mumbled, peering down intensely at the old cook as if examining her personal lab rat. the alleged thirty year old had materialized in the main room of the going merry through thin air; and nami had almost knocked him out with her staff.

"nami-swan let me-" the man tried to speak but the red-head cut him off, "you ate a devil fruit and you traveled back in time?"

"you're so gorgeous even when you boss me around-""

"sanji." nami cocked an eyebrow.

sanji sighed lightly, trying to reason, "well, i mean i actually ate like just half a bite of it. i don't think this time travel thing is permanent. i'll be out of your gorgeous hair in just a minute"

"no, you being here isn't the issue." nami corrected herself, "i think im just surprised is all. the idea that there exists something like this is just-"

but someone barged into the room before she could finish.

"what the fuck?" the swordsman looked at sanji, taken aback by the sudden blondie appearance, "he looks awfully like the shit-cook."

"it's nice to see you too, moss-head"

"ah-" nami groaned at the swordsman appearance, "well, i guess i'll explain to everybody. out on deck, both of you"

"why are you so tall?" zoro gave the older cook a nasty look.

"zoro, out."

"why is he so tall-"

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆

"so..." the younger, blonde man asked, "you're me but 30?"

the older man shrugged, "yes, pretty much."

"i cannot believe you committed to the bangs look for over a decade, sanji" you giggled, looking from the older version to the younger one.

"if you like it, then i can keep it for the rest of eternity, my love."

you laughed again, sending the cook an amused look, "sure, i like it."

while the younger cook was swooned at your words, sending you a love-struck gaze. the older was busy contemplating whether he wanted to hug you so hard till his ribs broke down and he disintegrated within you, or if he should keep his distance, saving himself all that hurt.

your hair was choppier and the strands moved gently in the wind, the tresses cashmere kisses against your sun-kissed skin. all the signs of aging were absent from your skin, all those signs of you and him together were gone, just like that. as if you and he hadn't existed at all.

there was no scar on your lips from the time you fell down in the dark while sleepy, no cuts on your arms and legs from battles long gone. every evidence of the life you and sanji had built together was gone, leaving a twenty-three year old you behind.

well, technically that life was yet to come. it would take you and his younger version another five months, 23 days and 6 hours till you both got together. atleast, if his calculations were correct.

it would take you another 9 years, 2 months and 4 days to leave him. he knew those calculations by heart.

and so, sanji held back the urge to ask you if you liked two sugars in your coffee right now too? and did you light up when the moon was out in all it's glory? did your favourite constellation stay the same as years passed you by? did you look the same when you kissed him awake? did-

instead, he said nothing and stared at you, transfixed.

when ussop shook the older cook awake, the blonde man gave the younger crew members a pained smile. and when luffy jumped up and down, asking whether the cook still cooked, sanji found himself laughing and offering to make a meal.

atleast, this way, he could resign himself to an old kitchen, boundless memories and endless suffering, away from your ghastly presence.

the door stood ajar and you slipped inside just as silently like you always did when you wanted to surprise him in the kitchen. he looked up from the chopping board, well-versed with every one of your silent exchanges.

"want some help?" you offered, walking over leisurely and standing opposite to the man on the kitchen island.

the man looked down, focusing on not cutting his fingers up, "uh- no, thanks."

"damn, did you change?"

"hm?"

"where's the added "my love", "mon cheri" or "darling" at the end?" you cocked up an eyebrow, giving him a confused look, "don't tell me you lost those with time, that'll be a real shame."

sanji looked up, dumbstruck at you.

ofcourse he didn't. how could he? how could he when you were all that and more to him. under breathy whispers, loud declarations of love and silent hums in the dark of the night, you were every stringed syllable in every language to him.

he must have been silent for too long cause you shook your palm in front of him, paranoia sewn into your skin, "i mean it's okay if you lost it. like, it's not that big of a deal-"

and sanji laughed.

"excuse me? it's not nice to laugh at a lady."

"you looked so adorable like that." he looked down at the chopped vegetables, hands skillfully adding the veggies to the heated pan. then he looked up through his eyebrows, skillfully avoiding your gaze fully, "you're quite cute, love."

"uh-" your ears went red and you looked away, "thanks? y-you too."

"how have you been, yn?" he looked back at the food, his voice was tender. every hitch of the breath was audible against the backdrop of distant laughs from the crew.

"oh?" you replied shocked. then you smiled, "good. i'm good."

"good?" he repeated, ever so slowly as if turning the word on the tip of his tongue to remember the way you said it.

"yeah, i've been good, sanji."

"i'm glad." he pursed his lips, turning his back to you under the lie of fetching bowls from the cabinet.

"what are you cooking?" you asked, leaning over and peering at the vessel on the stove.

even without turning, he said, "you'd lose balance, careful now."

you marveled at the simmering dish, looking at his back and smiling real big, "you're cooking hand-pulled noodles with broth?! i think its my new favourite dish! i tasted it like a few days ago and i've been dying to eat it againn"

sanji smiled, still turned away from you, "is that so?"

as much as sanji prided himself at his ability to identify you from lightyears apart, at his ability to hear you in the noisiest room, he must have not been paying attention.

because you had sneaked up behind him and pressed yourself against his back, giving him a hug. you smiled gummy against his back muscles, "thankyou! thankyou! thankyouuu!!"

sanji froze under your casual touch. after a second, mindlessly, he lay his bigger hands on top of yours, relishing in the way you felt under him. he closed his eyes, trying to etch the moment in his memories. then he smiled again, promising against the thin air, "i will make you this as many times as you ask me."

"really?" you beamed again, letting go and standing beside him, "promise me?"

"i promise you." he gave you curt nod, melting under every one of your happy dance moves.

"now i would bother you for the rest of our lives." you stuck out your tongue at the blonde man.

"i would rather not be bothered by anyone but you, my love."

"aww-"

"hey geezer." the younger cook stood at the door, eyeing the negligible distance between you and the older man, "get away from yn-chan, you fucking pervert."

"rich coming from you, mr. nosebleed" the older man gave the younger a dirty look.

"HEY THATS NOT MY FAULT"

"SAAAANJI" luffy whined from outside, "ARE YOU DONEEE? WE'RE STARVINGGGG-"

vinsmoke sanji, aged thirty, yelled back "YEAH LEARN TO WAIT SOME MORE."

"YOU'RE SO MEAN SANJI! I MEAN- OLDER SANJI? I MEAN SANJI??- alee? I MEAN THE COOK OF MY SHIP?? NO, THE COOK OF MY FUTURE SHIP-"

"JUST SHUT UP LUFFY." the two blondes yelled in unison and you laughed one last time, lighting up the kitchen on fire.

oh wait, no. that is just the smoke due to the burning veggies in the pan.

well, fuck.

atleast you were laughing. and sanji would have killed entire nations to see that sight again, so, what were a few vegetables for the sacrifice?

#one piece #opla #op #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji angst #one piece angst #one piece fanfic #sanji fic #x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji imagines

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 31] || [Chapter 33]

Pairing: Gaz x gn!Reader || Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.3K~ cw: not angst but a bit 'angsty', fluff fluff fluff. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: This one made me all emosh to write ngl.

Chapter 32: No Harm Done.

You're sitting by the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony on Sunday morning, looking out and holding a warm drink in your hands.

It's raining outside. It's always raining in England, so it shouldn't really surprise you... but it still feels like a lazy, down-sort of day regardless.

You're home alone. Johnny went to base for P.T. and a meeting of sorts, while Kyle went out to the gym himself, giving you some time for yourself.

Your phone sits in front of you, fingers tapping away, back-and-forth, between chats with friends and with the lads, your lads.

Ghost said they'd text you to let you know when they were back, a promise they'd made after they sort of just turned up at your door all injured and hurt without warning so many weeks ago.

It feels like it's been an eternity since you had them all here.

Your eyes find your chat with Simon, flittering over the last couple of texts you sent each other. Right before the boys left on their newest mission.

Regardless of what Kyle and Johnny say about Simon, he's actually the best texter out of all of them... John being the worst.

simon: Have about 5 minutes before we have to go. you: will u be safe? simon: Always am sweetheart. simon: Don't you worry about me. you: i meant ALL of you. you: and of course i worry about u! simon: If it was about all of us, you wouldn't be messaging me separately. simon: And I appreciate it but you shouldn't. you: i hate how smart u are. you: u face death literally every day in your job simon: And I always come back. you: okay but im allowed to worry no? you: youd worry about the others too? simon: I guess so. simon: But I'll be fine. you: u dont know that. simon: I know enough. simon: Been doing this for over a decade. you: that's not reassuring the way you think it is. simon: You're very worried. Is this because of what I said?

That text makes you set down your phone when you read it again, your face warm with embarrassment at the reminder, just like it had been during that text exchange as it was happening.

He had told you he loves you. Two of them had by now.

The thought of that still makes you shiver, the words so full of emotion and vulnerability when Simon said them, never any pressure on you, just a gesture on his end.

you: maybe? simon: That's really cute of you. simon: Don't let it make you worry or overthink. simon: I'll make sure I come back to you. you: si... simon: GTG ✋ simon: Will text you when I touch down.

Kyle's, however, were a lot less vulnerable. They were sweet, sudden, driven by happiness and amusement...

Both of them came out of left field and caught you off-guard.

Both of them felt just as real, however.

You took a sip of your warm drink and glanced out of the window again, watching the droplets slide down the glass panes.

You can't help but think about how things have been going for you.

Is this becoming too much? Is it going too far? Did you finally lose the plot?

When did a silly little Tinder account you made with your friends while fighting heartbreak become a 4-way relationship and 2 out 4 men telling you they're in love with you?

You're lost in thought when the door opens behind you, Kyle making his way in.

"Hey, lovie." He greeted, causing you to jump a bit, spilling some of your drink over the glass top of the table.

"Ah, fuck." You complained as you reached for the napkin holder and started mopping up the liquid. "Hi, Ky." You added as you cleaned the mess you made.

"Sorry, did I catch you off guard?" He asked as he approached the table and began to help you.

"Yeah..." You murmured and looked up at him, finally, finding him in a grey sleeveless hoodie and black workout shorts.

You smiled softly at him as you gathered the wet napkins and moved to the kitchen to dispose of them.

Kyle seemed to catch the look in your eyes as you glanced up at him. "What's wrong? You seem strange..." He asked as you followed you into the kitchen.

"Just thinking, it's nothing." You told him as you turned after throwing out the rubbish, only to find him standing right behind you, looking at you with scrunched brows.

"Is this about yesterday?" He asked you softly. "Was it too early?" He added in earnest.

The memories of the day before come back to you sharply. The way, after he told you he loved you, you sputtered for a bit, your face burning up, your eyes wide...

And how you had come back home together, your nose still pink, his cheek still red, the both of you looking embarrassed and sheepish, avoiding eye contact and biting your lip.

How Johnny had teased the two of you, thinking you had gotten down and dirty in the car and that's why you had come home looking so embarrassed...

You look up at him with a sigh and shake your head. "No, it's just..." You trailed off.

"Was it because Soap teased us after we came back?" He reached forward and gently ran a hand over your cheek.

"No!" You added and sighed, leaning into his palm, and gently holding his forearm in your hand.

"I'm just worried... I've never... been in something like this before." You explained, as you looked into his eyes. "More than one partner and-"

Kyle nodded at you, watching you with understanding eyes and a soft gaze, like he wanted you to keep talking, communicating.

"I don't know how to act about this... I don't know..." You trailed off and looked away for a moment. "It's... a strange feeling."

"To love more than one person at once?" He asked you as his brows raised in inquiry.

You nodded in response and looked up at him. "Yeah... And to... have them love me back."

"So I wasn't the first to tell you, huh?" Kyle asked, having caught the way you mentioned 'more than one person' when it came to 'loving you back'.

Your face burned up hot in embarrassment and you shook your head at him.

"Simon was." You replied, which made Kyle's eyes widen and then a smile take over his lips as he shook his head.

"Wasn't expecting that..." Kyle admitted as he caressed your cheek again.

"Did you say it back for him? Like you did for me?" He asked and you nodded your head in reply.

"Well..." Kyle trailed off, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, as if pondering what to say, and how to say it. "It's not exactly a bad feeling, is it?"

You shook your head. It wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, you quite liked having said the words, having had the words said to you.

"Then, I'd say there's not a big cause for worry. We all knew this would happen, right?" He added. You, once again, nodded at him.

Gently, he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks. "Then, let's just... let it be." He chuckled.

"You and I love each other. You and Simon love each other. I love Simon too..." He admitted with a shrug. "No harm done, right?"

Smiling a bit more, you ended up nodding and gently pushed up, kissing him slowly and deeply, both of your eyes closing, his hands caressing your face, your hands caressing his forearms...

You're so into the kiss, you don't hear the front door close, nor Johnny approach, until he shows up at the kitchen door. "Greedy bastard, leave some space for the Tav, will ye?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien ,

@l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago ,

@sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki ,

@comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear ,

@mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat ,

@stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving ,

@blckbrrybasket , @agoodmoviekiss

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️

All, Most, Some, None

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Snow melts in the heat of blood.

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending

A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity.

When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder.

John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times.

For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons.

“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.

“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”

A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.

“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago.

He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him.

Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”

“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”

You turn away quickly, face burning.

“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts.

“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun.

“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.”

Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion.

“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him.

Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing.

The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face.

It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you.

“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back.

You smile at him, huffing a laugh.

“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.

“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head.

“...Alright.”

“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this.

He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before.

“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer.

Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.

The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine.

—

“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation.

It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position.

To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp.

John had been hit through the right thigh.

Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.

Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him.

“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.

“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!”

“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him.

Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.

Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.

“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.

There was too much blood.

Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.

There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.

You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.

Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do.

“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet.

There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes.

“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”

Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob.

“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly.

Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you.

The both of you…

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his.

Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.

You can forget that the both of you are dying.

John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes.

“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.

The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail.

“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek.

“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.”

“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”

It’s obvious what you mean.

John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.”

The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it.

You should have told him sooner.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold.

You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.

—

In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other.

What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.

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@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Middle of the Summer | König x Wife!Reader

a/n: RAHHH IM HERE! i love the big man. (dedicated to @peachesofteal and @as-is-above-so-below like always 😎)

warnings: A baby. That’s it lol

summary: König is terrified that he’s going to hurt his newborn daughter, but you need sleep.

“She’s- No, no, please put her back.”

You hugged a little, pulling your newborn back to your chest.

“Schatzi, she is much more, how do you say… Empfindlich. Weiß nicht, wie sagt man ‘Empfindlich’ auf Englisch?” He muttered to himself, shaking his head a little as he curled his hands to his chest. “Ah… Schatzi, she is too small for me.”

You patted the crying baby’s bottom, exhaustion making you a little more snappy than you had even been with him. “König, she will be fine. You’re big to everyone.”

“But she ist meine Tochter. I can’t hurt her, I’m her Papa.” His head cocked to the side, his hand settled on the little one’s back. “I could drop her, I could accidentally hold her too hard, ich könnte meinem Baby wehtun. I don’t want to hurt her.”

You took in a breath, bouncing on your foot just a little to try and get Avis to calm down as you said, “I need to sleep. It’s been two weeks, the only time you touch her is when I’m holding her.”

König just stared at his daughter, his anxiety drowning every sense he had. What if he did hurt her? What if he nicked her with one of his nails? Or he held onto her too tight and she couldn’t breathe? Or he held her little arm too tight and broke it?

You huffed again. “What are you gonna do if I have to be gone all day and can’t take her with me?”

“Wait for you to come back.” He murmured, eyes looked up to meet yours - and he did not like the look you gave him.

Fury. “Leon,” He swallowed his tongue, you never used his first name. Ever. “You put her in me, you can hold her before I commit more war crimes than Ghost does on a Thursday morning.”

You peeled the screeching baby from your chest, holding her towards him. His hands moved from his chest slowly, fear gnawed at his throat like a rabid dog. He was about to step away when you placed his daughter on his chest, her screaming got even louder. You moved one of his hands to hold her bottom, then moved the other to hold her back before placing your own hand on his cheek.

“Do not wake me. There will be Hell to pay.”

He swallowed his response, only nodding before your hands left your child, the weight of his daughter now solely in his own grip. His head whipped around to you, seeing you gaze at him from the doorway. His mouth opened before shutting again, the cries of his daughter made his stomach twist into knots even more. They were so much louder now that you weren’t holding her, Avis was upset and he didn’t know what to do. He looked back down at her, hearing your footsteps disappear down the hall to your shared bedroom.

Avis was fed and changed, she’s probably just tired. Right? She can’t be upset, there’s nothing for her to be upset over, right?

He’s never had experience with babies before. He’s too big, he’s always been too big for anyone to feel comfortable handing their tiny child to him - yet you did. Granted, you are incredibly sleep deprived and he felt bad about it, but he couldn’t help it. He kept the little thing to his chest, hurriedly moving to the padded rocking chair across the room. He sat down, instantly rocking the chair as the little one gripped onto his shirt. Her little head began to fall backwards, but he was quick to keep it supported against his chest. He got an easier idea, one that wouldn’t include that much handling.

He gently rested Avis on his thighs, the baby settled in the middle of his closed legs. She stared curiously up at him, little eyes glossed with fatigue as her cries grew weary. “Empfindlich was the word I said. I believe it means delicate. And you are delicate, you are like glass.” His finger poked her little belly, the baby’s foot kicked as she sniffled a cry. The grey eyes that looked identical to his gazed at his large hand then to his eyes again. He continued, “Fragile. You are too little for ein großes Monster wie ich.”

Avis kicked her feet a little again, another screech sounded from her lips before she finally settled into whimpers from the nice rocking pace of the chair. König had read once that some sort of swaddling, but a quick glance around his immediately vicinity, he had no blanket to wrap his daughter in. Panic clawed its way down his chest as he watched the girl fight off slumber, wanting to watch him intently. Then, without a second thought in his head, he gently rested his hand on top of Avis’s chest.

Every small cry from his daughter immediately ceased, her little hands grabbed his fingers - they were barely big enough to hold his fingertips. The tiny inflation of her lungs pushed his hand up, then it descended as she breathed out.

The panic in his chest had stopped at once.

“You are good. You are made of goodness.” He murmured, wiggling the fingers her little hands were clamped around. She simply cooed. “I want you to be small like this forever. Could you promise your Papa this one thing?”

The little coo and kick of her feet gave him her answer.

———

You had slept a good eight hours before you woke up. When you opened your eyes and pulled yourself out of bed, you noticed that the midnight moonlight had disappeared from your house and was replaced by warm morning sunshine. No sounds of crying could be heard, no noises of any kind - just the smell of summer as it wafted through the house. You made your way towards the nursery, discovering a sweet sight.

Beside softly billowing curtains in front of the open window was your husband, settled on the rocking chair. His legs kept bent at the knee, his head leaned uncomfortably against the headrest and his hand settled on something in his lap. You quietly made your way over to the crib, worry gripped your heart when you didn’t see Avis there. You then turned back to König, now being much closer to him to see that his hand was resting on your daughter’s chest.

You watched his hand rise and fall with the breath of your daughter, relief flooded your body like a river. Your husband’s head moved a little downwards, his hand gently patting the baby’s belly. The little girl was passed out cold, her little mouth open. As was König, eyes fluttering as he slept.

And with you instantly getting your phone, the picture of the father and daughter became your lock screen.

———

#lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x you #könig #könig x wife!reader #cod könig #könig x fem!reader #könig x fem reader #könig x afab!reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x wife!reader #konig x reader #konig x female reader

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

Please please bo sort a girl out with Ghoap x Reader in an abandoned farm 🤪🤪

1k game here - no more please!

@luminousbeings-crudematter my beloved!!! idk if tumblr gives you a notif when i post an ask you sent so im tagging you just in case lol. also you said "unhinged texas chainsaw massacre" and i tried my best but i've never seen that movie :')

3.8k of ghoap x reader ft. ghost and soap hunting down their newest pet in a corn maze (cw: rough noncon sex, kinda puppy play? super light) this is mostly soap x reader, sorry!!

The collar is heavy around your neck, making every breath difficult as you pant. Your lungs seize in your chest when you stumble through the corn maze, desperate for any light at the end of the tunnel.

It doesn't come, but you push on anyways.

The corn is rough against your arms and legs, your body vulnerable to the rough stalks with so many tears in your clothes. Everything hurts - your feet from the rough ground, your throat from all the screaming, your stomach from pure fear and adrenaline. You're too blinded from terror to focus on any of that, the only thought in your head to go go go go get away.

The roar of a chainsaw is loud somewhere to your right. You nearly fall to your knees at the sound, windmilling your eyes to keep yourself steady. A loud, manic laugh echoes from the same direction, and your legs nearly give out.

Fuck, he's right there.

You can't think about how close the sound is, can't focus on how you swear you can see the corn moving, you can only run.

The stalks split in front of you, and you stumble into a clearing. You freeze, feet stopped right on the border of the new area. You bounce onto your toes, like you'd been tugged to a stop before exposing yourself.

The clearing is empty accept for an old tractor, sitting in the center of the grass. It's just a large enough circle that you'd be exposed for several seconds if you tried to reach it, totally clear if anyone was in the stalks.

But... you could hide there, couldn't you? The machine looks massive from your vantage point, there's surely a place to hide there.

It feels cruel to leave your fellow victims to the killers hunting them down, but you know that you have to try and save yourself before trying to help someone else.

You take a deep breath as you sink back to your heels, crouching a little lower in the corn to see if you can spot any movement around the perimeter.

The chainsaw revs again, and someone screams.

Your decision is made for you. The sound of death sends you forward, instinct making you move.

The dirt is rough beneath your feet, small rocks sticking into the soft parts of your sole and offsetting your run. You try your best to keep your balance, eyes trained on the tractor and the small space you know you can squeeze in.

It's silent but for the sound of your own panting, blood rushing through your ears, nothing but that perceived safety in your mind.

Just as you start to ready your legs to launch yourself up to the seat, legs tensing, you're shoved away. Your breath is forced from your lungs as you hit the ground, dirt and rocks shoved into your arms as you roll.

"Ah!" You cry out, forced to your stomach as you roll. It takes a minute to recognize what's happened, for it to click in your mind that someone's there.

It's too late by the time you realize.

You still try to get away, some animal part of you knowing that it's dangerous to stay down.

You manage to get to your knees, eyes darting wildly to spot whoever's tackled you, to know what direction to run. But the field is empty, and you're already moving before you think to look behind you.

It costs you, because you hardly get a step away before you're shoved to the ground again, your attacker staying over your body.

"Where you goin'?" The man rumbles in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and lips against your ear. He nips the shell of your ear and your eyes fly open, face shoved into the dirt.

Hardly a foot away, a chainsaw rests in the dirt. Blood drenches the blade, slowly dripping into a puddle beneath the weapon. It makes you whimper, trying to squirm away from the killer above you.

"No, no, no," he purrs, nosing his way to your cheek and just leaning there, pressing his smile into your skin, his voice rumbling through your back. "Down, pup, c'mon, you're caught. No point in runnin'."

"Please-" you gasp, neck arching to try and get away. "Please, please, please-"

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. "Please, please, please?" His voice pitches up in a mocking tone, a horrible imitation of yours. "You a broken record, lass? Only wanna say the same thing? Come on, tha's no fun, gimme something new."

You shout, the sound caught somewhere between a cough and a sob, hands stretching forward and clawing at the earth. "Please!"

He truly laughs now, a sharp noise in your ear. He stretches himself up above you, chest lifting and hips pushing into yours so that your legs are pinned. All you can do it try to drag yourself forward, hot tears beginning to fall as you're held down in the same place.

"Guess it does sound good from your lips," he muses. He shifts behind you, knees squeezing to either side of your hips and hands reaching so he can grab your elbows.

"Look'it you," he tsks, bending forward to lace your hands together. You cry out at the feeling of being covered, his chest above your head. "Ruinin' your pretty nails, and for what?"

Your head drops to the ground, sobs tearing your throat to shreds as spit falls from your lips. You feel bile working in your stomach, that horrible tension beneath your tongue like you're about to throw up.

"I can't-" you gasp, panic clawing at your mind. You know this man is going to kill you, that he's going to make it hurt, and every part of you rebels at just the thoughts. You can't stop fighting, can't stop trying to get away from him even with the weight holding you down.

"Can't what?" He hums, shifting to kneel above you so that he's not nearly suffocating you. "Can't go anywhere? Naw, bonnie, you're not goin' anywhere now. Caught you fair and square, didn't I?"

There's a part of you that screams to try and argue, to take a deep breath and settle to see if you can make some sort of deal, but the bigger part of you can't calm down, can't do anything but try and shove yourself out from the maniac above you.

"Plus, if I let you go runnin' off you might get caught by Simon." His arms settle on your shoulders and you can't help but yelp, ducking your head low to try and protect your neck. "Then I'd lose. You want that? Thought we were closer than that, lass."

You sob, teeth clenched tight. You don't fucking know the man, you don't know whoever Simon is, you just want to go home.

"That's what I thought," he hums. "Now," he pushes up, and your arms and torso are free as he settles back to rest his weight on your thighs. "I think you and I have some time to play, hm? Before Simon catches us both."

You don't- you don't know what he means, and it's hard to breathe past the fear. It clicks when his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly.

"Wait," you gasp, eyes flying wide when his fingers creep beneath the hem of your jeans. "Wait, stop-"

"Oh, look at that," he laughs, hands shoving further down until his palms wrap around your thighs. "Learned some new words, baby?"

Your eyes squeeze as your feet kick against the dirt, unable to find any traction without shoes. Scrabbling so frantically only to stay right where you're pinned only serves to work you up more, to make your heart race faster.

"You're warm," he hums, kneading at your thighs and using his wrists to force the pants down, slowly revealing more and more of your skin to the cold night air. "Gonna warm me up, lass?"

"No," you hiss, the realization of what he's going to do sinking in. Your pants are pulled down to mid thigh, keeping your thighs from spreading and leaving your backside on display. "Stop- I'll- don't you dare-"

He laughs again, landing a harsh smack to your vulnerable ass. You cut your begging off with a yelp, hips rocketing into the ground to try and escape the sting when he lands another slap.

"You tryin' to boss me around? Real cute, pup, but you don't have a leg to stand on. Stuck pinned in the dirt and still tryin' to be in charge?" He laughs again, blows shifting from slaps to taps, jiggling the fat of your ass. "Cute, bonnie. Real cute."

You fold an arm beneath your face, try to use the other to force yourself up. "Stop fucking- stop hitting me, you bastard!"

"Oh!" He cackles, his lap slap almost bruising in it's force. "She's got some spine, huh? Maybe you'll be more fun than I thought."

You snarl into the dirt, legs kicking up behind you to try and hit his back. He's too high up on your thighs o reach, and you end up kicking the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It only fuels your anger, makes you feel more stuck.

"Keep fightin', bonnie." He presses himself closer to your face, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth from your peripheral, his smile sharp. "Makes it more fun for me. Think you'll tighten up if you kick kickin' and screamin'?"

You scream, a primal sound straight from the gut as you throw your head back and to the side, trying to hit him. You somehow manage it, but you hurt yourself just as much. You cry out at the sudden pain in the back of your skull, crumbling back to the ground.

There's a loud moan over your shoulder, and his hips press into yours. He's hard to your horror, his length pressing against the softness of your ass. "Fuck, that felt good."

God, the man is disturbed.

Your attempted attack doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers in your underwear, tugging them down to rest in the crease where your thighs meet your ass.

"Pretty," he purrs, hands stroking from your rips to your jeans, hands pushing hard enough to make you whine. His treatment is all too rough, like he's trying to mold you into the shape he wants. "Can't wait to get my dick in you," he groans, groping you.

"Nooo," you whine, trying to push yourself into the dirt, like it might open you up and swallow you whole, help you escape the horror you can't do anything to stop. "You can't- you can't fuck me, please, don't-"

He moans again, and you hear the clinking of a belt being undone. "Fuck, say it again for me."

Your eyes squeeze shut. You want to be anywhere else, anywhere but here.

You feel the heat of his cock against your ass, and tears sting in your eyes. You taste dirt against your lips, feel your palms sluggishly bleed from the scrapes against the rough ground. You try to focus on everything but what the killer's doing to you, but's impossible

His palm cups your center, fingers wrapping around your vulva and holding firmly. You flinch when his middle finger works between your folds, coming to rest on your clit.

"Need to get you wet," he mumbles, starting to work at the nub to coax some pleasure out of your body. "Simon wouldn't like it if I made you bleed." He snorts, then corrects, "Well, bleeding down there. Won't be shocked if he wants to carve you up a bit."

You shiver, focused too much on staying stiff and keeping your mind as far away as possible to put off the inevitable. What he says doesn't even properly click in your mind, floating in one ear and out the other.

"There we go," he purrs, palm growing slick as your body warms to him unwillingly. He grunts as he shifts to use both hands, one focusing on your clit and the other coming back to tease at your hole.

Two fingers slip in without warning and you yelp at the sudden stretch, hips bucking back instinctively and forcing the fingers further. Your moan is pulled from your chest, part pleasure and part pain.

"You want more lass? Here, don't mind stretching you out."

The third finger comes too soon, too suddenly, and the sting edges too close to pain for you to feel good, even unwillingly.

He's got no patience at all, fingers spreading inside of you while his thumb works furiously at your clit. The mix of good and bad leaves your head clouded, tears slowing as your mind starts to float away a bit.

He moans against your back, face pressed into your shoulder. "Feel so tight, bonnie. Can't wait til you're wrapped around me, wet and tight... fuck, can't wait much longer..."

His teeth press into you throw the fabric of your shirt, the bite only slightly blunted. You breath stutters out of your chest, lips shaking. You want to fight, tell yourself that you should bite and claw and scream, but he's already proven to you that he'd only enjoy that. All you can do is lie in the dirt, lamp and shaking.

Despite all your fear and your hatred for the man over you, you wish he'd stretched you out more.

"Gotta get inside of ya," he grunts, tugging his fingers out with a terribly wet sound. You can hear him sucking your wetness off of them as he shifts further up, letting his hard length rest between your thighs. "Don't... God, you taste good, don't wanna stretch you out too much. You get it, yeah bonnie?"

You whine forlornly, turning your head to the side. You can see him over your shoulder - tall and broad, brown hair in a... mohawk?, bright teeth shown off in a smile. He ducks down while he fists his cock, dipping himself into your wetness.

Wet lips press a kiss to your cheek, a trail of that wetness left against your face. When he pulls back you see the blood dripping from his nose, sniffle at the realization that he's left his own blood over your face.

"Look pretty in red," he whispers, tone oddly soft. It tugs another tear out of you, dripping down the bridge of your nose. His free hand comes up to your face, running a finger through the tear track and sucking the drop off his fingertip. "Taste good everywhere, love."

Your eyes close when he notches himself at your hole, pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch. He's massive, and the prospect of him shoving himself fully inside of you... you shudder, trying to loosen yourself as much as you can.

He's not kind when he pushes in. You're not sure why you hoped he would be, not with the blood-soaked chainsaw still in your line of sight. But the sudden fullness, the sting, the stretch, draws a high cry from your lips.

His groan nearly drowns out your sounds, your walls spasming around him to try and adjust. You hate that it feels so good for him when you feel like you can hardly breathe around him.

"Feels so good," he moans, words hardly enunciated, thick accent only thickened by his pleasure. You can hardly understand him, far too upset to bother translating him in your head.

"Can't-" he pants, hips jerking out just a few inches only to buck back into yours, pushing as far inside as he can. "Can't come, but can get you off, yeah?"

There's a part of you that's confused by that, that wonders what the fuck he's talking about, but a much larger part of you is focused on the slow drag inside of you.

It would feel better if you were a little wetter, a little more stretched out, but you can't change those things. You relax, try to force your body to cooperate just to make things easier. You try to lean into the parts that do feel good - the way his cock drags against all the most sensitive parts of you, the slap of his balls against your clit - and sink into that pleasant feeling instead of the adrenaline still lingering in your veins.

He doesn't speak when he fucks into you, forehead pressed into your shoulder blade as he starts to drive you truly insane. It starts feeling good quickly enough for you to forget the pain, the horror, and you gladly fall into the oblivion creeping over your mind.

It's good, as horrible as it is to think. The bastard knows what he's doing.

It's some indeterminate amount of time later when you hear the stalks shifting again, eyes flying open just in time to see a man step into the clearing.

The man over you moans when the stranger gets closer, turning his head to the side. His hips buck into you even more roughly, your thighs beginning to ache from the force.

"Simon," he calls out, and it clicks in your head.

The new man is masked and wearing all black, and you recognize him as the other killer hunting you through the maze. His mask is just as terrifying from close up as it was when you first glanced over your shoulder while running, the sight of him in the distance almost floating while surrounded by shadows.

"Bein' good, Johnny?" He rumbles, boots stopping next to the chainsaw and toeing it away.

"Yes, sir," the man over you - Johnny - grunts, thrusts erratic. "Left-left the ring on, haven't come, promise."

There's a hum from above you, the man crouching down. "Good boy. Woulda had to ruin your fun if you got yourself off."

He whines at that, and you can't help but furrow your eyebrows. The man above you going from cocky and terrifying asshole to whining and moaning above you doesn't fit with the image you'd had in your head.

"I ken. 'S why I didn't take it off, ye bawbag." Johnny's voice shakes a bit as he switches to grinding against you, hips pressed flush with yours. The sudden pressure against your clit and so deep inside of you leaves you moaning, eyes rolling back. The peak of an orgasm is right there, just out of reach, and you reach for it desperately.

"Watch it," Simon scolds, shifting forward to his knees and reaching far enough to slap Johnny, the sound echoing through the silent clearing. Your eyes fly open, instinctually flinching away.

Simon's head tilts down to you, ignoring Johnny's whine. His gloved hand comes down to rest on your face, gripping your chin and lifting enough to get a good look at your face.

"Pretty thing," he says, giving your face a little shake before letting you drop to the ground. You can't even begin to care so close to the edge, focus solely on getting off

"'S what I said."

"Hmm. Why don't you go ahead and get the poor pup off? Looks like she's cockdrunk enough as is, might as well get her the whole way there before we take her home."

"With pleasure, sir."

It's hard to focus after that point. Johnny's hand tunnels beneath your stomach and to your clit, working his hips in full thrusts and rubbing you so perfectly. It takes hardly any time at all to get you off, the perfect mix of sensations sending you flying over that edge.

You're not sure what happens between the time when you come and when Johnny pulls out. Your vision nearly whites out, moving away from the scrapes and bruises and into the pleasure gripping every muscle. It's so much easier to lean into the good than the bad, to pretend the warmth is just the pleasure instead of the man at your back.

You're brought back into the real world by the feeling of something being wrapped around your neck, left just tight enough for you to jerk, panicked you couldn't breathe.

"Hush, pup," Simon shushes when you jerk up, eyes flying wide. "Just givin' you your collar. Makin' sure anyone who spots you can take you right home, hm?"

Johnny tugs you up as Simon speaks, grip just a tad too rough on your shoulders when he pulls you up to your knees. You're still a bit out of it as he tucks your jeans and underwear up, dick hard and slick against the small of your back.

The fear comes back as you're brought to your feet by Simon, hands on your elbows tugging you up. You're unsteady on your feet, knees almost knocking together while you blearily blink up at the masked man.

The sound of metal clinking together, a small yank against your neck, is what brings you fully back into your skin. Simon clips a leash to your collar and then Johnny's, matching pink and blue leads that make your eyebrows furrow.

Johnny - shirtless, drenched in blood - smiles at you, teeth stained with his own blood.

"Come on," Simon rumbles, a sudden tug against your throat nearly sending you to your feet. "Need to get you home, pup."

Johnny catches you before you can fall, laughing as he helps you up. The sight of a black studded collar at his throat jars you, fingers lifting to feel at the fabric around your throat. It's not studded, just a soft leather with a thick ring at the front where the leash connects.

"Looks good on you," Johnny compliments, guiding you to stumble along behind Simon as the man leads you both away, into one of the entrances to the maze.

"What..." your throat is rough and you cough, heartbeat picking up. "What're you doing?"

Johnny's smile is a little condescending, almost herding you forward by staying half behind you. "Takin' you home, lass. You're the last one alive. You make a pretty final girl, bonnie."

There's a sharp yank at your collar, tugging your attention to Simon where he's glancing over his shoulder at you. "Think you'll make a good pup. Johnny's been needing a new little friend, might as well be you, hm?"

There's.... nothing really to say to that. You're too weak, too shaky to try and make a run for it. The blue leash is held loose in Simon's hand, but the pink is wrapped tight around his fist. There's no way you're strong enough to jerk it out of his hand, and even if you could you've got no way out of the maze - they already found you first.

Johnny's hand nudges you forward, almost making you fall. He moves to walk beside you, shoulders almost rubbing together. You think the expression he shoots you is supposed to be comforting, but it's anything but.

You breathe deeply, head beginning to throb again, and hope you have the strength to survive what they'll do to you.

#so sorry lumi i feel like this is repetitive and not that well written :( hope you enjoy regardless <3 #by the way... my attempt at johnny's accent.... it happened #luminousbeings-crudematter #< aka the loml #bo writes #1k celebration #ghoap x reader

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katnisspeetaprim · 4 months

Text

Broad Day Light

Min Yoongi/Reader

Im so sorry if this is bad. i haven't had time to properly edit this. I've been sick again recently, but I wanted to get at least something out for you guys!

Warnings: Injury, crowds, anxiety, established relationship, idol!au

Word Count: 1203 M.list

Walking down a busy street in the middle of the day shouldn’t have been an anxiety inducing task, but here you are. That’s all it’s felt like these days.

You and Yoongi went public a few years ago and paparazzi and sasaeng’s had mostly started to leave you alone after a few months, just the odd personal space invader here and there, but you learnt to live with the new found attention.

Fast forwards to 2023 and Yoongi’s solo tour was well under way. With a world tour came massive media attention, and with media attention, came paparazzi.

You weren’t famous, so having people run up to you with cameras was a surreal experience.

You tried your best to shield your face, but it was to no avail as the group of photographers bolted towards you from across the road.

‘Y/N! Over here!’

‘Are you going to any of the shows!?’

The group of men had effectively blocked your path, not allowing you to leave.

‘Please let me through. I have somewhere to be...’ You mumbled and wrapped your arms round yourself as you kept your head down and away from the cameras. You started forcing your way forwards.

‘Y/N! Yoongi and Halsey have been acting close! Did something happen between them!? Is that why you aren’t on tour with him?’ You know you shouldn’t dignify these people with a response, but the gall of implying that Yoongi would cheat on you with someone that had become a good friend to the both of you... It was enough to make you rage.

‘Of course not! They are good friends, now let me through- Ah!’ As you forcefully pushed your way through the crowd, you didn’t realise how close you were to the curb. Your ankle rolled, causing you to topple over into the road.

Your hands, arms and knees were all scratched up, along with a twisted ankle. At least no cars were coming so you wouldn’t get run over. Though that seemed like a more preferable situation than the one you were currently in.

‘AH!’ You shakily sat up and grabbed your ankle, causing you to hiss out in pain.

‘Please just leave me alone!’ You screamed out and swiped out at the paparazzi circling round you.

‘Hey that’s assault! She just tried to hit me!’ One of the men shouted out, trying to garner sympathy with his fellow low lives.

You were all but breaking down into a full blown panic attack, when all of a sudden you felt a wave of hope flow through you when you heard the shouts of police officers approaching the scene.

‘Hey! What’s going on here? Out of the way!’ They pushed through the crowd and one knelt next to you, whilst the other two pushed back the group, ultimately threatening arrests if they didn’t dispurse.

‘Miss? Are you ok? Are you hurt?’

‘My ankle- I think it’s twisted!’ You whimpered, trying to hold back your tears.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital.’

Hours later and you were finally able to go home. With a lot of help from your best friend, you were now sat in your living room, feeling sorry for yourself with your poor ankle all wrapped up.

The scraped that littered your limbs weren’t too bad, just a little sore. Stories had hit the web pretty much immediately, along with plenty of videos of the incident, filmed by multiple people.

With any luck, Yoongi would be too busy to even think about going online...

-Incoming video call from Yoongles-

Ah well. There goes that idea.

After a slight hesitation, you pushed the green answer button.

Yoongi suddenly appeared on screen. He’d clearly changed out of his concert gear and was now clad in comfy sweat pants and a jumper.

And he looked pissed.

‘Hey Yoongi...’ You trailed off, trying to sound normal.

‘Seriously? You going to pretend nothing happened?’ He stared at you in disbelief.

‘You should have called me when it happened!’ He continued on, raising his voice ever slightly.

You looked away from the screen, feeling guilty that you tried to keep it from him. Of course he would see the articles, so it was pointless to even try.

‘I’m sorry...’

Yoongi took in your defeated appearance and groaned internally for adding more upset to your already stressful day.

‘No, I’m sorry for shouting. When I saw what happened, I just got so angry.’ He paused for a moment before shaking his head. ‘You got hurt because of me...’

‘Yoongi no!’ You sat up straighter, trying to reassure him. ‘This isn’t your fault. At all!’

He nodded slowly, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe you.

‘I’m going to send you the number for one of our bodyguards. If you need to go somewhere, get him to drive you.

Yoongi suddenly moved the phone in his hands. He was clearly texting you.

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend.

‘Yoongi! I’m sure they have better things to do than look after me!’ His message however, had already pinged on your phone.

‘You got attacked in broad daylight Y/N. Seems pretty serious to me.’ Yoongi deadpanned as he stared you right in the eyes.

The smile fell from your face. You couldn’t argue with the fact that you would feel a lot safer with someone escorting you...

‘I won’t be going anywhere for a while. My ankle is all screwed up.’ You joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You didn’t get to see Yoongi often these days, given how in demand he was. The last thing you wanted to do with your precious time together was be miserable.

Yoongi smirked mischievously.

‘Maybe you’ll stay out of trouble then.’ You drew back in mock offense.

‘Excuse me!?’ Where has the compassion gone to?’

‘I’m sure you’ll survive.’ He said, trying to hold back his smirk.

You couldn’t hold back and began to laugh for the first time that day.

‘I wish I could be there for you’ Yoongi suddenly spoke over your laughter. You immediately went quiet, knowing that Yoongi was still upset by the days events.

‘It’s ok. This is enough, for now.’ You smiled gently and gestured towards the phone screen separating the two of you.

‘Remind me again why you couldn’t come with me?’ Yoongi groaned and slumped back in his chair.

‘You know why. I couldn’t get off work.’ You giggled as you also snuggled down into your chair.

He frowned before once again beginning to type on his phone.

‘What’s wrong?’ You enquired curiously.

‘I’m not there, but Tae will be close by tomorrow. I’m sending him to check on you.’

‘Oh my god!’ You exclaimed with a laugh. ‘I can’t convince you I’m fine can I?’

‘Definitely not.’

You and Yoongi spent a long time on call together that night, making the most of every moment.

It was only after ending the call for the night, did you notice Taehyung had sent you a message.

Hey noona! Hope you are ready for a home spa day tomorrow!

P.S, Please tell Yoongi-hyung I made you happy... He’ll kill me if I fail!

#bts #bts x reader #imagine #one shot #scenario #reaction #fluff #angst #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #idol!au

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yunjinkisses · 3 months

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hi author, i love your page sm!!

can i request dom g!p yujin? (pls include reader getting a good messy head plsplspls)

where reader just got out of a toxic relationship and yujin wants to be there for her, but she was getting tired of listening to reader vent abt her ex ... so instead of listening, she suggests a different way of support her if yk what i mean 😭

G!P HUH YUNJIN X F READER

this is such a cute / hot idea!! i love this!! and thank you sm!! love you too!

what’s ahead: fluff,comfort,smut,dom yunjin,sub reader,cunning’s , reader receiving , yunjin giving,creampie

it was raining outside as i was crying walking to my best friend yunjins house,as i arrived i knocked on the door lightly but loud enough for her to hear

the door opened,i faced yunjin who was now staring at me with a worried face

“y/n-ah what’s wrong? is everything okay? come in love , it’s cold and wet outside , come on”

she let me in as i sniffled thanking her ,i took my coat off and boots aswell getting comfortable

“*sniff* t-thank you,i’m sorry to just show up l-like this”

“it’s okay please don’t worry! i’m always here for you,what’s wrong please tell me”

“it’s about my ex *sniffle* , you know how the relationship was toxic,i’m just really fucking h-hurt , how could she do that to me,after i gave her my everything,i just l-loved her so much-“

i rambled for a while about how upset i was and how much i felt betrayed and sad that someone could do something like that to another,but yunjin cut me off

“hey y/n-ah,i wanna comfort you as much as possible,but instead of just listening to you vent , maybe i can help distract you from the problem”

i sniffled getting worried about how i was annoying her

“h-how so?”

she layed me down on the couch comfortably,climbing ontop of me coming close to my ear

“maybe i can make you feel good..if you know what i mean darling~”

i felt a shiver go down my spine , her voice was so seductive and so beautiful,i know it wasn’t the best time to be doing this but i wanted her so bad..

“i-i don’t know..”

“come on darling,just between you and me baby~”

i looked away and nodded my head

“good girl.”

she closed the gap between us kissing my lips , my eyes widened,but letting myself embrace into the kiss,my hands wrapping around her neck

i could feel her tongue licking and biting against my lips , she pulled away after a while , leaving a string of saliva between us

“yunjin..”

“what is it baby?”

“please..more..”

i could feel her hardened member against me as she was ontop of me

“as you wish my love~”

she undid my pants and took my shirt off , and took her own clothing off,leaving her in her boxers,as the same for me,leaving me in my panties

“no bra? naughty girl~”

i blushed and looked away

“i was only c-coming to your house..”

she giggled a bit and slid her boxers off revealing her hard 8 inch cock

i swear i started to drool at the sight

“awh look my baby’s drooling~”

and i did drool,it was an amazing sight to see after all

“s-sorry it’s just…god you’re so attractive..”

she giggled and kissed me briefly ,before whispering into my ear

“you ready baby?”

i just nodded

she slid my panties to the side and slowly inserted her hard cock into my tight cunt

“fuck baby you’re so wet and tight~”

i winced at the pain and pleasure

“you okay? can i keep going?”

i nodded shyly

she inserted the whole thing inside me making me cry out in pleasure,i could hear her giggle a bit ,as she started to move inside me

“fuck baby you feel so tight around me~”

“f-fuck! y-yunjin!~ s-so good..”

i could barely speak , i could only moan and cry out her name with how good she felt inside me

once she started to move faster and harder i started to cry out loudly

��baby i-im close,fuck i’m gonna fill you up nice and good~”

my eyes rolled back at her words

“yunjin!~ p-please! f-fill me up,breed me make me filled with your cum!”

she started to thrust faster but a little more sloppy,i didn’t mind

soon we both came,her cumming inside my tight hole,filling me to the brim,she pulled out of me,only for her to smirk at her own cum dripping out of me.

“awh i made a mess out of my baby,here let me clean you up~”

before i could get a word in,yunjin dipped her head into my cunt,licking up my wetness mixed with her own semen dripping out of my hole , i gripped onto her hair , not to tight , but pulling it enough to make her moan into me

“f-fuck! y-yunjin..s-so good..”

i could barely speak,i felt her smiling into me,as she darted her tongue into my tight cunt , licking up every last bit of me and her,a little sloppily

my eyes rolled back again,i couldn’t help but let out screams and cries as the orange haired girl messily ate me out.

“yunjin! r-right there! s-so close..”

she smiled against me and started to go faster , making me hit my limit , and cry out her name , making a mess all over her face

as i calmed down yunjin licked up the mess that was on her lips as i caught my breathe

“how was that my love?~”

“fucking..amazing..”

she giggled and lay next to me on the couch , pulling a blanket over us ,cuddling up against me ,as we fall asleep.

#yunjinkisses #kpop gg #girl groups #wlw ns/fw #le sserafim #huh yunjin #huh yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #huh yunjin x reader #jennifer huh #yunjin #yunjin le sserafim #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin smut

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meaningofaeons · 9 months

Text

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ strength in weakness

⊹ character(s) - gojo satoru ⊹ word count - 891 ⊹ notes - fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, silliness, spoilers for s2e5/hidden inventory arc (premature death), reader is a teacher at jujutsu high + a sorcerer ofc, kinda ocxcanon coded im sorry, this is so rushed and dumb and AUUUGHHHH

I....... I caved (ﾐዎ ﻌ ዎﾐ) this man does so many things to me and after seeing the last frame in the ep where his eyes looked a lil red (im including a pic at the end.) I had to write this up. also im so sorry this is like 110% me just turning my oc x gojo into a drabble lmfao LOVE YALL

"Gojo-sensei!"

"Ah, he's awake!"

"Hey, that's one of those expensive chairs, isn't it?!"

"Please don't fall asleep after summoning all of us here."

You stood idly by as your students pestered Satoru, arms crossed firmly in front of your chest. The man only smirked a bit, lifting his blindfold just enough to give Megumi a look.

In the split second before he pulled it back down, you caught sight of his eye, and faltered.

"Ha!"

"Oi, come on! My turn next!"

Yuji's bickering and Nobara's victorious, haughty laughter faded into background fuzz as you gazed after the special grade sorcerer, Megumi raising a brow at him.

"What're you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing."

The white-haired man turned his head, and you could tell that even beneath that blindfold, he was staring straight at you.

"Ohhh~... Y/N came along too, huh?"

"L/N-sensei was with us when we remembered you had asked us to come by. She just walked us over."

"Aw, not here to see me, huh?"

You sighed, a bit of sarcasm leaking into your voice.

"As loathe as I am to hurt your delicate feelings, Satoru, I just walked the kids over."

Megumi gave his teacher serious side eye before responding. "I don't think anyone would willingly go to see you without being prompted to."

"Ouch."

You paused for a moment as Satoru turned around again, leaning down and beckoning the dark-haired student over. He listened politely to your words, and though he gave you an odd look, he walked over to Nobara and Yuji nonetheless.

"You two, let's wait outside for a bit."

"Huh?! But Kugisaki hasn't let me sit yet!"

"You can sit in the chair later. Gojo-sensei doesn't mind."

"I'll just take it from Itadori again!"

"Why, you—!"

The two eventually barreled out the door, Megumi giving you a small nod before sliding it shut behind himself. Satoru plopped himself back into his seat at that, his easy smile still ever-present.

"So you did come to see me."

"Not really," you murmured casually, earning an overdramatic, shocked gasp from the man. However, he calmed the theatrics upon the sound of your gentle footfalls, feeling your shadow fall over his seated form. "Just thought of something."

Your fingers brushed over the edges of his blindfold before you could stop yourself, but Satoru only shrugged, the barest hint of hesitation seeping into his light tone.

"Go for it."

You pushed the material up just far enough to see his eye once more, your thumb brushing over the reddened flesh beneath it. Slightly puffy, almost as if...

Right. It was around this time of year.

You recalled the time of your youth perhaps just as vividly as Satoru did, but you never were quite as close with Suguru as he was. So no matter how much you remembered, it couldn't compare to what he had seen.

"I'm starting to think you've got some less-than-professional feelings for me, L/N-sensei, what with this tender touch. Are you giving me special treatment?"

"Be serious for a moment," you scoffed, but your hand did not recoil. It made Satoru's smirk drop, even if only a bit.

Your voice was far gentler than he'd ever heard it before.

"How are you feeling?"

Perhaps it was an obvious question to ask, one with an obvious answer—regardless of how he truly felt, Satoru's answer would always be something placating, something lighthearted and in jest.

But this time, he only glanced away, blindfold still pushed up.

"Well, it was just a dream."

You nodded, hand falling away from his face. Before it could fall to your side, however, the man sitting beside you reached out, taking it gingerly.

You didn't ask any further. Prodding the issue would lead nowhere.

But your hand squeezed his just slightly, just enough for him to feel your flesh, warm and alive.

You were here. That's really all he needed in this moment of vulnerability.

"I didn't take you for the comforting type."

Your eyebrow twitched as he slipped back into that teasing lilt of his.

"I can comfort you with a nice slap to the face, if you'd prefer it."

"Not like you could touch me, anyhow~."

"You little—"

Before you could even react, Satoru had scampered to the door, slamming it open and wrapping an arm around Yuji and Megumi's shoulders, spouting some nonsense about missing his beloved students.

"What took you so long, Sensei?" Yuji asked, face scrunching as the white-haired man ruffled his hair.

"Don't you know anything, Itadori? He and L/N-sensei were in there alone, so obviously..."

Nobara's words devolved into hushed whispers as she spotted you in the corner of her eye, and you shot Satoru a warning glance as he leaned back to get a look at you.

You were sure that, in the several years you'd known one another, the man would have long since been able to recognize your eyes clearly saying, 'Don't feed a word into this, or I'll pummel you to death.'

Alas...

"Exactly right, Kugisaki! Full marks!"

"Whaaat?! Seriously?! Sensei, you and L/N-sen—"

"Don't feed them nonsense, you ingrate!" you shouted at once, chasing after a very unrepentant Satoru as he skipped around the courtyard. Megumi only grumbled out a sigh.

"So we all agree something's going on, ri—"

"Enough, Kugisaki, let's just go."

SEE WHATD I SAY!!!! HIS EYES!!!! I love you forver. .... please dont cry .................

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #satoru #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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