Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 7

Nikolai returns you

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, physical abuse

Masterpost

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

The rattle of vials cuts through the quiet sobbing as you raid the cabinet, stuffing a backpack with painkillers, sedatives, and wound care. 

"We had antibiotics on us. Where are they?" 

Cry Baby | 1.4k words (gawd damn), 18+ mdni, smut with a little plot, dacryphilia, daddy kink

Simon Riley is used to making people cry.

Whether it be from heartbreak, his tall and muscular build in addition to the mask scaring children, from being too blunt, cursing men & women out, making them feel too good when he’s stuffed them full of his cock— he was used to the tears.

But you, you were an anomaly.

Sometimes you’d cry when Simon was being too mean, cry over a good movie— tears would brim to your lashes when he’d kiss you after you two would make up because you were stupid in love with the brute. But sometimes you’d hold it. A trait that Simon hated because it was like he was dealing with a different person.

He knew you were off when the two of you went shopping (for your closet of course) and you didn’t say much except ‘I like whatever you like Si.’ You’d be in and out of conversation, ‘hm?’ and ‘what’d ya say?’ constantly leaving your mouth. He’d already known you we’re past your limit, but you wouldn’t say a word. Usually by the first or second day you’d fess up on your own, voice horse, gripping at his shirt, big brown eyes averting his own because you were too embarrassed. ‘can we- can we talk? just for a bit?’

His cute princess.

But now, a week had passed. He expected to hear those heart aching sobs after he heard you telling off your younger German shepherd, Fish (yes, Fish) to ‘let go’ and ‘it’s mine, Fish!’ He’d found the dog with your favorite worn out sweater, now ripped and tattered, in his mouth as he laid on the couch. Not a peep came from your lips. So the man was forced to push you to talk. Not an issue. He’d done it before.

“Got somethin’ y’wanna say t’me?”

You glanced over at the older man. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest and looking at you dead on. You shifted on your feet. You hated when he stared, it was like he was reading you like a book and tarring out the pages for good keeping.

You went back to getting the dog food ready for their last meal of the day, “nope.”

Stubborn. Simon found it funny sometimes when you picked up some of his traits, that included that stubbornness that popped out when you were agitated. But you weren’t supposed to be like Daddy, no, you’re supposed to be better. Simon would make you better.

“Don’t be hard headed swee’ art. Y’know better.”

He’d practically pushed you into a corner with his words alone. It wasn’t just intimidation, it was a clear warning. You needed out. So you spoke whatever words were at the forefront of your mind.

“Then I just don’t have anythin to say to you.”

The man was dumbfounded, head tilting to the side in awe. He didn’t expect that answer of all things and you casually went to go feed the dogs like you hadn’t said anything. A deep chuckle fills the silent walls of the kitchen.

Cute little thing. Loveable thing. His babygirl.

You didn’t wanna cry? Didn’t wanna talk? Fine.

Simon would fuck it out of you.

john price smothers you when y'all fuck. he's not mean about it, simply needing to feel every single inch of you pressed against him. skin against skin. you're lying flat on your stomach atop your shared bed, head nestled between his meaty bicep and forearm as he holds you in a headlock, pounding into your awaiting cunt from behind. his weight pins you down, chest to your back as he takes you, claims you as his own.

“doin’ so good for me, beautiful,” price rasps, hips rutting against your ass as his cock slides in and out of you. his breath is warm against the shell of your ear, beard tickling the skin there. the pillow propped beneath your hips helps to alleviate some of the pressure caused by his weight, smushing your body flat against the mattress. he's obsessed with the way your body fits against his own, shaped like some goddess crafted solely for his pleasure. his woman.

one of price's big hands moved to brush hair off of your sweaty forehead. the movements are sloppy, but he gets the job done, swiping the locks away from your face. with that same hand, he grips your jaw and forces your head to face him. his lips smash against your own, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his cock hits that spongy spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars. the pleasured cry you let out is muffled by his lips, and he swallows the sound greedily. price breaks the kiss with a groan, a line of spit connecting your lips to his before his tongue darts out, breaking the connection.

“mmh, getting there, lovely,” he groans into your ear, gritting his teeth. “just breathe with me.” the grunts he lets out with each thrust grow louder, mingling in the air with your moans and gasps. he's sweaty and loud, high on the feeling of your walls clenching around him. price quickens his pace, strong hips thrusting into you with a certain ferocity that has the bed creaking, headboard thudding against the wall. and the arm that's circling your throat? it tightens, nearly choking you in the headlock he has, temple pressed to your forehead as he chases his release.

I'll probably eventually add a part two cuz soft Price is everything to me hehe... Can you tell my standards are ridiculously high?? Also, does anyone have an accent writing guide for TF-141?? I am painfully American.

cw noncon, injuries, forced orgasm, slapping (all kinds), kidnapping, mean!simon // simon riley x fem!reader // freak loner neighbour simon // reader can be dragged (but simon is big but yeah you get dragged yeouch)

You should've known better than to be on his driveway.

It's just that it's so spacious, so flat, so perfect for practicing.

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

Alexandre is not as susceptible to pain.

The guard outside his home didn’t register his death, not with Ghost as a shadow at his back. One wrench to his neck, and Kyle plucked the key off his corpse, gently opening the planked door. As the three of them swept the inside, you and Ari hoisted the body in. A sudden crash of breaking glass and the sounds of a struggle made it clear—they got Alexandre. He must have woken up.

Corporate office worker!Ghost. The big guy huddled over the computer in the cubicle next to you muttering to himself, fingers too big to reasonably use the allotted keyboard, always in and out of HR because every time he opens his mouth at the water cooler he’s spouting a new morbid joke, but his work speed is unmatched and he’s incredibly competent so they can’t get rid of him— you’re almost sure he’s losing his mind and every lunch he’s staring at you across the break room through hollow, tired eyes like you’re the thing he really wants to eat.

18+

rugby player simon, with cauliflower ears and large, sloping shoulders. a freshly split lip with blood trickling down his chin. grass stains across his knees and smudges of white paint over his palms. sweat beading across his forehead, blond hair dark and flat against his temples.

he smells of sweat, grass and aftershave. he’s got scars along the side of his face, running vertically down his eyebrow and cheekbone— the bite of a boot’s sprig, gauging into his flesh in the collapse of a ruck. a few scars on the backs of his hands, too, prove he didn’t escape the jaws of a rolling maul unscathed.

all of this you admire, your eyes glistening, lower lash line wet with tears, as he bullies his cock into you. forcing himself into the tight heat of your cunt, filthy hands squeezing at the softness of your hips, head thrown back as the warmth envelops him, a droplet of blood rolling down his throat and over his adam’s apple.

he groans at the feeling. how tight you are. how warm. how well you take him. it’s better than anything he’s ever felt— and he tells you as such. tells you you’re the best thing he’s ever had, the only thing he’ll ever have.

and you know he means it.

As much as Simon enjoys coming home to a freshly cleaned house, warm dinner on the stove, it's the quiet type of homecoming that he really prefers.

This last mission had gotten extended by a couple of days. A minor discrepancy in the intel had left them scrambling to make a new plan, but everything gone smoothly after that. Because of this, you were left in the dark of when exactly your boyfriend would be back.

He didn't think to message you, to let you know he was coming home. After Nik had gotten them back to base, there was a short debriefing, mainly just a reminder to turn in their paperwork on time, and Price would see them all tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. At that point, Simon just wanted to get home.

It's quiet, when he enters the house, save for the TV playing in the bedroom. There's dishes in the sink, and it looks like you're a day overdue to sweep. But he honestly doesn't care about any of that, leaving his boots and bag by the front door.

You're laying in bed, in one of his shirts and a pair of underwear. There's something playing on the TV, a movie Simon doesn't recognize. Not like it matters. You're not even in paying attention to the TV, giggling at something on your phone. It's something large and dark in your peripheral that catches your attention, dropping your find to find your oversized boyfriend standing in the doorway.

"Simon! You're home!"

Maybe it's not some big welcome party, but just being able to hold you in his arms is better than anything else in the world. Although, maybe you could still make him your grandma's chocolate cake anyway. He was risking his life out there.

Soap hits on Ghost's girl part 2

Part 2 to THIS

Word count: 550

The next time Soap sees you is when you come to the base to drop something off for Simon. Soap saw the text pop up on Ghost’s phone while he was in the shower post training. You were waiting for him at the main entrance. You were waiting all alone and Ghost was busy, Soap simply could not leave you waiting for another second, plus he needed to apologize for the last time you met. (Did Soap steal Ghost’s phone so when he got out of the shower he wouldn't know his pretty girlfriend was waiting for him? maybe).

You watched the Scotsman jog towards you, apologies falling from his mouth the second he was within earshot. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean any disrespect. You were jus sittin there all alone. Woulda thought Riley was gonna bring you with em’.” You said his name a few times trying to get him to stop but he was so caught up in trying to “make it right” that he didn’t hear you until you used his last name. 

“MacTavish” the command of your voice almost had him standing at attention. The call of his name had him sucking in his lips, rightfully shutting him up. You reached out to tap his arm, as if to say ‘relax’.

“S’not a big deal Johnny.” you laughed a little, “It was fun playing with you. Just hope Si didn’t give you too much shit about it.” (He did. Soap has been dodging literal punches for weeks now). Your phrasing made Soap smile. 

“You can play wit me anytime you’d like lass.” if he had long hair he’d be twirling it in his fingers right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind MacTavish.” The way you were looking up at him reminded him of why approached you in the bar the first time. Just looking at you and he was smitten. 

The sound of big heavy footsteps made Soap flinch. The second Ghost appeared, Soap bolted behind you. Ghost wouldn’t beat the shit out of him in front of you right? 

“You forgot this hun.” You handed a bag of stuff to Simon who was trying to step around you to get to Soap who was moving in the opposite direction of Ghost. Soap trying his hardest not to grab you to better use you as a shield. You stood still watching the two soldiers behave like children running around you. Ghost finally got his hands on Soap who called out your name, a last ditch effort at protection. 

“Let him go Si.”  His grip might’ve loosened but there was no way he was going to let go. 

“Don’t go taking his side lovie.” He may or may not have a knife behind his back ready to use right now. 

“He’s harmless Riley” You stated, arms crossed but definitely enjoying whatever this situation was.

“Ya. Riley. M’harmless” The grin could be heard in Soap’s voice as Ghost let go of him. 

“Give him back his phone John.” Ghost’s head snapped to Soap who was wide eyed. How’d you know he stole it? When you gave Simon a small peck signaling you were leaving, Soap began to run knowing once you were gone he was no longer safe from Simon Ghost Riley.

the daddy issues you didn’t know you had were definitely showing through whenever you were around simon. he’d say things like,

“you say yes sir, y’understand me?”

“watch your fucking tone when you talk to me, puppy.”

“sit down, hush up, and listen to me, sweet girl.”

“who the fuck d’you think you’re talking to, lovie?”

“good girls do what they’re fucking told.”

he’ll kneel in front of you to massage your feet after a long day of work, working his way up your legs while praising you. “these strong calves, my big girl s’working so hard.”

and don’t even get me started on where he grabs you to get your attention. his hand is constantly grabbing the side of your hip, even hovering right above the globe of your ass sometimes.

if the two of you are in a crowded room, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and rest his palm over your tit, squeezing softly every time you look up at him.

and in bed? bitch, he’s using a fucking chain. a sweet little collar with a heart on it attached to a few silver links that he’ll tug when you’re being bad.

“just look at’cha, panting like a fuckin’ dog. you like being treated like a dog, baby?”

every tug around your neck was an instant shock straight to your clit as you took his cock from the back, your cheek smushed into tear soaked sheets.

he’d swat your ass if you were being a brat, “quit your crying n’come already.”

and every time you squirted around his cock, spraying the base of him and his heavy sack, he’d say something like, “wow, would’ya look at that, she can do tricks,” as he feels your walls pulsing around him. “fuckkkkk, do another one, speak bitch.”

you could barely function after your nth orgasm of the night, but you knew too well what would happen if you didn’t do what he said. “yes-mmph- yes sir.”

and the aftercare? he’s as sweet as pie, caring for his precious lover who’s taken him so well. he’ll wrap you up in his warm arms and peck every inch of your face, “did so well for me, y’know that?” *peck* “m’very proud of you, sweetheart.”

this is shit but whatever love you guys bai!

lalala I’m not immune to him… butcher Simon and fem!reader

wc : 882

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

sigh. Butcher!Simon Riley.

You're new in town, you need a job, you need to have something to do. Too bad that no one besides the small coffee shop a few minutes away was hiring, you got the job, but they could only offer you time to work in the mornings.

tw: somno, non/dub-con

Johnny doesn't like house parties.

You'd think he would, with his loud mouth and antics, he'd fit right in. But his ears begin to buzz when the voices grow too loud, and the migraines he gets ever since he took that bullet to the head are often debilitating even on the best of days. Wandering through the halls of this unfamiliar home, well away from everyone else, offers some reprieve, but anxiety and unrecognized anger still tingles in the back of his mind like a virus waiting to break through even his best firewalls.

He decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth when he happens across a quiet bedroom tucked somewhere on the top floor of the home. The aroma wafting through the room tightens the muscles in his brain. Is that bergamot orange and chamomile? It smells like the oils his therapist recommended he try to help aid his sleeping problems; to fight off the nightmares that lurk deep in his psyche.

It isn't until he notices your form buried in the plush blankets on your bed that he realizes you're trying the same trick. Passed out on your stomach with your pillow tucked close to your chest, you look like an angel in the dim light of your desk lamp.

The universe has dropped a largesse in the palm of his hand, and he knows better than to be prodigal.

So don't be surprised when you wake up to someone straddling your hips with fat hands palming at your arse, and please try not to whine too much when your knickers get torn, Johnny's head hurts something fierce, and he's hoping you can help with that.

First post ☆

Thinking bt retired 141 all settling down in a nice suburban neighborhood. So nice, so peaceful. So different from what they're used to. So boring.

Then they meet you. The charming new neighbor with a pretty voice and an even prettier smile. They crowd around you like a pack of wolves aiming for their next meal. But you're nervous, antsy, and they can't have that, now can they? They back off, some more so than others, and instead, politely offer to help with your boxes.

They're well-behaved from then on. Truly willing to just be good, friendly neighbors. Until you're comfortable enough to let them bite.

Kyle takes the opportunity to bring you home-baked pie that he learned how to make a few nights before - he was always a quick learner. Johnny leaps to show you around town. A little too eager, so you decline, saying you still have some moving in to do. Oh, but he can help with that. Building furniture? A cinch. Mounting the television? Light work. Mowing your lawn? Only if you'll invite him in after for some lunch. Ghost lingers around, but occasionally, he'll tell a joke bad enough for you to giggle at, which makes him more okay, I guess.

John, however, he's biding his time. He doesn't want to throw himself into the fray like an uncouth schoolboy. He knows better than to just attach himself to the newest attraction. You never go on an amusement ride without getting a ticket. So he plans.

You leave your window curtains open as you prance around your newly-furnished home, all thanks to him and his boys. And John's just across the street. He can observe you whenever he pleases. What convenience. He can see you getting ready to go out. To the grocery store, he presumes, considering you haven't been going out much since you moved in two weeks ago.

He follows you from aisle to aisle, just out of your peripheral, a jar of peanut butter in hand so he doesn't look too out of place. As soon as he sees you struggling to reach a product - one of the last on a particularly high shelf - he swiftly positions himself behind you. Just enough for you to feel the heat of him.

"This what you wanted, love?" He grumbles out as he procures your item for you.

As you look up at him with such grateful eyes, he knows he and his boys won't be bored anymore.

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.